Kornbluth is known for his clever monologues that offer comic reflection on everything from his flunking math at Princeton to his having an uncanny resemblance to Ben Franklin. Three years ago, Kornbluth raised temp work to something of a Zen art form with Haiku Tunnel, an independent film based on his monologue of the same name about temping in the office of, ironically, a tax attorney.

A brief flirtation with Hollywood about a decade ago led Kornbluth to tax problems. Advance money from studios that, largely out of procrastination, he didn't report, snowballed into a mounting debt of unpaid taxes. "I'm really good at procrastination," says Kornbluth, "I'm really good at entropy."

He admits to having a particular horror of dealing with paperwork, like filling out forms and organizing receipts, an issue that was compounded by the extra complications of filing as self-employed.

But after seven years, the pressure and guilt became too much and Kornbluth himself called the Internal Revenue Service, an experience he says was positive, at least in terms of the friendliness of IRS representatives that he dealt with. (Undoubtedly less pleasant were the back taxes and penalties he paid, which amounted to around $80,000.)

Kornbluth decided to lay bare his own tax troubles when considering ideas for a new monologue. "There were a couple possibilities. I used to play the oboe and I was thinking of taking it up again. It's a weird instrument," says Kornbluth. "But the issue of taxes I decided on because I felt it was timely--it's always timely. I felt humiliated by my tax experience--ashamed of myself--and I was really interested to bring that out in front of strangers. I was really interested to see where that would lead."

Kornbluth developed Love & Taxes, in collaboration with director David Dower, in improvisational performances. He says he was particularly struck by the number of audience members who approached him with tax tales of their own.

But Love & Taxes, as the title promises, doesn't just explore Kornbluth's relationship with the IRS, it also tells the story of his budding romance with a woman named Sara, who would later become his wife. The tax issue was "inextricable from my relationship with Sara," says Kornbluth. In the monologue, Sara refuses to marry him until the tax problems are resolved.

As personal as the basis of Love & Taxes may seem, Kornbluth has also found a way to build the work into a larger civic outreach project. It's not everyone who can pay a nearly six-figure fine to the IRS and keep a positive attitude, but Kornbluth has turned his own hard lessons into something of a pro-tax movement, with the aim of generating public dialogue about taxes. Following some performances of Love & Taxes, Kornbluth has offered "talkback" sessions with tax experts who will answer audience questions.

He has also started a pro-tax web-log, www.i-r-us.org. "My ridiculously optimistic goal is to explore ways to change the way the public thinks about taxes," he says.

In fact, Kornbluth has a somewhat scholarly approach to tax issues these days, continuing to research tax policy, much of which he discusses on his blog. He is currently working on a screenplay version of Love & Taxes and is looking at the possibilities of writing a book about tax issues.

Procrastination and fear may have fueled his tax avoidance for a few years, but Kornbluth definitely conveys a clear sense of civic responsibility. "This is us collecting money from ourselves for ourselves," he says, noting the numerous important institutions like education and public safety that are funded by taxes. "We want our society to be properly funded."

Of course, that doesn't mean tax paying is now an anxiety-free experience for Kornbluth, who still loathes paperwork and strongly recommends the help of a tax preparer. "It's really important to deal with it," says Kornbluth, who then laughs, "I'm saying this as if I know what I'm doing."