Rain. Lots of it. The kind that persists all day, the kind that makes your bed look like the perfect place to spend an entire afternoon.
The Guy sits center stage, in the middle of the rain, with an umbrella.
He is shielded from the rain.
Then the rain stops. Unexpectedly. Which it often does in south Louisiana.
The Guy smiles.
Then, from under the umbrella, rain begins to fall. Only under the umbrella. Only on the Guy.
The Guy looks momentarily unhappy. Because when you’re under an umbrella, you’re supposed to be safe from the rain. Not wet.
But he thinks a bit. And he wonders why he ever expected anyplace to be safe from the rain. And he wonders why he ever felt the need to be safe from it. After all it’s only rain, right?
Right.
So The Guy stands, with his umbrella-produced rainstorm on an otherwise sunny Louisiana afternoon, and he dances in the rain.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
1.30.2007 Virginia Guy (Elegy for an Asshole)
Virginia Guy sits center stage, a hulking behemoth of a fellow, engorged on his own self-adoration, surrounded by carcasses of other people’s opportunities. The only time he comes up for air as he sits there stuffing his fat face is to make demeaning comments about people in the audience.
VIRGINIA GUY
argh argh argh ugh argh ugh fuhg gruh grugh frugh gruff frugg argh
That’s what he sounds like when he speaksin this play, because I unfortunately can not translate the unique sounds of Asshole to English.
The Guy appears as Virginia Guy continues to be obnoxious and offensive.
THE GUY
Hey. Virginia Guy.
VIRGINIA GUY
argh fugh argh
THE GUY
Keep stuffing yourself on yourself and you’re gonna pop.
Virginia Guy grunts and ignores The Guy.
The Guy puts on a raincoat, rain hat, galoshes, and opens an umbrella.
Virginia Guy eats away.
There’s a rumbling noise. Virginia Guy’s eyes open wide.
Suddenly he pops. Virginia Guy bits go flying everywhere. There’s gonna be parts of him in your hair for weeks to come.
The Guy smiles.
THE GUY
What an asshole.
The Guy goes.
VIRGINIA GUY
argh argh argh ugh argh ugh fuhg gruh grugh frugh gruff frugg argh
That’s what he sounds like when he speaksin this play, because I unfortunately can not translate the unique sounds of Asshole to English.
The Guy appears as Virginia Guy continues to be obnoxious and offensive.
THE GUY
Hey. Virginia Guy.
VIRGINIA GUY
argh fugh argh
THE GUY
Keep stuffing yourself on yourself and you’re gonna pop.
Virginia Guy grunts and ignores The Guy.
The Guy puts on a raincoat, rain hat, galoshes, and opens an umbrella.
Virginia Guy eats away.
There’s a rumbling noise. Virginia Guy’s eyes open wide.
Suddenly he pops. Virginia Guy bits go flying everywhere. There’s gonna be parts of him in your hair for weeks to come.
The Guy smiles.
THE GUY
What an asshole.
The Guy goes.
1.30.2007: Place at the Table
A large banquet table sits center stage. It is ravishingly decorated.
The table is already filled – filled with playwrights.
Shakespeare sits next to Tony Kushner sits next to Sarah Ruhl sits next to Sophocles sits nexts to Oscar Wilde sits next to Terrence McNally sits next to Sondheim sits next to Moliere sits next to a dozen other famous playwrights all squeezed in together.
They are talking, of course -- a loud incredibly beautiful sound they make, speaking about the theatre. There’s great joy in their voices.
The Guy enters. Suddenly conversation stops.
The guy on the end – probably O’Neill – motions the Guy over.
EUGENE O’NEILL
Hi. We didn’t know you were coming.
THE GUY
I didn’t really know myself.
EUGENE O’NEILL
No matter. We can all squeeze in.
Suddenly, all the playwrights stand and scoot their chairs down one. A waiter brings another chair over.
The Guy sits down among the playwrights, artists who have inspired him and held him in awe his entire life.
The Guy smiles.
THE GUY
I know it isn’t really like this.
But it feels like this.
Today.
It feels like every word I’ve ever written down on paper
finally has come to something.
Every minute I’ve spent
in front of a blank page
filling it with words and ideas and little pieces of my life
and thinking,
“…no one’s ever going to see this
because here I am, stuck in some small town
and I will never be HERE
never
because you can call yourself a playwright all you want
but until someone wants your play
until someone wants you
you’re just someone who writes a “something-like-a-play”
not a playwright
not like these playwrights
these playwrights…”
The Guy scans the table and is overcome that he is sitting among them, even if only in this play of his own making.
THE GUY (cont.)
Today feels earned.
TONY KUSHNER
Salut!
Kushner raises his glass. The others follow suit.
THE PLAYWRIGHTS
Salut!
The Guy has a moment where he feels, for the first time, the distance between what’s wanted and what’s possible is the shortest it’s ever been.
He raises his glass. The Playwrights (and The Guy) drink. Then the conversation begins again, The Guy firmly in the thick of it.
The table is already filled – filled with playwrights.
Shakespeare sits next to Tony Kushner sits next to Sarah Ruhl sits next to Sophocles sits nexts to Oscar Wilde sits next to Terrence McNally sits next to Sondheim sits next to Moliere sits next to a dozen other famous playwrights all squeezed in together.
They are talking, of course -- a loud incredibly beautiful sound they make, speaking about the theatre. There’s great joy in their voices.
The Guy enters. Suddenly conversation stops.
The guy on the end – probably O’Neill – motions the Guy over.
EUGENE O’NEILL
Hi. We didn’t know you were coming.
THE GUY
I didn’t really know myself.
EUGENE O’NEILL
No matter. We can all squeeze in.
Suddenly, all the playwrights stand and scoot their chairs down one. A waiter brings another chair over.
The Guy sits down among the playwrights, artists who have inspired him and held him in awe his entire life.
The Guy smiles.
THE GUY
I know it isn’t really like this.
But it feels like this.
Today.
It feels like every word I’ve ever written down on paper
finally has come to something.
Every minute I’ve spent
in front of a blank page
filling it with words and ideas and little pieces of my life
and thinking,
“…no one’s ever going to see this
because here I am, stuck in some small town
and I will never be HERE
never
because you can call yourself a playwright all you want
but until someone wants your play
until someone wants you
you’re just someone who writes a “something-like-a-play”
not a playwright
not like these playwrights
these playwrights…”
The Guy scans the table and is overcome that he is sitting among them, even if only in this play of his own making.
THE GUY (cont.)
Today feels earned.
TONY KUSHNER
Salut!
Kushner raises his glass. The others follow suit.
THE PLAYWRIGHTS
Salut!
The Guy has a moment where he feels, for the first time, the distance between what’s wanted and what’s possible is the shortest it’s ever been.
He raises his glass. The Playwrights (and The Guy) drink. Then the conversation begins again, The Guy firmly in the thick of it.
Monday, January 29, 2007
1.29.2007: Like Cookies
The Guy enters. His Uncertain Future follows.
THE GUY
I've been thinking.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
About what?
THE GUY
Lots of things.
I feel... I don't know.
I feel...
completely possible right now.
Like everything's an option.
Like there isn't anything outside the realm of possibility.
Like...
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Like...?
THE GUY
I don't know. Words sort of fail me.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Ah. I see.
There's a pause where words fail them both.
You know those days. Where there's so much to be said, but no way to say it without sounding cheesy or self-important. And it's just good to stand there and take that feeling in.
So they do. They stand there a bit and just take the feeling in.
THE GUY
This is like cookies.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Huh?
THE GUY
Like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Right out of the oven.
The Uncertain Future look puzzled in The Guy's general direction.
THE GUY (cont.)
This isn't the best play yet.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No.
THE GUY
That sucks.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why?
THE GUY
Because they should all be great.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why?
Life never is.
Always great.
Somtimes it's just ordinary.
Like today.
The Guy considers this. He agrees. He appreciates the fact that no matter how much you want to turn your life into something wonderful, there are parts of it that are just...
life.
And that's good. It makes the beautiful stuff better.
Because if every day were like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, they wouldn't taste so great in the end.
THE GUY
I've been thinking.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
About what?
THE GUY
Lots of things.
I feel... I don't know.
I feel...
completely possible right now.
Like everything's an option.
Like there isn't anything outside the realm of possibility.
Like...
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Like...?
THE GUY
I don't know. Words sort of fail me.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Ah. I see.
There's a pause where words fail them both.
You know those days. Where there's so much to be said, but no way to say it without sounding cheesy or self-important. And it's just good to stand there and take that feeling in.
So they do. They stand there a bit and just take the feeling in.
THE GUY
This is like cookies.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Huh?
THE GUY
Like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Right out of the oven.
The Uncertain Future look puzzled in The Guy's general direction.
THE GUY (cont.)
This isn't the best play yet.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No.
THE GUY
That sucks.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why?
THE GUY
Because they should all be great.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why?
Life never is.
Always great.
Somtimes it's just ordinary.
Like today.
The Guy considers this. He agrees. He appreciates the fact that no matter how much you want to turn your life into something wonderful, there are parts of it that are just...
life.
And that's good. It makes the beautiful stuff better.
Because if every day were like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, they wouldn't taste so great in the end.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
1.28.2007: A Busy Day For Playwriting (or, Not Everything Is About The Heart Even Though It Thinks It Is.)
The Guy appears.
He starts to snap his fingers. Swinging rhythm.
He starts to dance a little. His moves are pretty cool.
He smiles, a very broad smile, one that lets you know something good is happening.
He does this for a while, and this is all he does while we watch him. And while we watch, we begin to understand that this dance has nothing to do with love, or possibility of love, or even harmless flirtation.
This dance has everything to do with the fact that the Guy knows that tonight, in a small theatre in a very big city, some actors are going to speak one of his plays for an audience of people who’ve paid to see it.
And this makes him dance.
He starts to snap his fingers. Swinging rhythm.
He starts to dance a little. His moves are pretty cool.
He smiles, a very broad smile, one that lets you know something good is happening.
He does this for a while, and this is all he does while we watch him. And while we watch, we begin to understand that this dance has nothing to do with love, or possibility of love, or even harmless flirtation.
This dance has everything to do with the fact that the Guy knows that tonight, in a small theatre in a very big city, some actors are going to speak one of his plays for an audience of people who’ve paid to see it.
And this makes him dance.
1.28.2007: Tether (and Why it’s Good You Came Around)
The Guy appears on stage, tied to ropes that extend out into space in every direction. The ropes extend far into the wings and the flies, probably down the street, maybe even past places The Guy has never heard of.
The Guy struggles with the ropes, because they won’t let him move, not even an inch, in any direction. He fights hard, but sometimes ropes are stronger than they appear.
The Fella appears. He’s attached to one of the ropes.
THE GUY
Hey.
THE FELLA
Hi.
THE GUY
What’s wrong?
THE FELLA
This rope. I’m attached to this rope. It’s a problem.
THE GUY
You’re telling me. Look who you’re talking to.
THE FELLA
No. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I don’t believe this rope really exists anymore.
THE GUY
Huh?
THE FELLA
Sorry. I don’t. I don’t believe in this rope anymore.
And just like that, the rope connecting the The Guy to the Fella vanishes.
This startles them both.
There’s a moment when the Guy thinks, “this is awful I want the rope back because I’m so used to having ropes that now, without one, I feel like a heaping pile of shit.”
But then, another thought enters his head. he thinks, “I don’t believe in these ropes either.”
And like that, all the ropes disappear. And the Guy is able to walk in any direction he wants to, and this is cool, because he hasn’t been able to do that in a really long time.
He goes to the Fella, and he hug the Fella.
THE GUY
Thank you.
THE FELLA
For what?
THE GUY
For snapping the tether.
The Guy starts to walk off.
THE FELLA
Hey! How about some ice cream?
THE GUY
No. I don’t think so.
THE FELLA
Maybe later?
THE GUY
No. I don’t think so. I’ve got some walking to do.
The Guy goes. And because he’s looking forward, he’s never really sure what the Fella did after he went.
The Guy struggles with the ropes, because they won’t let him move, not even an inch, in any direction. He fights hard, but sometimes ropes are stronger than they appear.
The Fella appears. He’s attached to one of the ropes.
THE GUY
Hey.
THE FELLA
Hi.
THE GUY
What’s wrong?
THE FELLA
This rope. I’m attached to this rope. It’s a problem.
THE GUY
You’re telling me. Look who you’re talking to.
THE FELLA
No. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I don’t believe this rope really exists anymore.
THE GUY
Huh?
THE FELLA
Sorry. I don’t. I don’t believe in this rope anymore.
And just like that, the rope connecting the The Guy to the Fella vanishes.
This startles them both.
There’s a moment when the Guy thinks, “this is awful I want the rope back because I’m so used to having ropes that now, without one, I feel like a heaping pile of shit.”
But then, another thought enters his head. he thinks, “I don’t believe in these ropes either.”
And like that, all the ropes disappear. And the Guy is able to walk in any direction he wants to, and this is cool, because he hasn’t been able to do that in a really long time.
He goes to the Fella, and he hug the Fella.
THE GUY
Thank you.
THE FELLA
For what?
THE GUY
For snapping the tether.
The Guy starts to walk off.
THE FELLA
Hey! How about some ice cream?
THE GUY
No. I don’t think so.
THE FELLA
Maybe later?
THE GUY
No. I don’t think so. I’ve got some walking to do.
The Guy goes. And because he’s looking forward, he’s never really sure what the Fella did after he went.
1.28.2007: Hatfields and Macoys
A cornfield appears on stage, and it’s a really nice one, too – the kind you’d expect in an MGM musical. If there were lots of cornfields in MGM musicals.
The Guy appears. He’s a vision in overalls, a straw hat, full hillbilly regalia.
He’s also got a shotgun.
A crow lands on an ear of corn near him.
He aims, cocks the gun.
THE GUY
Don’t you worry, my friend. I got my crow hunting hat on.
He doesn’t assume as he’s about to shoot that the crow has come because of him. He doesn’t assume anything really. He just wants to make sure that a cornfield as nice one is doesn’t have any crows in it.
He won’t shoot while the lights are up.
Because that would get messy.
So the lights go down.
The Guy appears. He’s a vision in overalls, a straw hat, full hillbilly regalia.
He’s also got a shotgun.
A crow lands on an ear of corn near him.
He aims, cocks the gun.
THE GUY
Don’t you worry, my friend. I got my crow hunting hat on.
He doesn’t assume as he’s about to shoot that the crow has come because of him. He doesn’t assume anything really. He just wants to make sure that a cornfield as nice one is doesn’t have any crows in it.
He won’t shoot while the lights are up.
Because that would get messy.
So the lights go down.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
1.27.2006: Real Is Slow
The Guy and The Curiosity. Seated in chairs.
THE GUY
Hi.
THE CURIOSITY
Hi.
The Guy looks up. Fireworks explode in the sky. A huge marching band pours onto the stage. Trapeze artists descend from the sky and begin doing amazing tricks. Dogs jump through fiery hoops. Angels sing in perfect choral harmony. The sky above them splits open and glorious things float about above their heads.
THE CURIOSITY
Whoa whoa whoa WHOA!
Everything freezes.
THE GUY
What’s wrong?
THE CURIOSITY
Real is slow.
THE GUY
Good point.
THE CURIOSITY
Let’s try that again. Hi.
THE GUY
Hi.
The Guy looks up. Everything from before vanishes in a flash.
Suddenly there’s just a little flicker of light above their heads. It’s tiny. It doesn’t have the flash and majesty of what we saw before, but there’s something incredibly beautiful about it.
The Guy looks over at the Curiosity. The Curiosity smiles back at the Guy.
THE GUY
I like that better.
THE CURIOSITY
Me too.
For a long long moment, the two of them just sit there, under the tiny flickering light, wondering where on earth this is going to go, and knowing that whenever it goes it’s going to be an adventure.
THE GUY
Hi.
THE CURIOSITY
Hi.
The Guy looks up. Fireworks explode in the sky. A huge marching band pours onto the stage. Trapeze artists descend from the sky and begin doing amazing tricks. Dogs jump through fiery hoops. Angels sing in perfect choral harmony. The sky above them splits open and glorious things float about above their heads.
THE CURIOSITY
Whoa whoa whoa WHOA!
Everything freezes.
THE GUY
What’s wrong?
THE CURIOSITY
Real is slow.
THE GUY
Good point.
THE CURIOSITY
Let’s try that again. Hi.
THE GUY
Hi.
The Guy looks up. Everything from before vanishes in a flash.
Suddenly there’s just a little flicker of light above their heads. It’s tiny. It doesn’t have the flash and majesty of what we saw before, but there’s something incredibly beautiful about it.
The Guy looks over at the Curiosity. The Curiosity smiles back at the Guy.
THE GUY
I like that better.
THE CURIOSITY
Me too.
For a long long moment, the two of them just sit there, under the tiny flickering light, wondering where on earth this is going to go, and knowing that whenever it goes it’s going to be an adventure.
Friday, January 26, 2007
1.26.2007: And We Mark the Place So We Remember
The Guy appears. He’s carrying a big flag – proud, extravagant, triumphant. He marches center stage and sticks it in the stage floor. Heraldic music. The Guy, puffed up and beaming, stands beside the flying flag.
A Tour Guide suddenly appears. She’s perky.
TOUR GUIDE
Right this way, everyone.
A throng of tourists appears. They gather around the flag.
TOUR GUIDE (cont.)
And this, everyone, is the place where the Guy finally stopped being a chickenshit.
The tourists ooh and aah. Flashes from cameras. Much tourist interest.
TOUR GUIDE (cont.)
And now if you’ll follow me, we’ll see the place Issac Hayes wrote “Shaft.”
The throng of tourists gets even more excited and they hurry off behind the tour guide.
The Guy, alone with his flag, seems pleased.
A Tour Guide suddenly appears. She’s perky.
TOUR GUIDE
Right this way, everyone.
A throng of tourists appears. They gather around the flag.
TOUR GUIDE (cont.)
And this, everyone, is the place where the Guy finally stopped being a chickenshit.
The tourists ooh and aah. Flashes from cameras. Much tourist interest.
TOUR GUIDE (cont.)
And now if you’ll follow me, we’ll see the place Issac Hayes wrote “Shaft.”
The throng of tourists gets even more excited and they hurry off behind the tour guide.
The Guy, alone with his flag, seems pleased.
1.26.2007: Unexpected Things from the Other Side of the World
Well, not quite the other side of the world. Just Indiana.
Which is where we are. Indiana. And a new person, someone we haven’t seen yet, is sitting here. We’ll call him The Curiosity.
The Curiosity doesn’t look frightened, or nervous, or even surprised that he’s suddenly on stage in a play. He just seems to be completely content where he is. We like him instantly.
The Guy appears.
THE GUY
Hey.
THE CURIOSITY
Hey.
THE GUY
Where’d you come from?
THE CURIOSITY
Does it matter?
THE GUY
No.
This is unexpected.
THE CURIOSITY
I know. Fun, huh?
THE GUY
But you’re kinda far away.
THE CURIOSITY
What do you mean?
THE GUY
Isn’t this Indiana?
THE CURIOSITY
Yeah.
THE GUY
I’m not in Indiana.
THE CURIOSITY
Yet here you are. So come sit down. I’ve got some ice cream.
THE GUY
Ah, the magic of the theatre….
A chair appears beside the Curiosity, and the Guy sits in it. Ice cream appears – Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.
THE CURIOSITY
Two spoons.
Which he produces. He hands one to the Guy.
THE GUY
You’re nice.
THE CURIOSITY
Thank you. You wanna hold the container?
The Guy smiles. He accepts the container. They eat ice cream.
And from across a great distance, even though they’re sitting right next to each other (because in a play, space is as malleable as the heart after it’s been broken), they enjoy each other’s company.
Which is where we are. Indiana. And a new person, someone we haven’t seen yet, is sitting here. We’ll call him The Curiosity.
The Curiosity doesn’t look frightened, or nervous, or even surprised that he’s suddenly on stage in a play. He just seems to be completely content where he is. We like him instantly.
The Guy appears.
THE GUY
Hey.
THE CURIOSITY
Hey.
THE GUY
Where’d you come from?
THE CURIOSITY
Does it matter?
THE GUY
No.
This is unexpected.
THE CURIOSITY
I know. Fun, huh?
THE GUY
But you’re kinda far away.
THE CURIOSITY
What do you mean?
THE GUY
Isn’t this Indiana?
THE CURIOSITY
Yeah.
THE GUY
I’m not in Indiana.
THE CURIOSITY
Yet here you are. So come sit down. I’ve got some ice cream.
THE GUY
Ah, the magic of the theatre….
A chair appears beside the Curiosity, and the Guy sits in it. Ice cream appears – Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.
THE CURIOSITY
Two spoons.
Which he produces. He hands one to the Guy.
THE GUY
You’re nice.
THE CURIOSITY
Thank you. You wanna hold the container?
The Guy smiles. He accepts the container. They eat ice cream.
And from across a great distance, even though they’re sitting right next to each other (because in a play, space is as malleable as the heart after it’s been broken), they enjoy each other’s company.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
1.25.2007: Signs of the Apocalypse (Things Are Improving)
The stage is filled with a hundred doors.
The Guy wanders in. He looks at all the doors.
Knocking is heard. But he can’t tell from where.
THE GUY
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Look.
Wherever you are,
just come on in.
It’s open.
A door opens. An incredibly attractive man walks into the stage space. He’s a handsome piece of fella, and what one can tell before he opens his mouth is that he’s funny and clever and exactly the kind of man you’d bring home to meet your mom – if your mom is cool with you being gay.
He’s Opportunity, by the way.
OPPORTUNITY
Hey.
THE GUY
Oh, hey! What are you doing here?
OPPORTUNITY
What do you think?
Magic twinkly music.
Opportunity waves his hand.
The doors all burst open and a hundred versions of the Guy emerge, all singing showtunes and dancing in the funny way the guy dances, filled with hope, filled with a sense that something terrific is either about to happen or has just happened. It’s a cool feeling.
THE GUY
You know, something like this happened yesterday.
OPPORTUNITY
Yeah?
THE GUY
Yeah. Same principle. Totally different feeling.
OPPORTUNITY
You wanna make out?
THE GUY
Sure.
OPPORTUNITY
And I have chocolate chip cookies back at my place.
THE GUY
Perfect.
This must be a sign of the apocalypse. The world’s gotta be about to end when you feel this good.
OPPORTUNITY
Nah. Feel good. This won’t last forever.
Nothing does.
The Guy finds that last remark perfectly appropriate. He grabs Opportunity’s hand and theygo off together to make out and have chocolate chip cookies.
The versions of the Guy dance
and dance
and dance.
The Guy wanders in. He looks at all the doors.
Knocking is heard. But he can’t tell from where.
THE GUY
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Look.
Wherever you are,
just come on in.
It’s open.
A door opens. An incredibly attractive man walks into the stage space. He’s a handsome piece of fella, and what one can tell before he opens his mouth is that he’s funny and clever and exactly the kind of man you’d bring home to meet your mom – if your mom is cool with you being gay.
He’s Opportunity, by the way.
OPPORTUNITY
Hey.
THE GUY
Oh, hey! What are you doing here?
OPPORTUNITY
What do you think?
Magic twinkly music.
Opportunity waves his hand.
The doors all burst open and a hundred versions of the Guy emerge, all singing showtunes and dancing in the funny way the guy dances, filled with hope, filled with a sense that something terrific is either about to happen or has just happened. It’s a cool feeling.
THE GUY
You know, something like this happened yesterday.
OPPORTUNITY
Yeah?
THE GUY
Yeah. Same principle. Totally different feeling.
OPPORTUNITY
You wanna make out?
THE GUY
Sure.
OPPORTUNITY
And I have chocolate chip cookies back at my place.
THE GUY
Perfect.
This must be a sign of the apocalypse. The world’s gotta be about to end when you feel this good.
OPPORTUNITY
Nah. Feel good. This won’t last forever.
Nothing does.
The Guy finds that last remark perfectly appropriate. He grabs Opportunity’s hand and theygo off together to make out and have chocolate chip cookies.
The versions of the Guy dance
and dance
and dance.
1.24.2007: The Thing That Comes and Goes
The Guy appears. He’s dressed nice. He looks sharp. He’s smiling.
The Fella appears.
THE FELLA
Hi.
The Guy suddenly goes nuts.
THE GUY
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?
What is your problem?
Seriously. Seriously.
I mean, I’m HERE. I’m standing right here.
I’m telling you. I’m TELLING you.
And more than telling you
I’m HERE. I’m PRESENT.
I’m actually able to be right here right now
and right here right now for a lot of the time to come
AND YOU SAY NO!
I mean. Are you mildly retarded?
Because you must be mildly retarded to say NO
when you know what’s here for you!
WHAT’S HERE. In me.
You’ve seen it. I know you’ve seen it
don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about.
You know what’s here.
BUT YOU’RE STILL STANDING OVER FUCKING THERE!
I MEAN, WHAT DOES A PERSON HAVE TO DO!?
Do I have to open myself up like a
like a
Like an I don’t know what
but is that what it takes? IS IT! IS IT?
Here. HERE…
The Guy grabs the center of his chest and pulls back the skin, pulls back the ribs, the muscles, and opens himself like an I don’t know what.
Suddenly, versions of The Guy emerge from his chest, hundreds of them, every nice thing he’s ever said to the Fella, every kiss, every time he poked his head just to be able to reach out and touch him, every wink, every laugh, every time woke up in the middle of the night and saw the Fella sleeping beside him and felt safer, every hug that didn’t last long enough, every remembered conversation, everything, every version of the Guy that was touched by The Fella – they come pouring out and they fill the stage.
The sound is deafening. Cacophony. It drowns out the hum of the world.
Then, they disappear as quickly as they have appeared.
The Guy’s chest closes. He’s back to normal.
THE GUY
Sorry. It happens.
Hi.
THE FELLA
You okay?
THE GUY
Comes and goes.
The Fella doesn’t say anything.
The Fella appears.
THE FELLA
Hi.
The Guy suddenly goes nuts.
THE GUY
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?
What is your problem?
Seriously. Seriously.
I mean, I’m HERE. I’m standing right here.
I’m telling you. I’m TELLING you.
And more than telling you
I’m HERE. I’m PRESENT.
I’m actually able to be right here right now
and right here right now for a lot of the time to come
AND YOU SAY NO!
I mean. Are you mildly retarded?
Because you must be mildly retarded to say NO
when you know what’s here for you!
WHAT’S HERE. In me.
You’ve seen it. I know you’ve seen it
don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about.
You know what’s here.
BUT YOU’RE STILL STANDING OVER FUCKING THERE!
I MEAN, WHAT DOES A PERSON HAVE TO DO!?
Do I have to open myself up like a
like a
Like an I don’t know what
but is that what it takes? IS IT! IS IT?
Here. HERE…
The Guy grabs the center of his chest and pulls back the skin, pulls back the ribs, the muscles, and opens himself like an I don’t know what.
Suddenly, versions of The Guy emerge from his chest, hundreds of them, every nice thing he’s ever said to the Fella, every kiss, every time he poked his head just to be able to reach out and touch him, every wink, every laugh, every time woke up in the middle of the night and saw the Fella sleeping beside him and felt safer, every hug that didn’t last long enough, every remembered conversation, everything, every version of the Guy that was touched by The Fella – they come pouring out and they fill the stage.
The sound is deafening. Cacophony. It drowns out the hum of the world.
Then, they disappear as quickly as they have appeared.
The Guy’s chest closes. He’s back to normal.
THE GUY
Sorry. It happens.
Hi.
THE FELLA
You okay?
THE GUY
Comes and goes.
The Fella doesn’t say anything.
1.24.2007: In The Absence of Whatever Kept Me Hopeful
The Guy, in the saddest place.
The place in the center of his chest feels like it’s in pieces. But that’s okay.
Because The Guy thinks, “Maybe this is how The Fella felt when The Guy did this to him.”
So The Guy thinks, “This is deserved.”
The Place in the center of his chest feels different, less…
… just less.
The Uncertain Future appears.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Hey.
THE GUY
Hey.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Maybe it didn’t.
THE GUY
Huh?
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Maybe it didn’t feel the same.
THE GUY
What did?
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
The place in the center of his chest when you did this to him.
THE GUY
Oh.
Yeah.
I hadn’t thought of that.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Because you seem to be the only one here.
THE GUY
Well, there’s you.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I don’t count.
THE GUY
Then, yeah. There’s just me.
The Guy imagines for a second what happened after he did this to The Fella.
In what he imagines, nothing’s broken.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Sucks, huh?
THE GUY
A little.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
So, what are you doing here?
THE GUY
I don’t know.
I want him to realize I’m here
and I want him to feel so bad that I’m here
that he leaves where he is
and he comes to find me.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
But how can someone find you
if they’ve never been to the place where you are?
THE GUY
I don’t know that’s true.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
If what was before
was anything like this…
he’d have been here already.
The guy looks around.
He sees that he’s the first person in this particular place.
Because every relationship, no matter how small, builds a place like this – the place where the people in it go when something breaks inside them, the place people go to repair.
He got here first. As far as he can tell.
THE GUY
Maybe I can wait for him.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why? He’s not coming.
THE GUY
Maybe.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not coming.
THE GUY
You don’t know that.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not coming.
A long silence. Where The Guy thinks that it doesn’t matter anymore whether or not The Fella ever felt like this, because even if he did, he’s not coming back, not ever, because things (once they’re broken) can only be fixed by people who want them fixed, and nobody can fix something like this alone.
THE GUY
He’s not coming.
We should go.
The Guy scribbles a note on a piece of paper from his pocket and leaves it in the center of this place.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What’s that?
THE GUY
A note.
In case he comes looking for me.
Because maybe he’s late.
Maybe he’s just unsure of the directions.
Maybe he’s just trying to avoid ever having to come back to a place like this.
I don’t know.
But if he comes.
I don’t want him to think I was only making it up that I was here.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh. But he’s not coming.
THE GUY
I know, but if he does –
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not.
THE GUY
I know.
I’m hopeful.
Even though I shouldn’t be.
Even in the absence of whatever makes me hopeful.
He’s worth that much.
The guy makes sure the note can be read from whatever distance one sees it.
THE GUY
Ok.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What?
THE GUY
Let’s go. If he’s coming, he’ll catch up.
The Guy walks off, and is gone, followed by his Uncertain Future.
The place in the center of his chest feels like it’s in pieces. But that’s okay.
Because The Guy thinks, “Maybe this is how The Fella felt when The Guy did this to him.”
So The Guy thinks, “This is deserved.”
The Place in the center of his chest feels different, less…
… just less.
The Uncertain Future appears.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Hey.
THE GUY
Hey.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Maybe it didn’t.
THE GUY
Huh?
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Maybe it didn’t feel the same.
THE GUY
What did?
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
The place in the center of his chest when you did this to him.
THE GUY
Oh.
Yeah.
I hadn’t thought of that.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Because you seem to be the only one here.
THE GUY
Well, there’s you.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I don’t count.
THE GUY
Then, yeah. There’s just me.
The Guy imagines for a second what happened after he did this to The Fella.
In what he imagines, nothing’s broken.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Sucks, huh?
THE GUY
A little.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
So, what are you doing here?
THE GUY
I don’t know.
I want him to realize I’m here
and I want him to feel so bad that I’m here
that he leaves where he is
and he comes to find me.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
But how can someone find you
if they’ve never been to the place where you are?
THE GUY
I don’t know that’s true.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
If what was before
was anything like this…
he’d have been here already.
The guy looks around.
He sees that he’s the first person in this particular place.
Because every relationship, no matter how small, builds a place like this – the place where the people in it go when something breaks inside them, the place people go to repair.
He got here first. As far as he can tell.
THE GUY
Maybe I can wait for him.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why? He’s not coming.
THE GUY
Maybe.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not coming.
THE GUY
You don’t know that.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not coming.
A long silence. Where The Guy thinks that it doesn’t matter anymore whether or not The Fella ever felt like this, because even if he did, he’s not coming back, not ever, because things (once they’re broken) can only be fixed by people who want them fixed, and nobody can fix something like this alone.
THE GUY
He’s not coming.
We should go.
The Guy scribbles a note on a piece of paper from his pocket and leaves it in the center of this place.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What’s that?
THE GUY
A note.
In case he comes looking for me.
Because maybe he’s late.
Maybe he’s just unsure of the directions.
Maybe he’s just trying to avoid ever having to come back to a place like this.
I don’t know.
But if he comes.
I don’t want him to think I was only making it up that I was here.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh. But he’s not coming.
THE GUY
I know, but if he does –
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
He’s not.
THE GUY
I know.
I’m hopeful.
Even though I shouldn’t be.
Even in the absence of whatever makes me hopeful.
He’s worth that much.
The guy makes sure the note can be read from whatever distance one sees it.
THE GUY
Ok.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What?
THE GUY
Let’s go. If he’s coming, he’ll catch up.
The Guy walks off, and is gone, followed by his Uncertain Future.
1.23.2007: Addendum
The Guy.
He’s been here before.
It’s the saddest place. Lots of space, but nothingmuch to fill it.
THE GUY
Something just broke.
He looks around.
His hand goes to the middle of his chest.
He looks up.
The place suddenly seems a whole lot bigger.
He’s been here before.
It’s the saddest place. Lots of space, but nothingmuch to fill it.
THE GUY
Something just broke.
He looks around.
His hand goes to the middle of his chest.
He looks up.
The place suddenly seems a whole lot bigger.
1.23.2007: Cute
The Guy is here. So is the Fella. The Guy has the play from 1.22.2007 in his hand.
THE GUY
You wanna read this?
THE FELLA
Sure.
THE GUY
It’s short.
THE FELLA
Doesn’t matter.
The Fella reads the play. He laughs.
THE GUY
So?
Magical Music. Lights. Cute enters.
Cute is…well, figure it out. He prances. He preens. He’s obnoxious.
CUTE
It’s me!
THE FELLA
It’s Cute.
THE GUY
I know.
THE FELLA
We don’t say cute.
THE GUY
I hate that guy.
The Guy takes a gun out and shoots Cute. Cute dies.
THE GUY
Let’s go get pizza.
THE GUY
You wanna read this?
THE FELLA
Sure.
THE GUY
It’s short.
THE FELLA
Doesn’t matter.
The Fella reads the play. He laughs.
THE GUY
So?
Magical Music. Lights. Cute enters.
Cute is…well, figure it out. He prances. He preens. He’s obnoxious.
CUTE
It’s me!
THE FELLA
It’s Cute.
THE GUY
I know.
THE FELLA
We don’t say cute.
THE GUY
I hate that guy.
The Guy takes a gun out and shoots Cute. Cute dies.
THE GUY
Let’s go get pizza.
1.22.2007: The Guy's Got Game
The Guy, again. Get used to it. He’ll be here a lot.
Alone, this time.
THE GUY
The hardest part about waiting
is the waiting.
The Fella appears. He’s playing bongos. The Nintendo kind, for a video game.
THE FELLA
Yellow, you hit left.
Red, you hit right.
THE GUY
And the stuff you’re waiting for
isn’t even the stuff you think you’d be waiting for.
THE FELLA
Pink, you hit both of ‘em.
THE GUY
It’s not that you want everything.
THE FELLA
Clap when you see the little explosion thing.
THE GUY
You just want the stuff that makes
the waiting
worth the wait.
THE FELLA
Got it?
THE GUY
Yeah.
THE FELLA
Let’s play.
Alone, this time.
THE GUY
The hardest part about waiting
is the waiting.
The Fella appears. He’s playing bongos. The Nintendo kind, for a video game.
THE FELLA
Yellow, you hit left.
Red, you hit right.
THE GUY
And the stuff you’re waiting for
isn’t even the stuff you think you’d be waiting for.
THE FELLA
Pink, you hit both of ‘em.
THE GUY
It’s not that you want everything.
THE FELLA
Clap when you see the little explosion thing.
THE GUY
You just want the stuff that makes
the waiting
worth the wait.
THE FELLA
Got it?
THE GUY
Yeah.
THE FELLA
Let’s play.
1.22.07: Imprint
Two chairs. Two people.
The Guy and his Uncertain Future. They contemplate each other for a
really
long
time.
Then:
THE GUY
Here we are.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Yes. Here we are.
THE GUY
You’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No, you’re staring.
THE GUY
Because you’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh.
No one stops staring.
THE GUY
This is stupid.
Things are unknowable. That’s what’s certain.
You, on the other hand, are not.
Certain.
By design.
But things.
Things. Capital T Things.
Are deeply and irrevocably unknowable.
So what can I do? Really?
I mean, there’s nothing really that I can do.
Except wait.
Wait.
Because I can’t undo. I can’t correct.
I can’t begin again without what’s come already.
So what can I do?
But wait.
I can wait.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
And talk.
Apparently.
Silence.
The Guy opens his hands, palms up, fingers spread.
THE GUY
Things leave marks.
You have left marks on me.
Not like scars.
Not like that.
Imprints. Hands in mud. Like that.
He closes his hands. Confidently:
THE GUY
I can wait.
The Guy and his Uncertain Future. They contemplate each other for a
really
long
time.
Then:
THE GUY
Here we are.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Yes. Here we are.
THE GUY
You’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No, you’re staring.
THE GUY
Because you’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh.
No one stops staring.
THE GUY
This is stupid.
Things are unknowable. That’s what’s certain.
You, on the other hand, are not.
Certain.
By design.
But things.
Things. Capital T Things.
Are deeply and irrevocably unknowable.
So what can I do? Really?
I mean, there’s nothing really that I can do.
Except wait.
Wait.
Because I can’t undo. I can’t correct.
I can’t begin again without what’s come already.
So what can I do?
But wait.
I can wait.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
And talk.
Apparently.
Silence.
The Guy opens his hands, palms up, fingers spread.
THE GUY
Things leave marks.
You have left marks on me.
Not like scars.
Not like that.
Imprints. Hands in mud. Like that.
He closes his hands. Confidently:
THE GUY
I can wait.
WELCOME TO LIFE/PLAY
So, I'm taking a cue from Suzan-Lori Parks and starting Life/Play, a little theatre project of unstageable playlets that take little snapshots of my life -- at least one a day for each day of my life.
Now for any snobby theatre types who think I'm ripping off 365 days / 365 Plays... bite me. Yes, it's the same idea, but it's more personal, just for fun, and really, get over yourself if you're going to be petty like that. :)
So... let it begin! I'm starting with the ones I've done for the Past Few Days...
Now for any snobby theatre types who think I'm ripping off 365 days / 365 Plays... bite me. Yes, it's the same idea, but it's more personal, just for fun, and really, get over yourself if you're going to be petty like that. :)
So... let it begin! I'm starting with the ones I've done for the Past Few Days...
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