3.31.2007: Untitled (A Day That Goes Unwritten)

3.30.2007: Fragment (Radio Silence)

The Guy, again.

Standing center stage, looking at us.

Can I just, for one more day, not have something to say?

The Guy moves downstage.

I write this for myself. Not so that you can have some kind of inside track as to what’s going on in my head. Because this is never the whole. This is only a fragment…

The Guy closes his eyes.

And as I read this I can tell you – the sound it makes on here isn’t what this day feels like. Not as a whole. This feeling is one small part. One small corner that’s unlit. But the rest of it...

The Guy opens his mouth.

Where is the space where one can share only what they want to share and not be demanded any more? Is there a space for that? Why isn’t there a space for that?

No sound is made.

The lights go down.

3.29.2007: I Cannot Be All Things At Once

The Guy, again, alone.

He stands as still as he can.

His eyes are closed. His hands make fists (but not angry ones, just impatient ones).

He whispers something – something we cannot quite hear. Over and over, as if willing it to happen.

Some things are completely mine.

The lights go down.

3.28.2007: The Unknowable Thing

The Guy, alone.

THE GUY
I don’t understand.
I don’t.
I try.
I don’t.
I reason.
I don’t.
I distract myself.
I don’t.

This is.

I don’t understand.

He sits, trying to work out the unknowable thing.

The lights go out.

3.28.2007: Funny

Darkness.

A harsh spotlight hits The Guy, center stage. A voice rings out from the darkness.

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
Okay. Show us what you got.

THE GUY
Huh?

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
Show me funny.

THE GUY
Funny?

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
Yeah. Be funny.

The Guy doesn’t do anything for a few uncomfortable moments.

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS (cont.)
That’s not funny.

THE GUY
I know.

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
I asked for funny.

THE GUY
Yes I know.

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
So be funny.

A horn is tooted from the darkness and Funny appears. He’s exactly what one might expect from a character named Funny. Go for it.

Funny runs into the light with The Guy

FUNNY
I can be funny!

Funny is as Funny does. It’s more embarrassing than funny, really. Funny finishes with a flourish.

VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS
You’re hired! You start next week.

FUNNY
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Funny vanishes. The lights restore a little. An actor appears.

THE GUY
What’s so good about Funny?

AN ACTOR
Funny doesn’t make people want to slit their wrists.

THE GUY
And I do?

AN ACTOR
Um… Sometimes.

THE GUY
Jeez.

AN ACTOR
Gotta give them what they want.

THE GUY
But who’s “them?”

The Guy and An Actor look out into the darkness that’s the audience.

AN ACTOR
They’re watching us.

THE GUY
I know.

AN ACTOR
We should do something funny.

THE GUY
Like what?

A moment of existential crisis.

The lights go down.

3.27.2007: Bleak House (Not From Dickens)

The Guy is met onstage by an Actor, expressing deep concern.

AN ACTOR
Hi.

THE GUY
Hey

AN ACTOR
Oh my God, are you okay?

THE GUY
What?

AN ACTOR
Well, I’ve been watching the plays from backstage, and you just seem so… so…

THE GUY
So what?

AN ACTOR
Sad.

THE GUY
What are you talking about?

Another actor emerges, with a casserole.

ANOTHER ACTOR
Hey you.

THE GUY
Hey.

ANOTHER ACTOR
I made you a casserole.

THE GUY
Why?

ANOTHER ACTOR
It’s what you do. When people are grief-stricken. You make them a casserole. So… here. A casserole. I baked it myself.

THE GUY
Grief-stricken?

Yet Another Actor appears, with three Sicilian mourners.

YET ANOTHER ACTOR
I got em!

THE GUY
Got what?

YET ANOTHER ACTOR
Professional mourners. Sicilian and everything. To mourn with you. Watch em go.

Yet Another Actor bows a whistle. The mourners mourn brilliantly.

THE GUY
What the hell is going on?

AN ACTOR
Your plays. They’re so…
How do I put this?

Ponderous.
I mean not all of them of course,
but a good number of them.

Ponderous.

I mean
sitting alone
on an empty stage
pondering the vastness of the universe…

You know,
hilarity doesn’t really ensue.

THE GUY
But I’m not sad. I’m not sad at all. I’m actually a pretty happy fella.

AN ACTOR
Then why is so much of this so…
bleak?

THE GUY
It’s not bleak to me.
It’s hopeful.
In the face of every sort of difficult and unexpected change…

AN ACTOR
And here we go.

THE GUY
What?

AN ACTOR
Ponderous!
Jesus, you writers don’t know when to stop, do you?

THE GUY
Well what am I supposed to do?
Life happens to me.
I try to make something out of it.

It just comes out so…

so…

AN ACTOR
Ponderous?

THE GUY
Okay, fine. Ponderous.

AN ACTOR
Dude, just write what happens.

THE GUY
Okay. I’ll try that.

The Fella appears.

THE FELLA
Hi.

THE GUY
Tonight, when you hugged me goodbye…
It was a really good hug.

THE FELLA
Aw. Thanks.

THE GUY
You’re welcome.

AN ACTOR
See? How hard was that?

Sadness lifts. The mourners no longer have anything to mourn about.

So they all share the casserole.

The lights go down.

3.26.2007: It Wants What It Wants

The Guy is alone on stage.

He smiles, amused by something unexpected that’s surfaced in the center of his chest.

A beat passes. And he starts to laugh.

He shakes his head. Some things just never give up, do they?

He walks away. The lights go down.

3.25.3007: Carrot (A Theatrical Metaphor, Reconsidered)

The Guy and Carrot (Now an asshole) enter. The Carrot follows the Guy.

The Official-Looking Narrator speaks grandly.

THE OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor, Reconsidered.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
Hey wait up! Come on. WAIT UP!

THE GUY
What?

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
This isn’t fair.

THE GUY
What isn’t fair?

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
This.

This puppet.
This… asshole puppet.

I’m not an asshole.

THE GUY
You don’t return calls. Or text messages. You don’t say hello when you see me online. You’re an asshole.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
I’m…

I’m not an asshole. And I’m not a carrot.
I’m a person.

There’s a person behind your theatrical metaphor.
Someone who has stuff going on in his life
that you know nothing about.

Stuff that you can’t just fit neatly
into a two-page play
with puppets and a narrator
and this sense that life and people
can be distilled.
Reduced.
Simplified.

The Actor takes the puppet off.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
I’m not what you think I am.
Nobody is.
And it’s not fair for you to paint a picture of the world
in which I’m either a Carrot or an Asshole
and nothing in between.

THE GUY
I’m sorry.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
It’s okay.

THE GUY
I just liked you.
A lot.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
Okay.
So now we understand each other.

THE GUY
Now we understand each other.

THE OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor –

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
Oh for God sakes, shut the fuck up.

Here.
You need this more than I do.

He hands the asshole puppet to the Narrator. The Carrot walks away. The guy considers the Narrator for a moment, and leaves in the opposite direction.

The lights go down.

3.24.3007: Rubik’s (A Thousand Unnamable Things)

The Guy and the Brother, both trying to solve Rubik’s cubes.

THE GUY
These are hard.

THE BROTHER
I know.

THE GUY
I could never solve these back when they were popular.

THE BROTHER
I can’t even solve them now.

THE GUY
I used to take the stickers off and rearrange them so I could solve it.

THE BROTHER
Everybody did that. I can’t believe you even bothered to write that in a play.

THE GUY
Well…

THE BROTHER
Jeez…

THE GUY
It’s something to say. While we try to solve these damn things.

THE BROTHER
Whatever.

They work on a little more.

THE BROTHER (cont.)
Boyfriends are like Rubik’s cubes.

You get them, and they have these colors everywhere,
these things that catch your eye,
stuff you like,
stuff that makes you smile
stuff that attracts you,

but there’s no order to them yet,
no order to them in relation to all your stuff
all your colors
all your things to catch the eye,

so the work begins,
and you twist the colors around
rearrange things to try to line things up

but every time you line this up here,
something goes wrong over there
and it seems like every time you get something to work
something elsewhere gets out of whack

and the whole enterprise becomes a frustrating mess
of trying to order something that doesn’t want to be ordered

but you know there’s a solution

and there’s a thousand unnamable things that can
get in the way of the solution

a thousand false turns

and even though you know there’s a solution to a person
maybe you’re not the one with the solution,

maybe you don’t know how to line up the colors
and they’ll forever be something…

unsolveable.

THE GUY
You can’t take their stickers off, either.

THE BROTHER
No.

THE GUY
It’d be easier if you’d just take their stickers off.

THE BROTHER
I know.

THE GUY
Look. I got a line right. All green.

THE BROTHER
I need to get this white over here and I’d have four corners.

THE GUY
Cool.

They continue to work on the cubes as the lights go down.

3.23.2007: The Courage of Things to Resist the Tide of Change

A tumultuous storm overtakes the stage.

The actors rush on -- Rain gear, umbrellas, sandbags, ect. A great wind whips through the space.

AN ACTOR
Where is he?!

ANOTHER ACTOR
I don’t know!!

AN ACTOR
Brace yourselves!

The actors steel themselves against a huge crash of thunder and a sudden gust of wind that knocks them around.

The actors huddle together center stage, grasping on to each other. They all face out with looks of determination, resilience, and a little bit of terror.

A sudden light shift, and they all freeze. Tableau.

The Guy emerges. Sees the tableau. Moves downstage. To the darkness:

THE GUY
What are you doing?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
What do you mean?

THE GUY
You. Are doing something. And I want to know what it is.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I am writing a play. Today’s play. That’s what I’m doing.

THE GUY
What’s the play about?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
A moment of great and impossible Change.

THE GUY
For me?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
For us. Yes.

THE GUY
Then why am I not with them?

The Guy indicates the tableau. A tentative pause.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I’m trying to protect you.

THE GUY
From what?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
From the Tide of Change.

THE GUY
And you’re just going to toss them out into it?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
They’re just characters. Even the ones based on real people. They’re just… composites or exaggerations or essential characteristics… but you.

You’re Me.

And for a while, in this play,
you were a guarded kind of Me.
You were Me with just enough held back to remain a fiction.

But now…
You’re giving so much
that it’s harder and harder to keep you contained
to keep things private
to keep you a fiction.

I can’t just throw you out into the storm.

Things are changing. Fast. In comes the Tide, and I can’t just write you into every danger and hope for the best.

THE GUY
That’s not fair.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
It’s self-preservation. It isn’t supposed to be fair.

THE GUY
I don’t want to be protected.

And I’m not anymore.

Because you clearly felt the need to write yourself into this play
even though you thought you’d already done that
by creating me.

You can’t hide behind me from this play forward.

Maybe I’m the storm.
The moment of great and impossible Change.
I am the Tide that’s finally coming in,

and you’re the one that thinks they need protection.

There is no response from The Voice of the Playwright. Yet, anyway.

The Guy moves to the tableau, assumes a position with them, and fixes his face into a look of steely determination.

THE GUY (cont.)
Give me the best that you’ve got.

The tumultuous storm rises again, and the tableau is brought back to life.

Gusts of wind and crashes of thunder.

But they are resolute. They stand firm. The storm cannot move them.

The lights go down.

3.22.2007: Carrot (A Theatrical Metaphor, Extended)

The Official-Looking Narrator appears as The Guy returns, chasing the Carrot (still played by an actor with a puppet).

THE OFFICAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor, Extended. In Which The Carrot Gets Told Off.

THE GUY
Alright alright ALRIGHT!

They stop mid-chase.

CARROT
What?

THE GUY
You know what, Carrot?

I’ve been chasing you around for a couple weeks now. Trying to be a nice guy. Trying to call you. Hang out with you. Hell, just go to a restaurant and eat food with you.

Not even anything like making out or being romantic even cuddling on your couch. Not anything like that. And I can’t seem to get you to answer your freaking cell phone! Or send me a stupid text message!

I’m just trying to be nice to you!

So you know what, Carrot? I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not following you around anymore like some dumb pack mule. Because you’re not a nice Carrot. I don’t even like Carrots!

I have reached the end of my patience with a vegetable like you.

And since you are a theatrical metaphor, and not a real carrot at all, I’m going to change you.

Because I can.
Because I am the playwright.
Because you are no longer worthy of being called a Carrot.

You are an asshole.

And the Official-Looking Narrator removes the carrot puppet and gives the actor an asshole puppet.

CARROT NOW AN ASSHOLE
That’s harsh.

THE GUY
Tough.

THE OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor, Extended. The End.

The lights go down.

3.21.2007: Repeated Once Again (Reiteration)

“There are only so many times that you can say "I like you" or "I wish I were there" before it becomes a meaningless jumble of consonants.
About 25, I'd say.” – The Fella’s livejournal, 3.21.2007

The Guy and The Fella and someone in a chair – The Automaton.

THE AUTOMATON
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.

THE GUY
(overlapping The Automaton)
What’s he doing?

THE FELLA
Testing a theory.

THE GUY
What theory?

THE FELLA
There are only so many times you can say something before it becomes a meaningless jumble of consonants.

THE GUY
Oh.

THE AUTOMATON
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.

THE FELLA
I am disappointed in the limitations of language.

THE GUY
Are you now?

THE FELLA
Upon repetition, the meaning that’s carried is… diluted. Reiteration (which would seem to produce abundance) only seems to produce… deterioration.

THE GUY
Like copies of a copy…

THE FELLA
.. of a copy. Exactly.

THE AUTOMATON
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.

THE GUY
How long does he do this?

THE FELLA
Forever, I suppose.

THE GUY
We don’t have that kind of time.

THE FELLA
No, I suppose we don’t.

THE AUTOMATON
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.

THE GUY
I’ve given up, you know.

THE FELLA
On?

THE GUY
You.

THE FELLA
I see.

THE GUY
It seems to be the smart thing to do.

So that I’m not just left
with the copy of a copy
of something I really enjoyed.

Something that had, for me,
value.

You’ve moved on.
That’s clear to me.
You’ve moved on completely.

I accept that.

I don’t want you to be something I destroyed
in the reiteration.

THE AUTOMATON
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you.

THE FELLA
Isn’t it funny how the words stop sounding like the words the more you hear them?
As if they lose, in the repetition, even themselves.

The Automaton continues as the lights go down.

3.20.2007: Intermezzo (Don’t Stage Me, Just What’s On My Mind)

The Guy is a little confused today.

The One Before went out on a date last night. And is going out on one again tonight.

And while the idea that the One Before is moving on with his life is a happy one for The Guy, there is something… well… confusing about the way this feels.

Letting something go is always a liberating emotion. The Guy knows this well. He’s written about it before in this monstrosity, and he will probably write about it again at some point. Because he likes the way letting go feels. He likes the weight being lifted and the doors opening up and the music and the lights and the cartoon birds and the feeling that everything is incredibly possible.

But he’d never given much thought about being something that is let go. He’s never really been the weight that needs to be lifted. And today, he understands what that is like.

So he’s not coming today. Sorry. Not that he’s sad. He’s not. In fact, he’s waiting on a phone call so he can go out to dinner with a friend.

He’s just unsure of what to make of this feeling. This limbo feeling. This In-Between Place he’s found himself in.

So while he’s off considering that, the stage is empty. It’s own In-Between Place.

Theatre is as theatre does. We know this is a play, because the lights go down.

3.19.2007: Instructions From The Playwright

The actors are assembled across the front of the stage. They are all looking upward at the same point.

For a few long moments, this is all we see.

The Guy appears. He takes this in. To the actor nearest him:

THE GUY
What are you all looking at?

ACTOR ON THE END
Shhhh.

The actors are looking. The Guy is drawn into this. He begins to look as well.

A few more long moments. Of the looking.

THE GUY
What are we doing?

ACTOR ON THE END
We’re waiting.

THE GUY
For what?

ANOTHER ACTOR SOMEWHERE IN THE LINE
For him.

THE GUY
God?

ACTOR ON THE END
No, not God. Don’t be stupid.
We await Instructions From The Playwright.

They all focus their attentions again to the point out there somewhere.

This holds for a while.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Stop it.

ACTOR ON THE END
Instructions From The Playwright!

The actors all murmur their excitement to each other.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
No. I mean stop it. This thing you’re doing. The waiting. Stop it. It’s annoying.

AN ACTOR IN THE LINE
Should we do it less annoyingly?

ANOTHER ONE OF THEM
Do you want us to play it more laid-back, like casual, like nonchalant? That’s it, folks! Instructions From The Playwright!

The actors all scatter to chairs and wait as laid-back, casual, and nonchalant as they can. (The Guy stays downstage.)

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
No. Stop it! Don’t do that either. That’s even more annoying. (And you, looking at your watch. Don’t do that. Nobody ever just hangs out and looks at their watch.

THE ACTOR WHO LOOKED AT HIS WATCH
They do in the Sears catalogue.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
This is getting hard to do. Every single day. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know what to do with any of you anymore. And you just stand there or sit there or look at your stupid watch, just waiting for me to give you something to do…

But maybe I don’t know what you should do!

I sit down at the computer, and expect to find a blank page, but there aren’t blank pages, there are pages and pages and pages of Stuff That’s Already Been Written, and I think to myself, “Holy shit, you’re not even two months into this, and look, there’s all this… accumulation already! All these ideas. All these scenes, and where’s the point where you start to repeat, where’s the point where there isn’t any relevance anymore, when it’s just an exercise, just a machine that keeps eating itself, and how can I keep it from becoming that when there are stretches of days when nothing interesting happens to me, not even a phone call, and maybe it’s all stupid and boring and pointless drivel that’s just taking up space on the internet and –

THE GUY
Shut up!

You know there are days when I really don’t like being you.

The other actors around all look terrified that he’s said this to The Playwright.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
What?

THE GUY
I like being you a whole lot more when you’re not being a complete wuss.
Just write the play.

Instructions From The Playwright. Almost.

The Guy smiles, then exits.

There’s a moment of great anticipation from the actors.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Okay.

Begin.

AN ACTOR
Instructions From The Playwright!

And the actors erupt into a flurry of stage activity – They BEGIN! (and they can do pretty much anything they want, as long as they’re moving, talking, sharing with each other and the audience.)

The lights go down.

3.18.2007: The Playwright Takes a Holiday

The Playwright Temp reappears, frazzled. He’s got a chaotic pile of pages in his hand. He looks like he’s been up all night.

An actor appears.

AN ACTOR
Where’s The Guy?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Not here.

AN ACTOR
Not here?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
No! NOT. HERE. I get this call at the very last minute, I mean I am walking out the door to go to dinner with this girl I’ve been trying to ask out for like three weeks, I mean she’s really beautiful, funny, all that, I ask her out, she says yes, surprise the hell out of me, so we’re gonna go to Olive Garden, ‘cause she likes it, not that I do, I don’t, I think Olive Garden is a sad excuse for an Italian restaurant, I mean, it’s Italian in the same way that taco bell is Mexican…

AN ACTOR
Irrelevant! Get to the point.

THE PLAYRIGHT TEMP
Oh. Right. So I get a call saying I’m needed here. Because HE isn’t coming.

AN ACTOR
He isn’t coming?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
That’s what I was told. He isn’t coming.

AN ACTOR
Weird.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
I know. So now I’m on a deadline, having to come up with a play for today, and I have had no time to prepare, do an outline, or anything! (And I’m not doing one of those “stage directions only” plays he does, I think that’s a total cop out, no offense intended, but he bitched at me for wanting to write a play about Anna Nicole Smith and he has the nerve to write a play that consists entirely of stage directions that AREN’T EVEN STAGABLE! Come on!) So I don’t know what to do. I have all the other plays here, as reference, but I don’t know where to start or what to wrote about, seriously, this is giving me hives, I respond to stress by breaking out in hives, I really should find another job…

The Guy appears. Shorts, a cap, looking well-rested.

THE GUY
Um… hello.

There’s a moment of awkwardness.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
And what the fuck are you doing?

THE GUY
Uh… um…

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
I was told you weren’t coming.

THE GUY
Oh, right.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
But here you are. Why aren’t you writing this?

THE GUY
Oh, I don’t write them. I just… stand in as the representative symbol for He Who Writes This.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Well, where the fuck is He Who Writes This? Because He Who Writes This is on my shit list.

AN ACTOR
He’s usually out there somewhere.

An actor points out into space, beyond the fourth wall. The Playwright Temp marches downstage and yells out there.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
You!

Hey! You!

I know you’re sitting there
somewhere
listening to me yell at you
so you better answer me!

Hey!

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
What?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Why aren’t you writing this?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I needed a holiday.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
A holiday!

Look, buddy,
you were the one who started this whole mess
this whole, “oooh, look at me,
I’m gonna write a play a day
look at me being all productive.”

Well, then stick to your commitments!

because I am only a temp,
I am not the writer of this play,
I am frazzled right now,
my breathing is now decidedly irregular,
I have not been on a date in months,
and Madeline was really looking forward to the Olive Garden,

So get your shit together!

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Nothing happened today. I had nothing to write about.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Make a play out of this! Out of anything!

You’ve gotten this far
I mean, look at how much crap I’ve got here.

There’s always something, right?
Always.

Look.

He goes over to The Guy and the Actor.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP (cont.)
You have two people on a stage. Make them talk. There’s your play.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
But it has to be about something. It can’t be about nothing.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Bullshit. Even nothing can be about something.
Look.

The Guy says, “I am experiencing an utter absence of purpose in my life.”

Say it!

THE GUY
Oh. ‘I’m experiencing an utter absence of purpose in my life.”

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Good. Now the other one says, “But don’t you see? Life has no definable purpose. That is its purpose.”

Motherfucker, if you don’t say it…

AN ACTOR
“But don’t you see? Life has no definable purpose. That is its purpose.”

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
And viola! A Play! About nothing and something simultaneously! A metaphysical conundrum that encapsulates the bitter irony that is Life! Right!

So there! You have your play for today!

Now can I go?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Sure.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Thank you!

And don’t call me again on weekends!
If this thing works out with Madeline,
I’m only gonna be doing this shit part-time.

Have a good one.

And the Playwright Temp storms off.

The Guy and the Actor are still a moment.

THE GUY
His play sucked.

AN ACTOR
I know.

The Guy moves downstage and speaks to The Voice of the Playwright.

THE GUY
Hey! You still out there?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Yeah.

THE GUY
Listen.
I think you should worry less about this being about something
and let it just be about whatever it’s about.

Even if it’s just like this.
About there being nothing to write about.

Because at least that’s true.

Just a thought.

The Guy goes.

The Actor turns downstage. Moves down there slowly. And hesitantly speaks.

AN ACTOR
Can you give me more lines?

The lights go out.

3.17.2007: The Problem of the Ever-Expanding Universe (How Science Really Explains Everything)

The Guy and the One Before.

They stand, face to face, somewhere on stage.

A Great Thinker appears. He speaks.

A GREAT THINKER
We shall examine today the problem of the ever-expanding universe.

The great thinker produces a balloon.

A GREAT THINKER (cont.)
Let us consider the universe as a balloon.
And we wander across it,
little ants each of us,
as the whole thing expands beneath and around us.

The great thinker blows the balloon a little more.

THE GREAT THINKER (cont.)
The universe is so vast,
that even though it expands beneath us
we cannot see where the edges reach out
where the boundaries push forward into
The Never Have Been Before.

But the space between things grows wider
and every point of the world
moves away from us
wherever we are
wherever we stand
no matter how fast we move
no matter how hard we try to catch up.
The distance between things is constantly expanding
in undetectable amounts
moment by moment
until the end of time.

THE GUY
That’s what happened.

THE ONE BEFORE
Between us?

THE GUY
Yes. It had to be what happened.

THE ONE BEFORE
Because there wasn’t anything else…

THE GUY
No betrayal…

THE ONE BEFORE
No argument…

THE GUY
No insurmountable obstacle…

THE ONE BEFORE
Just one day…

THE GUY
There was… distance.

THE GREAT THINKER
It is a great marvel
that a universe of things in motion
is contained by a thing, which, itself,
is also constantly in motion,
motion outward,
and that wherever we go
things that appear stationary
are anything but.

THE ONE BEFORE
I thought we were right where we wanted to be.

THE GUY
I know.

THE ONE BEFORE
Everything seemed so…

THE GUY
Fixed.

THE GREAT THINKER
There are no fixed points in an ever-expanding universe.
The balloon keeps growing

no matter what we do.

There is stillness.

Or so we think.

The universe expands and the space between everyone grows

and grows
and grows.

3.16.2007: Not Quite

The Guy and someone else…someone… not quite.

THE GUY
Who are you?

THE GUY NOT QUITE
I’m you.

THE GUY
No you’re not.

THE GUY NOT QUITE
Yes I am.

THE GUY
No. You’re not.

THE GUY NOT QUITE
Well, not quite.

THE GUY
See. Not quite. Which means you’re not.

THE GUY NOT QUITE
But I am you. In a way.

THE GUY
And which was is that?

The physical embodiment of Life/Play appears.

LIFE/PLAY
He’s who you are when you’re in me.

THE GUY
Excuse me?

LIFE/PLAY
He’s the “you” when you’re in the play.

THE GUY
But wait a minute. I’m already a version of someone else. There’s a real guy, out there somewhere, typing this thing I’m saying as I’m saying it, and I’m just who he is when he’s in this play. So how can you be me when I’m not even me?

The Uncertain Future enters. He goes over to The Guy Not Quite.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Hey, you wanna throw some more darts?

THE GUY
Hey! What are you doing? He’s not me.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Well, thank you, Kreskin. Very good. Of course he’s not you. I don’t know you.

THE GUY
What? What are you talking about? You’re my Uncertain Future!

UNCERTIAN FUTURE
I’m HIS Uncertain Future.

THE GUY NOT QUITE
Well, not quite.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What do you mean, not quite?

THE GUY
I’m The Guy.

THE GUY NOT QUITE
Well, technically, so am I.

THE GUY
But “not quite.” You are me “not quite!”

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Look, you, whoever you are, seriously, you need to calm down.

THE GUY
I don’t want to calm down! This is working on too many levels of theatrical metaphor for me to calm down!

Life/Play moves downstage and calls to the dark.

LIFE/PLAY
Yo! Playwright! I know you’re out there, listening to all of this, so before this gets any more convoluted, could you step in and explain yourself before this dude goes nuts on all of us!

And from the darkness around them, a voice emerges: The Voice of the Playwright (if you can, please use the real voice of the real playwright.)

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I’ve just been thinking today about how wide the gap is between who I am in life and who I am in this play. Because there have been some guys who have read these, or guys who I’ve chatted with online (and seriously, if any of you schmucks judge me for chatting with boys online I’ll make the Giant Bear come in here and eat you) who I then meet in person, and the gulf between who I am on here and who I am in person…

Well…

…they like who I am on here, but the Me In Person never makes it to a second date.

So, that’s why you’re all here. I don’t understand. Why the Me In Person just isn’t as good as the Me Not Quite.

They’re all silent for a moment or two.

The Uncertain Future moves downstage, and talks to the Voice of the Playwright, somewhere out in the dark.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Hey. Chin up.

LIFE/PLAY
Yeah, chin up.

The Guy moves downstage, too.

THE GUY
How are you gonna end this one?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I don’t know.

THE GUY
Is it over?

THE GUY NOT QUITE
Not quite.

And with this deeply unsatisfying ending, (because this play is about a question that has, itself, a deeply unsatisfying resolution on this particular day) the lights go down.

3.15.2007: The Observer Effect, Part Two

The Guy and some students, clearly in the midst of an enjoyable conversation.

Apart, Frank.

The Guy and the students are being clever and fun, but Frank remains at a distance. The Guy notices this.

At a moment when the group erupts into laughter, everything stops. The group is frozen, except the Guy, who is still watching Frank.

THE GUY
You don’t go unnoticed, you know.
By me, anyway.

Now, I guess, it’s me
observing you.

I think we’re a lot more alike than not
so I just wanted to extend this
(I don’t know what to call it)
invitation, I guess…

If there’s ever something to say
feel free to say it.
For whatever that’s worth.

Because I observe, in you,
something of me,
something of The Guy Back When,
something that rings familiar.

And I might be off completely
I might just have caught the wrong shadow
across the wrong wall
at the wrong angle
and nothing I observe actually is.

But if I’m not wrong,
and something I’ve said
or done
or written
feels authentic to you…

feel free.

There’s a moment.

The group unfreezes and is laughing again.

Frank waves a quick goodbye and goes.

The lights go down.

3.15.2007: A Map of the World (Darts and Destinations)

The Guy and his Uncertain Future.

A map of the world appears on stage. The Uncertain Future produces a handful of darts.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Here.

THE GUY
What are these?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Darts.

THE GUY
I can see that. What are they for?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
We will determine the Future.

THE GUY
With darts?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why not?

The Uncertain Future throws a dart at the map of the world.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
How do you feel about (name whatever place the dart has it, even if it’s an ocean).

THE GUY
Are you serious?

Another dart.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Okay. How about (whatever place the dart has hit).

THE GUY
No. And I don’t think it’s a very sane thing to do.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Darts?

THE GUY
Throwing darts at a map of the world to figure out where you’ll end up.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Why not?

THE GUY
Why not? Are you serious? It’s… insanity! You can’t make huge decisions arbitrarily. You have to think about them. Consider all the positives and negatives. Ask around. Get feedback. Get on the internet and back up the feedback. There has to be some method to change, otherwise you’re just changing blindly, without any attention paid to the repercussions of it.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
But you never know what’s going to happen.

THE GUY
Well yes…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No matter how much you prepare…

THE GUY
I know…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
All change is blind.

As blind as throwing a dart at a map of the world.
Choices are only wise in retrospect.
So you can labor
and question
and consider
and debate

until the choice seems as certain as the fact that you’re alive.

but you’ll make it
you’ll make a choice
and change will take place

and nothing will prevent
the unexpected.

So what’s the difference,
in the end?

The Guy considers.

He takes a dart and throws it at the map of the world.

THE GUY
How about (wherever the dart lands)?

The Uncertain Future throws another. Suggests that place.

They trade off darts and destinations until the lights fade the black.

3.14.2007: That Which Moves in Ever Smaller Circles

Thunder. It’s clearly about to rain.

The Guy is here. Alone.

It’s the kind of day that he’s moved through without much resistance from the world around him. The path he’s cut through an ordinary day has been traveled without deviation.

And he has landed here. At the end of another ordinary day.

Although he has the feeling that something is different.

Some distance has been shortened.

And though he’d love to be clearer right now, he’d love to produce a perfectly constructed image that distills this feeling, he finds he’s unable.

Maybe he’s too tired. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to oversimplify this feeling.

But it feels as though he is moving through life in ever smaller circles, approaching something.

He doesn’t know what.

Thunder again. Rain approaches. It’ll hit the window right beside his bed.

He will sleep well tonight.

The lights go down.

3.13.2007: Gone Hiking

The Guy, who is joined by his Uncertain Future.

The Uncertain Future is dressed for hiking. Oversized backpack stuffed with necessities a must.

THE GUY
Oh. Well, hello.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Howdy.

THE GUY
I haven’t seen you in a while.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Vacation. You haven’t been too worried lately about The Things To Come, so I decided to go hiking.

THE GUY
Ah. How was it?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
It was nice. Spring has sprung, so the weather was kind. And the walking was superb. When you’re an Uncertain Future, it’s sometimes hard to plan a vacation, you need the sort of recreation without a destination, so you pack a bag, put on your boots, open the door…

and explore.

How have you been?

THE GUY
Oh, very good.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
That’s great.

THE GUY
Yes it is, actually.

I haven’t been worried about The Things To Come. Which, for me, is sort of odd. Normally, that ALL I’m worried about. But now… I don’t know. I’m just. Right where I am.

I hope you don’t mind.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Nah. Everyone deserves a little time off. Uncertain Futures included.

THE GUY
I’m sure I’ll need you again before long.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I’m sure you will.
Not that I know.
Because I don’t.

You want some trail mix?

THE GUY
No thanks.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I bought a crapload of trail mix. I don’t know why. But I did.

I’ll see you soon.

THE GUY
Soon.

The Uncertain Future exits, to continue his hiking vacation. The Guy is here, a smile on his face, ready for whatever is next.

3.12.2007: The Size of the World (Scalable Mountain)

“Finally, he tossed his Campbell soup can out the car window and into the garbage can, turned to me, and quietly said, “Why are you trying to make something up? With your history?! You’re the play.”
- Gary Garrison, The Playwright’s Survival Guide

The Guy and someone new – Gary (who we’ll find out about in a minute).

THE GUY
Oh wow.

GARY
Hi.

THE GUY
You’re the guy.

GARY
So are you.

THE GUY
Yeah, I know that. I know. But YOU… you’re…

the GUY.

The guy who wrote the book on my desk.

GARY
So I’m told.

THE GUY
How’d you get here?

GARY
Connections. Those six degrees. Somebody knows somebody knows somebody else.

THE GUY
Right.

GARY
Like those old Prell commercials. “I told two friends. Then they told two friends…”

THE GUY / GARY
“Then they told two friends…”

THE GUY
Gotcha.

GARY
Exactly.

THE GUY
I can’t believe you actually ended up here.

GARY
Stranger things have happened.

THE GUY
True. For you to end up here…

It’s sort of a big deal.

I keep your book on my desk. I guess in the same way other people keep those daily affirmation things on their desks… your book is on mine. Because the first time I read it, seriously, it was like someone had finally said exactly what I needed to hear about being a playwright that made the whole thing… manageable. It had always seemed so impossible and complicated and unknowable to a kid like me from a Podunk town in south Louisiana…. but I read your book and suddenly –

Playwriting was knowable. It was a scalable mountain.

And now here you are.

GARY
Here I am.

THE GUY
Since I’ll probably never see you here again, I just want to say thank you.

GARY
You’re welcome.

THE GUY
The thing that has always stuck with me… “You’re the play.” That idea. I mean, I’m not going to be a cheeseball and suggest that that’s why I wrote any of this (because this came from something else entirely) but every time I sit down to write something I always remind myself to write from something inside myself.

That’s because of you.

GARY
The size of the world. Always impressive, don’t you think? So vast…

THE GUY
… yet not.

GARY
Exactly.

A nice moment. Then Gary goes. Which is fine.

At least I have his book.

The lights go down.

3.11.2007: This is a Play (A Play Is It Is It A Play)

The Dramaturg, a bombastic speaker who, by sheer force of personality, appears to Know Everything.

THE DRAMATURG
The thesis for today: This is a play.

Or is it?

We discuss!

He rings a bell or affects some other pompous noise. Maybe blows a conch shell.

A gaggle of Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre emerge – robes and mortarboards, ect. Much chatter. Much excitement.

THE IMPORTANT THINKERS ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
(variously)
- Where do you put the act break? That’s what I wonder.
- It never reaches an end. It just goes on and on.
- The narrative seems a bit too circuitous for my tastes.
- … the failings of the episodic structure…
- I don’t like the in-jokes. The in-jokes make some of these impossible to understand.
- How does he expect to achieve a seventy-foot Giant Bear anyway?
- If the narrative is open-ended, there’s never any resolution.
- I don’t like the stage directions. There are too many stage directions.
- …an abundance of metaphorical characters…
- Mythological figures erupting out of nowhere is just odd.
- Characters just disappear.
- I never know sometimes what he’s trying to say with all this.
- He’s no Chekov…
- He’s no Ibsen…
- He’s no Williams…
- He’s no Shakespeare…

The names begin to swirl of who he’s not – O’Neill, Pinter, Moliere, Marlowe, Greenberg, Wasserstein… on and on and on until the tumult becomes almost unbearable.

The Guy finally emerges with an airhorn. He blows it.

The Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre are silenced.

THE GUY
Of course it’s a play. It’s MY play.

THE DRAMATURG
But do you honestly think anyone will actually ever DO it?

THE GUY
Well…

A hesitation. Uncertainty creeps in.

THE GUY (cont.)
Yes. Yes I do.

This throws the Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre into a flurry of chatter.

The Guy blows the air horn again. Again, they are silenced.

THE GUY (cont.)
I’m not afraid to use this thing. So you guys better keep a lid on it.

THE DRAMATURG
This thing you’ve created is already spinning out of control. There is no end in sight, no structure to speak other than the arbitrary assignment of dates to everything, no clear construction of ideas, the cast list is ridiculous, there are scenic requirements that boggle the mind, stage directions that could only be accomplished by CGI effects, and ultimately a narrowness of focus that seems to be borderline egomaniacal.

THE GUY
Maybe.

But I like it.
I’d go see it.

And isn’t that the whole point?

To make the things you haven’t seen because no one other than you could make it?

The Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre think about this, importantly.

THE DRAMATURG
I find your oversimplification of the argument to be distasteful at best.

The Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre each take out airhorns and blow them with the Guy. The Dramatrug is blown off stage by the force of the noise.

THE GUY
That was fun. Let’s go get a beer.

The Important Thinkers on the Question of Theatre cheer and they all go to get a beer.

The lights go down.

3.10.2007: Carrot (A Theatrical Metaphor in Three Acts)

An official-looking Narrator appears.

OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor in Three Acts. Act One. In Which the Carrot is Born.

The Guy and The Carrot appears. (The Carrot should be a fun carrot puppet attached to a handsome actor.)

THE CARROT
I am born!

THE GUY
Welcome to the world, Carrot.

THE CARROT
Thank you. I’m planning to barbecue shrimp. You want to come over?

THE GUY
Sure. Sounds fun.

THE CARROT
Well, come on over.

THE GUY
But you’re way cuter than the guys I generally go out with.

THE CARROT
So?

THE GUY
Well… I think a person should know when someone is out of their league.

THE CARROT
Shut up. Come on over. We’ll drink a few beers and we’ll hang out. It’ll be fun.

THE GUY
Okay.

OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor in Three Acts. Act Two. In Which the Carrot Achieves Its Destiny as a Theatrical Metaphor.

THE GUY
I like you.

THE CARROT
I like you.

THE GUY
And when I say, “I like you,” I mean that in an “I-like-you-like-relationship-like-kind-of-way” way.

THE CARROT
Me, too.

THE GUY
Well, that’s good. At least we’re on the same page.

A silence.

THE GUY (cont.)
We are on the same page, right?

THE CARROT
Oh yes.

THE GUY
Whew. Good. For a second there, I wasn’t sure.

Another silence.

THE GUY (cont.)
Shouldn’t we, like, go out on a date or something?

THE CARROT
Oh yes. That would be great.

Yet another silence.

The actor playing The Carrot pulls the puppet off his hand and dangles it in front of the Guy.

THE GUY
This is what I get for being interested in a carrot.

The Guy follows the carrot around, that’s being dangled in front of his face.

OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor in Three Acts. In Which the Fate of The Carrot is Revealed.

THE GUY
But I don’t know the fate of the Carrot.

THE CARROT
And I’m only a theatrical metaphor. Abstractions don’t generally contemplate their future.

THE GUY
This sucks. How does this end?

OFFICAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
I don’t know. I’m just a narrator. I narrate, not create.

THE GUY
But I don’t know how the carrot feels. Exactly. I mean, I sort of know. But not implicitly. And I don’t know when I’m hanging out with the carrot again. I might not talk to him for days. And there’s the other carrot, the northern carrot, the one who won’t be a metaphor himself much longer. And it’s all very confusing when these two things collide in a day, even if only peripherally, and I’m not the kind of guy to ignore a connection (even if it’s smaller than the connection to a different carrot) because I don’t like closing doors, even if makes a different carrot worry (which it shouldn’t). Jesus. How can you have a Theatrical Metaphor in Three Acts without knowing how the last act ends?

OFFICAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
That’s the trouble with writing a play a day, young man. Things like this aren’t solved in a day. Looks like you’ll be chasing a metaphor for a little while longer.

THE GUY
Shit.

The Guy relents, and continues to follow the carrot being dangled in front of him.

Today, this feels like a passing fascination.

Tomorrow…

… well, who knows about tomorrow.

OFFICIAL-LOOKING NARRATOR
Carrot. A Theatrical Metaphor In Three Acts. The End.

The lights go down on The Guy chasing a carrot.

3.9.2007: The Old World Is New

The Guy.

And then, suddenly, Christopher Columbus. With a flag. Which he plants in the earth.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
I have discovered the New World!

A silence.

THE GUY
Are you Christopher Columbus?

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
Why, yes. I am. How did you know?

THE GUY
Good guess.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
And who are you?

THE GUY
The Guy.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
I see.

Another silence.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS (cont.)
Why are you here?

THE GUY
I was about to ask you the same thing.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
I have discovered a New World!

THE GUY
Well… I don’t mean to be a nitpicker about it, but I’ve been here for the last sixty-six plays, so technically you haven’t discovered a New World. You’ve just stumbled upon one that’s already occupied.

Another unexpected event: Vasco Nunez de Balboa appears, with a flag of his own. He plants it in the earth, too.

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
I have discovered the Pacific Ocean!

THE GUY
You’ve got to be kidding me.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
This isn’t the Pacific Ocean. This is the New World.

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
I am Vasco Nunez de Balboa. I am an explorer of the wide expanse. And I have it under good authority that I have made my way to the Pacific Ocean.

THE GUY
This isn’t the New World or the Pacific Ocean. It’s my play, and neither one of you has discovered anything!

Unexpected things clearly come in threes. Neil Armstrong appears, on the moon, with the American flag famous in all the pictures. He plants it, and walks like he’s in space.

NEIL ARMSTRONG ON THE MOON
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

THE GUY
Oh my God.

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
Who’s this guy?

NEIL ARMSTRONG ON THE MOON
I am Neil Armstrong. Astronaut and American icon for future generations. I am the first man to set foot on this – the face of the moon!

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
This is the New World!

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
This is the Pacific Ocean!

THE GUY
This is my play!
You three haven’t found anything!

This isn’t the New World!
It isn’t the Pacific Ocean!
And it isn’t the face of the moon!

This is MY PLAY!

So if anyone is going to lay claim to this place it’s going to be ME!

The Guy goes off in a huff and returns almost immediately with a flag of his own. He sticks it in the earth next to the other three.

THE GUY (cont.)
THERE!

I have discovered the theatrical space in which my play exists!

A silence.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
I still say it’s the New World.

A beat, then the Guy attacks Christopher Columbus. Balboa and Armstrong pull the two apart.

NEIL ARMSTRONG
Whoa whoa whoa

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
He’s feisty, this one.

THE GUY
I don’t understand this. I don’t understand this at all.

Then something kind of magical happens. There’s maybe music, light, a shift of some kind to tell us that this next appearance is Capital I Important.

Adam, the first man, appears.

ADAM
Oh.
I wasn’t expecting anyone here.
Hello.

THE GUY
Who are you?

ADAM
Adam.
The first that was.

I feel slightly underdressed.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
Excuse the frills here.

VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA
Fashion of the times.

NEIL ARMSTRONG
I’d rather be wearing what you’re wearing. This suit is hot as hell.

THE GUY
Why are you all here?

ADAM
Because the Old World Is New Again.
I’m surprised you didn’t notice.
What better reason is there to be here?

Adam takes a look around the place. Something fires in his brain.

ADAM (cont.)
I have discovered Eden!

Adam sits on the ground. The other explorers look at him. They all understand, finally, where they are. They are at the place where things begin. Where the world is born, discovered, lost, and reborn. Again and again, until…

well… until.

The flags wave in a breeze that passes by them all.

The lights go down.

3.8.2007: The Road That Leads Away from Everything

“Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, / without anguish, death, winter waiting along it / with their eyes open through the dew.”
- Pablo Neruda

The Chair of Forgetfulness. The Guy is here. And Pirithous. Theseus, at a distance.

Pirithous looks at The Guy.

PIRITHOUS
Who are you?

THE GUY
No one.

PIRITHOUS
Well, you must be someone. You’re here. If you were no one, you’d be… well, you wouldn’t be. You’d be nothing, and I’d be alone.

THE GUY
I’m… a friend.

PRITHOUS
Oh. A friend. I know I’ve heard that name for a thing before, but I just can’t place it. Do we know each other?

THE GUY
No.

PIRITHOUS
I’m not surprised. I don’t seem to know anyone here. There’s a man here often. He seems to know me, swears we know each other, but I can’t really place his face at all.

THE GUY
That must be hard.

PRITHOUS
Actually…

It isn’t. At all.

I think there was a time when I knew things.
But I don’t remember it very clearly.
In fact, I don’t remember it at all.
I only have this vague shadow of the thing
floating around inside my head.

I find these days that I only seem to not know.

So I guess it’s only hard for the things you forget.
Because you can’t be sad over something or someone
you don’t even recognize.

THE GUY
That’s true.

PIRITHOUS
Would you like to sit?

THE GUY
No, thanks.

PIRITHOUS
There is one thing I do remember.
Would you mind if I shared it?

THE GUY
Please do.

PIRITHOUS
I remember what it felt like when I sat down in this chair.

I think I’d come down here for something.
Something I wanted, but wasn’t mine.
And the journey was long. It was treacherous.
And I was tired when I got here.
Very tired.

And I saw this chair.

And something told me,
a voice in my head told me,
“You sit in that chair,
and everything you carry with you will vanish.”

At the time,
I thought the voice meant the backpack
and the maps
and the trail mix
and the sleeping bag
and the lantern I carried

But instead…

Pirithous trails off. A silence.

THE GUY
Instead what?

PIRITHOUS
Who are you?

THE GUY
Huh?

PIRITHOUS
Who are you?

A silence.

THE GUY
No one.

PIRITHOUS
Well, you must be someone. You’re here. If you were no one, you’d be… well, you wouldn’t be. You’d be nothing, and I’d be alone.

THE GUY
I’m… a friend.

The scene continues, in circles, always on the verge of remembering.

THESEUS
Remember… please remember… please… remember…

But he doesn’t. We never will know the one thing he remembers. We are always on the cusp of it.

The lights go down.

3.7.2007: The Observer Effect

The Guy and Frank, an astute and fiercely intelligent young man.

THE GUY
Sorry about Newton. I pulled from my memory. And memory is faulty.

FRANK
No problem.

They consider each other for a moment. Or two.

THE GUY
At the risk of getting it wrong… do you know what this makes me think of?

FRANK
What?

THE GUY
Electrons.

FRANK
Ah.

THE GUY
How electrons behave…

FRANK
Yes.

THE GUY
…when being observed. The observer effect.

FRANK
Observing an electron will change its path.

THE GUY
The act of observation can change the thing being observed.

Another moment of consideration.

FRANK
Have I changed you?

THE GUY
Yes.

I am more known to you.
You are more known to me.

The path has changed a little.

And, in a way,
because you opened so many of my boxes
and left so many little ones of your own…

you wrote a play all your own.

And I think that’s what I was hoping would happen.

Your play becomes part of my play
and ever other little play that gets added to the mix

and my life becomes a less solitary thing.

And isn’t that the whole point?

FRANK
The point of what?

THE GUY
Everything. The point of everything. To be a little less… solitary.

A moment of consideration.

FRANK
You’re not gonna put in one of those unstageable stage directions?

THE GUY
Nope.

FRANK
Ok.

THE GUY
Thanks, by the way.

FRANK
For?

THE GUY
Observing.

FRANK
You’re welcome.

The lights go down.

3.6.2007: Things at a Great Distance

The Guy and his Uncertain Future.

THE GUY
Haven’t seen you in a while.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I’ve been around.

THE GUY
Aren’t you supposed to follow me everywhere?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I am your Uncertain Future. Therefore, by definition, I am only around when your future is uncertain.

THE GUY
Ah. I see.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Days that contain conundrums contain me. So here I am. Today.

THE GUY
Yes. Today.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
So what’s going on?

Suddenly, from nowhere, a box lands at The Guy’s feet.

It’s a box that looks exactly like the one from 3.4.2007.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Another good day, huh?

THE GUY
Yeah.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
So what’s the problem?

THE GUY
I don’t know who’s sending these.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
That is a problem.

The Guy picks up the box.

THE GUY
There is the thing I could return to. Because it’s there. Because it’s always there. Kind of lurking in the back of my head. Whispering to me, don’t let go don’t let go don’t let go.

There’s the thing close by. Which is nice. Which is… unexpected. But there is something about it that feels… like a risk. Like the kind of risk you think you can take, but you shouldn’t, but you want to, but you shouldn’t, but maybe you’re just being stupid and scared, and why not try it, but you don’t feel as though the ground won’t move beneath you do, and you don’t want to be on a piece of earth that can’t keep its space, so you shouldn’t, but… you want to.

And then there’s the thing at a great distance. Which feels… like something I’ve always been waiting for. Like the thing I might have prepared my whole life to receive. But it’s far away. At a great remove.

I don’t know…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I’m your Uncertain Future.

If I could tell you, I wouldn’t be so uncertain.

However, as a Future or any sort, I do have certain gifts that allow me the ability to offer you… insight.

Everything good is at a Great Distance.
Even if it’s just beside you in bed at night.

There’s always a distance to be traveled
to find what you want.

So travel.

It isn’t the distance you cover that matters in the end
but the fact you took the journey.

THE GUY
That’s true.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Of that, I am certain.

The Guy acknowledges for the first time in his life that it’s okay sometimes to be unsure of outcomes.

Maybe what’s been left behind was good, maybe it was exactly what he needed, but there’s no use dwelling on that now that the ties have been severed.

And maybe the thing close by isn’t as terrifying as he thinks it is (or maybe he’s exactly right) but there’s nothing really there other than two evenings watching TV and sort of eating barbecue.

And the thing at a great distance…

The Thing at a Great Distance shines more brightly with each day that passes.

The Guy holds this good day in his hands as though it were priceless. Which it is.

The lights go down.

3.5.2007: The Chair of Forgetfulness (Things in Opposition)

“This happened, some think, because Theseus was not in Athens but instead in the Underworld where he had come with his accomplice Pirithous so that he could marry the goddess of his dreams: Persephone. In the Underworld they were cheerfully received by Hades, who bade them to take a sit. Having done as they were told, these two disoriented middle-aged gentlemen saw themselves grow fast to the Chair of Forgetfulness, being held there because the rock grew to their flesh, or by coils of serpents.” – Greek Mythology Link

The Chair of Forgetfulness sits center stage, an ornate and somehow mournful chair.

Someone is herein the Chair already. Pirithous. He stares blankly into space.

His dearest friend, Theseus, kneels beside him. He demonstrates as he speaks.

THESEUS
This is my hand.
My hand.

This is my hand in your hand.

This is a handshake.
My hand in your hand.

We shake hands because we are friends.

Do you remember that?
Friends.

I have a name.
Theseus.
Your friend.

Nothing from Pirithous.

The Guy appears at one end of the stage. The One Before appears at the other.

They watch as Theseus begins the speech again. Going through the same motions, exactly as before.

THE ONE BEFORE
Who are they?

THE GUY
Theseus and Pirithous. They were friends. They were goofing around, trying to steal someone’s girlfriend, and they ended up here. At the Chair of Forgetfulness.

Once you sit in it, everything you’ve known is forgotten.

At least Pirithous ended up here. Theseus got saved by Heracles. He was lucky.

THE ONE BEFORE
I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about.

THE GUY
I know.

THE ONE BEFORE
So, why am I here?

A sudden move from Theseus: he rises, and to The Guy and The One Before…

THESEUS
This is hopeless.

I have been going over this with him
for what seems like…

years.

But it’s probably just days.
Weeks, at best.

But he doesn’t even begin to understand
something as simple as
“This is my hand.”

Not understand a hand?

How can you begin to fathom the loss implied by that?

He was once my friend.
He was once one half of my life,
and now --

now he’s this…

a vacant-eyed nothing man
who knows only that five branches grow
from the ends of his arms

but nothing more about them
than that.

He was my friend.

He is not anymore.

How do you deal with that?

Theseus look back and forth between them, and no answer comes.

THE ONE BEFORE
Do you want to forget me?

THE GUY
No.

THE ONE BEFORE
I don’t want to be something you don’t even see or acknowledge.

THE GUY
I don’t want that either.

THESEUS
You don’t get to decide
whether or not you end up here.

Your lives aren’t myth.

You end up here when a good thing ends.

When the place that’s been built
between two people
erodes into the sea.

And you will forget each other.
It is the way of the world.
We move past what we leave behind.

THE GUY
Then why are you here?
What are you doing here,
trying to make him remember?

THESEUS
He was my friend.
There is always a part of me inside him
buried beneath the snow of what’s forgotten.

If I can just get him to understand
that this is my hand…

And in an instant, The Guy and The One Before understand that two things are inevitable: We will one day forget the thing we loved, and we will never give up the hope that we can retrieve what’s been lost.

They contradict each other, yes. But life seems to always be about things in opposition.

They will miss each other, of course. And they will always want each other.

But one day – maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from this day, maybe a hundred years from this day – they will have a hard time remembering the details of each other’s face.

Theseus returns to Pirithous, who is still somewhere else entirely.

He begins his opening speech again. This is my hand. This is a handshake. This is a friend.

The lights go down on them all.

3.4.2007: What Contains a Day (Good Things In Small Packages)

The Guy is here. He holds a small box.

The box is a metaphor – as objects and people often are in these plays. The box is what contains a day. Today, in point of fact.

The Guy is happy to have had this day, because it contained a lot of really great things. It was the kind of day that is best enjoyed by the person to whom it happened, alone, in the privacy of his office at 11:21 in the evening.

He especially enjoyed its conclusion.

And it is surprising to The Guy that so much can be contained in such a small space, because the box in his hands is not much to look at. But the happiness it contained, the possibility – these things feel too large and expansive to ever be contained in such a small space.

But The Guy considers that he, too, in the grand scheme of things, is an unimpressive box that holds multitudes. Contained within him is a succession of days like today, each one limitless, each one bursting at the seams with the possible, days that stretch out before him so far that right now, he cannot see their ending.

So it seems less impossible that this little box can contain a day like today.

He holds it in his hands as if he holds the fate of the world. And if not the world, then maybe his own.

Who knows?

The lights go down.

3.3.2007: Manwhore

The Guy and The Brother.

THE BROTHER
Manwhore.

THE GUY
Ouch.

THE BROTHER
Well, you are.

THE GUY
No, I am not.

THE BROTHER
Whatever.

THE GUY
I’m just having a little run of good luck in the dating department.

The Brother gives him a look of, “Who you foolin’?”

THE GUY (cont.)
I’ve met a couple of nice boys. That’s it. It just seems like I’m suddenly a manwhore after several years of being with one person.

THE BROTHER
I still say you’re a bit of a manwhore.

Suddenly, funky music starts. Issac Hayes funky.

Maybe a disco ball descends.

Manwhore appears. He’s a swaggering piece of fella. Pimped out in velvet with an open collared shirt, chains, a hat with a feather on it. Possibly a cane. A 70s blacksploitation hero come to life.

He comes over to the Guy.

MANWHORE
Hey.

THE GUY
Yes?

Manwhore gives The Guy a really good once-over, looking him over from top to bottom.

MANWHORE
Looking good, my brother. Looking good.

Manwhore offers a very cool high-five hand shake thing. The Guy accepts, but sort of screws it up. Manwhore smiles, and struts off. The music ends. Things return to normal.

THE BROTHER
I told you. You’re a manwhore.

THE GUY
I am not a manwhore.

THE BROTHER
Whatever.

The Guy turns and gestures offstage.

Nothing happens.

He tries again.

Nothing happens again.

He’s frustrated.

THE GUY
Dammit.

THE BROTHER
What’s wrong?

THE GUY
I was trying to get the Giant Bear to come and eat you again.

THE BROTHER
Asshole.

THE GUY
But I don’t know where he is.

The funky music. And Manwhore and Giant Bear cross the stage, together, clearly off to do some inappropriate business.

THE BROTHER
Okay, okay. You’re not as much a manwhore as that guy is.

THE GUY
Thank you.

The funky music plays as the lights go out.

3.2.2007: The Chairs (Vacant Space)

The Guy. Two Chairs.

At the start of the play, The Guy sits in one of the chairs. It’s comfortable. Pleasant. The kind of chair that you could watch the entirety of The English Patient in without getting uncomfortable.

For a little while, just The Guy in this chair.

He doesn’t have to look at the empty chair to know there’s a vacant space beside him. And while vacant spaces often make people feel similarly empty, The Guy does not.

Because the space beside him is alive with possibility. It’s not the emptiness that interests him, but the potential to fill it that does. Someone, eventually, is going to sit in that chair. Maybe only for a little while. Maybe for a long time. Maybe someone’s going to take up permanent residence in that chair. Who knows?

And that’s the fun part.

That empty chair is a lot like the stage around this little scene.

It’s a space in which an infinite number of things can happen. Giant Bears, Groundhogs, even Icarus falling from the sky can happen in a place like this.

So maybe it’s going to be someone we’ve already seen. Maybe it’s going to be someone brand new. Maybe it’s someone The Guy isn’t even aware of.

But someone is waiting to make an entrance.

Someone will fill the vacant space in an unoccupied chair.

The Guy looks out at the audience with a look that says, “Any takers?”

The lights go down.

3.1.2007: Six Candles (What's Marked is Never Gone)

The Guy and The One Before.

Between them is a little cake. Six candles on it. Flickering.

THE GUY
You remembered.

THE ONE BEFORE
(smiles)
You didn’t.

THE GUY
No. I didn’t. I was busy. You know how I get when I’m busy.

THE ONE BEFORE
I know.

THE GUY
Sorry. I hope you’re not mad.

THE ONE BEFORE
Nah.

THE GUY
Six.

THE ONE BEFORE
Yup.

THE GUY
I met you six years ago today.

THE ONE BEFORE
In that bar…

THE GUY
… I saw your car drive up. You walked in. I thought you were cute.

THE ONE BEFORE
I thought you were cute.

THE GUY
I liked you instantly.

THE ONE BEFORE
Same here.

THE GUY
I remember standing outside before we were going to go our separate ways for the night, and I thought to myself, “I think this guy might be around for a while.”

And you were.

You know I don’t regret a single minute of it.

THE ONE BEFORE
Me either.

They sit for a while.

There’s a lot more that The Guy could say. But he wouldn’t say them here. Because some things belong only to the people they happen to. And the things that have passed between The Guy and The One Before are those kind of things.

And The Guy doesn’t want to tell The One Before that he’ll miss having this anniversary. Having a day that marks a life built with someone. With him. Because it was a wonderful life. It was. Regardless of how things have ended up.

Words don’t measure up here. There’s too much to be told, to be described.

Six candles on a cake are like a drop in the ocean.

But there they are. Six candles between them, flickering. Marking a relationship that has ended.

They won’t blow them out. The lights will fade, but the candles will still flicker, illuminating the two of them in the dark, allowing them to see each other even though the play (and their time together) has ended.