Life/Play Has a New Home on the Web

Life/Play has a new address.

To expand its web presence in preparation for its New York Fringe Festival debut, Life/Play has moved.

It's new address is http://www.lifeplayproject.com

It's got a new look, and some updated features (including a video blog that will document the preapratiosn and trip to New York!)

Please stop by the new site and leave a comment in the Reader's Comment section. I'd like to keep better tabs on who's reading this and where they're from.

Thanks for reading Life/Play, and keep following us to New York!

5.28.2007: Unfinished Business (with an unexpected coda about something else entirely)

“It's funny how the fella, even though your supposedly over him, keeps popping up, I think one should be done before moving to another?”
-- Anonymous comment on the blog


The Guy sits with Nate on a couch. “CSI” plays on a television set we can’t see.

Nate has his arm around the Guy. They are content.

The Fella appears.

THE FELLA
Hello.

NATE
What’s he doing here?

THE GUY
Nothing. Don’t worry about it.

So, Nate doesn’t. They go back to watching “CSI.”

THE FELLA
I got hit in the face by a crazy person this weekend.

THE GUY
Oh yeah?

NATE
Hey. We’re watching TV. You and I. Not him.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
Don’t be jealous, Nate. Even though he likes me better.

THE GUY
Shut up. I don’t.

NATE
You don’t, do you?

THE GUY
No.

NATE
I didn’t think so.

THE FELLA
Yes you do. Because here I am. Again. In these plays.

THE GUY
Just because you show up here, doesn’t mean I still want to be with you. Which I don’t. It only means that you’re a peripheral part of my consciousness, showing up here to represent some part of my life that’s over with. I mean you don’t even have a name in here…

NATE
I get a name.

THE FELLA
Don’t rub it in.

THE GUY
So can we get back to watching TV now?

THE FELLA
But I’m why this whole thing got started!

NATE
He is?

THE FELLA
Yeah, buddy. Look back at the first couple days. All me! I am the reason all this madness got rolling. So, if you really think about it… Nate… I’m the reason you’re here.

THE GUY
No. I’M the reason he’s here. I’m the writer of this thing.

THE FELLA
But if it wasn’t for me…

THE GUY
Yes, I appreciate that. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would have even come into being. But beyond the point of inspiration, you have nothing to do with this thing. This is my life here…

THE FELLA
Of which I am a part…

THE GUY
Yes. Of which you are a part.

NATE
I really wanna watch the rest of this episode of CSI.

THE GUY
I know. I’m sorry.

THE FELLA
Look at your own plays, Mister Writer-Man. You’re not over me at all. I keep popping up, unexpectedly, and it’s always a variation on the same theme: missed opportunity, lost love, the One That Got Away. So what are you doing here? Seriously.

THE GUY
He tells me he likes me.
That’s what I’m doing here.
He tells me he likes me, and I believe him.

Don’t get me wrong.
I’m always worried he’s going to change his mind
(because that’s what I do, you know,
wait for the other shoe to drop
because I haven’t yet gotten accustomed to good things sticking around)

But he reminds me without me asking.
We’ll just be sitting somewhere,
and he’ll tell me he’s happy to be with me.

That’s nice.
You never did that.

But I have to honor your place in this
because it wouldn’t be true otherwise.

But don’t think you’re here because I’m not happy where I am.

THE FELLA
You’ve written better plays than this.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
They’re getting unfocused. A little rambling.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
I don’t even particularly like the one I’m in right now.

THE GUY
I’d imagine you wouldn’t.

A shift, unexpected.

THE FELLA
What’s going on with you?

THE GUY
I don’t know exactly.
A tide seems to be changing.
We shall see.

NATE
Can we finish this episode now?

THE GUY
Yeah.

The Guy and Nate finish watching “CSI.” The Fella doesn’t go anywhere -- he hovers, but he’s quiet.

And in the silence, there is the feeling of something changing. Not necessarily between these three people, but in the entirety of this world.

Changes are coming. Most of them feel like positive ones. But you never know what comes around the corner until you’re around it.

Enjoy this right now. His arm over your shoulder. The cap he’s wearing. The way he laughs at that commercial.

Be right here, right now. For as long as you can.

The lights go down.

5.27.2007:The Private Public

The Guy and The Reader, who sent a very nice comment to the blog.

THE GUY
Hello.

THE READER
I hope you don’t mind the comment.

THE GUY
Are you kidding? Not at all. Thank you.

THE READER
You’re welcome.

THE GUY
It’s encouraging. Most of the time, when I write these, I feel like I’m really not doing anything that’s interesting to anyone. Other than me, of course.

THE READER
Oh look.

THE GUY
What?

THE READER
Don’t you see what you’re about to do? You’re about to give a total stranger the “big idea” of this play.

THE GUY
Yeah, I am, aren’t I?

THE READER
And all because I said I liked it. That’s very kind of you.

THE GUY
Well, get on with it, then. Start spouting philosophical.

THE READER
Okay.

There’s always a risk being taken when you make the private public.
But it seems to bear out that the more private it is when it becomes public
the more people relate.

In specificity comes universality.

THE GUY
Playwriting 101.

THE READER
Yeah.

THE GUY
Write what you know.

THE READER
Yeah, you could just say it like that.

THE GUY
You know, I have these moments when I can sort of see this one little project assume a life of its own. It goes out into the world, and people read it, and it becomes larger than just me at a computer, typing away the little details of my life.

Then that moment passes, and it all seems self-indulgent again.

THE READER
Maybe it is. But what isn’t, when it comes to art?

THE GUY
Yeah.

THE READER
We’re all just making whatever we can the best way we know how.
Make meaning out of our lives.

Yours is just a little more openly egocentric.

THE GUY
I guess you’re right.

THE READER
Well, now look. Not only do I get the “big idea” but I get to be your reassuring voice of comfort, too.

THE GUY
It’s a good day for anonymous commentors, isn’t it?

THE READER
I’d say so.

The lights go down.

5.26.2007: A One-Line Play (Out of Necessity)

The Guy is beginning to feel a familiar weight starting to form in his chest. The kind of weight that appears when there is much to be done – too much to be done – and the pathway to the conclusion of everything seems very far away and almost unreachable.

This has nothing to do with love. This is the result of saying yes to too many things. The result of overextending yourself.

There is a moment on the way that won’t be pleasant. The Guy hates these days. But they come.

Not today. Today’s just a rumble.

THE GUY
One thing at a time. One thing at a time. One thing at a time.

To himself, he says this. Again and again. One line. Out of necessity.

The lights go down.

5.25.2007: The Tower of Babel, or The Language of Lost Things

The stage is filled with actors. Chaos erupts from their mouths -- snatches of song, lines from the play, commerical jingles, random noises, foreign languages, ect. Everything at once, everything loud, everything deeply felt.

The Guy appears among them, a foreign language dictionary in his hand. Another actor, who so far has been silent, watches him.

AN ACTOR
It's not going to help you.

THE GUY
What??

AN ACTOR
It is not going to help you!

THE GUY
What won't??

AN ACTOR
Your book! It's not useful here!

THE GUY
I'm sorry! The noise... it makes it very difficult to hear!

The actor snaps his fingers. The babbling stops. Frozen.

AN ACTOR
Ask and ye shall recieve.

THE GUY
And this is the part where you say something important.

AN ACTOR
Ah. You're starting to see the patterns...

THE GUY
Yes, unfortunately. It's difficult not to, when you do this every single day, to start to see the ways in which your mind constructs the same path toward an idea. This is one of those days when something someone said triggered a thought -- vague and unformed, but a thought nonetheless -- and you are here, nameless character, to give some shape to it.

AN ACTOR
The Tower of Babel, then?

THE GUY
Yes. So now you say something that makes the spark of an idea turn into the whole thing.

AN ACTOR
No. I won't do that.

THE GUY
Really?

AN ACTOR
Really. It's late, and this isn't the place.

THE GUY
It isn't?

AN ACTOR
No. We're not in the Biblical Babel, although that's certainly worthy of a play down the road.
This Babel is the place where lost things go when they're no longer being looked for.
It's kind of a sad place, really.
They come to this place to be heard, even if no one really listens... at least to be heard.

An actor from the chaos starts to speak. It's The Fella.

THE FELLA
Hey Mr. Daigle. When are we hanging out?

THE GUY
Oh, it's you.

THE FELLA
I miss you.

THE GUY
It has been a while.

THE FELLA
We don't really talk like we used to.

THE GUY
No we don't.

THE FELLA
That's okay. Really, it is. I'm off someplace else. I'm not just here. There's somebody on my radar. And I know there's someone on yours...

THE GUY
Yes, there is.

THE FELLA
But there's still that little part... you know. You wrote about it before. We always seem to be doing this... pulling apart, and inching back together.

THE GUY
Yeah, that was what we've done before.

THE FELLA
A matter of time.

THE GUY
Not this time.
This one isn't just something to tide me over
until I get a chance to spend time with you again.

This one matters.

THE FELLA
Oh.

THE GUY
(to the actor)
Why am I even telling him this? He doesn't really miss me. Not like this. This is just some dumb thing I need to do to make myself feel better.

AN ACTOR
Lost things have a language all their own.
And to lose a love, however tentative and new, is the hardest language to unlearn.
We speak it until our tongues fall out
until our eyes glaze over
until the words stop sounding like words and
become something more like guttural grunts and moans
and then
only then
are we finally able to put the words to rest.

You move past things, but the conversation doesn't end.
And the conversations we stop having in life continue here,
until they've played themselves out.

It's not the best solution, but it's the only one we've got right now.

THE GUY
I should have known something would have failed when I didn't even give him a name. Even now, even in life, he was never a name. Just a moniker. The Fella. The 20-Year Old. An idea... and I was the same for him.

AN ACTOR
We all are short-sighted.

THE GUY
You can snap them back on now. The play's done. It's messy, but it's finished. Like me and him. Art mirrors life.

AN ACTOR
Fair enough.

He snaps. The chaos begins. The Guy joins in.

We might be unsatisfied, but there is always tomorrow's play. Always the next thing. Alwats what's yet to be spoken.

5.24.2007: Because He Told Me He Looks Forward To These

The Guy is very tired. He’s on a trip to Houston, a job-related thing. He drove four hours after being at school all day (even hitting a half-hour stretch of single-lane traffic during which he never seemed to break 20 miles an hour). He didn’t reallt stop until about 10:30 -- made for a very long day.

And he sat here at the computer, really wanting to just turn the damn thing off and not write a play. Because it happens, right? It happens that you don’t get to things when you want to. It happens that you put something off because you know you won’t be able to give it your best. It happens that he sometimes decides not to write a play when he knows it’s just gonna be one of those stage-direction-only plays that irritate some people.

But The Guy is going to put something down on paper. Because he told me he looks forward to these, Nate does. And I know he checks them, too. I see the comments he leaves behind.
And I want to make him happy. Because I’ve noticed that in making him happy, my own day is made a little brighter.

I know, I know, stop writing about Nate already (I can hear some of your groaning this every time he shows up in a play) but he is what is on my mind when I opened this file to type this play.

He is what is happening to me.

So that’s what’s I’m writing about.

Because he told me he looks forward to these. And that made me smile.

5.23.2007: Teacher

The Guy is sitting in a school desk -- the old fashioned kind.

The stage is otherwise empty and quiet.

Today is his last day as a high school theatre teacher. Tomorrow, a new phase of his life begins, one without lesson plans, lectures, tardiness, rehearsal journals, doctor’s excuses, and early morning laziness. He will miss scolding kids for not being off-book, pushing them to be better, building sets, designing posters, blocking shows, running light boards, staging curtain calls, watching students learn, watching them grow, evolve, mature, create…

… especially that. He will miss that most of all. Watching them create. Not just a role, not just a show. But a life. An identity. Watching them create themselves.

The Guy will miss this part of his life. It has been so rich and so abundant, that he wonders who he would be today without this job, without these students, without this single experience. He is sure he’d be less than he is today.

There should be lines. But to find the words to express what these four years have meant to him is a Herculean task that can never be accomplished in a short play like this.

So only this will have to suffice:

Thank you.

A school bell rings. The lights go out.

5.22.2007: The Morning Play (Kafka Fantasia No. 2)

The Husband and Wife. Kafka, to the side, with his typewriter.

KAFKA
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect…”

THE HUSBAND
This morning, I woke up…

THE WIFE
Terrifying…

THE HUSBAND
I turn to my wife lying in bed beside me…

THE WIFE
Utterly terrifying…

THE HUSBAND
And I wrap an arm around her and pull in close, you know, like to kiss her on the back of the neck…

THE WIFE
Like something from a horror movie…

THE HUSBAND
Well, she turns to face me, opens her eyes, and lets out this scream…

THE WIFE
I screamed, what else could I do?

THE HUSBAND
This bloodcurdling scream and bolts right out of the room.

THE WIFE
There was a gigantic insect. In my bed. Wearing my husband’s pajamas.

KAFKA
Metamorphosis. Dictionary definition. “A profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism.”

THE HUSBAND
The scary thing was…

KAFKA
Metamorphosis isn’t just change.

THE HUSBAND
The scary thing was not that she ran screaming from me.

KAFKA
It’s change forward. Into something new.

THE HUSBAND
The scary thing was that for the second our eyes met, she didn’t recognize me at all.

KAFKA
Shed the old. Inhabit the new. That is metamorphosis.

THE WIFE
To see a gigantic insect in your bed wearing your husband’s pajamas unsettles you.
What frightened me most was not that I was being held by a gigantic insect.
It was that it had my husband’s eyes.

KAFKA
I thought about making him a spider.

THE WIFE
Well, the thing had like a thousand eyes, but I could see my husband reflected.

KAFKA
Or a praying mantis…

THE WIFE
I haven’t gone back into the bedroom to check if it’s still there.

THE HUSBAND
She’s been locked in the bathroom all morning.

THE WIFE
I wonder if it’s eating the linens.

THE HUSBAND
I wonder what she’s thinking.

THE WIFE
Or the curtains…

THE HUSBAND
I looked in the mirror. I don’t know what frightened her. I look exactly like myself.

There’s a moment of stillness between the three of them.

KAFKA
I settled on insect. I don’t know why. I liked the sound of it, I guess.

The lights go out.

5.21.2007: Have My Pancakes (and Eat Them, Too)

The Guy and the Uncertain Future.

THE GUY
Uh oh.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
What?

THE GUY
You’re here.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Yes. I am.

THE GUY
That’s never a good sign.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I resent that.

THE GUY
It’s not that I don’t appreciate you…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Of course.

THE GUY
…. it’s just the only time you ever show us is when something is hanging in the balance.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
When you don’t know what the hell is going on.

THE GUY
Exactly. And that’s never comforting.

A pause.

THE GUY (cont.)
So why are you here?

Nate appears, eating some chocolate chip and peanut butter chip pancakes.

NATE
These pancakes are really good.

THE GUY
Why’s he here? I’m not uncertain about him. He shouldn’t be here.

UNCERTIAN FUTURE
Hold on. We’re not finished.

An Important Thinker on the Question of Theatre appears. And he has a letter in his hand.

IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
A letter! From Juilliard!

THE GUY
Oh shit.

IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
To be opened on June 15!

THE GUY
That’s weeks from now.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I know.

NATE
Seriously these pancakes are really good.

IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
If we like you, we’re inviting you to join us!

NATE
You sure you don’t want some?

IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
If we don’t, you’ll never have a chance at us again.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
That’s it.

THE GUY
What?

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
That’s why I’m here. Because a fork is about to appear in the road. Not today. But soon. You get to stand at the intersection of two great things and hold them both in your hand at once. But one of them gets left behind while you chase the other one into the sunset.

THE GUY
You suck.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Sorry. That’s just how it goes.

THE GUY
I like them both.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I know.

THE GUY
Juilliard says yes…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
You leave Nate here before you thought you’d have to.

THE GUY
And that will suck. Juilliard says no…

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
You stay, but your dream is crushed.

THE GUY
And that will suck.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
But there’s a lot of good in either one.

THE GUY
Oh yeah. I know. Lots of good. In either place.

Pause. A moment of consideration. Then, to the Uncertain Future.

THE GUY (cont.)
You can go now.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Excuse me?

THE GUY
You can go.
I don’t really need you.
Because I’m tired of being held back by uncertainty.

Uncertainty got me here in the first place.
And I would rather believe in a world where I can have both things.
If I work at it hard enough
And do what needs to be done
And trust that inevitable ends aren’t always disappointments.

I can have my pancakes and eat them, too.

He goes to Nate.

THE GUY (cont.)
Can I have a bite?

NATE
Sure.

THE GUY
And you. Hold on to that letter. Let me know when it’s time.

Everything that’s wantable is achieveable.

The Important Thinker on the Question of Theatre holds on to the letter. The Guy and Nate eat pancakes. The Uncertain Future watches on.

5.20.2007: 31/27 (Your Birthday is My Birthday, Too)

The Guy and The Brother. A birthday cake.

THE GUY
Happy birthday!

THE BROTHER
Happy birthday!

THE GUY
You’re old.

THE BROTHER
Not as old as you.

THE GUY
True. 31.

THE BROTHER
27.

THE GUY
And the years march on…

THE BROTHER
All over your fucking midsection.

THE GUY
God, ain’t that the truth.

THE BROTHER
Another year begins.

THE GUY
Yes it does.

THE BROTHER
I have a good feeling about this one.

THE GUY
Me, too. I like the way it started.

THE BROTHER
I’m sure you did. Manwhore.

THE GUY
Shut up.

THE BROTHER
Truth hurts.

THE GUY
You know, I’m glad we were born on the same day.

THE BROTHER
Really? Because at first…

THE GUY
Well, yeah, at first I hated your guts.

THE BROTHER
See…

THE GUY
But now… I’m glad this day is yours as well.

THE BROTHER
Me, too.

THE GUY
You know, the best thing about sharing my birthday with you is that I never feel like I’m in the world alone. A new year starts, and no matter where I am, and no matter where you are, we always start it together.

I like that.

THE BROTHER
Me, too.

THE GUY
So we should really blow these candles out.

THE BROTHER
How many are there?

THE GUY
Not the actual number we’d need for both of our birthdays.

THE BROTHER
We’d be a fire hazard.

THE GUY
I know.

THE BROTHER
31/27.

THE GUY
What are you gonna wish for?

THE BROTHER
I can’t tell you.

THE GUY
Stupid tradition.

THE BROTHER
Cynic.

THE GUY
Bitch.

THE BROTHER
I love you.

THE GUY
Love you, too.

They blow the candles out. And with them, so go the lights.

5.19.2007: The Place You End and I Begin

The Guy and Nate. The lines happen as if one long uninterrupted sentence.

THE GUY
Something happens when two people…

NATE
… connect. You can’t really tell…

THE GUY
… where one begins…

NATE
…and the other ends…

THE GUY
… You just know that these people…

NATE
… for this moment that they’re together…

THE GUY
… are really just occupying the same space…

NATE
… and the distinctions…

THE GUY
…evaporate…

NATE
… and the boundaries…

THE GUY
… blur…

NATE
… and happiness…

THE GUY
… happiness…

NATE
… feels inevitable.

A breath.

The Guy whispers the following to Nate.

THE GUY
I knew from the second you came through my door hours before you were expected that I was going to have a terrific time with you. Because the second I saw you, I felt myself relax. I didn’t wanna impress you or ask you how you felt or discuss the current state of our relationship (because I tend to do that sometimes, with guys I like, I tend to cloud things over with too much noise instead of just letting it be) ---

I just wanted to walk over to you, kiss you, give you a hug, and enjoy you being next to me.

If you don’t mind, I kinda wanna keep that up.

Nate smiles. Nate grabs the Guy’s waist and pulls him close. The Guy leans against Nate.

For a second, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

5.18.2007: Second Skin

The Guy and The One Before. Dinner at a restaurant. Beer, burgers.

They have not seen each other in about a month. They’ve talked on the phone, yes, but tonight is the first time they’ve actually been in the same place.

THE GUY
So Nate’s coming down to see me tomorrow.

THE ONE BEFORE
Cool.

THE GUY
Yeah, I think he’s staying until Monday. It’ll be good to see him.

THE ONE BEFORE
Rich called me.

THE GUY
Finally.

THE ONE BEFORE
I know. He said he was busy with work, so I’m not gonna be too mad he hadn’t been in touch.

THE GUY
What about that other one? Chris?

THE ONE BEFORE
Craig. No I talk to him every day. He works a lot though. Just like you. But I still wanna go out on a date with him.

THE GUY
Good for you. Go for it.

They continue like this as a stage direction unfolds. An unstageable one that notices something the untrained eye could not see.

As they talk, these two are shedding their skins. Slowly, in very small increments, pieces of their old skins are being peeled away, the skins that kept them together for six years.

These old skins are shed because they are no longer needed. There is no going back to the people they were. And as they talk, they notice for the first time that they are both now better off than they were before – happier.

THE GUY (cont.)
I missed you.

THE ONE BEFORE
I know. Me, too.

THE GUY
But you know… and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything… but I’m not sad about it. Not like the first time. I miss you, you know, but I’m not sad anymore.

THE ONE BEFORE
I know what you mean.

We never really notice when we get our second skins. But one day, they’re there. And the thing we thought we’d never get over is suddenly… over.

THE GUY
Our waiter is cute.

THE ONE BEFORE
I know.

THE GUY
I dare you to leave him your number.

THE ONE BEFORE
I will.

THE GUY
No you won’t.

The One Before picks up the check and leaves his number on the bottom.

THE GUY
Oh my God. Who have you turned into?

THE ONE BEFORE
I have no idea.

They laugh.

Some skins are built to last forever. Most are built to be shed. And while they both believed their old skins would last forever, they are discovering that the ones beneath it are more beautiful than the ones before.

It is a reassuring lesson to learn.

The lights go down.

5.17.2007: Simple (How Much It Takes to Change a Day)

The Guy is here, his cell phone in hand.

He flips it open, and we watch him send a text message.

He closes his phone.

A moment or two passes.

His phone rings.

He checks who it is. He smiles. He raises a finger to the audience as if to say “Hold on a minute, ok?” and answers.

THE GUY
Hey, what’s up?

He walks off to take this call.

The phone call isn’t a promise. It portends nothing. It is merely a nice, simple little moment. But the day changes, enough to get mentioned in here.

He’s a good fella, Nate is. Glad he’s around.

The lights go down.

5.16.2007: Another Narcissus (People are Mysteries)

“There is an older version than the one related by Ovid in his Metamorphoses, in which the proud and unfeeling Narcissus is punished by the gods for having spurned all his male suitors. In this story, Ameinias, a young man, loved Narcissus but was scorned. To tell Ameinias off, Narcissus gave him a sword as a present. Ameinias used the sword to kill himself on Narcissus' doorstep and prayed to Nemesis that Narcissus would one day know the pain of unrequited love. This curse was fulfilled when Narcissus became entranced by his reflection in the pool and tried to seduce the beautiful boy, not realizing it was himself he was looking at.”
- Wikipedia entry

Narcissus, gazing at his reflection in a mirror. Ameinias watches at a distance.

Narcissus speaks to his reflection.

NARCISSUS
I love you.

AMEINIAS
You should have loved me.

NARCISSUS
Don’t be shy. You can say it back to me. I can see the love there in your eyes.

AMEINIAS
This is your punishment for not loving what you should.

NARCISSUS
I see so much of myself in you. Seriously, I look at you, and there’s this shock of recognition. We are perfect for each other.

AMEINIAS
Until you die you will only love the thing you can never have.

NARCISSUS
You’re so coy. I can see you looking at me, gazing at me with those eyes that beg for something more, and yet you always stay so far away from me. Always at a distance.

AMEINIAS
There’s no real satisfaction in watching you fall for yourself.

NARCISSUS
Just one kiss…

AMEINIAS
But it’s better than nothing.

NARCISSUS
I wonder what my hand would feel like on your cheek.

AMEINIAS
It’s hard to love something that doesn’t seem to love you back.
Like throwing yourself against a wall
hoping the wall might give against your weight
but discovering that the wall knows itself better than you do.

People are such mysteries.
What goes on inside them.
We need windows, not mirrors.
We need open windows on all sides of ourselves
so there is never a doubt
and never a question
and no love will be given without the knowledge it will be returned.

To Ameinias, for the first time, but not leaving his reflection.

NARCISSUS
I never said I didn’t love you.

This startles Ameinias.

AMEINIAS
Are you speaking to me?

NARCISSUS
Of course.

AMEINIAS
How much have you heard?

NARCISSUS
Everything. And I never said I didn’t love you.

AMEINIAS
But you never gave me any indication you did.

NARCISSUS
Yes, I did.
Just not the indications you wanted.

I think you wanted the rush of love,
the love from myths,
but love isn’t ever really like that.

Not the kind that survives anyway.

AMEINIAS
Oh.

NARCISSUS
Doesn’t matter anymore. I found someone who understands my kind of love.
At least I think I have.
Feels like the other half of me, you know?
That kind of connection…

Narcissus goes back to his reflection. Ameinias looks on.

AMEINIAS
And I love you again.
But you still don’t love me.

Love is a punishment from the Gods.

NARCISSUS
I love the way your mouth moves when you speak when you speak when you speak…

Narcissus watches the way his mouth moves as he says “when you speak” as the lights fade away.

5.16.2007: A Kinda Gruesome Unstageable Moment (Early Morning)

A spotlight finds The Guy.

He’s angry at himself. He’s been carrying something around that has been driving him crazy. And in this second, he wants it out of him, wants it gone, wants it to disappear and never return.

So he reaches into his chest -- splitting the skin, cracking bone, ripping muscle, blood spraying everywhere – and pulls out his heart.

His beating human heart, which continues to pound in his hand once he’s pulled it out.

Since this is a play, he doesn’t die. It doesn’t even appear to hurt him. It’s only gruesome and violent (like a Tarentino flick).

The heart beats on, doing what it has seemed to do all the goddamned time for the last few months – want. That’s all it does – WANT. As if there’s nothing else in the world that matters, nothing in the world to be done other than wanting and being wanted in return.

You can see how needy it is when it pulses. It pulses like a heart that’s looking for attention.

But now that’s done. It’s out of him. For good. And although he’s made a bit of a mess and left quite a hole in his chest, The Guy is happy.

The heart throbs in his hands, completely undaunted.

It says, “I want, I want, Want me in return…”

The Guy admires its persistence.

The lights go down.

5.15.2007: Undiscovered Country (The Narcissus Play)

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.” - T.S. Eliot

Narcissus, the mythological figure who fell in love with his own reflection, sits on the stage floor, gazing at himself in a mirror. (Throughout the play, his gaze will never leave his reflection.)

The Guy appears.

THE GUY
What are you doing?

NARCISSUS
Exploring.

A silence.

THE GUY
You’re staring at yourself in a mirror.

NARCISSUS
You’re correct.

THE GUY
Narcissist.

NARCISSUS
Yes, actually. The original one. Narcissus. From which all other like me descend. Pleasure to meet you.

THE GUY
Same.

A silence again.

THE GUY (cont.)
What are you exploring?

NARCISSUS
The last great explorable terrain! The only distance over which great epic journeys can be made! The remaining undiscovered country! The SELF!

Myself, specifically. Not yourself. Because yourself is really of no interest to me.

THE GUY
Well, thanks.

NARCISSUS
Don’t be offended. It has nothing to do with you, really. I just find myself endlessly fascinating.

And if I were you, I’d be the last one to pass judgment on a narcissist. Look where I find myself. In this play of your making which is entirely about you.

THE GUY
This is an experiment in theatrical autobiography.

NARCISSUS
You can call it whatever you want, my friend, but a mirror is a mirror no matter what form it takes. (I love the way my mouth moves when I speak when I speak when I speak…)

For a second, Narcissus is absorbed in watching himself speak “when I speak” and enjoys it immensely. Then he stops and comes back to the moment.

NARCISSUS (cont.)
I’m sorry, what was I saying?

THE GUY
A mirror is a mirror…

NARCISSUS
Oh yes. Your play! The little mirror you hold up so you can gaze at yourself.

THE GUY
That’s not why I do this.

NARCISSUS
Uh huh.

THE GUY
It isn’t…

NARCISSUS
Look, buddy, come on, you don’t have to sell me on this. I’m not judging you. I’m with you all the way! Solidarity, brother!

The myths have it all wrong, you know.
This wasn’t a punishment.
That’s what they wrote, that I was being punished
by falling in love with my reflection.

But it wasn’t.

I looked at myself.
Really looked at myself
(because people don’t do that much anymore, don’t you find?,
really look at themselves,
turn their razor-sharp gaze inward to see what lies beneath)

and I fell in love.
And not the self-absorbed love,
not the preening, cloying, revolting kind
that turned my myth into an insult, into a degradation,

but the kind of love that’s grateful fascination.

We are endlessly miraculous creatures, aren’t we?

So I’m an explorer. Not a narcissist.
I am mapping a world that changes by the second.
Each day I will find something never known before
and I will look at this inhabited body and mind
with fresh eyes.

And every time, I see a New World.

Who couldn’t gaze at that forever?

Narcissus gazes at himself. The lights fade.

5.14.2007: The Topographer Surveys the Landscape

"Life is like topography, Hobbes. There are summits of happiness and success... ...Flat stretches of boring routine... ...And valleys of frustration and failure." - Calvin, Calvin and Hobbes


The Guy and The Topographer. His map is spread out on a table. The topographer gestures across it.

THE TOPOGRAPHER
The world in relief.

THE GUY
I used to love looking at topographical maps. All the shapes inside other shapes, some of them so close they almost overlapped. Like rings on a tree trunk…

THE TOPOGRAPHER
The roughness of the face of the world…

THE GUY
Smoothed out, yet readable.

THE TOPOGRAPHER
I like the ones where different elevations are different colors.

THE GUY
Oh yeah!

THE TOPOGRAPHER
They look like those heat vision things…

THE GUY
I love how our views of the world in maps always elaborate the world. You take the face of Earth and reassign its textures and irregularities lines and colors. Like art.

THE TOPOGRAPHER
Not art. Art isn’t an objective thing.

THE GUY
Like art. Not art necessarily…

THE TOPOGRAPHER
Topography is fact. Art isn’t.

THE GUY
Artful, then. You turn it into something artful.

THE TOPOGRAPHER
You know, in an older sense, topography wasn’t just the study of the details of the surface of things. It meant more than that. Topographers studied the idea of place. Not just the elevations of a piece of the Earth but its culture, its traditions – local detail.

We don’t understand it that way anymore. It’s just “a mountain goes here” and “a valley goes there” now.

THE GUY
This is one of those plays where nothing happens, and we just spin on an idea, isn’t it?

THE TOPOGRAPHER
Yup.

THE GUY
I bet if you laid out this play from end to end, surfaced a room with each page in order, you’d see the topography of a life.

Everything, if you look at it hard enough, will show you its landscape.

I’ve inhabited my life for thirty years now, and this is the first stretch of all that time that I’ve really had a means to look at the shape of it. And I can see, even in myself, “a mountain goes here, a valley goes there.”

And relationships! I mean, they have them, too. We’re just all surging forward so fast we never stand back and survey the landscape.

THE TOPOGRAPHER
There are days I want to make a topographical map of myself. Outline my self on a white sheet of paper and mark the elevations all across myself.

And not just the physical.

I want to mark every fault line where my heart was broken, every mountain that sprang up when something wonderful happened to me, every desert stretch where there was nothing to speak of either good or bad. An elevation map of the person I’ve become.

So that I can see myself like this.

Artful. Like you say.

THE GUY
Artful…

They consider. The lights go down.

5.13.2007: The Mother’s Day Play

The Guy on stage. There’s a lot of stuff everywhere (which is often how The Guy’s life space looks – lots of stuff everywhere).

The Mom appears.

THE MOM
Cody…

THE GUY
Mom. You can’t call me Cody in this. I’m “The Guy” when I’m in this.

THE MOM
You’re Cody. Don’t argue with your mother.

THE GUY
Yes, ma’am.

THE MOM
This place is a mess.

THE GUY
I know. I’ve been busy.

THE MOM
Still, you could pick up after yourself.

THE GUY
Have I ever been very good at keeping a place neat?

THE MOM
No. You and your brother, both.

THE GUY
We’re creative people. We don’t have time to clean up.

The Mom gives The Guy a dirty look.

THE MOM
So…

THE GUY
So you wanna know why you’re here?

THE MOM
Yes.

THE GUY
It’s sort of your Mother’s Day present.

THE MOM
This?

THE GUY
Yeah. Because I was trying to think of something to get you, but nothing ever seemed like something that meant anything. And I wanted to get you something that would let you know how much you mean to me and not just that you’re worth spending some money on perfume or something from Bath and Body Works. You know?

THE MOM
Well thank you.

THE GUY
Plus, I could probably never say what I’m about to say to you in real life because I’d make it sound awkward and dumb.

So…
here goes.

I’m really happy in my life right now.
I’ve got a lot of really great things in it,
and the last year has been a year of big changes,

but this is the best time in my life so far.

and everything I’ve gotten was made possible because of you.
because of the time you took with me when I was little,
the care and attention and encouragement
and all the pushing you did,
all the high expectations,
everything you gave me made this day possible.

You’ll never know how valuable those things have been.

When I look at my life,
in every little corner of it,
I can see some mark you left behind.

You’re somewhere in everything I am.

And I always think of that when something good happens to me.
because when something good happens to me,
it, in some way, happens to you.
I get to do that for you.

Every good thing that’s mine is also yours.

I love the life you built for me.
And I love you.

It’s why I do what I do.

A pause.

THE GUY (cont.)
(and tell Dad I don’t think he didn’t do anything. But it’s Mother’s Day, so the play has be about Mothers, so he’ll just have to get over it and he’ll get his on Father’s Day).

No more words are exchanged. It’s not the kind of relationship that uses lots of words. The Guy does the only thing he can do in this moment to show The Mom he means every word he says.

He starts to clean up the space.

The lights go down.

5.12.2007: When the World Was New (A Memory)

The Guy Back When and The Sad Song Friend sitting at a table, doing shots. Probably tequila, laughing. We have caught them in mid-drunken conversation. They’re complaining, but it’s funny to them. It’s all done in love.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
No, she’s a bitch.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
She’s not a bitch.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I don’t even see why he likes her. Why is Brian dating her?

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
She’s your roommate. You love her.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I can love her and be her roommate and still think she’s a bitch.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
You are such a faggot.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Fuck you. Take the shot.

They take the shot. They’ve had enough for this shot to cause a lot of grimacing and noise. But they laugh anyway. They set up another one.

As they do, The Guy and Nate appear.

NATE
Aww. Look at you drunk off your ass.

THE GUY
Shut up.

NATE
It’s cute.

THE GUY
It’s obnoxious.

NATE
Is this because of the party?

THE GUY
Yeah, made me think of it.

The next shot is set up.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
How many of these have we done?

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
I have no fucking idea.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
One more won’t hurt, then.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
And what else is there to do at this party? Brian’s outside making out with Tonya…

THE GUY BACK WHEN
That bitch…

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
He could do so much better than her…

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Yeah. He could have me.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
Or me.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Or both of us at the same time.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
Oh my God!

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Totally fucking kidding.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
That would be so fucking gross.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Do the shot.

They do the shot. Grimacing and noise and laughing about it. Another is set up.

THE GUY
I had a lot of fun at your party.

NATE
Good. I was really glad you came.

THE GUY
Me, too. Getting to see you was great. And meeting your friends was also very fun.

But the whole night, the thing I kept thinking about was it was so ironic that I’d have this night at this point in my life. Because everything about your party reminded me of the last time in my life I felt as optimistic about the future as I do right now.

I’d missed that.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I AM GONNA RULE THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD!

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
You are so drunk.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Yes I am.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
When we all make it on Broadway, we’re gonna have to do exactly this.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Every fucking night.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
When we’re thirty…

THE GUY BACK WHEN
BEFORE we turn thirty…

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
You writing the plays, me stage managing, and everyone out there acting in them.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Absofuckinglutely.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
I wanna hold onto this forever.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Every fucking inch of it.

They hold up their shot glasses.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
Except Tonya.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
She’s only invited if she stops dating Brian.

THE SAD SONG FRIEND
Salut!

They do the shot. The worst grimaces, the biggest laughter.

The Guy leans into Nate. Nate puts his hand on The Guy’s back. The Guy smiles.

The lights go out.

5.11.2007: The Tower Outside of Town (Leander, Hero, and the Impossible Space Between What’s Real and What’s Imagined)

The lights come up on Leander (in his goggle, flippers, ect.) and Hero. They sit side by side, saying nothing.

Silence for a while. Then:

HERO
Thanks for coming again.

LEANDER
No problem.

HERO
I hope the water wasn’t too cold tonight.

LEANDER
Nah. Not too bad.

HERO
Good.

LEANDER
But thanks for asking.

HERO
Of course.

Another silence.

LEANDER
How are your folks?

HERO
They’re good. You know. Same old thing with them. Mom asks about you all the time.

LEANDER
Oh yeah?

HERO
How’s your dad doing?

LEANDER
He’s better. Just needed some antibiotics and a little rest.

HERO
Good.

Another silence.

HERO (cont.)
Well, I guess we should get to the thing…

LEANDER
Yeah, the thing.

They stand. They face each other. Leander takes off his mask. They prepare.

A deep breath. They begin, with as much enthusiasm as they can muster.

HERO
I love you…

LEANDER
I love you…

A pause. It’s clearly a deeply uncomfortable moment for both of them.

LEANDER (cont.)
Do you?

HERO
What?

LEANDER
Love me.

HERO
Oh.

LEANDER
Because, you know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.

HERO
Oh but I do. Want to.

LEANDER
So you do love me?

HERO
Of course I do.

LEANDER
Because lately I’ve been wondering…

HERO
Do you?

LEANDER
Do I what?

HERO
Love me?

LEANDER
Yeah. Yeah, I do. I swim the Hellespont for you. I mean, who would do that for you if they didn’t love you?

HERO
Okay. Because I’m starting to feel like you’re just here because you feel obligated.

LEANDER
No.

HERO
The initial enthusiasm is worn off or something…

LEANDER
I think you might be reading too much into things.

HERO
Really?

LEANDER
Unless…

HERO
Unless what?

LEANDER
Unless you feel that we’re only doing this because we feel somehow obligated…

HERO
No. Not at all.

LEANDER
Because I’d understand…

HERO
You would?

LEANDER
Not that I’d want to. But if you wanted this to be over, I’d understand.

HERO
I didn’t say I wanted it to be over.

LEANDER
I know.

HERO
Do you want it to be over?

Silence. Filled with the uncertainty of whether or not something is actually something or just something you willed into being because you needed it or something that was only meant to last a moment, not the lifetime you were hoping it would be.

Am I thinking about this too much? Probably. Am I overanalyzing every detail? Definitely.

LEANDER
Why can’t these things be clear?

HERO
Because they’re not.

LEANDER
That’s not fair.

HERO
Nothing we can do about that.

The playwright at his computer hates this feeling. The feeling of not being able to enjoy three dates for what they are worth without wrangling with the What-Comes-Next. Because maybe nothing comes next. Maybe everything comes next. He just doesn’t know.

LEANDER
This is harder than swimming the Hellespont.

HERO
What is?

LEANDER
Crossing the space between what’s real and what’s just imagined.
Knowing the difference in the first place.
Not just being happy with what is.

Pause.

The playwright at his computer does not want reassurance. He just wants the best of what time with the object of his attention can bring him. That’s all. And the playwright at his computer smiles at himself for worrying so damn much about it.

Thank God these stage directions won’t end up being seen in production.

LEANDER (cont.)
Tell me again.

HERO
Are you sure?

LEANDER
Am I sure?
No. I’m not sure of anything right now.
But I know I like to hear it when you say it.
And maybe it’s never going to be the truth.
Maybe it’s just not true yet.
We can at least enjoy the sound of it, right?

Pause.

HERO
I love you…

LEANDER
I love you…

HERO
I love you…

This goes on and on as the lights fade away.

5.10.2007: The Roller Coaster Metaphor (with regards to Karl for suggesting it)

“you haven't mentioned your love of roller coasters in the play yet. that i've seen. life is like a roller coaster duh. cliche but true. could just be for fun. you could specifically mention it not being about life being like a roller coaster. even though we all enjoy the ride.”
–condensed from an online conversation with my friend Karl
5.10.2007

Two chairs center stage – a man and a woman occupy them.

On one side of the stage is The Guy. On the other is An Important Thinker on the Question of Theatre.

The couple is on a roller coaster. He’s scared. She’s not.

THE GUY
Today I’m going to write about roller coasters.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
Oh my God.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
Daniel…

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
No, seriously, oh my God.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
We haven’t even started moving yet.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
Roller coasters? Are you serious?

THE GUY
Yes.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
As a metaphor, it’s embarrassing.

THE GUY
Just wait.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
I don’t understand how you like these things.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
I love them. And you will love them, too. Trust me.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
I feel like I’m going to throw up.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
I can see where this is going.

THE GUY
Your feedback isn’t really helping.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
You’re going to make some blanket statement about how life is just like a roller coaster – ups and downs but in the end it’s worth the ride. Or maybe relationships are like roller coasters. Something will be like roller coasters. It’s overused.

THE GUY
Can you shut up? I’m trying to write this.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
The hardest part is the first drop.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
See? Heavy-handed.

THE GUY
Shut up.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
I avoided these things my whole life. I mean, like, right now, my palms are sweaty and I feel like my chest is going to just pop.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
It’s gonna be fine.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
I can just see this whole line of cars just jump the track, and there we’ll be, gliding through the air to our eminent demise…

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
You’re such a drama queen sometimes.

THE GUY
Just give me a second to sort this idea out.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
Sort this idea out? Are you kidding? We’re here watching this, and you haven’t sorted this out yet?

We hear the click of the coaster beginning its run. The couple responds.

THE BOY ON THE COSTER
Oh my God.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
This is going to be fantastic. Don’t worry.

Under the following, we hear the clicks of the coaster climbing the first big dip.

THE GUY
Every day feels like this.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
Like this?

THE GUY
I type the date on a blank white screen, and it’s like hearing those first clicks and starting to climb.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
This is the worst part, Daniel.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
oh my god oh my god oh my god

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
The anticipation…

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
I am so gonna throw up…

THE GUY
It’s not about life, and it’s not about relationships. It’s about this. The anticipation of a day meaning something.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
Once you drop, it’s like everything falls away…

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
You know how much I love you, right?

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
How much?

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
This much. I love you this much.

THE IMPORTANT THINKER ON THE QUESTION OF THEATRE
There’s too much going on in this play.

THE GUY
I know. I don’t care.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
Open your eyes. You have to see what the world looks like before you drop.

THE BOY ON THE COASTER
Oh God.

THE GIRL ON THE COASTER
You can see everything from up here.

The clicks stop. Then, the sound of the coaster rushing down. The Boy on the Coaster screams. The Girl on the Coaster squeals with delight.

They freeze.

THE GUY
There. Done.
Until tomorrow.

The lights go down.

5.9.2007: Adagio

The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music appears, his instrument in case, hat on, headed (one assumes) to another gig somewhere. He’s whistling a tune (not the saddest music).

The Guy is here. He’s been here since the lights came up.

The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music sees something in the Guy that he recognizes. So he stops.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Adagio.

THE GUY
What?

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Slowly, leisurely. It’s a music thing.

THE GUY
I don’t understand what you’re talking about.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
You’ve got the look of a man who’s not good with adagio.

THE GUY
(a smile)
Guilty as charged.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Hey, no judgment here. I’m just as much a junkie of life in scherzo as the next man. I love the feeling you get when the music starts to move so quickly that you think you might forget to breathe just so you can keep up.

THE GUY
That’s kind of how I like life.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Yeah. Me, too.

I had this girl. Shelly. Man, Shelly was a piece of work. She got my juices flowing in ways I never thought possible. She had this way of, like, surprising me with her touch when we were out walking or something. All of a sudden, Bam!, her hand would find my arm or the small of my back and the world would just slam ahead into double time, you know, out of nowhere I’d find myself startled into life.

And she’d just smile at me. This casual little smile. And she’d just keep on walking. Like she didn’t do a thing.

That girl was adagio. The world just washed over her.

The only thing the world ever did to me was move too fast.

THE GUY
She the reason you play?

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Nah. I broke up with Shelly because she fucked a friend of mine.

I play the saddest music
because too much of what was supposed to be my future
is now just the past.

THE GUY
You know, my guy does the same thing when we’re walking.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Adagio…

THE GUY
It’s sweet.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
It is, it is.

The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music continues on his way.

The lights go down.

5.8.2007: The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music

The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music sits in a chair center stage. He is doing what he does best – a mournful longing tune emanates from his instrument (in my mind, it’s probably a cello.)

The Guy appears.

THE GUY
That’s beautiful.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Thank you. It comes from the heart.

THE GUY
You must be miserable.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
I don’t notice much. There’s music to be played.

THE GUY
I envy anyone who can play an instrument. I used to. But it wasn’t a very romantic, sexy one – I played the trombone.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Not really romantic, no.

THE GUY
I don’t play anymore.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Gifts are never gone completely. You should pick something up, give it a try.

THE GUY
I just might do that.

A pause, where the Guy listens to the music. It really takes you out of where you are and sends you to someplace where you might recall that your heart had been broken.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
It takes it out of me and sends it out into the world.
The sadness.
It comes through my blood
up through my skin
out through my fingertips
and finds it way across the bow and the strings
and when the note gets shaped
the sadness rides it like a wave out to sea
and it disappears.

It’s the only way one can survive in the world.

THE GUY
I have a sadness that will not let me go.

THE MAN WHO PLAYS THE SADDEST MUSIC
Play the music however you can.
Let it go.
It’s never worth the trouble.

The Guy considers. He assumes the position to play an imagined cello. He sends the imagined bow across the imagined strings and a note reverberates throughout the theatre.

He begins to play. The song is lovely.

The Man Who Plays the Saddest Music realizes it’s time for him to go. He takes his instrument up and leaves.

The Guy plays on, and we see a leap take place. A shift. He is thinking of someone. The sadness rides out to sea and there’s only the thought of how nice it will be to hug him again.

The lights go out.

5.7.2007: Start Small (The Halleluia Chorus in Miniature)

The Guy and someone new – Nate (because for some people, a silly moniker is just… well, silly.)

NATE
I get a name?

THE GUY
Yes.

NATE
Awesome.

THE GUY
Not many people get names. Even in real life, I do that. Give people little nicknames. “The 20-year old.” “Cowboy.” The Best Friend thinks it’s because when it comes to boys, I have a problem seeing people for what they really are.

NATE
And yet I get to be “Nate.”

THE GUY
Yes you do. Welcome to the play.

NATE
Thank you. I was wondering if I’d get in here.

THE GUY
I knew you would. Eventually. I just didn’t wanna rush it.

NATE
I see.

THE GUY
Because I don’t want you vanishing like the other ones. Freakshow. The Good Thing. The Curiosity. Carrot. Look back through the plays, you’ll find them. Here one day, gone the next.

NATE
Not me.

THE GUY
I hope not.

NATE
No. I like being here. It means you’re thinking about me…

THE GUY
I’m definitely thinking about you…

NATE
And like me enough to want to share me…

THE GUY
Share the fact of you. I’m not sharing you…

NATE
Share the fact of me. Okay. And that you aren’t kidding around.

THE GUY
I’m not.
I want to give you something.

NATE
Really?

THE GUY
Yeah. Hold on.

The Guy goes off. Nate stands there a second, a little curious.

The Guy returns with a box… a box that’s not too big, the kind of box that in a play from a while back contained a lovely day.

This isn’t that particular box. It’s a different box. Which the Guy will explain in a second.

THE GUY (cont.)
Here.
This is for you.

This is a box that contains a day.
The first day we spent together, actually.
Saturday. Fifth of May.

I’m giving it to you because it means something to me.
And I’m trusting you with it.
I’m trusting you to hold on to this day for as long as you can.

Because as long as we’ve got this one particular day,
we can make others.
And I want to. With you.
For as long as you’ll let me.

I know, I know,
this is sappy, this is sentimental and silly
but I just felt so good about this one particular day…

and look
if there comes a day when you don’t want this box anymore,
just let me know and hand it back to me
I won’t be angry or anything,
I’ll take it back no questions asked.

But if there’s anything I’ve learned
in writing this monstrosity
you’ve now found yourself in

is that you can build anything you want
if you have just one good day –

a day when an idea hits you
and you commit to it
and you follow through
and work at it
and care about it
and invest something of yourself in building something lovely.

And I think I want to do that with you.
No.
I know I do.

So…

Here.
Open it.

Nate takes the box and opens it.

Light comes out of it – a lovely light that shines on his face as he smiles at what’s inside. We can sort f hear something coming from it… sounds like human voices, but very very small.

NATE
What is it?

THE GUY
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Halleluia Chorus.
In miniature, obviously.

NATE
Awesome.

THE GUY
It was that kind of day.

So, enjoy it.

NATE
Where are you going?

THE GUY
I was just gonna let you enjoy your gift.

NATE
Come here.
Share it with me.

The Guy joins Nate and the light from the box illuminates both of their faces.

Suddenly, we hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Halleluia Chorus filling the entire theatre.

The lights go down.

5.6.2007: The Metamorphosis (A Fantasia with Franz Kafka in It)

The lights come up on Franz Kafka, furiously typing away on an old typewriter. Around him are a ton of little balls of paper.

KAFKA
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic… frog.”

No.

Kafka pulls the page out of the typewriter and balls it up. It is tossed and joins the others on the floor.

KAFKA (cont.)
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic… herring.”

No.

Again, the paper business.

As Kafka goes for a third attempt, The Guy appears.

THE GUY
Hey.

KAFKA
I’m busy.

THE GUY
I just need a minute.

KAFKA
I’m busy. I’m writing.

THE GUY
So am I. But I just need a second of your time. Look at me.

KAFKA
Writing!

THE GUY
Just look at me.

Kafka does. A silence.

KAFKA
What?

THE GUY
Do I look different to you?

KAFKA
I don’t know. I’ve never seen you before. So if you are different than you were yesterday, an hour ago, five minutes ago, I would not know because this is the only way I’ve ever known you.

Even though I don’t know you.

I have to write.

THE GUY
I feel like something else entirely.

KAFKA
But what?

THE GUY
I don’t know.

KAFKA
No, not you. Me. I don’t know what he should awake to find himself transformed into.

THE GUY
Your character?

KAFKA
My character.

THE GUY
I awoke this morning to find myself transformed.
Into what, I’m not too sure.
I feel like myself…

…but somehow not myself.

Like a better version of myself.
A version of myself with more…

…just more.

KAFKA
Eel. No.
Muskrat. No.

THE GUY
It’s sort of like waking up and finding yourself transformed into a giant insect.

KAFKA
Insect! That’s it!

THE GUY
Only you’re happy about it.

KAFKA
I imagine Gregor Samsa in that moment between sleep and waking, thinking to himself, “You know, something is changed.” And the beauty of that moment is that you’re not too sure what’s different… only that something is.

And instead of worrying about what comes next and how the change must be dealt with, there’s only the wave of enjoyment that comes with knowing the future is beginning to work itself upon you.

Of course for Gregor, everything goes to shit.

But for you…

THE GUY
Who knows?

Kafka goes back to writing. The Guy turns to watch. The lights fade.

5.5.2007: Cinqo de Mayo (The Stars in Alignment)

The stage is dark.

Suddenly there is burst of mariachi music.

The lights explode on to find the Guy with a sombrero.

THE GUY
This is the best fucking day in the universe!

Two college guys wander through, drunk.

DRUNK COLLEGE GUYS
Hey! Cinqo de Mayo! Alright! Party on brother!

They go. The Uncertain Future appears.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Cinqo de Mayo is the best fucking day in the universe?

THE GUY
No, no no. That's incidental. Just a wierd side note to an otherwise wonderful fuckin day.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I sense big things have transpired.

THE GUY
Big things have transpired.
Today, the stars aligned and
Two Great Things
have occurred.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Wow.

THE GUY
I know.

And they sort of happened at the exact same moment, too.

One happened in the middle of the other
and all of a sudden
the two parts of my life which seemed so incredibly uncertain

were as clear as one could want them to be.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Writing and boys?

THE GUY
Writing and boys.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Nice.

THE GUY
Very.

It's funny.
The phone rings while you're walking to get coffee
and your life changes.

A window opens up
and you can suddenly see everything working itself out.
You can see that the present moment
could contain everything you ever wanted in the world.

And it's happening, Right now!
Happening on the street
in the last place you'd ever think it would happen

(because for the last few weeks,
I'd been picturing it my head, you know,
the moment I'd find out
and I had the whole sequence of events storyboarded out
always like a movie
with a score and cmera angles
and a look of surprise on my face

Jesus...)

but there's a phone call
and I think it's about something else entirely
then suddenly it's happening

validation is happening
this thing is being head
my words have been heard
and they've been appreciated...

and he hugs me
and I know he means it.

I could feel just how much he means it...

God...

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
And it's Cinqo de Mayo.

THE GUY
You know, in Mexico, today isn't such a big deal.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh yeah?

THE GUY
Yeah. Only here.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Wierd.

THE GUY
Yeah.
To think that what a day means depends on who it's happening to.

The drunk college guys wander through again. They cheer on The Guy, raise their drinks, and stumble off.

They have no idea worlds have been crafted, mountains have moved, the shape of the future has changed.

The lights go down.

5.4.2007: Fair and Balanced (A Wider View of the World)

The stage is littered with actors.

They're all speaking and moving at once -- as they like to do in this play -- creating a frenetic mess of voice and movement.

The Guy is standing in the center of this, not moving, not really bothered by the swirl going on around him.

Someone appears -- The Best Friend.

THE BEST FRIEND
Hey.

THE GUY
What?

THE BEST FRIEND
HEY!

THE GUY
Oh... HEY! WHAT'S UP?

THE GUY
Sorry! Let me slow this down!

The Guy snaps his fingers, and the actors slow to voiceless slow motion movement.

THE BEST FRIEND
What are they doing?

THE GUY
Chattering about two things mostly. Writing and boys.

THE BEST FRIEND
That's pretty much all you ever chatter about... writing and boys.

THE GUY
I know. But it's because those two things never stay still. They're always moving. And they're loud, too. Demanding. Like little children. And the eye is drawn to the thing in motion. So...

THE BEST FRIEND
So...

THE GUY
So, that's why you're not in here more often.

THE BEST FRIEND
I know.

THE GUY
I write about the stuff that changes. The stuff that can't stay still.
You're a constant.
Something I can always rely on.

I like that about you.

THE BEST FRIEND
Thank you.

THE GUY
You're always here.
In the silences when I don't know what to say.
You're the thing that makes me know it's okay.

A silence in which he doesn't know what to say.

It's lovely.

The lights go down.

5.3.2007: Digging (Whatever You Want To Be)

The two Diggers return.

DIGGER DAN
Wife said I wasn’t paying enough attention to her.

DIGGER DO
Yeah?

DIGGER DAN
She said I spend too much time thinking about work.

DIGGER DO
Digging’s tough work.

DIGGER DAN
That’s what I told her. Takes a lot more concentration to dig holes that people can’t get themselves out of than it appears.

DIIGER DO
Looks easy…

DIGGER DAN
But it ain’t.

DIGGER DO
My wife doesn’t understand why I don’t get a job in an office somewhere.

DIGGER DAN
I don’t think I’d like office work.

DIGGER DO
That’s what I tell her.

DIGGER DAN
I need the dirt under my fingernails so I know I’m alive.

DIGGER DO
I have to be able to smell myself at the end of the day to know I’m still here.

DIGGER DAN
That’s work.

DIGGER DO
But it’s hard to convince her of that since I’ve got a Master’s in Sociology.

DIGGER DAN
Yup.

DIGGER DO
She always throws that in my face.

DIGGER DAN
Women…

DIGGER DO
I know.

A pause.

DIGGER DO (cont.)
I don’t see why you can’t just be whatever you want to be in the world.

DIGGER DAN
Whatever makes you happy.

DIGGER DO
Happy.

DIGGER DAN
Digging holes…

DIGGER DO
Digging holes…

They are still for a bit. Then the lights fade on them.

5.2.2007: … and i never said the only thing i wanted was you

The Torrent, a ferociously fast speaker, appears.

THE TORRENT
… and i never said the only thing i wanted was you that wasn’t what i said at all i said i could be happy with you i could really you know somewhere down the line i could be happy with you and i tried to tell you that over and over again but i always felt like somewhere in the subtext of every one of our conversations you were thinking that i was saying you were the only thing i wanted you were the only thing that could possibly make me happy and i always felt like you pulled back from that because that’s scary and yeah i got you there that is scary i’d be freaked out of someone tried to tell me i was the only thing that could make them happy…

The Guy appears.

THE TORRENT (cont.)
… but it was never a case of you being the only thing to make me happy it was a case of you being something that would make me happy among the many things that already made me happy and i just wanted to add you to the collection of lovely things that populate my life because we’d be really good together don’t you think i mean i feel like somewhere in there in that heart of yours that impenetrable heart that seems to never be touched or moved or even bumped against i think somewhere in that heart you know that together we’d have a pretty fabulous life but you’re scared i think you’re scared in fact a part of me wants to say i know you’re scared but you’d just argue with me and tell me i was a jerk for trying to tell you how you feel because only you know how you feel so tell me how you feel please tell me you feel the way i think you feel because i never said the only thing i wanted was you and ---

The Guy places a hand on the Torrent. The Torrent stops speaking.

A silence.

The Torrent looks relieved to have stopped speaking.

THE GUY
I think we’ve said enough.

The Torrent looks up and is incredibly grateful. The Torrent will continue to think these things (forever, in fact, because don’t we always hold on to the argument we never won?) but The Guy’s decided it’s time to stop saying them.

Finally.

Enough is enough, right?

Maybe this time he’ll mean it, Maybe he’ll break his fortitude tomorrow. But right this second…

There’s only silence.

The lights go down.

5.1.2007: A Little Divided Attention

The Guy, sitting onstage, sort of off somewhere in his own little world.

Life/Play marches onstage, a little pissed.

LIFE/PLAY
Hey.

THE GUY
Oh. Hey. I’m sorry. I was off somewhere in my own little world.

LIFE/PLAY
You forgot to write today.

THE GUY
Oh. You’re right.

LIFE/PLAY
Of all the things to forget to do in a given day, I thought I would be the ONE thing you wouldn’t forget.

THE GUY
Well, it’s been a very busy few days, and there’s a lot going on.

LIFE/PLAY
There’s a man, isn’t there?

THE GUY
Don’t start.

LIFE/PLAY
There’s a man on your mind, so you didn’t write a play for today?

The Guy looks sheepishly guilty.

LIFE/PLAY (cont.)
Oh, God! There is! Isn’t there? There’s a man. Oh Jesus, here we go again.

Haven’t you learned anything? Flip back a couple months, and just look at the parade of gentlemen that have marched through these pages (marched through these pages and right out the other end, if you take a closer look, because how many of them are actually still sticking around? None!).

THE GUY
This one’s nice.

LIFE/PLAY
They all seem nice at first! Every one of ‘em! Then they disappear, or end up being complete wierdos, or assholes, or whatever!

THE GUY
Not this one.

LIFE/PLAY
You don’t know that!

THE GUY
I know.

LIFE/PLAY
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

THE GUY
I do.
I like having someone to think of.
I like having someone who’s thinking of me.

And yes, I have no idea what’s going to happen
but I like that.
I welcome the Uncertain into my life.

He’s got this smile…
seriously, it just hits me right here
in the center of my chest

so isn’t that worth a little divided attention?

So, chill out.

I don’t mind running the risk of being disappointed
in case he’s the one who won’t disappoint.

LIFE/PLAY
Okay. But you better write me.

THE GUY
I will.

LIFE/PLAY
Okay.

THE GUY
No, seriously, I will. Because he’s watching. Look.

The Guy takes out his cell phone and shows Life/Play a text message.

LIFE/PLAY
"You forgot to write today.”

THE GUY
See? Watching.

LIFE/PLAY
He reads me? Oh, I like this guy already…

The lights go out.