Life/Play

LOOKING BACK: 4.9.2008 Wrestlers

2010-04-19T11:41:00.002-06:00

Two men at a restaurant. Dinner's almost finished. The one on the right continues to pick at his food.

A
It was good.

B
I thought the chicken was dry.

A
The beef was good. Your chicken was okay.

B
Just a little dry. Not too much.

A
Just mentionably dry.

B
Right. Not complainably.

A
You know, I was thinking the other day. I saw this man on the news wrestling a pig. It was some stupid thing for charity or something. I don't know. Filler news, not real news. He was covered in this. Oil I guess. Or something. Crisco. Disgusting. And the pig was just squealing its head off. You know. Ferocious squealing. Almost like a kid being tortured or something awful like that. And this grease-covered guy, just holding onto it for dear life.

B
They put that on the news?

A
Yeah. I know. Pathetic, right? But that pig. The guy. I thought, "My God. I feel like that. I feel like that guy holding on that grease covered squealing thing."

Silence.

B
It passes.

A
I know.

B
It always passes.

A
I know. But I'm exhausted. I don't believe I can win anymore. I'm sorry, but I don't.

Another silence.

B
They put that on the news?

A
Yeah, I know. Pathetic, right?

B
A little. What made you bring it up?

A
Nothing. Just thought it was wierd.

B
Wierd.

They go back to restaurant silence. The lights go down.

LOOKING BACK: 4.8.2008: The Cave of Wonders

2010-04-19T11:39:00.000-06:00

The Husband and the Wife. A couch. The light of a television hits them.

THE WIFE
I want to take a trip.

THE HUSBAND
Huh?

THE WIFE
Trip.

THE HUSBAND
Trip what?

THE WIFE
I want to take one. I want us to take a trip somewhere.

THE HUSBAND
Where do you want to go?

THE WIFE
Somewhere. Some place we haven't seen before.

THE HUSBAND
There are a lot of places we haven't seen before.

THE WIFE
I know.

THE HUSBAND
There are places down our street we haven't seen before.

THE WIFE
That's not what I meant.

THE HUSBAND
If you want to take a trip to the Brennan's garage three doors down, I'd be happy to arrange it for the weekend.

THE WIFE
You know what I meant. Don't make fun of me.

THE HUSBAND
I wasn't...

THE WIFE
Don't make fun of the things I want.

THE HUSBAND
I'm sorry.

A silence falls. Just the flicker of the TV. The muffled sound of a documentary narration.

A man appears behind the couch. A nature photographer. He's in full adventurer regalia. He's very quiet. He peeks up, rises slowly, and snaps a picture of the couple on the couch. Then he descends again, out of sight.

The Husband and Wife are none the wiser.

THE HUSBAND
You watching this?

THE WIFE
Sort of.

THE HUSBAND
It's amazing.

THE WIFE
I think it's sordid.

The Husband turns up the volume with the remote. We hear this part clearly.

DOCUMENTARY NARRATION
"... are stark portraits of what photographer Jake Madden calls "Human Chasms," the gulfs between people, no matter how close they are. Madden says:"

JAKE MADDEN
"Everyone thinks it's just dead air. But it's not. The photographs show. The space is like a cave of wonders."

THE HUSBAND
I love that he calls it a "Cave of Wonders."

THE WIFE
You can't take pictures of that.

THE HUSBAND
He says he can.

DOCUMENTARY NARRATION
"Madden atrributes the glorious complexity of his work to the complexity of its subject. Madden says it takes a lot of neglect, anger, frustration, compromise, failure, and deception to create the most beautiful of his portraits. But he says, it's worth it."

THE WIFE
Funny how that one looks like our living room.

JAKE MADDEN
"This is my favorite. Look at the swirl of colors."

THE HUSBAND
She has the exact same shoes as you do, honey.

The photographer rises and sneaks out of the room.

THE WIFE
I wish we could go to a place that beautiful.

THE HUSBAND
I doubt we could afford it. It's got to be in Europe somewhere.

Silence as they contemplate themselves.

The lights go out.

LOOKING BACK: 4.1.2008: The Winged Man (Fly Shy)

2010-04-19T11:35:00.002-06:00

The Guy and Icarus.

ICARUS
Wanna try these on?

THE GUY
I don't think so.

ICARUS
No faith in the apparatus?

THE GUY
No. Sorry. No offense.

ICARUS
None taken. Nobody ever wants to. Try them out. Word travels.

THE GUY
That it does.

ICARUS
People are fly shy. It's what I call it. Not a technical name. Just a bit of. You know. Lingo. Of the personal kind. They see the evidence of a failed attempt, and they won't come near even a piece of it. Fly shy. I don't get it.

THE GUY
I do. I get it.

ICARUS
I think, as long as there's a sliver of a chance that the events will play out differently, it's worth a go. Within reason, of course. But if there's hope... you know, I think there's got to be at least the attempt. No time for fly shy. You know?

THE GUY
Who wants to fall out the sky more than once? Hell. Who wants to do it at all?

ICARUS
At least something's happening to you.

There's a silence between them.

THE GUY
I feel a little beaten up. Bruised. I know you're supposed to just brush off the dirt, take a deep breath, and plunge ahead. I know it's what you do every day. But I just. I just don't want to today. I just want to be still. Completely still.

ICARUS
The only one that still are the dead ones. You're far from dead, buddy.

THE GUY
True.

ICARUS
Think about it. I think these wings might fit you. No time for fly shy.

The lights go down.

4.18.2010: The Chair of Forgetfulness (My friend, you cannot look behind)

2010-04-18T21:28:00.003-06:00

Theseus and Pirithous, the best of friends. They are in the underworld, at the Chair of Forgetfulness.

THESEUS
it's alright.

PIRITHOUS
No.

THESEUS
I'll be here. I promise. I'm not going anywhere.

PIRITHOUS
Absolutely not.

THESEUS
We've talked this through. There's no surprise. You sit in the chair...

PIRITHOUS
The Chair of Forgetfulness...

THESEUS
Yes. You sit in the chair, and it all goes away. Everything.

PIRITHOUS
Everything.

THESEUS
The pain. The disappointment. The failure.

PIRITHOUS
Everything.

THESEUS
And I'll be standing here. Right here. Waiting for you once you're ready to go.

There's a pause.

PIRITHOUS
I'm scared. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be. I know we've gone over this. but I'm scared. I sit in the chair, and it all falls away -- all the terrible miserable awful things I don't want to carry another moment -- but what if when they fall away, so does everything else -- all the good, all the joy, music, memories, my loves, you...

THESEUS
This is my promise to you, my friend.
This place,
this myth,
this is ours.

This space that was created
without you in it
now seems much richer and fuller
and more alive
with you in it.

So in this space,
this space that I keep alive
for almost no one else but you,
I promise that the only thing you forget
when you sit in that chair
are the things you want to forget.

Everything else is yours.

It's a fiction, yes,
but it's all I can do.
And I want to give you a space
where there is no sadness
and the world is exactly what you want the world to be.

So sit.
Forget.

And when you're done,
the world is yours to make.

It's a meager gift, but it's the best he can do. Theseus motions for Pirithous to sit. And Pirithous does. And the burden he carries melts away. Only the bad parts. Because in this play, the myth is what I make it.

Pirithous is happy. The world is well.

4.17.2010: Between,,, You Know (Odysseus and Icarus Consider the Options)

2010-04-17T11:33:00.002-06:00

Odysseus in a boat. He's peering intently ahead, through a telescope. He looks seriously worried.

Alongside him is a younger sailor, looking equally worried.

SAILOR
This looks bad.

ODYSSEUS
It is bad.

SAILOR
So, what do we do?

ODYSSEUS
Steer the ship left, we get eaten by Scylla. Steer the ship left, and we get sucked in by Charybdis.

A pause.

SAILOR
Those are our options? The ONLY options? Die or die?

ODYSSEUS
Yes.

SAILOR
What about going back? Change course completely. Forward isn't the only direction, sir.

ODYSSEUS
You don't know much about Greek mythology, do you?

SAILOR
Look, I didn't ask to be cast in this myth. I don't even have a name! I'm just "Sailor," and if you consider the stage directions, I'm a young sailor, I have a lot of life left in me, so if I have a voice in this other than as a passive participant so you have someone to talk to, I vote we turn back. I don't like what happens if we steer right and I certainly don't like what happens if we steer left. So let's just steer back -- yes, we'll look like pussies, but we'll at least be ALIVE to be ridiculed.

ODYSSEUS
You have a lot to learn, young man.

Above them, we see Icarus, mid-flight. He's high enough to be thrilled with the implications of flight, but not yet high enough to get burned by the sun.

ICARUS
Odysseus!

ODYSSEUS
Icarus! How's the sky today, my friend?

ICARUS
The day is beautiful! The sun is spectacular!

ODYSSEUS
My friend, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Wondered if you might be able to help me out.

ICARUS
Certainly. What's the problem.

SAILOR
A rock -- where a multi-headed beast will devour us as we pass! And a hard place -- where a sucking whirlpool will swallow us whole!

ODYSSEUS
Steer left or steer right? Death either way?

SAILOR
Or turn back! Seriously, why isn't that option on the table? You people are fucking ridiculous.

ICARUS
Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
The point is, you're damned either way,
so your choice isn't an escape from damnation,
its how you handle being damned.

ODYSSEUS
That's the purpose of myth.

ICARUS
The consideration of impossible questions...

ODYSSEUS
Not their answers.

ICARUS
We're all going to die.
We're all going to fail.
We're all going to try to to touch the sun, and miss.

ODYSSEUS
So the only way you know who you are
what you're made of
what kind of person you will be
is to accept failure.

ICARUS
Fall from the sky.

ODYSSEUS
Sail through the middle of an unwinnable situation.

ICARUS
Because -- and here's the secret --
on the other side of it...

ODYSSEUS
...after the failure...

ICARUS
... you get reborn.

ODYSSEUS
Death is a temporary thing.
Skins will be shed,
transformation will occur
and you will be changed.

ICARUS
Flip a coin.
Steer in one direction.
You'll probably fail.
That's life.

ODYSSEUS
Isn't it wonderful?

Icarus flies up into the sky and out of sight. The sailor looks at Odysseus, looks ahead to the rock and the hard place. Pulls out a coin. Flips it.

SAILOR
Steer left. Let's see what happens.

1.16.2010: Icarus in Small (Give me the seat by the window)

2010-01-16T00:35:00.003-06:00

Two seats on an commerical airliner. Icarus in one, The Guy in the other.

THE GUY
This is the first time I've ever been on a plane.

ICARUS
No way. Really?

THE GUY
Yeah. I have this -- always have had this -- anxiety, I guess, is the word to use but it's more like an obsessive fixation, this CERTAINTY that I will set foot on a plane, take off, and find myself sucked into the air when the damn thing splits open, dumping me onto some field over Virginia. Splat. End of story.

ICARUS
Been there. It's not pretty.

THE GUY
I know it's irrational... but it always seemed so much easier to just listen to the fear, give into it, than face it.

ICARUS
What changed your mind?

THE GUY
Twenty-nine hours on a train to spend a week in New York. It was an adventure at 20. At 34... well, plummeting out of a plane and getting squashed seems less painful.

ICARUS
I'm not the best guy for this.
I'm myth.
My fall... it's metaphorical.

(sort of. I do actually fall,
drown,
die,
the whole nine yards,
just for me -- the end
is not really an end.

it's a temporary thing.

You fall, you die.
Game over.

THE GUY
Not helping.

ICARUS
Odds are, you won't.
And then you get to see
thepart of the flight
I never get to see.

THE GUY
What's that?

ICARUS
The destination.
The end.
The airport in New York
and your friends
and your show
and the future...

THE GUY
I'm not as scared as I thought I would be.
I'm sitting here,
and in the imagined version of this evening
I was terrified.

But I'm fine.
I'm calm.
I'm...

ICARUS
Ready.
You're ready.

When the plane takes off,
imagine the wings
as sprouting from your back
and the wind in your face
and the heat of the sun on your face
and the possibility of everything on the other side
holding you up.

The physics of flight. Just conjecture.
That's what keeps you aloft.
The possible things.

The Guy smiles. He turns, and sees that Icarus has changed. He's no longer some random boy who's a metaphor for all sorts of things. Icarus is Marc, cap, flannel shirt and scruffy beard, smiling that smile with the raised eyebrows that makes the Guy happy.

Maybe he's been Marc all along, and I'd been talking to him for years. Just waiting for that trip. The fountain. The rainy Saturday afternoon. This flight. The future.

The plane roars to life. Everything will be okay.

Life/Play Has a New Home on the Web

2007-05-29T19:34:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-28T15:35:00.000-06:00

“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

2007-05-27T17:51:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-26T17:26:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-25T22:52:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-24T22:47:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-23T07:43:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-22T18:03:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-21T12:46:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-20T09:27:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-19T18:24:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-18T06:56:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-17T21:06:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-05-16T09:10:00.000-06:00

“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)

2007-05-16T04:37:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-05-15T19:52:00.000-06:00

“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

2007-05-14T16:59:00.000-06:00

"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

2007-05-13T06:56:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-05-12T06:32:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-11T20:10:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-10T08:57:00.000-06:00

“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

2007-05-09T19:16:00.000-06:00

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

2007-05-08T09:24:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-07T20:17:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-06T08:26:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-05T14:56:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-04T13:43:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-05-04T09:25:00.001-06:00

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

2007-05-02T18:23:00.001-06:00

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

2007-05-01T04:48:00.000-06:00

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.

4.30.2007: Humpty Dumpty (Force of Attraction)

2007-04-30T20:47:00.000-06:00

The Guy and the lovely female assistant. Upstage somewhere is The Illusionist, still in the box, still in three pieces.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
How’s he doing?

THE GUY
Not too good.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
I told him. I warned him that he shouldn’t do it.

THE GUY
Men are stubborn.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
As rocks.

THE GUY
We can’t help it.

Upstage, the Illusionist tries to shake the boxes back into lining up. He struggles, loudly, forcefully. The box shakes. But the three pieces don’t go back together.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
Poor thing. he reminds me of Humpty Dumpty.

THE GUY
A little bit, yeah.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men…

I really liked him at first. He was great. He would tell me after every trick, “Eileen, you’re a wonder.” That’s what he’d call me. His wonder. And when he’d slide my middle section back into place, he’d always hold my gaze, as if to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll put you back together, I promise, I would never leave you in pieces.”

I should have never had sex with him.

I mean, right away. I shouldn’t have had sex with him right away.

It rearranges things, sex does. You ever notice that?

THE GUY
Yeah.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
We did it on the first date. Such a mistake…

It’s like seeing how a trick is done, isn’t it? Having sex with someone too soon. It’s like, the illusion is destroyed. Or the potential for it. Because that what love is to me. The potential for creating a really beautiful illusion. And if you jump to the sex, it’s like seeing where the smoke and mirrors mask all the mechanics of things. There’s nothing left to be learned. You’re exposed to someone…

I wanted him to be something that grew into this beautiful illusion.

But before I knew enough about who he was and what he loved and what made his soul shake with happiness… I knew what his face looked like when he came.

That’s sort of a disappointment, don’t you think?

THE GUY
Yeah.

The Illusionist tries again to put himself back together. He fails.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
Humpty Dumpty…

The Guy wants to talk about someone he’s met. But he holds it in. Maybe in a week he’ll be ready to put this thing that’s happened in the confines of this play.

But for now, there’s just been the incredible force of attraction. And the beginning of something. Possibly.

Because we’ve all seen what happens when a Carrot or a Redneck Intellectual enters the play.

The Illusionist struggles to overcome the problem of being broken in pieces.

The Guy crosses his fingers. And tries to not to ruin the potential for a lovely illusion.

4.29.2007: Now For The Thing That Comes Next

2007-04-29T08:00:00.000-06:00

The Guy and Life/Play, physicalized.

LIFE/PLAY
Still waiting?

THE GUY
Yep.

LIFE/PLAY
Nervous, huh?

THE GUY
You know it.

LIFE/PLAY
Me, too.

THE GUY
I’ve been telling myself, “It’s okay if they say no.”

LIFE/PLAY
Well, it is.

THE GUY
And it isn’t.

LIFE/PLAY
Yeah. And it isn’t.

THE GUY
I tell myself, “If it doesn’t happen, it just wasn’t meant to.”

LIFE/PLAY
Exactly.

THE GUY
But I really want it to happen.

LIFE/PLAY
Me, too.

They wait for the response that’s coming. It might come today. Maybe tomorrow. But it’s coming. And if it goes one way, it makes the future a whole lot more fabulous. If it goes the other way, it just means that there’s a longer road to travel.

But they both know, as they wait, that no matter what the response is, this thing will continue.

The Guy looks at Life/Play. He’s happy with what he sees.

The lights go down.

4.28.2007: Three Pieces of a Man (Not That You Notice)

2007-04-28T04:37:00.000-06:00

The Illusionist is still in the box. He’s also still in three pieces.

The Guy appears.

THE ILLUSIONIST
She wouldn’t love me.

THE GUY
I’m sorry.

THE ILLUSIONIST
I thought this might help somehow.

THE GUY
Did it?

THE ILLUSIONIST
Not really.

I don’t feel any better. There was a momentary wave of something like relief when I broke into pieces, but that passed pretty quickly. And I went right back to feeling bummed out by her.

She didn’t change her mind. I thought she might, once she saw the lengths I was willing to go through to get her attention. But she didn’t.

Now I just feel kinda dumb.

THE GUY
Why?

THE ILLUSIONIST
Here I am. Three pieces of a man. All because of some girl.

THE GUY
Hey. I’ve been there. Over guys, though.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Ah.

THE GUY
Can’t really beat yourself up about it, though. The heart makes you do crazy things.

THE ILLUSIONIST
I guess so.

Male camaraderie. Neither feels like expounding on this. So they don’t.

The lights go down.

4.27.2007: The Only Impossible Trick

2007-04-27T11:59:00.000-06:00

The Illusionist again, this time with his lovely female assistant.

In the center of the stage is the box from the last play.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Just try it.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
I don’t want to.

THE ILLUSIONIST
You don’t mind doing anything else.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
That’s different. Those are magic tricks. Always completely reversible.

THE ILLUSIONIST
So is this.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
I don’t think so.

THE ILLUSIONIST
But it would be such a beautiful way to end our act. A Big Finish!

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
No.

THE ILLUSIONIST
I don’t get you, Eileen. I mean, you have this… talent. You can slide your middle section out two feet beside you. You can make yourself appear and disappear at will. You can allow seven swords to cut through your body and not feel a thing. You can get sawed in half!

And on the verge of doing something truly remarkable, something that I can guarantee will bring down the house tonight (seriously. We’re talking media coverage, interviews… We could even develop a core fan base that will follow us around from mall show to mall show.) You won’t take the plunge.

You’re the only person on the planet who can do this, Eileen.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
I can’t love you.

There’s a long moment. The Illusionist looks very sad.

He moves to the box. He steps inside it.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Then rip me into pieces.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
You won’t be able to get put back together. You don’t have my abilities to repair.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Maybe I don’t want to be put back together. Maybe I want to be broken into three pieces. Maybe I want to be completely out of order.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT
Fine but don’t come crying to me when this doesn’t work out like you planned it.

The lovely female assistant proceeds with the magic act. She slides the middle section out beside the Illusionist. His face betrays a searing pain, but he doesn’t make a sound.

The lovely female assistant looks at the empty space where his torso used to be.

LOVELY FEMALE ASSISTANT (cont.)
I’ve got nothing to give to fill this space. My well is dry.

THE ILLUSIONIST
It’s all illusion, right? That’s the trick, isn’t it? It’s a trick masquerading as truth masquerading as a trick. Illusion…

Neither is really sure. And they both are stock still as the lights go down.

4.26.2007: Magic Man

2007-04-26T06:16:00.000-06:00

The Guy appears, in one of those magic trick boxes that allows the Illusionist to slide the middle part of a person out from between their upper and lower parts.

At the present moment, though, The Guy is in one piece.

The Illusionist appears.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Hello.

THE GUY
Hi.

THE ILLUSIONIST
You’re not my lovely female assistant.

THE GUY
No.

THE ILLUSIONIST
That’s unfortunate.

THE GUY
For everyone, it seems.

THE ILLUSIONIST
I’m not used to doing these illusions without my lovely female assistant.

THE GUY
Well, it would seem the trick would work with whomever you put in this box. You know, it’s all illusion anyway. So the illusion should work even though I’m neither lovely or female.

THE ILLUSIONIST
You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But they’re not tricks.

THE GUY
What?

THE ILLUSIONIST
That’s the trick. They’re not tricks. The reason I only do this particular illusion with my lovely female assistant is because my lovely female assistant can actually detach the middle part of her body and slide it to the side in this box. Everybody thinks it’s an illusion. Because who else can do that, right? It defies logic. So of course, it must be somehow… deceptive.

but no. She really does it. Night after night. And I can stick swords in her and she never bleeds or does. I can saw her in half (she particularly likes that illusion, she says it feels like a feather being pulled across your stomach when I rip her two halves apart).

None of it is illusion.

THE GUY
I don’t believe you.

THE ILLUSIONIST
People never do.

THE GUY
I bet if you pushed that middle section right now, it would slide out and I would look like man cut in three pieces.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Wanna try?

THE GUY
Absolutely.

The Illusionist steps up to the box. Lights shift. Tense magic music. Hands fullters and magical making gestures from the Illusionist. Then he puts his hands on the middle section…

…and pushes.

THE GUY
OUCH! Jesus Christ, you’re killing me, stop pushing!

He does. Everything returns to non-magical atmosphere.

THE ILLUSIONIST
Told you so.

My favorite part of being an illusionist that that people never know what the true illusion is.

It’s not that we’re able to make fiction look like fact.

It’s that we’re able to make you believe fact is somehow fiction.

The Illusionist makes another magical gesture. Nothing happens.

He laughs. And exits.

The lights go down.

4.25.2007: Digger Is as Digger Does

2007-04-25T09:27:00.000-06:00

Two Diggers. Guys who dig holes. They’re hot, too. In that blue collar construction worker kind of way. But they’re probably straight married dads.

They’re on lunch break. Their shovels are at their sides. They each eat a sandwich that their wives probably made.

DIGGER DAN
Sun’s hot today.

DIGGER DO
Yup.

DIGGER DAN
Tv said there might be some rain.

DIGGER DO
Don’t look much like it.

DIGGER DAN
Nope.
DIGGER DO
You know what we’re doing here?

DIGGER DAN
Other than eating a sandwich and digging holes… nope.

A very fabulous man enters.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Hello, darlings!

DIGGER DAN
Yo.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
I know you’re eating your sandwiches, they look delicious, is that pork? Oh my! But we’ve got a lot to do here, so hop hop! We have get moving.

DIGGER DO
Doing what?

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Digging holes we won’t be able to get ourselves out of! Our client will be here any minute. So we have to get a little further than this! Come on!

DIGGER DAN
I wanna finish my sandwich.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Of course you do, just look at you. Pot belly. Come on. You don’t need the rest of it. You can feed off yourself until Rosh Hashana. Okay! Dig!

The diggers put down their sandwiches and pick up their shovels.

The Guy enters.

THE GUY
I made it.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Yes you did, darling! Oh. You look delightful. Is that cashmere?

THE GUY
No.

VERY FABULOSU MAN
Doesn’t matter. You still look delicious. I could just eat you up. Gobble Gobble Gobble. I’m kidding. What do you think of what we’ve got so far?

The Guy examines the hole.

THE GUY
Doesn’t look very deep.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Not yet! But it will be. Deep enough for you get right down in there and no be able to get your cute self out! Just what you ordered, right?

THE GUY
Right.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Why don’t you just step right in, and try it on for size. Little test run, what do you say?

The Guy steps into the hole. He disappears to his knees.

VERY FABULOUS MAN (cont.)
Trust me, we’ve got a long way to go, but can’t you just feel the potential. The ground reaching up above your head so far that you can’t get out no matter how hard you try!

THE GUY
I can feel it.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
This is the latest trend, darling! Everyone’s digging holes they can’t get out of. It’s so fashionable. Britney, Don Imus, Alec Baldwin… Even Brad and Angelina are doing it.

THE GUY
I don’t wanna be behind the times.

VERY FABULOUS MAN
Nobody does, darling. Nobody does.

The diggers keep digging. The Very Fabulous Man looks on. The Guy sinks deeper and deeper into the ground.

4.24.2007: Another One Line Play

2007-04-24T09:06:00.000-06:00

The Guy.

THE GUY
Dance break!

The Guy starts to dance furiously.

A top hat and cane fall from the sky. He grabs then and starts to tap.

He’s dancing like there’s no tomorrow.

More precisely, like there’s no today. Because he doesn’t know what he wants to write about. It’s another one of those.

But maybe if he dances and waves his arms smiles like aused car salesman, no one’s gonna notice.

You didn’t notice? Did you? Did you?

The lights go down.

4.23.2007: We Build Our House

2007-04-23T07:10:00.000-06:00

The stage is filled with two things: paper and The Guy Back When.

The Guy Back When sits here a while, contemplating the mess around him. Because when I say there’s paper – there’s PAPER… everywhere.

The Guy appears.

THE GUY
What’s all this?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I don’t know. I just showed up and it was… here.

THE GUY
All of it?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
No. At first there’s was probably just half of it. But these flurries come – like little blizzards – and more of it accumulates.

THE GUY
Weird.

A moment where they just contemplate the mess.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
There should be an Eskimo.

Then, an Eskimo appears. Full Eskimo regalia.

AN ESKIMO
Hello.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
An Eskimo!

THE GUY
That’s a little ridiculous.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Well there’s snow. It’s like a literary tundra here. There’s got to be an Eskimo.

THE GUY
It’s clear you’re still a young writer.

AN ESKIMO
I’m homeless.

THE GUY
Where are you going with this?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
You’ll see.

AN ESKIMO
I will build myself an igloo made of snow.
This flat sheetlike snow
and I will press the pages together
and I shall build a house out of drifts and pockets…

what was once barely there
becomes a home.

THE GUY
That’s me, isn’t it?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Well, a little.
I’m sorry I didn’t do what we wanted to do when we wanted to do it.

THE GUY
It’s okay.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
It was scary.
New York was terrifying actually.
I know you think I was a complete loser
for just staying four days,

but you have no idea what it felt like
to sit on that floor at 3 in the morning
calling Paige
crying
hardly being able to breathe
feeling like your heart was just going to explode in your chest from panic
and thinking there was no solution.

I couldn’t see the way out.
I don’t have what you have.
You’re a lot braver than me.

THE GUY
I don’t feel that much braver than you.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
But you are.

I think you did a good thing.
I watched you the last few years
and I think you really found a way to turn that all around.
With your teaching,
and all the stuff you do with those kids.

You built a home out of something that was barely there.

THE GUY
They built me.

They built a home out of something that was barely there.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
They’re not going to fail.
They’re going to go out into the world
and do marvelous things,

and eventually
you won’t need to carry me around anymore.

THE GUY
It’d be weird without you around.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I’ve been holding you back, I think.
I think you just feel sorry for me.
It’s why you keep me around.

AN ESKIMO
May I add something?

THE GUY
Sure.

AN ESKIMO
Your snow isn’t like our snow.
But it works just the same.
And once I’ve turned it into an igloo
I forget sometimes that it was ever something else.
But the snow doesn’t mind.
It’s happy to have been useful.

The Eskimo begins to construct an igloo.

The Guy Back When leaves, maybe never to come back, but we won’t be sure of that just yet.

The Guy hangs around.

The lights go down.

4.22.2007: Enough Time

2007-04-22T09:31:00.000-06:00

The Guy alone on stage.

Suddenly, all the other actors appear.

One by one, they start to speak. Slowly, deliberately. About anything they want to talk about. Maybe some of them play the characters they have played in earlier plays, maybe they just recite lines from other characters they wish they would have played.

The Guy listens to them all, or tries to anyway. It’s tough work trying to hear an individual story here because there’s so much to take in, so much overlapping. But each actor is so earnest in having their story told.

The Guy gets this a lot. Moments when there are a lot of things pulling for his attention, a lot of voices that are drifting about out there that have interesting stories, and he just feels sometimes that it’s impossible to write any one of them down because the abundance of it is sometimes overwhelming.

He wishes there was a play that just had everyone in the world speaking their story on stage, all at once, so that an audience might know what it was like some days to be a writer with too many ideas and not enough time.

The lights go down.

4.21.2007: Carrot / Fella (Your Name is My Name Too)

2007-04-21T01:00:00.000-06:00

The Guy, Carrot, and the Fella.

CARROT
Who’s he?

THE GUY
He’s the Fella.

THE FELLA
Well, who’s he?

THE GUY
He’s the Carrot.

They sort of look at each other for a second.

THE GUY (cont.)
His name is your name, too.

CARROT / FELLA
Oh.

THE GUY
So I thought you two might finally need to meet.

CARROT
Well, it’s nice to meet ya, Fella.

THE FELLA
Pleasure’s all mine, Carrot.

Little bit of awkward silence.

CARROT
Does it matter in these things if the truth is sort of blurred?

THE GUY
What do you mean?

CARROT
Well, I’ve never really met him. Not in real life. But we’re meeting here. I’m wondering if that matters. That we can appear together in the same play when we don’t ever appear together in real life.

THE GUY
But you do. Sort of.

THE FELLA
How’s that?

THE GUY
Well.
Tonight I went out.
And I saw you, Carrot.
And it was nice to see you.
I was sort of reminded of all the things that made me like you.
And the couple of times I caught your eye,
there was a little spark of something
something I remember
and it was nice.

But the whole time I was with you,
I was thinking of him.

The Guy points to the Fella.

THE GUY (cont.)
And not just because you have the same name, either.

The Guy turns to The Fella.

THE GUY (cont.)
I keep casting about out there for something to take your place.
Nothing really does.

Out of respect for the truth of the Fella, he says nothing. Because the real Fella never responds to those sort of things.

THE GUY (cont.)
Weird you two have the same name.

The Guy turns to the Carrot, who smiles in that sheepish way he smiles.

The Guy then turns to the Fella, who does that little wink thing.

We think he might turn to us, and say something, but he doesn’t. He stays looking at The Fella. Because he’s gotten used to doing it again, and finds he enjoys it more than he remembered.

The lights go down.

4.20.2007: Permanence

2007-04-20T13:19:00.000-06:00

“Turn your mind away from things which are not permanent.” - Buddha

The Husband and The Wife appear.

The Wife speaks to the Husband, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s occupied with something.

THE WIFE
If you look at me before I count to ten,
I won’t stop loving you.

If you look at me before I hear a car pass outside,
I won’t wish I’d never met you.

If you look at me before you turn the page of whatever you’re reading,
I won’t wish you were dead.

Look at me.

Look at me.

A silence. He does not look at her.

THE WIFE (cont.)
You fail me.
You are not a thing that will last forever.

She looks at him. Then her face erases itself. It is a blank canvas. She holds nothing of her frustration or disappointment or regret. She is a clean slate.

He reads whatever it is he’s been reading as if nothing has happened.

4.19.2007: One Line Play (Rush Rush Hectic Haste)

2007-04-19T16:50:00.000-06:00

The Guy bursts forth onto the stage.

THE GUY
No time! Life is happening!

He exits in a flurry.

4.18.2007: Panic Moment

2007-04-18T08:18:00.000-06:00

The stage is empty.

A spotlight comes up center stage.

The Guy emerges from the dark and is found in the light.

The light is pretty hot. He has to squint to see. He might even be sweating a little.

But it might not be the lights. he’s also nervous.

Because when he typed the date for today’s play, he realized he’s probably only a week away from finding out of the packet he sent on 2.12.2007 has been accepted and if this thing he’s been working on is going to come to something big.

Yeah. It’s not the spotlight at all.

He’s scared out of his mind.

4.17.2007: I Can Give You No Other Answer

2007-04-17T16:34:00.001-06:00

The Guy sits on the stage floor, holding in his arms the complete text as it currently stands – 200 pages worth of writing.

This is a pretty big deal. 200 pages is a lot for a play.

And this play is different, because it isn’t just a play – it’s his life. he’s holding in his hands three months of a life lived, and each day (some little piece of each day) is documented.

You can flip through and see how far away things like The Redneck Intellectual have gotten from him.

You can turn a page and remember exactly what a random Tuesday in February felt like.

There’s something a little lovely about this.

Maybe not for you. But for The Guy.

The Uncertain Future appears.

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

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
I know. What are you doing?

THE GUY
Holding three months in my hands.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Impressive.

THE GUY
I wonder how heavy a year will be.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Imagine a decade.

THE GUY
Three.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Five.

THE GUY
Imagine the last day.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
That could be any day.

This is the first time The Guy’s ever considered this.

THE GUY
I don’t want to end without anything to show for it.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
So you continue.

THE GUY
So I continue.

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No other reason?

THE GUY
I can give no other answer. No.

The lights go down.

4.16.2007: Audition (I Compare Them to You)

2007-04-16T09:12:00.001-06:00

The Guy stands at a table, with a dozen headshots laid across it. Maybe a few dozen. He considers them carefully.

The Guy looks up and out, beyond the fourth wall, and speaks to someone we can’t see.

THE GUY
Look.
Thank you for your time.
But.

You’re just not what I’m looking for right now.

I mean, you’ve got all the credentials
you’ve been well trained
you look adorable
your audition was excellent
and I’m pretty sure that you haven’t made up half your resume

But.

You’re just not what I’m looking for right now.

You see, the trouble is
I have this very clear picture in my mind of who I want for this role
and when you walked in the room,
I had this flash, you know,
a second when I thought
“This might be the one.”

But

You’re just not what I’m looking for right now.

I’m not saying you wouldn’t be good.
You probably would be
You’d probably be great
And you know we could probably rehearse for a while
and things would seem like they’re going well
and that we’re really understanding each other’s creative process here

but there’s going to be that moment
when I turn to you and I’ll be very disappointed
that you are not the thing I had I my mind
that I settled on you
when I was very clear what I wanted.

And don’t you want to be spared that
Don’t you want to be spared the disappointment
and the awkwardness that comes later?

I know, I know,
I might not ever get what i want
coming through that door
and I might end up without a lead
and the show will fall apart
and I’ll be sitting back here at square one wishing I’d just cast you
and made the best of it

But I’m an idealist, you know,
I have these big dreams of things
And I have this vision of what would really make me happy.

So listen,
thanks for coming out today
I really appreciate it

But

You’re just not what I’m looking for right now.

We hear a door close.

A silence.

We hear a door open. We hear footsteps.

THE GUY
Hi.

Headshot and resume?

Thanks.

4.15.2007: Love You, Love You Not

2007-04-15T15:33:00.000-06:00

The Husband and The Wife, in an unexpected appearance.

THE WIFE
I don’t love you.

THE HUSBAND
What?

THE WIFE
I don’t love you.

THE HUSBAND
You don’t love me anymore?

THE WIFE
I didn’t say that. I didn’t say “anymore.” I don’t love you now.

THE HUSBAND
You don’t’ love me now.

THE WIFE
Right now. In this particular moment. I don’t love you.

THE HUSBAND
Does that pass?

THE WIFE
Typically. I’ll go back to loving you in a moment or two.

THE HUSBAND
That’s good.

THE WIFE
Don’t worry. It never stays for long.

THE HUSBAND
May I ask you something?

THE WIFE
Sure.

THE HUSBAND
What does it feel like?

THE WIFE
Not loving you?

THE HUSBAND
Yes.

THE WIFE
Wonderful. No offense. It feels like I’ve let everything fall away from me, and I am completely unfettered. You don’t exist anymore. You’re just this memory I can’t grab on to very clearly. And I feel like I can do anything in the world because I am tied to nothing. I just want to scream with joy. Because you can do that, you know, scream with joy. And I want to do that when I don’t love you.

THE HUSBAND
Oh. I see.

A few moments of silence.

THE WIFE
I love you again.

THE HUSBAND
You do?

THE WIFE
Yes. See? I told you. Wait a few moments, and it passes.

Silence.

THE WIFE (cont.)
I know I love you again because I feel stones piled up high inside my chest. A weight. Like a shadow that passes over a field and chills you.

The lights go down.

4.14.2007: This Must be The Problem

2007-04-14T14:42:00.000-06:00

Circus music.

The Guy appears. He is joined by The Representative Date Man.

THE GUY
Hi.

THE REPRESENTATIVE DATE MAN
Hey. It’s good to finally meet you.

THE GUY
I know. I’ve enjoyed chatting with you.

THE REPRESENTATIVE DATE MAN
Am I what you expected?

THE GUY
Yeah. Definitely. You’re handsome.

THE REPRESENTATIVE DATE MAN
Thanks buddy.

THE GUY
How about me? Am I what you expected?

THE REPRESENTATIVE DATE MAN
Yeah. You are.

THE GUY
I’m just me.

In an attempt to be amusing. The Guy does a little turn, like to show himself off, and reveals, growing out of the back of his neck, another head, a growling hideous monster with a hairy face and fangs dripping electric green venom -- a head that tires to attack the Representative Date Man.

The Representative Date Man is frightened. Of course.

The Guy finishes his spin, and is none the wiser.

THE GUY
So, I’ve enjoyed our date. You wanna go out again sometime?

The Representative Date Man screams and runs away.

The Guy is left alone, a bit perplexed.

He turns to us.

THE GUY (cont.)
Seriously. This must be the problem. Otherwise, I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

He leaves. We get a final look at the monster head.

It looks like it’s laughing.

4.13.2007: This Is What It Feels Like (You Know Who You Are)

2007-04-13T14:30:00.000-06:00

The Instructor appears. The Guy is center stage, looking out at us.

THE INSTRUCTOR
Good afternoon, class.

Today, a visual aid to help us understand a complicated situation.

This is what it feels like…

The Instructor points to the Guy.

The Guy begins to speak. Although no words come out of his mouth. All we hear is static, fuzz, white noise, garbles words, intermittent radio transmissions, opera, talk radio, cheesy radio car commercials, screams, everything sort of mixed together.

The Guy is increasingly frustrated by this. He starts to scream. But no actual voice of his emerges. He screams harder, more ferociously, until his face becomes red and the veins in his neck tense and pulse and he looks like he might explode.

The Guy stops speaking. The noise ends.

THE INSTRUCTOR
This is what it feels like when you can’t get what you want.

Class dismissed.

The lights go down.

4.12.2007: Considering Personal Failures (Lesson Number One)

2007-04-12T14:09:00.000-06:00

The Guy and The Instructor.

THE INSTRUCTOR
Let’s begin with something simple, today shall we?

Model!

The Guy Back When emerges.

THE INSTRUCTOR
What we have here is a perfect example of what we were talking about before. Tell us, young man, what do you want?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I want to be a playwright.

THE INSTRUCTOR
Very good. You see even at this age (the subject is twenty), there is a clear direction. A very tangible and attainable goal. “I want to be a playwright.” Very good.

Now tell us what you’re doing about it.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Nothing.

THE INSTRUCTOR
See, and this is where things get a little cloudy. “Nothing.” He’s doing nothing to attain that goal. That clear and tangible goal.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I have reasons.

THE INSTRUCTOR
They always have reasons.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
So it’s not like I’m just doing nothing.

THE INSTRUCTOR
This kind of subject – the subject who aspires without active involvement in what he aspires to – always seems to think that the doing of nothing with good intention constitutes doing something.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I’m still in school.

THE INSTRUCTOR
And what do you do when you finish?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I don’t finish.

THE INSTRUCTOR
And what do you do when you don’t finish?

THE GUY BACK WHEN
I stay here.

THE INSTRUCTOR
Exactly.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
But I told you. There are reasons…

THE INSTRUCTOR
This is done without judgment, young man. Merely as an example to prevent the mistakes of the past from being repeated.

The Instructor turns his gaze on the Guy.

THE INSTRUCTOR (cont.)
Consider yourself and what the years that followed this felt like.
Because you’re coming up on a difficult time,
and you know how you get during difficult times.

You cannot allow yourself to repeat the mistakes of the past.
You can feel as fondly as you want about him
but he made mistakes.

Errors.

There is nothing that can be done to change that fact.

Learn from your experience.

Class dismissed.

The Instructor leaves. The Guy and The Guy Back When contemplate each other.
The lights go down.

4.11.2007: The Furniture of Home

2007-04-11T12:37:00.000-06:00

“All the conventions conspire / to make this fort assume / the furniture of home.”
- W. H. Auden

The Guy and the Real Estate Lady.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
I think you might like this one.

THE GUY
I hope so.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
It’s only been on the market for a little while. But it’s one of the nicer spaces we have listed.

THE GUY
It’s nice.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
It’s very versatile. You can do almost anything with it.

THE GUY
I see.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
You’re looking for a place to grow into? Or a temporary space?

THE GUY
Place to grow into.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
Oh, then this’ll suit you wonderfully. Lots of ways to grow into a space like this. Put up some walls. Modify the lighting design. You can pretty put anything here you’d like. This can be anything you want it to be.

THE GUY
Nice.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
So, you single? Married?

THE GUY
Single.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
Oh.

THE GUY
I’m looking for something that can become a home.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
Wonderful thing about a space like this. It’s always the kind of home you want it to be.

We’ve had all sorts of people take a space like this.
They fill them with all sorts of things,
some very minimal,
some of them really overblown and gaudy,
some small couples,
some singles (like you)
some huge families

but they always love it when it’s just like this.

I don’t get that, really.
I mean, come on,
it’s an empty space!

But when I show one of these places,
they always just like to stand in it, and look around
and you can just see the wheels turning,
little wheels grinding
and I always wonder what they’re thinking about
what do they see when they’re looking at an empty space.

THE GUY
It’s not an empty space.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
That’s always what they say.

THE GUY
It’s everything at once.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
Theatre types!

THE GUY
It’s everything at once.

Silence for a moment. They stand there. The theatrical space feels full even thought it isn’t.

THE REAL ESTATE LADY
So… you interested?

THE GUY
I’ll take it.

The Real Estate Lady begins to fumble with papers ad the lights go down.

4.10.2007: The Same River Twice

2007-04-10T20:22:00.000-06:00

The Brother appears, dressed as Pocahontas.

THE BROTHER AS POCAHONTAS
You can never step into the same river twice.

The Guy appears.

THE GUY
Hey Pocahontas.

THE BROTHER AS POCAHONTAS
Yes?

THE GUY
About that river…

THE BROTHER AS POCAHONTAS
What about it?

THE GUY
Sometimes you can.

The Guy goes. Pocohontas looks out, a little bewildered.

4.9.2007: We Gather the World in Our Arms

2007-04-10T10:18:00.001-06:00

The actors are assembled. They speak simultaneously, each speaking about something that makes them almost inexpressibly happy. Their faces radiate with joy.

An actor steps forward.

AN ACTOR
We gather the world in our arms!

They all stop speaking. And for a moment, they just stand there, perfectly themselves, perfectly at rest, just simply…

…perfect.

AN ACTOR
Sometimes there’s only the space between you and your happiness to cross.

The lights go down.

4.8.2007: The Easter Play (I Love Ye, Human Attis)

2007-04-08T16:04:00.000-06:00

…with respect to The Fella for his contribution.

THE GUY
Happy Resurrection day

THE FELLA
Thanks. Yay Attis has risen again

THE GUY
Huh?

THE FELLA
Attis. A Greek god who the character Jesus was influenced by most likely. HHHe's a resurrection diety. He dies and comes back each year.

THE GUY
He sounds like a fun guy

THE FELLA
Not really. What happened was Cybele, the goddess, was all
"I LOVE YE, HUMAN ATTIS"
"If you love me back, I'll give you eternal youth"
and he's like "fuck yea"
until one day
he wanders into a forest and sees a hot nymph
and he's all "boing"
and "loses his youth" to her
Cybele gets pissed, charges up his credit cards, and then makes him go mad
in his madness, he cuts off his balls
his blood makes some flowers grow
and he dies
then she's all "shit, I'm such a woman. I overreacted"
and she brings him back to life
more or less.

THE GUY
The Greeks knew how to make a myth.

THE FELLA
Yea.

THE GUY
Blood, sex, high drama.

THE FELLA
And hot nymphs.

The lights go down.

4.8.2007: Moment Passes

2007-04-08T16:02:00.000-06:00

The Husband and The Wife, in their final appearance.

THE HUSBAND
When we got married…

THE WIFE
… I told his mother I had no intention of having children…

THE HUSBAND
… and my mother said, “well, what kind of marriage…

THE WIFE
… is one without children?” I told her she was being ridiculous.

THE HUSBAND
We wanted this marriage to be about just the two of us.

THE WIFE
“Marriage is about making a family,” she said.

THE HUSBAND
I didn’t mind at first.

THE WIFE
We are a family unto ourselves.

THE HUSBAND
At first, I didn’t think we’d need anything else.

THE WIFE
Children complicate things.

THE HUSBAND
Because when you find the person you love…

THE WIFE
We can build a world just the two of us.

THE HUSBAND
… shouldn’t they be enough? Shouldn’t they complete a life?

THE WIFE
Children can distract you from each other.

THE HUSBAND
But I look at her sometimes…

THE WIFE
I catch his eye sometimes…

THE HUSBAND
And a voice in my head says, “she’s not enough.”

THE WIFE
This sort of blank look.

THE HUSBAND
It vanishes in a second, of course.

THE WIFE
Then it’s gone and we go back to bills or dishes…

THE HUSBAND
But for a second…

THE WIFE
… or laundry

THE HUSBAND
I regret everything.

THE WIFE
When I kiss him sometimes, there’s a space. Even though we’re touching, there’s a space I can’t seem to cross.

Silence. The lights go down.

4.7.2007: Inebriate

2007-04-07T22:00:00.001-06:00

The Guy stands center stage. He’s still. Unassuming.

Then, the opening notes of “I Will Survive” ring out.

As the lyrics begin, The Guy queens out and lip syncs fabulously to the song. His moves are gayer than actually having gay sex. We’ve never seen him like this before.

He is uninhibited, flamboyant, and on the verge of being out of control.

It’s pretty funny.

The Guy Back When appears, and sees this sight. He recognizes it right away.

THE GUY BACK WHEN
Hey.

THE GUY
Hey, girl!

THE GUY BACK WHEN
You went out and got drunk, didn’t you?

THE GUY
Oh yeah!

He continues his fabulousness as The guy Back When shakes his head and walks away.

4.6.2007: I Can See Past What I Remember

2007-04-06T21:50:00.000-06:00

The Chair of Forgetfulness.

The Guy sits here. No one else is around.

He stands up, looks around.

Something’s got to change here, right? This has gone on too long.

There is nothing wrong with what he’s chosen to do. Sometimes to resign to things is the smartest thing a guy can do.

He leaves.

The lights go down.

4.5.2007: The Sepia Play

2007-04-05T09:15:00.000-06:00

The Husband and The Wife – only this time they’re from the turn of the century and they’re in shades of sepia. They’re posed for a wedding photograph.

A Photographer is apart, ready to take their picture.

THE WIFE
Don’t let him take our picture.

THE HUSBAND
Why? This is our wedding photograph.

THE WIFE
Don’t let him take it.

THE HUSBAND
You’re being ridiculous.

THE WIFE
We’ll be preserved. Forever. This moment in time.

THE HUSBAND
I want to remember this moment.

THE WIFE
But we might not manage it.

THE HUSBAND
Manage what?

THE WIFE
Surviving this photograph. The expectation of it. What it preserves.

THE HUSBAND
Smile. He’s ready to take the photograph.

THE WIFE
We’ll just be sepia-toned smiling faces, and a hundred years from now, people will think we were happy.

THE HUSBAND
We are happy.

THE WIFE
Right now. But what about tomorrow? Next year? Ten years?

THE HUSBAND
He’s ready to take the photograph.

THE WIFE
They will look at this picture and they will construct a life for us in their heads. One that might not be ours. We’ll be dead, and all that will remain is this fragment left behind, fading around the edges, a couple smiling out at the world as if nothing could ever go wrong.

THE HUSBAND
Smile.

THE WIFE
At what?

THE HUSBAND
The photographer is waiting.

A moment. She smiles. He smiles. The Photograph is taken. The Wife rises.

THE WIFE
Everything will fall apart.

She walks away. The lights go down.

4.4.2007: Exegesis

2007-04-04T20:33:00.000-06:00

The Chair of Forgetfulness. Pirithous sits here.

The Guy and The Fella, apart.

PIRITHOUS
Repeat.

THE GUY
I can’t see you anymore.

THE FELLA
Why?

THE GUY
This has been great and all. But I’m moving back in with him.

THE FELLA
But you broke up.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
You broke up. You moved out. You’re dating me.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
Why are you doing this?

THE GUY
I have to. It was five years…

THE FELLA
But you have me now. This is going well. I thought this was going really well.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
Then why are you doing this?

THE GUY
Because I have to do this. I spent five years with someone. This has been, what? A few months? One officially. I can’t just undo all of that so easily. I need to make sure.

THE FELLA
But you’ll turn you back on this.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
You’ll turn you back on me.

THE GUY
I need to make sure. I’m sorry.

PRITHOUS
Repeat.

THE GUY
I can’t see you anymore.

THE FELLA
Why?

THE GUY
This has been great and all. But I’m moving back in with him.

THE FELLA
But you broke up.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
You broke up. You moved out. You’re dating me.

There’s a moment. The Guy seems to make a shift. He pulls away from the Fella. He moves downstage and speaks to where The Voice of the Playwright can be found.

THE GUY
Stop this. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep going over and over this one moment. This one failure. And I have been playing it over and over again for months. Because this one choice. This one single choice. It gnaws at me. It persists. It yells at me down hallways and it will not let me go.

I feel like this has set every other thing on its course.
And every course is uncertain.
This one misstep has sent the whole mechanism out of whack.
There was a road to be followed, and I opted not to follow it.
Now I’m wandering down some uncharted path.

Sometimes I am too scared to move.
I’m always looking over my shoulder.
Why am I always looking over my shoulder?
What’s been lost is lost, and you can’t get it back.
Stop replaying this one thing.
This one error.
This one choice out of thousands of good ones you’ve made in your life.
Let this go.

PIRITHOUS
Repeat.

THE GUY
No.

PIRITHOUS
Repeat.

THE GUY
No. I won’t. I won’t continue this anymore.

The Fella turns to him.

THE FELLA
I may never look at you again the way I looked at you that night.
I wanted you to choose me.
You didn’t.

That’s what has happened.
Either accept it, or erase everything.
But you cannot go back.

The Guy hears this. He makes a decision.

He moves to the Chair of Forgetfulness. Pirithous stands. The Guy takes the position to sit down in the chair.

He looks at the Fella. He tries to memorize him.

He sits in the Chair. He closes his eyes.

A moment passes. The Guy’s face clouds over. Things disappear from it. Trouble evaporates from the features of his face. He relaxes. Calm.

He opens his eyes.

The lights go down.

4.3.2007: House (A Fantasia for Two Voices)

2007-04-03T20:32:00.001-06:00

Two actors stand side by side– The Husband and The Wife.

They begin by speaking over one another, animated, wide-eyed, excited.

They stop, and The Husband speaks.

THE HUSBAND
This house was built in 1975, but the plumbing was redone last year. The entire system.

THE WIFE
He only ever talks about the house.

THE HUSBAND
I had a man replace the roof about a year ago.

THE WIFE
From the day we moved in here. Whenever he meets someone new…

THE HUSBAND
The landscaping was done by this friend of a guy I work with. Well regarded professional. He’s done the yards of some pretty important people.

THE WIFE
…He talks about the house.

THE HUSBAND
We plan on replacing all the carpeting with hardwoods floors by the end of the year.

THE WIFE
I hate the house.

THE HUSBAND
The wife loves the house.

THE WIFE
I want to burn the thing to the ground.

THE HUSBAND
A man’s home is his castle, you know. That’s what they say about a man’s home. It’s his castle.

THE WIFE
The money we’ve poured into the place. The time.

THE HUSBAND
I painted the exterior myself. Did it on a Sunday.

THE WIFE
The investment of ourselves.

THE HUSBAND
We’ve talked about adding an extension out back, but that’s just talk right now.

THE WIFE
He’s becoming the house.

THE HUSBAND
Make a little game room or something out back.

THE WIFE
I look at him, and his eyes are shaped like windows. His mouth is the big red door that faces our street.

THE HUSBAND
Maybe a nursery. For a kid. When we’re ready to have one.

THE WIFE
The hair he has left is the color of our new roof.

THE HUSBAND
But we have to have a home that’s ready for a family. Before we even start talking about kids.

THE WIFE
And at night, when he’s sleeping, he’s as still as the walls, and I imagine his blood running through veins that are little hallways trimmed in beige – just like ours.

THE HUSBAND
I love this house.

THE WIFE
Love me instead.

THE HUSBAND
I love this house.

THE WIFE
Love me instead.

THE HUSBAND
I love this house.

THE WIFE
I’d burn it to the ground if I could.

For the first time, The Husband turns to The Wife. She is momentarily caught off guard, but regains herself and smiles a perfect smile.

He takes her hand. And looks forward again.

Her smiles begins to show signs of strain.

The lights go down.

4.2.2007: The Playwright and His Ambivalent Love for the Readers of These Plays

2007-04-02T07:56:00.000-06:00

The stage is empty.

Because I wanna talk to you. Yeah, you. The ones reading this.

What do I do when the most important thing that happens to me on a given day is something I don’t want to write about?

Something I don’t want to give away to you.

Not that I don’t like you. I do.

I just want what’s been special about today to belong only to me.

So forgive me.

I’ll share something with you tomorrow.

But today… something nice happened today.

And I don’t think that everything should be disclosed. Revealed. Laid bare. Not that I think you’ll do damage or judge or condescend (although I always assume one will judge, that’s just my nature).

I just know that when I write something here, a piece of it disappears. Usually, I’m glad for it. Usually it’s anger, or sadness, or deep and profound reflection – and those things are better once they’ve disappeared.

But this. Today. I don’t want it to disappear. I want to hold on to it as long as I can. Without diminishment. Without analysis. Without any piece of it being taken away.

Because it was a nice thing. A thing that I’ll want to curl up next to tonight when I go to bed. Like the pillow you hold on to when there isn’t another person to hold. Like that.

It meant something to me.

So that’s all I wanted to say to you.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

4.1.2007: Allow for Irregularities

2007-04-01T16:42:00.000-06:00

The Guy and The Playwright Temp.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
What did I tell you last time?

THE GUY
I know. I know. Emergencies only.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Emergencies only. Correct. Is this an emergency?

THE GUY
I think so, yes.

And the weirdest thing occurs. The Fella appears.

THE FELLA
I love you!

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Oh shit.

THE GUY
I know.

THE FELLA
I totally love you. Seriously. I. Love. You. I feel exactly for you what you feel for me. And I’m not even exaggerating. I have found myself opening up to you like.. like… like an I don’t know what, but I am open! And my heart is just flooding over with this desire to be with YOU!

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
(to the Guy)
You are such an asshole.

THE GUY
What are you talking about?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
This is such a thinly veiled attempt to get him to like you again.

THE GUY
Oh, piss off.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
It is!

THE GUY
No such thing!

A new weird thing happens. Icarus appears without wings, but this time with a bag , sunglasses, and a plane ticket.

ICARUS
I’m not flying today!

THE GUY
What?

ICARUS
Not flying today. I woke up and thought to myself, “Fuck that. I don’t feel like dropping a couple thousand feet into the water.” So I left the wings at home and I’m flying to Guam. American Airlines. Round trip.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
(to the Guy)
What are you doing?

THE GUY
I told you. I’m not doing anything.

THE FELLA
Do you love me?

THE GUY
No.

THE FELLA
Yes you do.

THE GUY
No I don’t. Stop it.

THE FELLA
I love you.

THE GUY
No. You don’t.

THE FELLA
Yes I do. Do you love me back?

THE GUY
Oh, Jesus Christ. Stop it.

ICARUS
I’m not flying today!

THE GUY
We know. You told us.

ICARUS
American Airlines. Round trip!

THE GUY
We know!

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
I don’t know what you did…

THE GUY
I didn’t do anything!

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
But this is seriously screwed up…

Suddenly, all the remaining actors emerge as some character in the play that they’ve played, and they behave in a manner that they shouldn’t. The effect is one of chaos – loud, energetic, and pretty fun to watch.

The Guy looks hopeless here. The Playwright Temp looks on in wonder.

THE GUY
What’s going on?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
You’re the writer! You tell me!

Then, there is a loud toll of bells. Everyone stops acting oddly. For a moment, silence.

The Guy turns to the Fella.

THE GUY
Do you love me?

THE FELLA
Um… no.

THE GUY
Are you sure?

THE FELLA
You’re my friend and all. But I don’t… love you.

THE GUY
Good. That’s good.

ICARUS
What am I doing here? Where are my wings? I have to fly today. I’m late!

Icarus leaves in a hurry to grab his wings and fly.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Weird.

THE GUY
I know.

An Actor steps forward.

AN ACTOR
Instructions from the Playwright!

The actors all become alert. An actor produces a hand written note.

AN ACTOR
“To Be Read to the Actors at the end of the play on 4.1.2007: April Fools Day. Allow for Irregularities.”

The lights go down.

3.31.2007: Untitled (A Day That Goes Unwritten)

2007-03-31T12:20:00.000-06:00

3.30.2007: Fragment (Radio Silence)

2007-03-30T08:37:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-29T22:07:00.001-06:00

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

2007-03-28T21:58:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-28T09:21:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-27T20:51:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-26T20:18:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-25T17:29:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-24T13:32:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-23T21:45:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-22T21:13:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-21T10:13:00.000-06:00

“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)

2007-03-20T17:45:00.001-06:00

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

2007-03-19T12:45:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-19T11:53:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-03-17T14:03:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-16T22:52:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-15T21:58:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-15T09:29:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-14T21:17:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-13T16:11:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-03-12T21:15:00.000-06:00

“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)

2007-03-11T20:56:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-10T22:42:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-09T10:29:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-08T09:45:00.000-06:00

“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

2007-03-07T05:37:00.001-06:00

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

2007-03-06T10:23:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-05T22:56:00.000-06:00

“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)

2007-03-04T23:31:00.001-06:00

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

2007-03-03T07:38:00.000-06:00

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)

2007-03-02T22:50:00.001-06:00

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)

2007-03-01T22:45:00.000-06:00

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.