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.
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4 comments:
Who's Frank? Is Frank anyone who reads life/play? Or were you thinking of someone in particular?
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.
I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that always closed at twilight and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings toward the twilight erasing statues.
--
Good things come to those who wait...I think I may have a new favourite poet...thank you for opening my eyes.
I couldn't tell if you had read my comments when I walked into class this morning. As I left, I imagined that you were about to go read them then. I guess that's not what happened, considering you posted this at 5:30. When do you sleep?
Observation is one of many forces that affect us, tie us down to reality, and connect us to each other. The electron really is the perfect example. We've been talking about it in Physics. The electron travels so fast that it dilates time, and contracts distances, so that what may be 5 miles for us is but 6 feet to the electron, and what's 1 second for us is but a millisecond for the electron.
After reading this one, I'm starting to get a better picture of how you write these things, or rather, how your day influences what each little play is going to be about.
P.S. Thanks. I guess the least I can do now is leave yet another comment.
Also, whoever anonymous is, pablo neruda is one of the reasons I want to learn to speak spanish.
I, too, have been changed by Frank, something like the electron being observed.
He is a little more known to me, a little misunderstood at first, but unique, intelligent, and comical.
I appreciate, on his behalf, the moments you took to share him, even if just a little bit, with the world.
And, again, like the electron, I am changed by viewing this play. This is who Frank is becoming, a writer, a poet, a sharer. I can only wish Frank the best that life has to offer no matter what path life leads him down, but deep down inside, I already know that he will create that which is best, regardless of the path.
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