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.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Friday, April 6, 2007
4.6.2007: I Can See Past What I Remember
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.
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.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
4.5.2007: The Sepia Play
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
4.4.2007: Exegesis
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
4.3.2007: House (A Fantasia for Two Voices)
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.
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.
Monday, April 2, 2007
4.2.2007: The Playwright and His Ambivalent Love for the Readers of These Plays
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.
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.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
4.1.2007: Allow for Irregularities
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.
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.
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