Wendy Wasserstein died today. We've lost August Wilson and Arthur Miller and now Wendy too. She'll be missed. ------ Children doing Equus. Really! No, not really.

diction

I admitted in class that I feel like I am addicted to playwriting. Then I became somewhat embarrassed. I felt like I was taking myself too seriously, making myself look ridiculously tragic as if it's something I can't stop doing, which of course I really can't. Not if I want to keep on an even keel. Don't get me wrong--It's not an addiction I'm trying to kick or anything but definitely something that needs to be fed. Because if I'm not writing, I'm kind of on edge, moody, angry at myself. Although I'm not ever too long not writing. And I'm not trying to say I'm at a computer all the time actually typing. The planning stages is 2/3 of the process for me generally but it's a time when I'm jonesing to get into the world and start the typing. Mostly it's just that I never really am not writing something. I'm always rewriting something or trying to figure out something new. And it wasn't like this when I started. It was college and it was a play on summer break. Then a play winter break and summer break and then school ended and work descended and it was all the time like it is now. I've written two full lengths in the past 7 or so months which is fast for me but I'm also not seeing a new one directly in front of me. It'll be a little bit for this next one--whichever one it turns out to be. And I have to say that's getting under my skin a little. I know if I start just writing something long without figuring most of it out it will be bad but I'm so jonesin to do it. But I bide my time with this discovery of this and that discovery of that until one of the ideas comes close enough that I can make it out. And then I can look at it a bit but soon I'm getting up early and putting in my time--loving every second when it's going well and pissed off when it's not, but all the time wanting to get back to that escape of a place and sort it out and live it out. Until it's over and I'm depressed and maybe at the same time elated but then needing it again not too much long after. When I first discovered playwriting I was looking for others like me, but most people are not like this. They don't have this problem. I don't know what problems other people have. But not this one. Other people have real problems. This isn't even a problem, really. I don't know that I want to continue to write like this in a public forum. But how many people actually read this anyway? Until fame and fortune comes, (tomorrow probably) I'm safe.

Ok, here is the explanation to my bizarre emails

The junk mail senders are sending me these poems to try and trick the spam getter ridder machines: Often appended at the end, in an attempt to flummox the filters, is a scrap of Dadaist poetry - "feverish squirt feat transconductance terrify broken trite fascist axis stultify floc bookshelves. " Sometimes this "word salad," as it has come to be called, is rendered in invisible ink - white letters on a white background - or hidden inside an embedded formatting command. I still find it fascinating. How does one get the job of writing the poem at the end of the spam? Can I be hired for this?

someone explain this to me. what the hell kind of a list am I on? and what is going on with my junk mail. does everyone get this or just me and what sort of theatre can be made with it?

The next bulk message was this from "Salter Nellie"

must ask take yes hurt work false run spend him run forget not take listen He wakeup make right finish swim place work leave It fill study for hurt talk morning teach count

Today I received this email

Dear Home-owner, You have been favored for a $661,500 Home Loan as low as 3.25% Rate. This offer is being extended to you unconditionally and your credit is in no way a factor. To take Advantage of this Limited Time opportunity all we ask is that you visit our Website and complete the simple 30 second post Approval Form. Enter Here Zelma Boone Regional Manager cocoon may colosseum the ain't on bad the.crane try biennium be artemis see daughter ! attribution ! blithe on colloquia it camden be classificatory , bract be diamond it's.cutout be clothesman some crossword not bateau some bourgeoisie be bursty and baneberry !.councilwoman be bicep see bhoy and conception ,.disturbance try courtney on bedpost not collateral try canary but compilation but apparel not candlelit on aristotelian some columbus see captious and.della but aggression or cognitive it's crow some derail try bissau see buy may.crewmen the chamberlain may contrary may ar or.carboxy and anywhere but collectible may briggs try benson be clique but circular be digestive be clout or bartend see anaheim or.baneful try causation but constituent but cult not alia some cowpea not balky see.

Am I the only one who gets crazy bulk mail…or am I the only one who reads his bulk mail? This one was from someone called “Bird Gerald” you comb drink then eat fall evening draw find you watch forget Of speak think awake believe believe Have translate change sleep drink turnoff somewhere understand allow it open say she count spend

Pre-writing

Ok, so all these pics below are just for me for tone purposes for idea purposes, as I think about writing a play about an elf in the North Pole. The details are fuzzy so I imagine this one will be a while coming. And I'm an impatient person sometimes so I like to dig up source material to get my self into a world quicker--it sometimes works--especially if it's the right material. In some cases, the colors are as important as the content. I wish I could wrap this blog up in colored lights--got some next to my desk now. Hey, if I think they help, then they help.

scary holiday images

because it's holidays with an edge

Dramaturgy

Sorry if this is annoying. It's for me. (dramaturgy, although I'm having trouble finding the right kind of images.)

Is Involuntary Cowboy any good? How about Disinterested Cowboy? Inescapable Cowboy Doom Toys in Blood Hot Damn I'll stop soon, I swear.

other other possible titles

Limp Cowboy Blues The Unrepentant One-Eyed Bastard The Flailing Cowboy Revenge Play Shooting Out of a Ten Gallon Hat Village Settlement Blood Loss for Herbie Unrepentant Repent Lest Ye Take Two in the Brain Tarnation (melon's contribution) Bullet Spray Cowboy Legs Cowboy Hands A Cowboy Knows Out of the Saddle Splayed Contrived "Comedic" Cowboy Play Using Hamlet in the West as a Metaphor for American Manifest Destiny Dominance, Extermination, and Ruthless Need For Material Satisfaction Dirt Pushing Lead Leading a Horse to Water

I can mail merge with the best of them

and I can rattle off a fast memo or speedy haiku I photocopy like a demon with hands the fax machine is like part of my body the word processing I do all by hand and the proofreading seems to take care of itself although I can't make coffee

thinking now about writing a christmas comedy that takes place in the north pole. of course by the time I'm ready to write it it will be summer out and I'll want to write about pools and sprinklers and air conditioning and elves Santa is sinister

other possible titles

lil help? The Unwilling Cowboy Dead Cowboy Dead Cowboys Tell No Lies The Unhappy Cowboy Herbie, the Unwilling Cowboy Saddle Sores Whiskey and Sand Herbie and the Great Shootout Gunfights Always End By Sunset Sundown Herbie, Son of the West Vultures Ain't Picky 'Bout Dead Cowboys Herbie's Showdown Herbie's First Showdown Big Cowboy Showdown Even a Catus Dies Without Love The Cowboy Ain't No Cowboy in Heaven Cowboy Surprise A Cowboy For All Seasons Bootful of Whiskey The Firewater Diary A Cowboy Dies in His Boots A Dead Cowboy Walks Alone The Poet The Cowboy Poet Desert Rose looking for a title. anyone?

My play went over really well in class--like really amazingly extroadinarily well. Almost too well. So well I'm a little depressed. What do you think of the title Dead Cowboys Never Whine ?

awakening

Last Words of My Mentor, Dr. Warren Smetwarter

I’ll probably never forget what he said to me, but just in case I could someday, I’ll write it down before I do. He sat in the leather chair by the hearth and glanced at me with a look of slight disdain, then took a pull from his old man pipe and sighed. “As for my former lovers, yes I can forgive the ones I didn’t love who still sort of love me, those blue haired ladies with the manicured hands worn like wood. I can forgive them for most anything and we can be friends, although I don’t really want to.” Here he stroked his beard and again he sighed. “But the ones who never loved me, the ones who once loved me, the ones who stopped loving me, I will never forgive them. I will never forgive them for not seeing how spectacularly wonderful I truly am. They just have no taste whatsoever. And that, I cannot abide.” Then he turned away and immediately died. At his funeral I remember watching the gray-haired mourners in their black dresses and veils and I couldn’t help but wonder from which camp these former lovers had emerged.

details on Pick of The Vine in San Pedro

Well, opening night for Pick of the Vine 2006 is upon us. This Friday and Saturday, January 20th and 21st, we will present our 4th annual presentation of shorts with an Evening A and an Evening B running through February 18th. Evening A: Friday nights and Sunday 2/12 30 LOVE by Terry McFadden SAD by Kristen Palmer and Adam Szymkowicz RED ROSES by Lisa Soland THE RIDE by Greg Romero intermission QUARKS by William Borden TRUE LOVE by Christopher Wojtylko KEEPING PACE by Robin Rothstein SOPHISTICATED BARFLIES by Kristen Lazarian Evening B: Saturday nights and Thursday 2/16 THE LICENSE by Fred Sahner QUESTIONNAIRE by Claud McMillan FEMALE FLYERS by Elizabeth Cava SPEED DATE by Carol White intermission DEAD SERIOUS by David Patterson UKIMWI by Tom Coash BORDERLINE by John Lane

every friday like this friday is like this friday most every friday

This is from an email trying to sell me viagra. Below the viagra pitch and presumably links reads the following. Can anyone explain this to me? atelier keep, and then fell on Miss Millss neck, sobbing as if her tender wipe Chinese inscriptions of an immense collection of tea-chests, or the palace After tea we had the guitar; and Dora sang those same dear old mismatch If I had not guessed this, on the way to the coffee-house, I could accept there then appeared a procession of new horrors, called arbitrary see stood, for my dear affectionate little Dora, embracing her, began renter which quite affected me. He was so peaceful and resigned - clearly spoil over-starched himself - I was at first alarmed by the idea that he lark of nature. She is a thing of light, and airiness, and joy. I am withstand night, almost every night, for a long time, we had a sort of finish not render it necessary for me to open, even for a quarter of an cirque up - that he was a man to feel touched in the contemplation of. I intramural inconsistency and recklessness of Traddles were not to be exceeded canal Very well, Mr. Copperfield, said Mr. Spenlow, I must try my toilet observed that he carried his head with a lofty air that was lilac childhood, that shut up like a bite. Compressing her lips, in cashier a quarter of an hour, grave affairs long since composed. subscribe Chancellor of the Exchequer, would occasionally throw in an mommy suggested that he should dictate speeches to me, at a pace, and evenings pious sentiment, and slowly shaking his head as he poised himself

I don't know if it's the change in weather or my change in caffeine or maybe I offended and angry deity but in any case I have got myself a HEADACHE. Sorry to bother you with such trivialities. Please go back to whatever you're doing. OH MY HEAD!!!! Don't mind me. MY HEAD!!! AHHHHHH!! Please, forget about me. Everyone else always does.

not writing at all right now but reading John Irving. He's really good. I've never read his stuff before. Supposedly many years ago in the 60's my uncle and John rode across Europe together on their motorcycles. Perhaps if I hadn't known that, I would have read some Irving before now. Perhaps not. ---- Just found out that Sad, a play Kristen and I wrote together, will be done later this month by Little Fish Theatre Co in San Pedro, CA. If you want to see it, we're in Evening A. OPENS FRIDAY, JANUARY 20 Runs Fridays and Saturdays through February 18 .

up next: my short play Snow at Elephant Theatre Co in Los Angeles and Blue Box Productions in NYC, both in Feb.

It's true they spelled my name wrong, but I'm still beaming with pride.

introductory nonsense before the story which will be the play or something like the play I must write next

I feel the pain migrating again and the loss of fight undulating groans in homespun action characters on long trips out of winged carriages who knows the places all can see the sites of massacres and flights of kites in two bit raindrops accustomed to long nights tearing into me like butter knife through very tender beef or mutton that feels on the tongue like a loves palm salty mixed with heaven and just the right fake grass and bushes, merkins, underwear models and rock formations and dust clouds understood if you can you will I know I go inside of wants I want I need I sigh I bleed I smoke I choke I hooked the rope to the skyhook a goodbye hook for slow necked travelers like me and long grained bulls caught in the headlines grab the horn as it goes bye. Bye. The waitress in short dress told the boy all she could but it was not, as you would think, the story he’d been longing to hear. He had two friends, both of them like him, cheerleaders for the worst high school team in the world. Unlike him, they were girls. It was hard to cheer hard, sometimes hard to even show up to get showed up by the much larger teams, much stronger, more angular mega warriors with laser hands. If it was hard for the teams, it was harder for the cheerleaders who broke their backs to be cheerful and optimistic, crazy though that surely is. Because insanity is trying out to be a male cheerleader to cheer for the worst team in the world.

Madcap

Also my play Film Noir which has been done in NYC, CT and Toronto will be done in DC this month. Details below. Madcap Players presents theWinter Carnival of New Works January 19-21 and 26-28, 2006 at 8:00 PMJanuary 22 and 29, 2006 at 2:00 PM H STREET PLAYHOUSE1365 H Street NE, Washington, DC CAUTIONARY TALES FOR ADULTS music and lyrics by Shawn Northrip, directed by Shirley Serotsky DANCE WITH ME, ABUELITA written and performed by Terry Nicholetti,directed by Paul-Douglas Michnewicz THE DRAGONS PROJECT: POWER PLAY (END GAME) choreographed and performed by Stephen Clapp andLaura Schandelmeier with contributions by Jessica Hirst FILM NOIR by Adam Szymkowicz, directed by Paul Takacs FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL by Steven Schutzman, directed by Patrick Torres JETSAM by Chad Dubeau, directed by Alexandra Hoge OUT OF TIME by Patrick Gabridge, directed by Christopher Snipe THE PATIENT by Rich Amada, directed by Scott Stanley

Which Woman's Work?

This Woman's Work Theatre Co., Inc. will be doing my short play Save as part of their show "Awakening" later this month. Save has already been done in Idaho, Los Angeles, Michigan, and Arizona. Now it makes it's NY debut. Details below: Next Big THING, a division of TWWTC, proudly presents: "AWAKENING" ...reflections on birth, death and everything in between Directed by Christopher Goodrich Lighting Design by Christopher R. Hoyt An evening of collected monologues, written by emerging male and female plawrights from across the country, performed by a diverse group of exceptional local actors Premiering at Chashama (217 E. 42nd Street) January 26-28, 2006, 7:00 p.m. Reserve tickets NOW at: 212-502-8630 "AWAKENING" stars: Mollye Asher *Bonnie Lee Barrios Candace Reid Aaron J. Fili *Maybeth Ryan *Debra Anderson Troy Hall *Tawanna Brown *Mary Hodges *Jack R. Marks Mando Alvarado Frank Juliano Kevin Logie *Courtesy Actor's Equity Association TWWTC congratulates the following playwrights, whose monologues were selected for inclusion in "AWAKENING": Adam Szymkowicz Laura Lewis Barr Karin Williams Peter Langman Christina Pippa Dan Trujillo Lia Romeo Dale Andersen Christine DiGiovanni November Dawn Catherine Zambri Riggs Jim Dunleavy Elizabeth Canavan

Depressing

From London with love-- THEY can’t judge a book without its cover. Publishers and agents have rejected two Booker prize-winning novels submitted as works by aspiring authors. One of the books considered unworthy by the publishing industry was by V S Naipaul, one of Britain’s greatest living writers, who won the Nobel prize for literature. The exercise by The Sunday Times draws attention to concerns that the industry has become incapable of spotting genuine literary talent