QP

Excellent post by QP on her blogging rules: Other rules have been. Do not try to explain. Do not shy away from the too personal or lines that could contain a story or character recognizablee to others. (disclaimer: that rule has been broken). Do not stop. Do accept comments and compliments and continue. Do put it out there, if it's been written with that feeling, put it out there. don't think too much. I think it's a good rule for art in general. To put it out there, not to shy away from what is scary to you or be too concerned with what your family or friends will say when they see it.

scene from my comedy cowboy version of hamlet--draft

(In the saloon, PAUL, AMELIA and COWGIRL) PAUL They say he’s gone crazy. No one knows why. Did you do this? AMELIA What? PAUL Make him crazy? COWGIRL Mens is all crazy from the get go. Aint no woman ever drove a man to craziness that wasn’t already headin’ there hisself. PAUL Shh. He’s coming. (Enter HERBIE.) HERBIE Amelia. AMELIA Herbie. HERBIE Your skin, it’s so smooth and breakable like fine china. Take it off. AMELIA What? HERBIE Take off your skin. For me. Do it for me. I want to see you for how you really are. AMELIA But— HERBIE The real you. Why do you hesitate? AMELIA But I can’t— HERBIE You don’t love me. You never loved me. Get away from me. AMELIA No. No. I’ll do it. I’ll take off my skin for you. HERBIE Too little, too late. (To PAUL) I want to buy a gun. PAUL Uh. . . HERBIE You said you wanted to sell me a gun. PAUL Sure sure. It’s just that there’s a waiting period. HERBIE I don’t know nothing about no waiting period. Sell me a gun. PAUL I really— HERBIE Sell me a gun! PAUL (Opening a case. Taking out a pistol.) Um sure um. How’s this? (STAN appears or Paul becomes Stan if it’s a smaller cast. HERBIE looks at the gun in his hand.) STAN Feels good in your hand, don’t it? HERBIE Shut up. Shut up! (STAN disappears. Everyone stares at HERBIE.) HERBIE Yeah, this one will do fine. (HERBIE straps on the gun and exits.) AMELIA Wait. Wait. Cut off my skin. I’ll cut off all my skin for you. (AMELIA tries to cut off her skin with a knife. COWGIRL takes it away from her and slaps her.)

Monday I'm hacking up various substances

I have a bad headcold. And my mind is all messed up. I'm sick from work and I need to work on this play but I'm high on Dayquil. I am 25 pages into this new play and i have a month to finish the first draft. a month with X mas in it. What was i thinking? In other news, Madcap Players of Washington DC will do my short play Film Noir in Jan.

out of town

Those signs on the highway...the ones that say Speed Limit Monitored by Aircraft...that's bullshit, right?

I'm having a reading of my play in progress Food For Fish on Sat Dec 3 at 11 am at Juilliard. Let me know if you would like to attend and I will add your name to the list so you can get in.

cowboy play piece--1st draft

(Enter KATRINA. She leads in a BEAR on a leash.) KATRINA (in a Russian accent.) Hello cowboys and ladies. I am Katrina. You have probably heard of me. This is Bear. (BEAR bows.) KATRINA We do for you some tricks for our dinner and for your entertainment. I will dance and Bear will sing. (BEAR whispers to KATRINA.) KATRINA Not today. Bear has sore throat. But I will do leaps and acrobatics and Bear will juggle several hatchets. In succession. (BEAR whispers to KATRINA.) KATRINA Oh. Well then. Not today. Bear has thorn in his paw. But I will sing and Bear will ride unicycle through flaming hoop. (BEAR whispers to KATRINA.) KATRINA Not today. Bear stubbed his toe very early this morning. (BEAR whispers to KATRINA.) KATRINA Yes. For me please and for Bear some vodka. Please gather around to watch amazing Bear drink vodka for your amusement. (KATRINA and BEAR do shots.)

Improving My State

I've convinced myself that I can make my life better with one or two simple changes. I've narrowed it down to three possibilities. A. Quit my job--I could write all day long, walk around in pajamas, watch TV, sleep when I want go to museums, be drunk all the time. Of course I won't be able to pay my rent and so I will eventually be out on the street where my hefty school debt will consume me. I'm not sure if Sallie May sends out thugs but when I'm living on the street that will be one more downside--Sallie May Thugs. OK, so maybe that won't make my life better right now. B. Become a monk--This is a lot like the previous one--except monks are probably not drunk all the time. And probably don't watch TV. And I really want the opportunity to wear robes all the time and the life of a monk sort of sounds good some of the time. But then I'd have to come down on one side or another in this god thing--very few agnostic monks I'd imagine. C. Buy moccasins--Is that all I'd need to change my life for the better? Some different footwear? But where would I find nice moccasins. Or maybe I should get cowboy boots. Where does one get the very right ones though. So you can see why my life has not improved recently. They gave me a mug and a framed certificate at work today.

so here is this thing I enjoy doing

I took the monologue from previous post and I translated it into korean using google. then I cut and pasted translation and translated it back into english. Fun FUN FUN! There is a possibility you seeing and when, as is to be opened the distant COWGIRL the west to be wide. In order to fill other the each one and all and for all your relative the there ' S room for your wild oneself a guard in the emptiness which is legitimate it waits and an ' inside small formation of a cabinet indicates. For the large candle won explaining bite whisky beverage in the actual place bar my boot time it is it for quality of the I horse to peel, as it likes in the morning when it is born. The Wesson It ' S the here which is wild? The I the won ' T comes and it ain ' T, but it ' S from by aim me which am severe the donkey territory which gets wet more does well most anyhow, under wildness but in from Mister and Mister in us the taming el us who get the E for opportunity all and su Miss. And we ' use the em, liberalism. Won person from here selects large candle won dogs ' ll bite ' round. So, the gunslingers is bad more. They die and it kicks hard with the bud payth. For the shootin which most part it spreads out ' seeing at the outside et ess c. Now that time after, don ' T pleasure. When possibility there is you, ci height, it is to live in that lwup remainder of comfort, try the fact that it tries the fact that it defends. And up it already inside the box I didn ' T, ten:00 bedspreads under illusion languages.

new

COWGIRL The west is wide open as far as you can see. Just emptiness waiting to be filled and there’s room for each and everyone and all your kin to ride in an’ stake a little piece for yourselves. I like in the morning how the prairie grass tickles my boots when I horse it to the local saloon for a bite or a whiskey drink. It’s wild here—I won’t pretend it ain’t, but it’s a damn sight better than the wet ass teritory I come from and anyways, it may be wild but we all got us some instruments of taming from mister Smith and mister Wesson. And we use ‘em, liberally. Cause even the prairie dogs’ll bite ‘round here. And the gunslingers is worse. They spit and bite and kick and shoot. You got to watch out for the shootin’ mostly. Now then, don’t fall behind. Try to keep up with the rest of the group and try to keep alive if you can. And in case I didn’t say it already, welcome to town.

go here to see one of my posts someone had translated.

You don’t hear much about the Holy Spirit anymore. God, sure, Jesus, yup, but not much Holy Spirit. At least the whackos on the trains and in the streets shout a lot about God and Jesus but none of them ever mention the Holy Spirit. Why is that? Has the Holy Spirit outlived its usefulness—like the Greek gods? If God is everywhere, what do you need the Holy Ghost for exactly? God and Jesus are much easier to put an image to anyway. The holy spirit is less imagistic. I imagine someday our Judeo Christian God will go the way of the Greek Gods—no one will really believe anymore but there will be a soft spot in everyone’s heart—the “if only” or the nostalgia of a Santa Claus or what leprechauns are in Ireland. Then we’ll all become some sort of Buddhist or earth loving religion or all take on some science-based belief system. Really. That’s what I think will happen in the US. Even in the red states. In like 300 years. Or 2000. How long we gonna be around anyway? I should get around to reading the Bible—bet there’s a lot of stuff in there.

food for fish

scene from Food For Fish--draft

(ALICE and JAMES in the restaurant. ALICE is about to take blood.) ALICE This is going to pinch just a little. JAMES Is that really necessary? I’m not good with needles. ALICE Do you want there to be a second date? JAMES Will there be a second date? ALICE Not if you keep whining. JAMES I’m not whining. ALICE Be a man. JAMES I just don’t want to faint and hit my head again. ALICE Will you stay still so I can find a good vein? JAMES Can we not talk about veins please? ALICE This is going to pinch just a little. JAMES No, no wait. ALICE What? JAMES OK. Go ahead. (ALICE takes blood. JAMES faints.) ALICE Oh, shit. (ALICE picks up a glass of water and throws it in JAMES’s face. JAMES wakes up.) JAMES What? What is it? ALICE You fainted. JAMES Where am I? ALICE You know, James, I’m thinking I may stop dating altogether. JAMES I love you. ALICE It’s not you. Although the needle thing is kind of annoying. JAMES Needle? (JAMES begins to faint again. ALICE slaps him awake.) ALICE Stop that now. OK? You there? What was I saying? Oh yes. So I’m sorry but I don’t think there will be a second date. JAMES Is your name Alice? ALICE Will you focus please? JAMES Everything’s so far away. ALICE I know. That’s always the way it is, isn’t it? The thing we really want is always so far from our grasp. You just really want one thing, right? It’s all you want and no matter what you can never have it. No matter what you do or how cute you dress. It will never happen for you. And you move through every day hoping for a compliment or a smile—some little thing from him—one little crumb or two and you know it’s all you’ll ever get but still you live for it. And then he goes away and won’t answer the phone and you may never see him again and so what’s the point, I ask you? What’s the point of getting through the day if he’s not there at the end of it? Why go on? JAMES Are you talking about suicide? ALICE No. Yes. I don’t know. I mean life is suffering, isn’t it? JAMES That’s what Catholics believe. ALICE Maybe I’m not supposed to be happy. I do have my work, which is I suppose in some ways just a veiled attempt to get what I want or at least deal with it. Maybe it’s not completely hopeless. My sister could die or he could suddenly see he loves me. Maybe you’re right though, maybe if you can’t get what you want in this life you should just kill yourself. JAMES Did I say that? ALICE I don’t know. Maybe I’m not even depressed enough for that. Maybe next week. I just want to go to sleep. JAMES Me too. Hey, why do I feel woozy? ALICE (Holding up vial of blood.) I took some blood. (JAMES faints again.)

List

These are some of the places my Thanksgiving Play for elementary kids has been done. CT, MA, GA, CO, SC, FL, WA, WI, TX, NC, AL, TN, IA, IL, IN, MD, NV, NJ, CA Links don't work on this computer but if you would like to take a look at this play go to: http://www.dramasource.com/cgi-bin/itempage?1=TP

beginning of Ambience Pizza/54th and 9th

(A pizza place. April in an apron. John in street clothes. They are not aware of one another at first.) JOHN. Every day at lunch APRIL. Every day at lunch JOHN. (overlapping) I stop in-- APRIL. (overlapping) He stops in, for a slice, at the pizza place where I work. JOHN. I know she’s beautiful because whenever I think of her, I think of her in black and white. APRIL. When he comes to the counter I give him three napkins although I know I’m only supposed to give two. The pizza is saucy; the pizza is greasy. I don’t want him to be without sufficient surfaces with which to wipe his face and hands. JOHN. I like old movies because of the pacing and the quips—the back and forth. Sometimes I think our conversations will go like that. But they never do. ARIL. They go like this. (They speak to one another now.) JOHN. Hi. APRIL. Hi. JOHN. A slice of cheese. APRIL. Of cheese, right. JOHN. Three twenty five. APRIL. Right. Yes. Three twenty five. (Back to the audience.) JOHN. I always think I will come up with something witty to say. Right there. On the spur of the moment. But I never do. I have nothing witty to say about the price of pizza.

I think the title of my play is "Manifest Western"

It'll be a comedy. You know--like this but funny. and BRIGHT and very dark.

dramaturgical cowboy pix

Today is Monday

Please welcome K to the blog scene.

I feel like my time is not really my own these days. It seems to be slipping away. Here is where I would link to delightful things found on the internet--but you have the internet and perhaps the time to find them yourself. I'll give you a head start--take a look at the great folks on my blogroll to the right. I am told that DPS will be publishing my play Deflowering Waldo--perhaps I have spoken too soon--before the contract is signed. Is that bad luck to speak before all the t's are crossed (or before all the z's are crossed in my case)? However it is, this is exciting me more than anything. Much more than it should, I think. And all I'm really thinking is that now I can prove that I exist--as if that will do it, or as if that's what I'm aiming for, which, unfortunately, I probably am. Gotta write that cowboy play to really prove I exist. That should do it, right?

This is a photo from my play Languages of Love which was recently produced in Philly (although I was unable to travel to see the show). Note the conjoined twins. If I remember correctly that play had to be about death and had to include one man and two women and someone had to be in a school uniform.

mystery of mysterys in the big city of babylon

Read this NY times article about a strange smell in NY. Actually, K and I smelled this in our apt last week. I thought it was the heating system going on for the first time but it smelled very strongly of maple syrup. Then I heard about this article. And then I smelled it again yesterday near Juilliard. It's unsolved. Mr. Padilla was not alone. Reports of the syrupy cloud poured in from across Manhattan after 9 p.m. Some feared that it was something sinister.

Dear Blog, Don't doubt for an instant that I've stopped loving you. It's just that work has been really stressful lately and so has school, in a different way. And I have to get a draft of this cowboy play written before Jan 1 and a revision of FFF by Dec 10. And K and I are trying to see more of each other--now, don't be jealous of K. You know you're important to me too. I've just been distracted recently. You know I love your sleek dark look, your long blogroll, the way your links automatically highlight as if to say "look at me." I do look at you, every chance I get. It's just that I'm entering a new phase in my life and things are going to change in our relationship and I want you to be aware of it and be understanding and supportive the way a Blog like you should. Right? Let's have a smile. Oh, Blog, when things slow down you and I will be like conjoined twins again, linked by an important organ no doubt, but for now . . . well, you understand. Yours, Adam

Fake article from my friend Larry, guest blogger

ELTON JOHN TO RE-RECORD 'CANDLE IN THE WIND' IN HONOR OF NOT-FAMOUS DEAD WOMAN -Steve Klapman, 42, was unsure of what music to use for his late wife's memorial service until he learned that Elton John already had his demo in the mail. "I was too upset to think what she'd have wanted,"Klapman, an IT Provider, told reporters earlier today,"But then my friend Todd brought a tape of Elton John singing about her, and so now I guess I don't have to wonder any more. I'm still upset, though." The tape in question was a demo of Elton John's latest single, John's second remake of the popular dirge"Candle In The Wind," which was made possible through the thoughtfulness of a friend of the widower. "It's a good thing this bloke Todd came up with the idea for his mate Steve," phoned John from acrystal-sculpture-purchasing spree in Aspen, "I felt it was time. Time to to sing the world to tears again. Only no one famous had died lately." The tape was unofficially commissioned by Todd Gakk,who has worked closely with Klapman in several IT departents of several mid-level companies, after Gakk sent the idea to John to help Klapman with his loss. "Steve's a pretty ugly guy, like me," Gakk, dressed in a "No Fat Chicks!" t-shirt, said during a lunch breakat his office, "and ugly guys usually don't have a lot of friends, it's a scientific fact. Steve's my only friend, and the only one I know who's ever had a girl, so I couldn't let this whole memorial thing go by without getting Elton John involved. If his chick were here, she'd probably dig that. Steve's chick. Not Elton's. Steve's chick's the one who died. At least according to Steve. Elton's pretty much a fag." Upon learning of Klapman's loss through a note from Gakk, the "Rocketman" wasted no time in composing - or re-composing - his original song. "I used to think if there were one bird I'd've liked to know, it were Marilyn, but I was just a kid," John waxed nostalgic upon his original inspiration, "and that got me to think, 'There's A Song In There,Guv'nor,' and then when Lady Di died, I thought, 'if Iwere just a kid, I wouldn't have known her, either, just like with Marilyn.' And with this other bird, I mean, unless I'd have paid her to clean me house or somefing, I'd have never known her at all, which I didn't. It makes you think." "Yankee Lass," John's remake of "English Rose," a remake of "Candle in The Wind," speaks of saying goodbye to a young woman who will go down in history as not having a role in history." Well it seems to me you lived your life like a Yankee Lass who wasn't famous Always working in an office married to a guy from Tech And I would have liked to've known you but I'm too rich to work Your Yankee Lass-ness faded far too soon in this world filled with Mets fans The memorial service, planned for this evening, faced two obstacles. The first was Klappman's ambivalence. "I guess I thought it was cool when Elton was writing about famous dead chicks," the widower confessed, "but Stacey didn't have much of a following. She just answered the phones. Plus before she was all mine. And now she's the world's. I guess I know how Arthur Miller feels. Or felt." The second complication arose when a court order the service, attended by Klapman and Gakk, to cease and desist. The court order was written in the name of Stacey Klappman. "First of all, Steve and I are not married," Ms. Klappman, who is also not dead, informed well-wishers,"we just have the same last name. But we had the same last name before we met. Second, we never even went out. I just smiled at him in the elevator once. And third, I'm not dead. I just changed jobs." "Well she's dead to me," an embarrassed Mr. Klapman replied to the announcement, "and mourning's not forthe dead or the claimed-to-be-dead, it's for the living. Or the living who's doing the dead-claiming." "This figures," Mr. Gakk replied, "Steve's always doing stuff like this. He's a douche." Ms. Klappman's legal intervention has stopped the service, but the orders do not extend to Mr. John's use of the song." I actually think the song's kind of awesome," Ms. Klappman told VH1, " and I'm hoping they'll put old footage of me in the video with Nat King Cole." And so the song still resonates, with both the living, and the assumed dead.

Sorry, STRESSED--no write right now

read my plays.

the evil of submission fees

There has been a discussion on the big cheap list about the practice of charging playwrights to read their scripts, something I regularly rail against. Not only do I find it unethical but…well Jason says it best below. Jason Grote on submission fees: Well, I can say that there was a time in my life when I literally had to choose between play submission fees and rent, or feeding myself, sothere are cases when it does happen. Today, I can afford the fees, but I usually don't pay them (with the exception of Sundance, the O'Neill, and the occasional screenplay contest). My decision is not entirely based on principle, butbecause, in my experience, the theaters charging the fees usually suck. Based mostly on having seen their work, reading their mission statements and other items on their websites, or on occasion having read the winning plays in their contests, I feel comfortable saying that a reader's fee is almost always a sign of unprofessionalism. When I think of all the financially strapped small theater groups I know who do quality work, none of them charge submission fees. It might take them a year to get to your script, but that's the way it goes... Footnote(Since posting this on the Big Cheap list, I have since discovered that Moving Arts, a small company that I have heard good things about, charges fees for their one-act contest. I guess they're the exception that makes the rule.)

Women and Men

I am looking for quotations about men and women… and how they see one another. For example A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. And Do you not know I am a woman? When I think I must speak. Etc. Anyone have any good ones? It’s for a play I’m writing.

l

Hey everyone who reads my blog! Hey! Are you listening? My friend, Larry Kunofsky, new york playwright extroadinarie wrote a tremendously good 10 minute play. Who wants to produce it? I will not get an agent's fee for each production, but I will get me some articles for you dear blog readers. See below --- Larry Kunofsky wrote: > > > > > maybe if you tell people on your blog that i wrote > a > > really good ten minute play, people will come > after > > me > > and produce it. > > > > then i'll be a regular guest-blogger for you. > > > > oh, the essays I will give you! > > l

Thanksgiving Play

Come on, people! This thanksgiving play is not going to buy itself. So far we're looking at shows in Chicago, IL and Graysville, IN this year. That is if the kids can learn their lines. I've got confidence in them. But still, that's only two schools. And I'm sure there are a few illegal showings as well, but still. People need to learn about Thanksgiving. From my play. Don't you think your elementary school should do this play too? Remember, kids who love theatre become adults who love theatre. And kids who love turkey...well I don't know about that. I'm allergic, myself.

Also

There was (I hear) a homecoming rally at Juilliard. What sort of game do they have at Juilliard, you may ask? Why dodgeball of course! I missed the event but below is the email I received. Don't ask me what Guilliard is because I don't know. Reminder! Juilliard’s First Homecoming Game is this Saturday (tomorrow) on the Plaza! Don’t let the rain discourage you. All weather reports state that it will stop by noon. 6pm Tailgating 7pm Pep Rally 7:30pm Dodgeball begins Come witness Juilliard BEAT Guilliard!

So last week I helped oraginze this event at Columbia--screening of Good Night and Good Luck which was written by George Clooney and Grant Heslov and directed by Clooney. I was quite impressed with the film. There was a panel discussion afterwards and I was surprised how smart, funny and charismatic Clooney was. The film was obviously a labor of love. link to interview with clooney and heslov. K and I were talking about it after--in theatre you forget that there are other groups of people who are concerned about other things that aren't theatre. All over the city (and the world) are passionate intelligent people interested in say journalism or sculpture or architecture and have interesting and illuminating things to say about such things. Normally I just hear the people who are speaking about theatre. I hear a little bit about Journalism for my job and have become more interested in where Journalism is headed since working here and I know K talks a lot and reads a lot about educational theory, but mostly I read and talk to people constantly about writing theatre about what it is to be a theatre person (poor and underappreciated usually) and how theatre should best be made. Anyway I got off the topic which was that Good Night & Good Luck was inspirational. The thing I came away with most is the idea that both Murrow and McCarthy were each other's downfall. The reward for rocking the boat is sometimes that you don't get your mainstream audience. And sometimes someone makes a film about you. Either way I wanted to be murrow--the guy who was saying--no this is not right and we should do something about it despite this pressure. The press is feeling this pressure right now in perhaps a more subtle and insidious way. --- I was thrilled to see, Pete and Carolyn, although only briefly, as they made their NY tour. Had a few beers and a lot of Chinese food. Good to see you two.