oh and also

I meant to say. The reading of Incendiary went REALLY
well. I was kind of shocked how well it went. I hope
you can come see it when we do a workshop production
of it in Feb at Juilliard with 2nd year actors.

batistick

Saw a fantastic show last night--Mike Batistick's Port
Authority Throwdown at 45 Bleecker/Culture Project
produced by the Working Theatre.

All four actors were terrific, the set design was
gorgeous in a port authority way and the direction was
out of sight. Most of all though it was a smart well
written play about something important delivered in an
entertaining way with humanity and truth and humor.

Can't recommend enough.

only got a bit of writing done today. see me here
babling in the early morning hours.

http://szymkowicznaked.blogspot.com/

tomorrow

Tomorrow I will start a novel. I finished a first
draft last night of my dog play. I know I haven't
mentioned it at all yet or posted anything from it
really because it's different kind of play and I'm not
sure how much more work I need to do on it before I'm
ready.

I was hoping to finish the political play as well by
today but I guess I will have to just write both it
and the novel. because deadlines are important
people.

So for the next month or two month or three months, I
may be blogging less, or i may be blogging more or you
may find me here instead.

http://szymkowicznaked.blogspot.com/ or not. It's
hard to say.

ny times article

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/30/business/worldbusiness/30energy.html?hp&ex=1162270800&en=0aec92e4764ed849&ei=5094&partner=homepage

"Most of these experts also say existing energy
alternatives and improvements in energy efficiency are
simply not enough.

"We cannot come close to stabilizing temperatures"
unless humans, by the end of the century, stop adding
more CO2 to the atmosphere than it can absorb, said W.
David Montgomery of Charles River Associates, a
consulting group, "and that will be an economic
impossibility without a major R.& D. investment.""

playwrights on writing

http://www.calendarlive.com/stage/cl-playwrights-sg,0,1013979.storygallery

I'm having a reading Halloween Tuesday at 2:30 of my
play Incendiary at Juilliard. Let em know if you wnat
to come and I'll use my special powers to get you past security.

whoops, what I meant to say was:

http://www.dramatists.com/cgi-bin/db/single.asp?key=3728

http://www.dramatists.com/cgi-bin/db/single.asp?key=3820

http://www.dramatists.com/cgi-bin/db/single.asp?key=3821

hooray

http://www.dramatists.com/cgi-bin/db/multiple.asp

fratricide

here is the replacement poem i wrote for the scene in
my cowboy hamlet. I'm not saying it's a better poem.
in fact the fact that it's bad is kind of the point.
And it works better in context but here it is anyway.

Fratricide: A Poem For a Bear to Read

In the grimy streets of
Dust-y
Dust
Where the flowers don't grow
Fratricide

A man goes out to buy a horse
But comes home with
A gun instead
It gleams
Polished as it is
Fratricide

A Bear is just a large person who feels too much

Fratricide

I had
Such
Hope in my heart
Before
Fratricide

Flowers at the funeral
No flowers at the saloon

A bear will hibernate in winter
But our feelings
Cannot sleep
Fratricide

on wonkette
http://www.wonkette.com/politics/impeachment/its-a-mandate-209624.php

via daisey
http://www.mikedaisey.com/

"Buried in this Newsweek story is the news that 51% of
American voters want Bush impeached — 28% say High
Priority, 23% say Low Priority, 44% against, 6%
undecided or don't know what a president is. And only
78% of Republicans oppose impeachment, proving
something or other.

Didn't Bush come back in '04 claiming 51% was a
"mandate" for all kinds of new fun?"

a poem

this is a poem I am deleting from my cowboy hamlet
play and replacing with something funnier. It is a
poem the dancing bear delivers so that the Hamlet can
watch his uncle's reaction. You know, that thing the
traveling players do? It's for that. Anyway, this no
longer cuts it, so here it is.

Once there was a bear
By the name of Mean Dean
He was the meanest bear
You have ever seen

He had long dark fur
Coals for eyes
Growls on his lips of enormous size

But his brother was better
In every manner
Stronger and sleeker
With paws like hammers
And a wife bear besides
Of enormous size
With soft red lips
And warm yellow eyes

Mean Dean decides
To perform fratricide
To be the biggest baddest bear
In town

So one day when
Brother bear turns his back
Mean Dean runs
With a drop-kick
Ten-claw
All-teeth
Two-fist
Red-rage
Unconscionable
Attack

And when brother is dead
Mean Dean eats his flesh
Takes his cave
Seduces his bearoness

The moral is
There is no moral
Because who can stop a bear?
Only a bullet perhaps
Between the eyes
To catch him unaware

scene from new play--first draft as always

(Back at the White House, CHENEY watches the PRESIDENT playing with the puppets.) PRESIDENT Oh, Mr. President, you’re so smart and funny. Thank you. You’re also such a talented artist. Thank you. What is that? A tree? It’s a giraffe. You like it though? I love it. And I know a lot about art. I am an art specialist. Oh, you are? Yes I am. I would like to have sex with you. Oh, my. But I have a wife who I love. But I really want to have sex with you. It’s one of the ten commandments. I’m sorry I just can’t. Oh, I’m so disappointed. CHENEY Mr. President, can I talk to you for a minute? PRESIDENT Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m making plans. I’ve got a lot of planning to do, planning various things. Lots to do here in the White House. CHENEY I know, sir. It’s just . . . PRESIDENT Not, now, Cheney. CHENEY Ok, sir, I’ll talk to you later. (CHENEY does not move.) PRESIDENT (tries to go back to playing with puppets but there is no joy in it.) See now I can’t concentrate. CHENEY Sorry, sir. PRESIDENT Why did you have to interrupt. You saw I was working, didn’t you? CHENEY I’m sorry, sir. PRESIDENT All right, what was it you wanted? CHENEY It’s just, well I’m not sure how’ll you’ll take this. PRESIDENT I don’t want to hear any more about any polls. CHENEY No, it’s not that sir. It’s these feelings that I’m having. PRESIDENT Don’t ever trust your feelings. You feelings will lead you to do stupid things that are often not in your best interest. Have you ever read The Prince? CHEENY No. PRESIDENT Well, me either but it’s on my reading list. CHENEY I wanted to tell you. PRESIDENT What? CHENEY That I admire you. PRESIDENT Well, of course you admire me. I’m your president. CHENEY No, I really admire you and I think about you a lot. PRESIDENT Well, I think about you too. CHENEY No, like a whole lot. PRESIDENT As you should. CHENEY But I dream about you. I think about you when I’m having relations with the wife. I day dream about you when you’re not in the room, wanting and wishing that you would come in the room so I can be near your magnetic energy. PRESIDENT Do you think about my paintings? CHENEY Not really. PRESIDENT I’m done with this conversation. CHENEY Well, sometimes I imagine that you ask me to pose for you and you say why don’t we try it without the shirt and so I take off the shirt and then you say maybe you should take off those pants too. They look uncomfortable and you know, they are so I take them off and then you say maybe without the boxers too and so there I am in my black socks completely naked, exposed in front of you. PRESIDENT Maybe I should paint you. CHENEY You should? PRESIDENT My problem is that I can’t paint people. I don’t understand or care about people really and it makes it hard to paint them. They all look the same like puppets. Identical puppets or at least that is what my critics say. But I want to understand people, I do. Especially if it will make me a better artist. All I want is to be alone in my room with my paints but I can’t do that I have all these obligations—I never would have even thought of trying to be president either if I had only been able to sell a painting. no one wanted one, not even mother. And all the other businesses I ran were failing terribly, probably because I was drunk all the time, so I thought well if all else fails at least I can become president. And that might not be so very bad. But what I really want is to be a famous painter. They would look at them, everyone would and they would see amazing things and they would say “look at that.” “Look at how well he understands the human condition” and “wow! The things he is saying with his art.” “Wowee, what a brilliant genius.” “the New York Times calls the President a brilliant genius.” It’s about freakin time that paper starts being fair to me. The next painting. Once they see the next painting they will have to accept me. The polls will shoot up and everyone will see. They will see that I understand people and the plight of the person. Humanity. I can’t paint people. CHENEY You can paint me, Mr. President. PRESIDENT Yeah? Hmm. Well, maybe I should be painting someone more attractive though. Don’t you think?

photos by punam bean

Here are some photos from the NYTR (http://www.nytr.org/) benefit. Thanks again to our talented team: Kip Fagan, Alexis Soloski and jason Grote. http://www.nytr.org/brick_100206_adam.html

From Chris Durang's newest post:

"When I was growing up in the 50s, "live and let live" was often said about people who were different, and even about people whom one disagreed with. It seemed an American value. I don't feel I've heard that phrase in a very long time. I hope it returns to the voices and thoughts of my fellow citizens"

1st draft of scene from new play

The REPORTERS remove their reporting clothes and underneath they wear desert fatigues. They carry machineguns and are marching through the desert.) SARAH I just don’t understand. Why are we the only people looking for Osama? HANK We don’t know that. SARAH Well, is someone else looking for him too because if so we should talk to those people and then maybe we could do this in a more systematic way. HANK Let’s just do our job, OK? JONES Why is this even my job? I am a radiologist. SARAH This wind is killing me. Do we know where we are? HANK We’re in the desert. SARAH Sure, but as compared to where we were yesterday. JONES I am a radiologist. HANK We’re north of there. SARAH I know, but . . . Are we getting any closer? Are we making any progress? HANK No one shot at us today yet. SARAH Is that progress? HANK Well, I’m happy about it. JONES I am a specialist. I have a degree. Why did they send me? SARAH I’m a helicopter pilot. HANK Can you both be a little more positive? We have a job to do and I can’t stand to hear you complaining all the time. SARAH Sorry, Hank. JONES I’m sorry too. JONES and SARAH We’re sorry. (Pause) JONES I wish we were back guarding the oil fields. At least then I knew what the fuck I was doing. SARAH Hey, what did he just say? HANK It’s OK, Sarah. JONES I’m sorry. Sorry. HANK Let’s stop here. (Pause) JONES Maybe we should go back to those caves. SARAH Are we going to start going in a different direction again? HANK Shut up for a second will you? Let me think. (A shift in light. Perhaps the sound of wind.) SARAH (looking at HANK) I like to watch his eyelashes flutter while he thinks. What is it about him? The way he stands, the commanding presence? The little specks of gray in his eye? Sometimes when I close my eyes I feel his hand on me, on my toes, on my legs, on my waist, on my back. I feel him on the back of my neck and it makes me feel tiny. Like he could hold me in his hand. Sometimes I imagine him reaching in and pushing aside my ribs like a waterfall to grasp my beating heart. If it’s beating too fast he can squeeze it and release, squeeze it and release until it beats at whatever pace he wants. It will beat for him, because of him. I think it’s beating for him now. Thump thump. Thump thump. Oh, if I could only have his lips on me. His eyes on me. His hands. /His hands his hands his hands his hands his hands. JONES I like to watch her eyelashes flutter when she thinks. I imagine she’s thinking of me. She doesn’t dare to look at me. How could she? She’s too embarrassed. Her feelings for me run too deep. Should I tell her? Should I let her know that it’s not just her who feels this way but I too am hiding deep feelings? It’s funny and indescribable but I know it as soon as I see it. This is only the second time I’ve been in love and the first time burned with the same intensity. Sometimes in the desert I think she’s a mirage but then she coughs or spits and I remember that she is not a mirage but my second serious love. Soon, I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her soon. Those eyes. Ow. Physical pain from those eyes, those lips, those hands, those hands, those hands / those hands. (Shift) HANK (To SARAH) Why are you looking at me like that? SARAH I’m not. (To JONES) Why are you looking at me like that? JONES I’m not. (Pause) HANK Let’s go this way.