Erika Upholds her Resolution

I couldn't sleep last night and two characters kept chasing their way through my brain. I had to get up and write down their dialogue before I could drift off to sleep. This morning I realized that I hadn't shared any writing with you in the blogosphere for awhile, and I promised to do that as my New Year's Resolution! A professor once told me that Harold Pinter started plays not by plot but by dialogue. He'd be sitting in the back of a cab and would hear two characters conversing with each other in his head and he had to get their story out. This is how his plays were born.

I'm no Harold Pinter, but here's a conversation that was running around my brain. I started this scene in January and I finished it last week. This started out as an ABCD exercise and evolved from there. You'll notice that the first letter of the first word of the first twenty-six lines create the alphabet. As usual, comments are always welcome. But be kind, I'm still a little rusty. :)

- EG

I Miss You

A Scene by Erika Geller

Lights up on a sparsely furnished, neat but dim living room. There is a picture window center stage and a fireplace against the wall stage left. It is early evening and we see the end of the daylight creeping through the curtains, which are slightly askew. The fireplace is immaculate, as it has not been used for a long time. Family photos decorate the walls and are propped against the mantle. A wedding photo of a beautiful young woman and a groom in full military dress is centered on the mantle. The family photos are out of date showing HANNAH, 10, and EVAN, 12, as much younger children. It is February, but the cards on the mantle are still up from Christmas. At rise, EVAN, dressed in pajamas made for a child much younger than him, runs into the room holding a photograph. HANNAH, still dressed in her school uniform, dashes in after him.

HANNAH. Alright, Evan, give it back!

EVAN. Back? S’not yours.

HANNAH. Come on. Mom said I could have it!

EVAN. Didn’t even. She c-c-c-can’t even say that. It’s not h-h-h-hers so she c-c-can’t even give it to you.

HANNAH. Evan! (Screams a little.) It was in her room. It’s hers. She gave it to me. Sorry she didn’t give it to you, but… But – you can’t just take it.

EVAN. Fine. Just wanna – (Thinks for a minute and puts the photo on the fireplace mantle. It is out of her reach.) Just wanna think, k? Keepin’ it there for safes.

HANNAH. God, you are so annoying. (Trying to reach for the photo.) So annoying. I’m gonna tell! Mom –

EVAN. Hey, stop it. Gonna get her mad if she c-c-c-omes down h-h-h… down here.

HANNAH. I’m gonna get her mad?

EVAN. Just trying to think.

HANNAH. Keep it up, Evan.

EVAN. Like you even would. Gonna be just as mad at you.

HANNAH. Mom knows you’re the instigator.

EVAN. Nuh uh!

HANNAH. Oh really?

EVAN. Puh-lease. You’re the instant – (Breathing quick and shallow.) Insta –

HANNAH. Question for you, Evan. How d’you expect to tell her about the (imitating him) insta, insta, IN-STA-GAY-SHUN if you can’t even say it.

EVAN. Really making me mad, H-H-Hannah!

HANNAH. Shut up!

EVAN. (Almost to himself.) I miss Dad.

HANNAH. Well, he’s not coming back, Evan.

EVAN. Yes he is. He promised.

HANNAH. Stupid.

EVAN looks at her. He is confused. Unsure of his next move.

HANNAH. This is why he’s gone, Evan! Because you’re too stupid.

EVAN. (Beginning to shake.) Take it back!

HANNAH. Understand that, Evan? Can you even say it? It’s your –

EVAN. Very mean, H-H-Hannah. Take it back! Ugh. (He starts to moan, grunt, and move back and forth.)

HANNAH. What? Take what back? It’s your fault!

EVAN. X-Ray vision! X-Ray vision! Kew, kew! You’re lying!

HANNAH. You’re crazy…

EVAN. (Simultaneously) Kew, kew!

HANNAH. Stop it.

EVAN. Zero gravity. Kew, kew. X-ray robot vision. Target intercepted.

HANNAH. Are you okay?

EVAN. Bringin’ ‘er down.

HANNAH. Calm down, Evan.

EVAN. Down, Evan, down.

HANNAH. Either you calm down or I call Mom.

EVAN. Final target. Beep, beep, beep!

HANNAH. Geez. I didn’t mean it, Evan. I didn’t mean it. Just calm down. Please calm down. C’mon –

EVAN. Ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!

EVAN runs at her full force. They fight. Various yells, “ouches” and “calm downs” and “get off mes” are heard. After several moments, EVAN pushes HANNAH backwards. She hits the mantle, hard, and falls to the floor. The picture falls, or has already fallen, to the ground next to her. HANNAH lies motionless on the ground. EVAN snaps out of his trance as he realizes that she may actually be hurt.

EVAN. Hannah?

He kneels next to her and touches her gently, apprehensively.

EVAN. I didn’t mean to h-h-h-hurt. Just meant to… don’t know. Ha-Ha-Han-Han. Ah.

HANNAH whimpers slightly from her spot on the ground.

EVAN. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry to h-hurt. Sorry ‘bout Daddy. H-H-Hannah?

HANNAH. Help me.

EVAN. Mom!

HANNAH. Shh. Just help me up.

EVAN. H-Hannah?

HANNAH. Listen, Evan –

EVAN. Mom!

HANNAH. No. Wait. Evan.

EVAN. Out. I don’t wanna. C-c-can’t –

HANNAH. Evan. Evan, look at me. I’m okay. Shh. Help me sit.

EVAN helps her to sitting position against the fireplace.

HANNAH. See? I’m okay.

EVAN keeps shaking his head back and forth.

EVAN. Not okay. Not okay. Malfunction. C-c-casualty.

HANNAH. No casualties, Major Evan. Injury count at one but she’s expected to make a full recovery.

EVAN. Over and out?

HANNAH. Over and out.

She smiles and reaches for EVAN’S hand.

EVAN. Sorry.

HANNAH. Me too.

They sit in silence for a few moments. EVAN picks up the photograph.

EVAN. When’s he c-coming back?

HANNAH. I don’t know. Soon. I think.

EVAN. Mom won’t say.

HANNAH. That’s ‘cause she’s sad.

EVAN. Are you sad?

HANNAH. Yes. (Pause.) Are you?

EVAN. C-c-can’t tell.

HANNAH. Tell me what you know.

EVAN. It h-h-hurts.

HANNAH. Where?

EVAN touches his hand to his heart.

HANNAH. Do you remember what the teacher said?

EVAN shrugs.

HANNAH. About being sad or mad or angry or –

EVAN starts to breathe harder and get physically frustrated.

HANNAH. Ev, it’s okay. Forget about the teacher. Um, remember last Saturday when Mom took us for ice cream?

EVAN. I got mint c-chip.

HANNAH. Yeah, yeah you did. We went for ice cream and mom was wearing a blue dress and you got mint chip and you smiled. Why did you smile?

EVAN. Mint chip is my favorite!

HANNAH. Right. And mint chip makes you smile because you’re happy. I was happy too, Evan.

EVAN. Because you got strawberry?

HANNAH. Kinda. But also ‘cause I was with you and Mom and we were having fun. And being with you guys makes me happy. And happy makes me smile. And it makes you smile too. But, what you feel right now, is the opposite of smiling. When happy goes away, that’s sad. Sad is what you feel when your heart hurts. And sometimes when your heart hurts, you cry and that’s the opposite of smiling too.

EVAN. I don’t like it.

HANNAH. Me either, Evan. But I guess we can’t be happy all the time. Just sometimes.

EVAN. Like taking turns?

HANNAH. (Laughs.) A little like taking turns, yeah.

EVAN. Why does it h-hurt?

HANNAH. Because…

EVAN. Doesn’t feel like this when Dad’s home. Why does it h-hurt? H-h-have no c-cuts. No bruises.

HANNAH. You can hurt inside too. Like, how sometimes you know you’re going to start crying because your throat hurts?

EVAN. Yeah…

HANNAH. It’s because your heart starts to cry before your eyes do.

EVAN. And that’s h-how you know you’re sad?

HANNAH. That’s how I know I’m sad.

EVAN. (Takes him a minute to start speaking but he gets a hard “H” out.) Hannah?

HANNAH. Yeah?

EVAN. My throat hurts real bad.

He leans against her. She winces slightly but manages to put an arm around him.

HANNAH. Mine too, Evan. Mine too.

Lights.

Stuff Theatre People Like: Cultivating Playwrights

Calling All Playwrights!!

BerkshireFringe, which takes place every summer in Great Barrington, MA sent out this statement earlier this month - they are looking to cultivate aspiring, young playwrights? Think you'd like to apply? Check out the info below:

EarlyStages, Bazaar Productions' playwriting program is now accepting applications from all over New England. Any one between the ages of 18 and 26 that resides or attends school in New England is eligible for the program.

About the Program

EarlyStages takes place each summer during The Berkshire Fringe. The program gives three college-aged writers the opportunity to develop an original play under the mentorship of a professional playwright. Once again, Emmy Award-winning writer Laura Maria Censabella will participate as the professional playwright mentor. The program culminates with a professional reading of the young writers' work at The Berkshire Fringe.

Participants must:

• Be between the ages of 18 and 26.

• Reside in or attend school in New England (Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island or Vermont).

APPLICATIONS ARE DUE MARCH 15, 2011.

Interested applicants are required to submit at least 20 pages of the play they wish to continue to develop during the program. You will find the complete guidelines for submitting work, the application, and more information about Bazaar Productions and The Berkshire Fringe on our website:

http://berkshirefringe.org/earlystages

Have questions that this post doesn't answer? Send your queries to Co-Artistic Director of BerkshireFringe, Timothy Ryan Olsen at ryan@berkshirefringe.org.

Happy writings!

- EG

A Resolution To Love, A Resolution To Write

I didn't make any resolutions this year. I figured, what would I resolve to do that I'm really willing to follow through with? As I started thinking about things I wanted to change, my mind wandered to think about the things I'm thankful for. I realized that I really don't want that much to change during 2011. Sure, this week I reorganized my entire bedroom, actually cooked dinner, and went to the gym a decent amount but it seems that I'm actually a pretty happy person. So as we move into 2011, I am resolving to thank my friends and family more often for their love and support. I resolve to have more dinner dates and play dates and lazy mornings with my roommates where we make banana pancakes and laugh together. As I thought about how happy my friends make me, I started to think about other things that make me happy.

I did a decent amount of writing in college, but I haven't done much in the last year and a half. It makes me happy and I really miss it. So I'm also resolving to write a scene a week. They might not be long. They might not even be good. But I'll take a prompt or an exercise, and just write. And then I'll post them on this blog. Sound good? Great. Here goes. I resolve to give you, dear readers, some fiction to read along with the opinion and the occasional fact. For my first feat, I've taken some song lyrics and incorporated them into the scene. I've been on a major Counting Crows kick lately so I figured, why not start there? I warn you. My pen (or my typing skillz as it were) is very out of shape. It's not deep, but it's what I've got. It's an homage to my friends that I love so dearly. So here we go. Without further ado, I give you...

A Long December

Lights up on the living room of an apartment. The space is well inhabited, and a tad messy. Newspapers and books are precariously stacked on the coffee table and floor. A calendar showing the month of December is nailed on the wall amid reproductions of famous paintings, some recognizable and some obscure. Twilight creeps in through curtains over a window up left. The rest of the room is pretty dark. The sound of a microwave whirring is heard off stage left. A cell phone rings on the coffee table. COURTNEY, 25, dressed in plaid pajamas bottoms, mismatched socks, and an oversized gray hoodie runs into the room. She grabs for the phone, reads the caller ID, and throws it into the couch, disappointed. COURTNEY exits to the kitchen again. The phone rings several more times, then stops. COURTNEY returns with a microwavable meal in hand. COURTNEY contemplates for a moment and then dials her voicemail, leaving it on speaker as she arranges her microwavable meal.

VOICEOVER: You have one new voice message; you have four saved voice messages. To listen to your messages, press one. (She presses one.) First voice message, received today at 9:21 p.m.

VOICEOVER: Ugh. I always forget how generic your voicemail is. Seriously, girl, you need to rerecord that shit. Anyways, it’s me. Todd. Your best friend. I just thought I’d remind your sweet little ass that I even effin exist since you seem to be ignoring all my calls.

COURTNEY glares at the phone.

TODD: I fully expect to see your face tonight.

COURTNEY: (To the phone) I’m busy.

TODD: Before you start in, you are not busy. You are sitting at home. In your pajamas, watching Gossip Girl reruns, and making a Lean Cuisine.

Glaring at the phone, she reaches for a can of breadcrumbs on the table and starts to pour them on top.

TODD: Putting breadcrumbs on that goddamned mac and cheese is not gonna make it taste real, honey. It’s just going to make it fattening fake cheese. Give it up. Get dressed. Get down here. I’m calling back if I don’t see you in twenty. Love you!

COURTNEY flops down on the couch next to the cell phone. She stares at it, sighs, and throws it at the can, knocking it off the table. The doorbell rings. COURTNEY hops up, hopeful. Tries to adjust her hair and her pajamas but realizes it’s a lost cause and goes to the door anyways. TODD, 25, well groomed in designer labels and a black pea coat enters with flair.

TODD: Honey, I’m home.

COURTNEY: (Retreating to the couch.) I thought I had twenty minutes.

TODD: Well, I was going to stand in your hallway for twenty minutes and wait for you to get dressed, but I thought it was trashy to drink this straight from the bottle. (He brandishes a bottle of champagne.)

COURTNEY: (Flopping down on the couch and shoveling her mac and cheese into her mouth defiantly.) Go away!

TODD: Oh, Boo, you are a mess.

COURTNEY: Not helping. Go away, Todd.

TODD: Don’t think so. You need to come out. Come see people. This place would make anyone depressed.

COURTNEY: I’m fine, okay? I’m not thrilled with the situation but I’m not depressed. I just need some time to get over it.

TODD: Your hair isn’t washed.

COURTNEY: Thanks, Mom.

TODD: You didn’t go to work today.

COURTNEY: How do you know that?

TODD stares at her smugly.

COURTNEY: (Starts to smile.) Oh my god. Benny?! I knew you two were going to hook up. I knew it! If you get married, I’m so your maid of honor.

TODD: Back it up, honey. The only thing he’s hooking me up with is information. About you.

COURTNEY: You make it sound like you’re James Bond or something. All you had to do is send one text.

TODD: Just looking out for you. Call me your fairy godmother.

COURTNEY: I’ll call you a fairy all right.

TODD: Ouch. That was harsh. Good thing I have my magic shields up or I would’ve been offended.

COURTNEY: I’m sorry, Todd. I’m sorry. I –

TODD: Baby, coming from you, I am so not offended.

COURTNEY: God, this is so screwed up.

TODD: It’s been a long December, kiddo.

COURTNEY: No kidding.

TODD: (Pause.) You wanna vent?

COURTNEY: Haven’t I done enough of that?

TODD: Eh, I don’t mind. I’m a little buzzed already. Here. (Hands her the bottle.) You start chatting. I’ll get the glasses. (Exits to the kitchen.)

COURTNEY: You really don’t have to do this. (She picks up her phone.)

TODD: (Offstage.) Put down your phone!

COURTNEY: Go back to your party.

TODD: (Entering with two champagne flutes.) Fairy godmother, remember? It’s my job to get your ready for the ball. Then I can get trashed and make bad decisions. (While she is talking, he pops the cork and pours two glasses. He sips from his but she leaves hers untouched on the table throughout.)

COURTNEY: Fine. What do you want from me? I’m miserable. I’m sitting home alone on New Year’s Eve.

TODD: Were sitting home alone. Now you’ve got a date. Get dressed. Everyone is expecting us.

COURTNEY: I can’t show my face at that party.

TODD: It’s the hair that I’m concerned with, not your face.

COURTNEY: Todd.

TODD: It’s fine. Grunge will probably be in again in 2011. You’re ahead of the curve. Continue.

COURTNEY: I got dumped!

TODD: We’ve all been dumped.

COURTNEY: Not like this. This is…

TODD: I know.

COURTNEY: I keep waiting for the apology call.

TODD: Stop.

COURTNEY: Stop obsessing because he’ll come to his senses or stop because he’s never going to call? (Pause.) I thought you were him. At the door before. I just thought, maybe… God, there were no romantic gestures while we were dating why would there be now? He’s not going to call, is he?

TODD: I don’t know, Boo. I’m not him. I wouldn’t get my hopes up though.

COURTNEY: That’s encouraging.

TODD: You didn’t let me finish. Your hopes aren’t worth it. Hope on something good. Something special. Don’t hope on Adam.

COURTNEY: All I want is Adam.

TODD: Not what you need though. Okay, Court. It’s midnight somewhere.

COURTNEY: (Looking at her phone.) It’s 9:30.

TODD: It’s midnight thirty somewhere. Time for a resolution.

COURTNEY: Todd –

TODD: (Standing, holding his glass in his hand.) I, Courtney James –

COURTNEY: No.

TODD: I, Courtney James.

COURTNEY: I, Courtney James.

TODD: Resolve to live 2011 for me. Not for some boy, not even my fabo best friend, Todd Silver.

COURTNEY: Resolve to live 2011 for me. Even though I’m being fed these lines by my lamo best friend, Todd Silver.

TODD: Ugh. How long have we been friends?

COURTNEY: How long ago was third grade?

TODD: Exactly. We’ve seen a lot of breakups together. And we always get through them. After awhile we even laugh at them. Mostly mine, I’ll admit, but seriously how many of these do you think we’ve been through?

COURTNEY: Too many.

TODD: Remember my first broken heart?

COURTNEY: I don’t want to play this game. (She takes a sip of champagne.)

TODD: Lauren Engel. Fourth grade.

COURTNEY: She broke up with you because you told her stirrup pants were out. Little did we know, that was you coming out.

TODD: I was devastated! But, yes, that was a huge flashing, glittery sign right there. Too bad no one pointed it out to Lauren.

COURTNEY: (Laughing.) Whatever, I ran into her when I was home for Thanksgiving. Girl still can’t dress herself.

TODD: See. Sixteen years later and we’re still laughing. Darren Reynolds, eighth grade.

COURTNEY: Oh god. I still maintain that I broke up with him!

TODD: I will admit that you ran out of Seven Minutes in Heaven first, however, I vividly remember him telling Scottie whats-his-face to tell me to tell you that it was over!

COURTNEY: I had too much orange soda. Should have peed before I went in. He had Dorito breath anyways. Oh god. Remember Sam Langley?

TODD: Do I remember Sam Langley? Honey, we ate more pints of ice cream that week than ever before. This (he motions up and down at her current state) is nothing compared to Sam Langley.

COURTNEY: Ah! It was right before prom and I so almost didn’t fit into that dress afterwards.

TODD: Oh, shut up. We both looked fierce that night.

COURTNEY: And here we are, almost 2011. You’re still my date and I’m still a sobbing mess. We’ve just graduated from Ben and Jerry’s. (She raises her glass to him and drains it.)

TODD: No tears tonight.

COURTNEY: Should’ve shown up around four.

TODD: Good. We’ve gotten it out for the day. Now, you’ve got exactly seven minutes to find something shiny to wear before we head out for the night. Go. Move.

COURTNEY: Todd, I really appreciate the cheering up, but I’m really not in the mood. You won’t have any fun with me –

TODD: Court. We’ve been friends for more than half our lives. We’ve been through it all. Bad breakups. Your parents’ divorce. The two months my dad couldn’t sit at the same dinner table as me because I brought a boyfriend home from college. I don’t care about tonight. We can sit on this goddamned couch in your ugly sweatshirt and celebrate it together. I care about you and I hate seeing you like this. I love you too fucking much to let you be alone right now. And not because it’s New Year’s but because you’re hurting. But if tonight’s for starting fresh, I wanna start fresh together. Okay?

COURTNEY lunges at him for a bear hug before he can even get the last words out. They stay like this in silence for a few moments.

COURTNEY: I love you.

TODD: Love you back.

COURTNEY: Who would’ve thought the only man in my life to really love me doesn’t even like women?

TODD: To be fair, I like you. I just don’t want to do you.

COURTNEY: (Standing up.) Okay.

TODD: Okay?

COURTNEY: If you’re actually my fairy godmother, you’ll find something in that closet to dress me in for tonight. (TODD raises an eyebrow at her.) What? You love New Year’s Eve. I’m not going to let you harp on this for the next sixteen years as the night we sat on my couch and ate cold mac and cheese.

TODD: Fake mac and cheese.

COURTNEY: Go. 2011 is in two hours.

TODD: (Grabbing his champagne flute.) To 2011, may it bring us both new beginnings…

COURTNEY: Maybe this year will be better than the last.

TODD: I think it should.

They toast.

Blackout.

Stuff Theatre People Like: Artsy Independent Coffee Shops

This installment of Stuff Theatre People Like is for all of your writers out there. Sometimes the hardest thing about writing is getting started. Even though I know I have a task in front of me, I just can't sit down and do it in my apartment. (Especially if there's no deadline.) There's tv, the room I'm supposed to be cleaning, Facebook. But in a coffee shop, somehow it's easier to ignore those little chat windows. Or not. Which is fine, because I have the attention span of a small child, but anyways. At least there's no tv. Moving on.

I decided to start working on a couple of projects that I've had on the back burner and as I was driving around doing errands, I decided to stop in Taste in Newtonville. It's a cute little place with table service, gorgeous cappucinos (they're sooo pretty. and tasty too. but really pretty), and the best lemon poppyseed muffin I've ever had. There was no need for headphones (which saves my computer battery!) because the staff makes a great playlist to set the mood - everything from the Beatles to Phoenix to Foo Fighters. It was chill, quaint and made me feel better about spending money on coffee than I do at Starbucks. (Plus there was free wi-fi. Holler.)

And the best part is, I ACTUALLY GOT WORK DONE. I'm reworking some scripts that I've started (GASP) and I'm helping a friend hash out the start to a screen play. It was nice to settle into my nook and do some work and I would highly recommend it to those who might be passing through the area looking for a place to do work. Regardless of whether you hit up taste or not, that's my weekend recommendation to all of you. Even if you're feeling stuck, a change of scenery might be what you need. Or a muffin. A delicious, delicious muffin. :)

Excerpt from "Perfect Pitch"

I've been the busiest I've been in years. I haven't posted much. I apologize. I'm past one year since I finished writing the first draft of my full length, which had a reading in October. However, I haven't touched it since. Here's a scene from my July '09 draft. Perhaps posting it in public will motivate me to start writing again...

***

Perfect Pitch: A Post-Punk Play with Music

By Kenny Steven Fuentes
First Draft 7/12/09
Boston, MA

Characters featured in this scene
Cole, M, mid-20's, former musician.
Shane, F, 19, Songwriter, Musically ambitious.

Scene VIII

Darkness. Cole begins to drunkenly sing Simple Twist of Fate by Bob Dylan. He should not sing the whole song, just what he needs to facilitate the scene change and arrive at the final verse. The stage becomes the couch of Shane's apartment.

Lights up for the final verse, as he sits next to Shane over a bucket. She is singing along with him while sipping Cole's Whisky.

Cole

People tell me it's a sin
To know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin
But I lost the ring
She was born in spring
but I was born too late.
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

Cole sings these last few words as he kneels over a bucket. She kneels to him holding him over and making sure he's doing ok.

Shane
I love that song.

Cole
I do too! You should play it, grab your guitar and play it for me. Ooooo...

Shane
You'd have to promise me you won't puke on it? Can you do that for me?

Cole
Hmm... you know, maybe that's not such a good idea... fuuuuuckkkk...

Shane
Oh look at you... such a mess...

Cole
Fuck, I must...shit, be making a good first impression on you.

Shane
Cole, we've known each other for a year now. This is like the fiftieth impression. Hundredth, maybe.

Cole
I know! I know! I'm just letting you know, I can still joke, which means, I'm not that drunk.

Shane
(She takes a big gulp of his bottle, and winces a bit.) Whiskey...really? There's just no classy way to get drunk off of cheap whiskey. You could've tried being a little more classy, maybe gotten some Cognac or Vermouth or something a european existentialist writer would drink.

Cole
Heh... you're funny... So very funny. I like you. I like you lots.

Shane
Thanks (Pause) Here, I think you're doing ok. (She lifts him up and guides him to the couch.) Let's get you settled in your luxury suite for the night.

He sits. She begins to exit.

Shane
I'll get you something to drink.

Cole
Beer?

Shane
I was thinking water, actually.

Cole
Laaaaaame...

She walks offstage, getting him a drink and listening as he talks.

Cole
You know, sometimes I wonder if life would be different if I'd been born in the 60's. All you need is love, right? I think I'd like that. I'd join... the Church of Dylan. Be a free spirit. Shit... there's no job opening for free spirits these days, did you know that? No one's hiring. It's like Dylan predicted everything that'll ever happen in your life before you were even born. But now that I know what'll happen, what's left? I don't know much these days.

Shane enters with water and a big pitcher. She hands it to him and sits.

Cole
Thanks. (He takes a huge gulp, down the glass and lays his head down on her lap.) I do know a few things. I don't know what I'd be doing without you right now... cuz like, fuck... I missed this stuff. Writing...playing... going to shows... being an artist...I don't know, I mean, I don't wanna pretend like I'm as amazing as you are. I'm not as strong. You're stronger than me, did you know that? It's a gift you have. You shared that gift.

Shane
Don't mention it. It's nothing really.

Cole
No, really. You dug a hole to find me. I burrow deep, you know.

Shane
I don't make close connections with many people. You know, before I met you and Laurel.... all I had was Ant. And honestly, sometimes that felt like a bad idea. But since I met you, I have a little more...spark.

Cole
Yeah...that's the word. Shark...

Shane
(She chuckles.) Spark. Not shark.

Cole
Sharky sparky Mc Fucky...

Shane
(Chuckling more.) Christ, you're fucking adorable when you're shitty.

Cole
You're adorable always.

Shane
...thanks.

Cole
I think I might be falling in love with you.

Silence. Cole is too drunk to realize the line that has now been crossed. He chuckles to himself. He will not remember this.

Shane
You're drunk.

Cole
No! I'm tober! Sotally! (He bursts out laughing.) That wasn't even intentional!

Shane
(She holds his hand. Maybe strokes his head.) I hate you for being drunk right now. That's so not cool.

Cole
Sorry. My bad. You don't hate me now do you?

Shane
No, of course not!

Cole
Shit...I ruined your night...I'm a puking mess... and now you hate me...

Shane
No, I don't hate you...

Cole
Fuck... don't lie, I know you're mad and I'm sorry. I'm a fuck, I know...I'll... I'll sober up right this moment... right this now...

Shane
You're not going to remember one moment of this, are you?

Cole
I will...I promise you the world...I will... every moment, every drop of whiskey...

Shane
(She holds up his hand to her face and kisses it.) I hate you, you know...

Cole
I know....

Lights begin to dim. No music.

Nothing Earth Shattering, But Still Worth Writing About

Sometimes when I read a new play I want it to be Earth shatteringly different than anything I've ever read before. I want a new situation, certainly one my brain could not have come up with, and I want to be surprised. But sometimes it's nice to read a play that surprises you with it's simplicity. I just finished reading The Circle Mirror Transformation by Annie Baker. (I'm auditioning for it on Tuesday afternoon.) It's a simply written play, with a simple message: even though we "grow up" into adulthood, life comes in stages and you never know where one will end and the next will begin. It wasn't a play that forced me to think, "Now what IS the symbolism in this character's name?" Or, "What what the purpose of the last two scenes in the play?" I read it, enjoyed it, was surprised by it, and now I'm telling you about it. It was refreshing to read a play where I finished thinking, "Yes, those are real people, and yes I understand what this was about, and yes life is about moments that seem insignificant - but nothing that happens in life is insignificant." (I'm aware that's a run-on sentence, but it's how I think! Deal with it!) The point is, not all theatre has to be stereotypically groundbreaking. A play can simply show you a snippet of real life with characters you can relate to and remind you that life never gets "figured out," it can only be added to. It's possible that this thought is my "Earth Shattering Thought of the Day." So maybe the play does more than I originally thought? What do you think? Read it for yourselves OR you can see it at the Huntington this fall as part of their 2010-2011 season.

- E

P.S. Any other plays get you thinking like this? I'm always up for suggestions!

Thoughts on 11:11's "Foreverendia"

Since I last wrote, I've had a wonderful theatrical experience. They say that performing and investing in new work is a financial risk for theatres. While this may be true when it comes to the numbers, I would challenge this notion by saying that the greatest risk lies in allowing the theatre to stagnate by reproducing the same plays over and over again.

This past friday I attended 11:11 Theatre Company's production of Foreverendia by Brian Tuttle. I knew nothing about this production going in, having been invited by a friend who was assistant directing and in the cast. I had no clue what I was about ot experience, but I found myself immersed in a world of imagination and heightened naturalism. Without going into details on the plot, I was lulled into watching this play from the perspective of a child by the freedom and complete abandon with which these actors played with their space and bodies. Often times, watching older actors portray children can be unbelievable or susceptible to stereotype, mechanical acting. But this cast, in collaboration with the playful text, played with such ease and lack of self-conciousness. They actually embodied that innocense and imagination that allows children to explore their imaginations with complete abandon. This ability to play so truthfully is something we often loss when we grow up, and try to reattain as actors. I rarely see that sort of success from adults playing adults, much less adults playing children! But maybe that's what we needed, a play written specifically from the imagination, reaching out to the depths of our inner children.

By the end of the play, I echoed the sentiment of some of the characters. I wanted to go back to Foreverendia, even though I hadn't been there literally. The magical country they establish in their imagination was infallible in a way only a child can concieve. What can I say? It's not often I miss being a kid. But I felt that way on friday night...

In summation, the best parts of the show:

1) The humor and imagination of the writing.
2) The specificity of physical choices and actions taken by the cast.
3) The composition and staging of the piece, particularly the assembly and dissassembly of the land of Foreverendia.
4) The sense of passion and fun the cast seemed to embody.

We need more plays like this.

Kenny