Leaving the party, I was dizzy and numb. A laugh lingered on my lips, smoke without fire, fulfilling social expectation, parading what wasn't as if it were. As a favor, you took me for a ride down Lake Shore, pressing highway speeds. The semi-lit buildings loomed and passed in waxing and waning focus.
You asked for my hand, rejected the hypothermic limb dancing in the mid-autumn chill. Your dominant fingers soon laced my passive. I waited for some sense of connection to match yours.
You spoke of traffic, work, the role of art in the life of a working class stiff. I responded in sharp laughs, silences filled with the rush of wind. With what passes for fervency in an emotional flat-line, my inner mantra begged you to kill me with your car.
In this manner, we flew past the marina, other motorists, my exit. We neared your apartment and the inevitable invitation; I knew your expectation like a physical presence. I wondered if you knew my emptiness from your own echoes, or if you thought them an identical intent reaching out across the void.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
One Long Swim
If you haven't seen any comics from asofterworld.com, I highly recommend you take a quick peek- and then begin revisiting the site, regularly. They're often funny, sad, and a little fed up, all at once- which is probably why I enjoy them, so much.
I've been meaning to take a long swim, for a while, now- but I often find myself frozen in an indecisive purgatory of confusion and uncertainty. However, I have recently hatched a plan to begin a controlled drift to various cities, over the next decade. Currently living in Chicago (the biggest move of my life, to date), I am counting this as my first city. At the end of next summer, I will be moving to St. Louis, MO. It's still fairly safe: not terribly far from family, with a small group of good friends in the area and many more who pass through for family who still live there. But it will move me out of Illinois, for the first time in my life. This is exciting, for me, if in a muted fashion.
Beyond St. Louis, the plan is rather vague. A friend living overseas has expressed interest in having me join him in South America, two summers from now... which is tempting. Almost two years to work on language skills, figure out what avenue to pursue for employment, figure out passports and visas (wholly foreign to someone who's never stepped a foot onto land claimed by another government). A foreign world, peopled by many multitudes of strangers speaking another language and one amazing friend... potential adventures abound.
Other cities I'm considering include: Los Angeles (college friends), Seattle (maybe college friends?), Boston (no one!), somewhere in Hawaii (no one!), and Orlando (a high school friend). Discussing this with a few loved ones, aside from a quick note that a career would no longer be an option (was it ever?), there was a common response that this will serve me well when I finally get around to writing a book. The possibility of such an undertaking is far more overwhelming than the thought of living in ten cities in ten years... but I have often fantasized about being an actual writer (if only for one, brief, publication)... and I find myself considering it a real potential. Who knows what could happen in so many zip codes? How many stories might be hiding behind the door of a new apartment? How many plays lurking? Perhaps a few poems impatiently awaiting the chance to pounce?
That is all just fancy, at this point... but I am moving to St. Louis, next summer. And from there, who knows? It feels good. Not knowing, doubting, being uncertain- these are often unpleasant experiences, wrapped around so many aspects of existence that they become a series of waves crashing around me, slowly ebbing into a background roar, contemplating it's next rush for shore. This uncertainty feels good. This not knowing feels like an infinite potential for action. This doubting, maybe one day knowing for sure.
As I toss around ideas for new cities, I welcome any opinions and explanations the world may have to share. Let me know your thoughts on the matter, if you have any. Happy Monday. :)
Monday, August 5, 2013
Simple (working title)
(K can be either Keith or Kathryn- gender is insignificant.)
FIRST SEQUENCE:
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging Kathy at all)
K-(into a cell phone) I need an ambulance- Please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding- oh my god (pressing against the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips from her ear) I love you, I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (her eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks at the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor. (turns to her, pauses, looks back around) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- she grows quieter, eventually freezes. Both actors should remain motionless for a few moments, and then as lights begin to slowly fade...)
D- (sighs) Damn. I did it, again, didn't I? I tried so hard.
K- It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
(Lights out)
I RESET:
Both actors (not characters) rise a few moments later, and replace the gun, phone, clothing, and program where they were originally found [reference 2nd sequence for set-up]. They then exit, and prepare for the second sequence.
SECOND SEQUENCE:
USC Dawn enters, freezing when she sees the audience. She steadies herself, and completes her entrance.
D- (strides to the dresser, and begins removing clothing) Packing. I hate packing. Too much preparation. If I'm going, I'd rather just go and be gone. There's too much time to think. I guess it's a good sign that I can take my own clothes, this time, right? Last time it was just the scrubs, through the whole visit. Pale green against off-white walls, floors, and ceilings for months on end. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you will be shortly. The only things of color are the pills. Yellow, pink, blue... and they are endless. Depending on who's prescribing them, of course. We'll see how this one goes. Doctor Herr. She seemed okay. What did you think? (hesitant) She said that she can make me better. She seemed so sure, too. She looked me in the eye, handed me a bottle, and said that she could make you go away. She said that I should tell you that. That it might help. Does this scare you as much as it does me? To be honest, I don't know what I'd feel if someone could take a pill and make me go away. I've always thought that it would scare me, to be in your situation... at the whim of someone's frightful delusions, never knowing when you'll have a chance to exist again... Does it hurt to pop in and out of existence, like you do? (brief pause) When I don't see you, do you even know you don't exist? (waits, then shrugs off her disappointment at the silence) Well, you never answered before, I guess there's no reason why you should answer me, now. (pauses- looks up sharply) No, there is a reason. You owe it to me. Yes, yes, that's right. You owe it to me. You know you do. After all that you've stolen from my life, it's only right... I should be able to steal some from yours. An image of your childhoods... your parents... your weddings... your children- (chokes to a stop on 'children') There must be some tiny bit you can give- that would make us even... make this fair before you're gone. That would be fair. (singles out audience member) Don't you think so? (singles out another, as Kathryn enters behind her) Don't you think that's fair?
K- Think what's fair?
D- (startled, but responding quickly) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (looking around the room, seeing only the walls of their bedroom) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. (pause) Have they answered you?
D- No, they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- You're not mad.
D- Do you see them, too?
K- (suppressing a cringe) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (affectionately mocking, quietly desperate) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. None at all. (on the verge of a silent emotion that quickly subsides)
K- But it's not you. You remember... the doctor said-
D- (reciting) ... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... Of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a game between them) You're the sanest, gentlest, most loving person I've ever known.
D- (playing, for her sake) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish creature I've ever found.
K- Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- And when you're gone?
K- And where would I be going?
D- (nods) I'll just finish packing. (pause) Could I have some time alone, before we go?
K- Of course. If you're sure-
D- (curt) Yes. (pause) Thank you. (Kathryn exits, while Dawn continues packing. She eventually takes an interest in the audience, again.) I remember the first time I saw you... so long ago. I remember sitting alone in the front room... and then you were there with me, where the front window was supposed to be... Well, I don't know if it was YOU, you... but another group like you. What is that? Am I too weak-minded to hold a steady delusion? Or is there more to you than silent expectation? Do you have make-believe families and lives that you go to, when I'm not looking? Could I be so creative, that I'd create an entire community in the back of my mind? A whole world? Huh. Funny thought. Well, I don't think it was you, last time, either. How long has it been? Almost two years, I think... well, until last week, anyway. Why do you come? Does my suffering provide you with some pleasure? Does it fulfill some need in your lives? (reasoning) When I was seven, you were there right before mom and dad's last fight- and when I was thirteen, you watched what happened to me without lifting a finger, to help. At nineteen, you saw what I did myself, and were every bit as silent. I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember me begging you for help? I do. Not that you cared. Or did you? Was it you that called for help? Or was it really mere 'luck' that Kathryn came along when she did? How cliche. (long pause) Do you care about me? Did I give you souls, after all? Souls that could give some comfort in addition to cold stares? Is you interest something tantamount to affection... concern... or love, maybe? It isn't, is it? No, of course not. Love me? ... You were at my wedding. That was awkward... instead of loved ones, silent strangers with blank stares... (chilled) I'm still not sure why you were there. There was no misery on that day, except you. (Kathryn enters, without interrupting) But you showed up when I found her with her ex-husband. Was that why? Was it a prelude? Some buildup, a warning of sorrows to come? Do you get some sort of kick out of watching me break? And then last week- She was- She is- She isn't... Nonsense. What would Kathy say, if she could see me now? Kathy... without Kathryn I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't disappear right along with you. Like some lost thought that leaves you wondering if an answer had been right there, within your grasp... if you'd only been able to take hold of it- (long pause... then begins moving toward the audience) Can I touch you? (asking permission- pause- seizing the perceived right) If I really want to, shouldn't I be able to? If you are in my head- if I can make my eyes see what isn't there, why can't my hands be made to feel it? (stretches out her hand- a mixture of dread and reverence)
K- Dawn, please-
D- I just want to touch them. Just once. I deserve to touch them.
K- Don't.
D- Why not? Where's my return, here? I give them life and they do nothing but watch me hurt.
K- They're not real.
D- Of course they are. (pause) No. No? No, no they're not. I made them, they're in my head. I know. I really do. (continues moving toward the audience- desperate and terrified- she touches someone) Aahu- (noise of surprise and delight) Did you see?! I touched him/her! Hahaha.... I did it! I did it, I did, right there- the one with the (describes audience member). I touched him/her... hahahaha... Kathy, Kathy I did it, I made it happen, they let it happen, we, we touched- (to the audience member) Did you feel it? You must've, if I did- hehehe... hahahah.... Oh, oh my, it's, it's like, umm... like having a third arm you didn't know about turn out to have been asleep all this time- Oh, Kathy- this is so much more-
K- Dawn, Dawn- (moves to her) You touched the wall. See? (slides her hand through the air, as if along a solid wall)
D- But I- (terrified, elated, and now thoroughly confused) No, no- I did touch him/her. I did. I did, just a ;moment ago. Right there- (to the audience member) You remember, don't you? Of course, how could you- I mean, it was just-... (back to Kathy) How could think that- a wall? No, no, I did, my fingers remember... (reaches out, again, but Kathy catches her hand)
K- Dawn, Dawn... look at me. (gently guides Dawn's face toward hers) I'm going to get your medicine.
D- Might as well. I obviously can't fix me.
K- It's okay. (pause) It will be okay.
D- Will it? That's good to know. Did you hear her? She said it's going to be okay. Good, good. I wonder when. (inspects her hand, distractedly)
K- (guides Dawn to the bed, brushes the side of her face) I'll be right back.
D- (touches her hand to her cheek, experimentally- turns to the audience member) I did touch you, didn't I? Please give me some response, one way or the other... I can take it, it's okay. Or (gestures after K) it will be. Did I touch you, or didn't I? (whispering) Please answer me, this once. Just a word. That's all I want. I- I know that I touched you, right there. You cannot take that away from me, not now. I've seen you, smelled you for years... and now I've felt you, I've finally, finally touched you. What I would give to- (notices a program- picks it up) to... to... what a strange... Kathryn? (reading) Simple... by Sarah Scott. Why- (looks up at the audience member, from whom she's taken the program, then back to the program) Characters... Dawn... (actor's name). Who's (actor's name)? Kathryn- that's my wife, she's just left... who's (actor's name)? (whispered) No. No. That's not, that's not possible. You're in MY head. Mine. Yes? Yes. Right? I'm real, I made you up in my chemically imbalanced head. I couldn't- I mean, now could I be... NO. You're in my head. I'm not in yours. (loaded pause) Am I? (her eyes glaze a bit, and she turns from the audience, feeling her body out, sorting sense information supporting both possibilities... growing angrily confused, she moves quickly toward the audience member)
K- (enters, finding Dawn about to throw herself into the wall, rushes to catch her) Dawn. Please Dawn. (near panic- it's never been this bad) Please... oh, please, Dawn... Dawn... look at me. Focus. Focus on me. I'm here. Look at me, I'm right here... (holds her cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet)
D- (matter-of-fact, slightly amused) No. You aren't.
K- Shh... (rocking her) I love you. I AM here, Dawn. I will not leave you. Not ever. You and me. It's just you and me. (K's eyes search the walls, vainly seeking the people D insists are there)
D- (babbling) Whoah, I just- I, uh... hahaha... I don't know how- I, found a, um, a program, and it, it had us in it, me and you, I mean- and I don't- I mean, is that possible? No, no, it isn't, we aren't, they aren't... I- I... I'm lost, Kathy. So long, so long I could see them... smell them... and now, now I've touched them, they let me touch them, just in time for this, for this, this charade, this game. It's over, I can't, I can't- I'm lost...
K- No, no you're not I've got you right here. As long as we're together-
D- (sick, gently maniacal giggle) But you're lost, too.
K- What?
D- Lost, complete limbo, without a place, devoid of origin, empty- you're lost, lost... just like me. Everybody... we all are, the doctors, you, me, our daughter- (nearly choking) She's lost, lost... but if we are, then maybe, maybe it's for the best, maybe it's better, better for her... not some name on a page.. but- (turning to audience) What about you? Are you lost? Are you watched? Do you think as much, feel as much, do you HURT as much? How could you, I, I don't, how, why, do you even know? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DO? (violently pushes away from K) I HATE YOU. Damn you, and your twisted, broken creations. (deep breath) Is this it? IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE IN YOU?
K- Dawn... (runs from the room)
D- (turns toward his exit) Kathy, wait- no. Don't leave me alone. Not with them. Not with them. You. You have made me. To suffer- Why? Is there a reason? Some purpose I don't understand, some meaning behind what I, what we go through? Why are your tongues still? Is there some book that holds your answers? Some prayer to earn your words? Is all I am nothing more than your words? No, no- I am more. I am MORE. I AM MORE. (whispers, to herself) I am only painful words. Your. Painful. Words. Can you hurt so much? And still have so much left to share? Or do you feel so little that you must hurt through me to live at all? I am not here for your pain, or, or, your pleasure. But if your words create me, dictate my every action... what is left to me?... death? (half-hearted giggle, pauses, moves to the gun safe in the bottom dresser drawer)... but even that's yours, isn't it? And you know, of course you do. You know it all too well. "To be or not to be..." Is that the question you want me to answer for you? Or is it Kathy who's to die? (holding the gun before her, delicately inspecting) Would you rather I "Put out the light, and then put out the light?" hahaha... pretty good, huh? Nothing like a good, old-fashioned homicide to titillate the fucked up masses. (a thought) How many times has this dance been performed? Is my breakdown popular, well-received? Or no, no- let me guess- will Kathy run in and save me from myself? Are you such fans of the last-minute melodrama? Perhaps I'm tragic, with this self-awareness that carries me to my inevitable, self-inflicted doom?... Or does this dark comedy move you to self-satisfied smirks Do I comment on your own theatrical scene, as you recline and slumber? Which role do I play for you? Which one?! Which fucking role do you want from me? (begins rambling toward incoherency) What role, what role, to play, a stupid play, a stupid play on a stupid, fucking stage. (giggle) Whose stage? Whose head? Mine? Yours? (actor's name)'s? So many, too many stages... too many heads... I can't... I don't... I... (cradles the gun toward her left breast, like a child- looks up) How many times must I die for you? (crying, pulls the trigger- falls)
K- (offstage) Dawn?! Dawn!! (reenters holding a mobile phone) Oh, no baby. (into the phone) Doctor, send help- there's been an accident. (ends call, dials 911)
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging K at all)
K- I need an ambulance- please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding, oh my god- (pressing against the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips from his ear) I love you. I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (Dawn's eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks directly at the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor. (turns to Dawn, pauses- looks back around) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- grows quieter, and eventually freezes. Both actors should remain motionless for a few moments, and then as lights begin to slowly fade...)
D- (sighs) Damn. I did it again, didn't I? I tried so hard.
K- (running a hand through her hair) It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
II RESET:
Actors replace items, as before.
THIRD SEQUENCE:
(USC Dawn enters, freezing when she sees the audience. She steadies herself, and completes her entrance.)
D- (strides to the dresser, begins removing clothing) Packing. I hate packing. Too much preparation. If I'm going, I'd rather just go and be gone. (pause, as she considers her words, the audience, the space- she then heads immediately for the gun- removes it, considers it, glances at the audience) There's too much time to think. (puts the gun to her head and pulls the trigger- no shot- begins inspecting the weapon for damage- keeps gun and incorporates it from now on- every action knows the blind path of her words) I guess it's a good sign that I can take my own clothes this time, right? Last time it was just the scrubs, through the whole visit. Pale green against off-white walls, floors, and ceilings for months on end. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you will be shortly. The only things of color are the pills. Yellow, pink, blue... and they are endless. Depending on who's prescribing them, of course. We'll see how this one goes. Doctor Herr. She seemed okay. What do you think? She said that she can make me better. She seemed so sure, too. She looked me in the eye, handed me a bottle, and said that she could make you go away. She said that I should tell you that. That it might help. Does this scare you as much as it does me? To be honest, I don't know what I'd feel if someone could take a pill and make me go away. I've always thought that it would scare me, to be in your situation... at the whim of someone's frightful delusions, never knowing when you'll have a chance to exist again... Does it hurt to pop in and out of existence, like you do? When I don't see you, do you even know you don't exist? Well, you never answered before. I guess there's no reason why you should answer now. (pauses, looks up sharply- aims the gun at the nearest audience member) No, there is a reason. You owe it to me. Yes, yes, that's right. You owe it to me. You know you do. After all that you've stolen from my life, it's only right... I should be able to steal some from yours. An image of your childhoods... your parents... your weddings... your children- (still chokes to a stop on children) There must be some tiny bit you can give- that would make us even.. make this fair before you're gone. That would be fair. (singles out audience member with gun) Don't you think so? (singles out another, turning the gun on them, as K enters) Don't you think that's fair?
K- Think what's fair?
D- (startled, turns the gun on him- then goes back and forth from audience to K) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (looking around the room, seeing only the bare walls of their bedroom- taking in and considering the gun) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. (pausing) Have they answered you?
D- No, (turns to the audience) they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- (slowly approaching) You're not mad.
D- (glancing over her shoulder) Do you see them, too?
K- (cringing) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (bitter, angry, gesticulating with the gun) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. (puts the gun to her head- K puts out her arms- D pulls the trigger- no shot) None at all. (resignedly points the gun at the audience)
K- But it's not you. You remember... the doctor said that-
D- (reciting)... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... Of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a now nervous game between them, as she attempts to get close enough to disarm her) You're one of the sanest, gentlest, most loving people I've ever known-
D- (returning, without playfulness) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish person I've ever found.
K- Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- (grins, half-heartedly, turns and sees how close K's come- puts the gun between them- warning) And when you're gone?
K- (raises hands, freezing in place) And where would I be going?
D- (nods to herself) I'll just finish packing. (indicates exit with the gun) Could I have some time alone before we go?
K- Of course. (backing quickly, then pausing- takes a small step in her direction, arm outstretched) If you're sure-
D- (curt) Yes. (pauses- now irritated by his presence) Thank you. (K exits. She briefly resumes packing, before returning her attention to the audience.) I remember the first time I saw you... so long ago. I remember sitting alone in the front room... and then you were there with me, where the front window was supposed to be... Well, I don't know if it was YOU, you... but another group like you. What is that? Am I too weak-minded to hold onto a steady delusion? Or is there more to you than silent expectation? Do you have make-believe families and lives that you go to when I'm not looking? Could I be so creative, that I'd create an entire community in the back of my mind? A whole world? Huh. Funny thought. Well, I don't think it was you last time, either. How long has it been? A couple of years, I think... well, until last week, anyway. Why do you come? Does my suffering provide you with some pleasure? Does it fulfill some need in your lives? (reasoning) When I was seven, you were there right before mom and dad's last fight- and when I was thirteen, you watched what happened to me without lifting a finger to help. And at nineteen, you saw what I did myself and were every it as silent. I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember me begging your for help? I do. Not that you cared. Or did you? Was it you that called for help? Or was it really mere "luck" that Kathryn came along when she did? How cliche. (long pause) Do you care about me? Did I give you souls after all, souls that could give some comfort in addition to cold stares? Is your interest something tantamount to affection... concern... or love, maybe? It's not, is it. No, of course not. Love me?... You were at my wedding. That was awkward... instead of loved ones, silent strangers with blank stares... (chilled)... I'm still not sure why you were there- there was no misery on that day, except you. (K enters without interrupting) But you showed up when I found her with her ex-husband. Was that why? Was it a prelude? Some buildup, a warning of sorrows to come? Do you get some sort of kick out of watching me break? And then last week- She was- She is- She isn't... Nonsense. What would Kathy say if she could see me now? Kathy... without Kathy I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't disappear right along with you. Like some lost thought that leaves you wondering if an answer had been right there, within your grasp... if you'd only been able to take hold of it- (long pause... then begins moving toward the audience) Can I touch you? (asking permission, pause, then seizing the perceived right) If I really want to, shouldn't I be able to? If you are in my head- if I can make my eyes see what isn't there, why can't my hands be made to feel it? (she stretches out her hand with some difficult mixture of reverence and hatred)
K- Dawn, please-
D- (points gun in K's direction without altering her attention or path) I just want to touch them, just once. I deserve to touch them.
K- Don't.
D- Why not? Where's my return, here? I give them life and they do nothing but watch me hurt.
K- They're not real.
D- (screams) Of course they are. (pause, fighting words as they come out) No. No? No, no they're not. I made them, they're in my head. I know. I really do. (continues moving toward the audience- desperate, terrified- she successfully touches someone) Aahu- (noises of surprise, dismay) Did you see?! I touched him/her! Hahaha... I did it! I did it, I did, right there- the one with the (describes audience member). I touched him/her... hahahaha... Kathy, Kathy I did it, I made it happen, they let it happen, we, we touched- (to the audience member) Did you feel it? You must've, if I did- hehehe... hahaha... Oh, oh my, it's, it's like, umm... like having a third arm you didn't know about turn out to have been asleep all this time- Oh Kathy- this is so much more-
K- Dawn, Dawn- (moves near her, quickly) You touched the wall. See? (slides her hand through the air as if along a solid wall)
D- But I- (terrified, elated, ever more confused) No, no- I did touch him/her. I did. I did, just a moment ago. Right there- (to the audience member) You remember, don't you? Of course, how could you- I mean, it was just-... (back to K) How could you think that- a wall? No, no, I did, my fingers remember... (aims the gun at an audience member and fires- no shot- aims at herself again, fires- no shot)
K- Dawn, Dawn... look at me. (moves her hand to catch D's attention, without getting too close) I'm going to get your medicine.
D- Might as well. I obviously can't fix me.
K- It's okay. (realizing it's anything but) It will be okay.
D- Will it? That's good to know. Did you hear her? She said it's going to be okay. Good, good. I wonder when.
K- I'll be right back. (exits)
D- (inspects her hand, smells it... touches her cheek to see if it registers... to the audience member she touched) I did touch you, didn't I? Please give me some response, one way or the other... I can take it, it's okay. Or (gestures after K with the gun) it will be. (demanding) Did I touch you, or didn't I? (increasingly short-tempered) Please answer me, this once. Just a word, that's all I want. I- I know that I touched you, right there. You cannot take that away from me, not now. I've seen you, smelled you for years... and now I've felt you, I've finally, finally touched you. What I would give to- (notices a program and picks it up) to... to... what a strange... (giddy, a bit nauseous) Simple... by Sarah Scott. Why- (looks up at the audience member from whom she's taken the program, then back to the program itself) Characters... Dawn... (actor's name). Who's (actor's name)? Kathryn- that's my wife, she's just left... who's (actor's name)? (whispered) No. No. That's not- that's not possible. You're in MY head. Mine. Yes? Yes. Right? I'm real, I made you up in my chemically imbalanced head. I couldn't, I mean, how could I be... No. You're in my head. I'm not in yours. (loaded pause) Am I? (her eyes glaze a bit, and she turns from the audience, feeling her body out, sorting sense information supporting both possibilities... after a few moments, she turns to look at the audience, growing angrily confused until she begins to rush an audience member- K enters, seeing her wife about to throw herself into a wall, rushes to catch her- K throws her off-balance, they briefly fight for the gun, which D keeps. Dawn holds it between them, again, with both hands- now completely distrustful.)
K- Please, Dawn. (near panic) Please... oh, please, Dawn... Dawn, Dawn- look at me. Focus. Focus on me, I'm here. Look at me. I'm right here... (tries to catch Dawn's eyes, hold her focus)
D- (how many times has she said this?) No. You aren't.
K- Shh... (trying to cozy up to her, again) Shh.. I love you. I AM here, Dawn. I will not leave you. Not ever. (D points the gun at K, fires- no shot)
D- (babbling this whole time) Whoah, I just- I, uh... hahaha... I don't know how- I, found a, um, a program, and it, it had us in it, me, and you, I mean- and I don't- I mean, is that possible? No, no, it's not, we're not- they're not... I- I... I'm lost, Kathy. So long, so long I could see them... smell them... and now, now I've touched them, they let me touch them, just in time for this, for this, this charade, this game. It's over, I can't, I can't- I'm lost... (points gun at herself, fires- no shot)
K- No, no you're not- I've got you right here. As long as we're together-
D- (sick, maniacal giggle) But you're lost, too.
K- What?
D- Lost, complete limbo, without a place, devoid of origin, empty- You're lost, lost... just like me. Everybody... we all are, the doctors, you, me, our daughter- (nearly choking) She's lost, lost... but if we are, then maybe, maybe it's for the best, maybe it's better, better for her... not some name on a page... but- (turning on audience) What about you? Are you lost? Are you watched? Do you think as much, feel as much, do you HURT as much? How could you, I, I don't, how, why, do you even know? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DO? I HATE YOU! Damn you and your twisted, broken creations. (deep breath) Is this it? IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE IN YOU?
K- Dawn! (runs from the room)
D- (turning toward K's exit) Kathy, wait!... No... Don't leave me alone. Not with them. Not with them. You. You have made me, to suffer- Why? Is there a reason? Some purpose I don't understand, some meaning behind what I, what we go through? Why are your tongues still? Is there some book that holds your answers? Some prayer to earn your words? Is all I am nothing more than our words? No, no- I am more. I am MORE. I AM MORE. (whispers) I am only painful words. Your. Painful. Words. Can you hurt so much? And still have so much left to share? Or do you feel so little that you must hurt through me to live at all? I am not here for your pain, or, or your pleasure. But if your words create me, dictate my every action... what is left to me?... death? (waves the gun about, fires it at herself a couple times- no shots- bitter and rhetorical)... but even that's yours, isn't it? And you know, of course you do. You know all too well. "To be or not to be..." Is that the question you want me to answer for you? Or is it Kathy who's to die? (turns to attempt to exit- invisible barriers prevent her leaving- she turns violently) Would you rather I "Put out the light, and then put out the light"? hahahah... Pretty good, huh? Nothing like a good, old-fashioned homicide to titillate the fucked up masses. (a thought) How many times has this dance been performed? Is my breakdown popular? Or no, no- let me guess- (hopelessly hopeful) will Kathy run in and save me from myself? Are you such fans of the last-minute melodrama? (she knows this) Perhaps I'm tragic, with this self-awareness that carries me to my inevitable, self-inflicted doom?... Or does this dark comedy move you o self-satisfied smirks? Do I comment on your own theatrical scene, as you recline and slumber? Which role do I play for you? Which one?! Which fucking role do you want from me? What role, what role, to play, a stupid play, a stupid goddamn play on a stupid, fucking stage. (giggle) Whose stage? Whose head? Mine? Yours? (Actor's name)'s? So many, too many stages... too many heads... (begins trying to point the gun at herself for the actual shot, trying to fight it) I can't... I don't... I... (places the gun to her chest, asking softly, without any hysteria) How many times must I die for you? (throws the gun to the ground- shot fires- she falls)
K- Dawn?! Dawn? (enters holding a mobile phone) Oh, no baby. (into the phone) Doctor, send help- there's been an accident. (ends call, dials 911)
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging K at all)
K- I need an ambulance- please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding- oh my god. (trying to find the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips to the floor) I love you. I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (D's eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks to the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor! (turns to D, pauses- looks back around. Now K remembers.) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- K grows quieter, and eventually freezes. Both actors remain motionless for a few moments, and then as the lights begin to fade...)
D- (sobs) Damn. I did it again, didn't I? I tried so hard
K- (holding Dawn's face in her hands, trying to hold her together) It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
III RESET
Actors reset, as before.
FOURTH SEQUENCE
Dawn enters, appearing stricken. After entrance, she immediately attempts to exit again, but invisible barriers prevent her leaving.)
D- Packing. I hate packing. (covers her mouth with her hands, but words continue coming as she looks about desperately. She becomes aware of the booth. She finds a piece of clothing to gag herself, the lines still pouring out of her, and goes to get the gun, threatening the stage manager and board ops, firing repeatedly into the booth from the stage- no shots. When this fails, she then sets out to stack furniture to climb into the booth. During this, K enters on cue, responding to lines even through her gag.)
K- (taken aback) Think what's fair?
D- (she shoots at K from her perch- no shots- she throws the gun at K. Coming down from her perch, she removes her gag, and then rushes K as she speaks) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (attempts to exit when D rushes her, but invisible barriers prevent K's exit, as well) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. Have they answered you?
D- No, (she wrestles K to the ground, hard) they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- (obviously fighting her own lines, at this point) You're not mad.
D- (pauses for a moment) You see them, too?
K- (nodding her head, yes) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (bitter, angry, sad- she fights her way atop K) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. None at all.
K- But it's not you. (torn between understanding the situation, and terror at D's actions) You remember... the doctor said that-
D- (reciting, monotone) ... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a now desperate struggle as they've both spotted the gun beside a pillow on the floor- they go for it, D reaches it first, beats K over the head with it until she's nearly limp, fighting to remain conscious even more than she's fighting D at this point) You're one of the sanest, gentlest, most loving people I've ever known.
D- (without any playfulness, placing the pillow over K face, pushing hard and desperately, even as she begins crying) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish person I've ever found.
K- (struggling weakly for a few moments [take the time], using the last of her breath to cry through the pillow) Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- (openly weeping, as K's struggles stop) And when you're gone? (she pauses, then prompts again, even as she pushes down on the pillow to be sure) And when you're gone? (pause- she removes the pillow, uncovering K's lifeless face, eyes open and unseeing- she falls to kissing K, as she cries. She then dries her face on the same pillow. She considers the pillow, holds it briefly against her face until she realizes that she can't hold it hard enough or long enough to complete the act herself. She stands, attempts to exit, but she isn't allowed. She kneels beside K, caresses her face.) And when you're gone? (stares hard at the booth) And when you're gone? (takes a long moment looking about the audience, then lies down beside K, allowing her eyes to glaze over. She should be beside K, in reverse, with her feet beside K's head- equally unresponsive- both sets of eyes open and unblinking.)
Stage Manager: (from booth, attempting to prompt them) And where would I be going? (pause) And where would I be going? (pause) And where would I be going? (this continues, as lights slowly fade- the final line of "And where would I be going?" spoken in complete darkness)
Houselights up.
Run crew should begin tear down after audience begins exit, including removal of the catatonic actors. If house fails to begin exit within two minutes, clear set anyway.
FIRST SEQUENCE:
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging Kathy at all)
K-(into a cell phone) I need an ambulance- Please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding- oh my god (pressing against the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips from her ear) I love you, I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (her eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks at the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor. (turns to her, pauses, looks back around) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- she grows quieter, eventually freezes. Both actors should remain motionless for a few moments, and then as lights begin to slowly fade...)
D- (sighs) Damn. I did it, again, didn't I? I tried so hard.
K- It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
(Lights out)
I RESET:
Both actors (not characters) rise a few moments later, and replace the gun, phone, clothing, and program where they were originally found [reference 2nd sequence for set-up]. They then exit, and prepare for the second sequence.
SECOND SEQUENCE:
USC Dawn enters, freezing when she sees the audience. She steadies herself, and completes her entrance.
D- (strides to the dresser, and begins removing clothing) Packing. I hate packing. Too much preparation. If I'm going, I'd rather just go and be gone. There's too much time to think. I guess it's a good sign that I can take my own clothes, this time, right? Last time it was just the scrubs, through the whole visit. Pale green against off-white walls, floors, and ceilings for months on end. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you will be shortly. The only things of color are the pills. Yellow, pink, blue... and they are endless. Depending on who's prescribing them, of course. We'll see how this one goes. Doctor Herr. She seemed okay. What did you think? (hesitant) She said that she can make me better. She seemed so sure, too. She looked me in the eye, handed me a bottle, and said that she could make you go away. She said that I should tell you that. That it might help. Does this scare you as much as it does me? To be honest, I don't know what I'd feel if someone could take a pill and make me go away. I've always thought that it would scare me, to be in your situation... at the whim of someone's frightful delusions, never knowing when you'll have a chance to exist again... Does it hurt to pop in and out of existence, like you do? (brief pause) When I don't see you, do you even know you don't exist? (waits, then shrugs off her disappointment at the silence) Well, you never answered before, I guess there's no reason why you should answer me, now. (pauses- looks up sharply) No, there is a reason. You owe it to me. Yes, yes, that's right. You owe it to me. You know you do. After all that you've stolen from my life, it's only right... I should be able to steal some from yours. An image of your childhoods... your parents... your weddings... your children- (chokes to a stop on 'children') There must be some tiny bit you can give- that would make us even... make this fair before you're gone. That would be fair. (singles out audience member) Don't you think so? (singles out another, as Kathryn enters behind her) Don't you think that's fair?
K- Think what's fair?
D- (startled, but responding quickly) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (looking around the room, seeing only the walls of their bedroom) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. (pause) Have they answered you?
D- No, they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- You're not mad.
D- Do you see them, too?
K- (suppressing a cringe) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (affectionately mocking, quietly desperate) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. None at all. (on the verge of a silent emotion that quickly subsides)
K- But it's not you. You remember... the doctor said-
D- (reciting) ... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... Of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a game between them) You're the sanest, gentlest, most loving person I've ever known.
D- (playing, for her sake) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish creature I've ever found.
K- Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- And when you're gone?
K- And where would I be going?
D- (nods) I'll just finish packing. (pause) Could I have some time alone, before we go?
K- Of course. If you're sure-
D- (curt) Yes. (pause) Thank you. (Kathryn exits, while Dawn continues packing. She eventually takes an interest in the audience, again.) I remember the first time I saw you... so long ago. I remember sitting alone in the front room... and then you were there with me, where the front window was supposed to be... Well, I don't know if it was YOU, you... but another group like you. What is that? Am I too weak-minded to hold a steady delusion? Or is there more to you than silent expectation? Do you have make-believe families and lives that you go to, when I'm not looking? Could I be so creative, that I'd create an entire community in the back of my mind? A whole world? Huh. Funny thought. Well, I don't think it was you, last time, either. How long has it been? Almost two years, I think... well, until last week, anyway. Why do you come? Does my suffering provide you with some pleasure? Does it fulfill some need in your lives? (reasoning) When I was seven, you were there right before mom and dad's last fight- and when I was thirteen, you watched what happened to me without lifting a finger, to help. At nineteen, you saw what I did myself, and were every bit as silent. I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember me begging you for help? I do. Not that you cared. Or did you? Was it you that called for help? Or was it really mere 'luck' that Kathryn came along when she did? How cliche. (long pause) Do you care about me? Did I give you souls, after all? Souls that could give some comfort in addition to cold stares? Is you interest something tantamount to affection... concern... or love, maybe? It isn't, is it? No, of course not. Love me? ... You were at my wedding. That was awkward... instead of loved ones, silent strangers with blank stares... (chilled) I'm still not sure why you were there. There was no misery on that day, except you. (Kathryn enters, without interrupting) But you showed up when I found her with her ex-husband. Was that why? Was it a prelude? Some buildup, a warning of sorrows to come? Do you get some sort of kick out of watching me break? And then last week- She was- She is- She isn't... Nonsense. What would Kathy say, if she could see me now? Kathy... without Kathryn I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't disappear right along with you. Like some lost thought that leaves you wondering if an answer had been right there, within your grasp... if you'd only been able to take hold of it- (long pause... then begins moving toward the audience) Can I touch you? (asking permission- pause- seizing the perceived right) If I really want to, shouldn't I be able to? If you are in my head- if I can make my eyes see what isn't there, why can't my hands be made to feel it? (stretches out her hand- a mixture of dread and reverence)
K- Dawn, please-
D- I just want to touch them. Just once. I deserve to touch them.
K- Don't.
D- Why not? Where's my return, here? I give them life and they do nothing but watch me hurt.
K- They're not real.
D- Of course they are. (pause) No. No? No, no they're not. I made them, they're in my head. I know. I really do. (continues moving toward the audience- desperate and terrified- she touches someone) Aahu- (noise of surprise and delight) Did you see?! I touched him/her! Hahaha.... I did it! I did it, I did, right there- the one with the (describes audience member). I touched him/her... hahahaha... Kathy, Kathy I did it, I made it happen, they let it happen, we, we touched- (to the audience member) Did you feel it? You must've, if I did- hehehe... hahahah.... Oh, oh my, it's, it's like, umm... like having a third arm you didn't know about turn out to have been asleep all this time- Oh, Kathy- this is so much more-
K- Dawn, Dawn- (moves to her) You touched the wall. See? (slides her hand through the air, as if along a solid wall)
D- But I- (terrified, elated, and now thoroughly confused) No, no- I did touch him/her. I did. I did, just a ;moment ago. Right there- (to the audience member) You remember, don't you? Of course, how could you- I mean, it was just-... (back to Kathy) How could think that- a wall? No, no, I did, my fingers remember... (reaches out, again, but Kathy catches her hand)
K- Dawn, Dawn... look at me. (gently guides Dawn's face toward hers) I'm going to get your medicine.
D- Might as well. I obviously can't fix me.
K- It's okay. (pause) It will be okay.
D- Will it? That's good to know. Did you hear her? She said it's going to be okay. Good, good. I wonder when. (inspects her hand, distractedly)
K- (guides Dawn to the bed, brushes the side of her face) I'll be right back.
D- (touches her hand to her cheek, experimentally- turns to the audience member) I did touch you, didn't I? Please give me some response, one way or the other... I can take it, it's okay. Or (gestures after K) it will be. Did I touch you, or didn't I? (whispering) Please answer me, this once. Just a word. That's all I want. I- I know that I touched you, right there. You cannot take that away from me, not now. I've seen you, smelled you for years... and now I've felt you, I've finally, finally touched you. What I would give to- (notices a program- picks it up) to... to... what a strange... Kathryn? (reading) Simple... by Sarah Scott. Why- (looks up at the audience member, from whom she's taken the program, then back to the program) Characters... Dawn... (actor's name). Who's (actor's name)? Kathryn- that's my wife, she's just left... who's (actor's name)? (whispered) No. No. That's not, that's not possible. You're in MY head. Mine. Yes? Yes. Right? I'm real, I made you up in my chemically imbalanced head. I couldn't- I mean, now could I be... NO. You're in my head. I'm not in yours. (loaded pause) Am I? (her eyes glaze a bit, and she turns from the audience, feeling her body out, sorting sense information supporting both possibilities... growing angrily confused, she moves quickly toward the audience member)
K- (enters, finding Dawn about to throw herself into the wall, rushes to catch her) Dawn. Please Dawn. (near panic- it's never been this bad) Please... oh, please, Dawn... Dawn... look at me. Focus. Focus on me. I'm here. Look at me, I'm right here... (holds her cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet)
D- (matter-of-fact, slightly amused) No. You aren't.
K- Shh... (rocking her) I love you. I AM here, Dawn. I will not leave you. Not ever. You and me. It's just you and me. (K's eyes search the walls, vainly seeking the people D insists are there)
D- (babbling) Whoah, I just- I, uh... hahaha... I don't know how- I, found a, um, a program, and it, it had us in it, me and you, I mean- and I don't- I mean, is that possible? No, no, it isn't, we aren't, they aren't... I- I... I'm lost, Kathy. So long, so long I could see them... smell them... and now, now I've touched them, they let me touch them, just in time for this, for this, this charade, this game. It's over, I can't, I can't- I'm lost...
K- No, no you're not I've got you right here. As long as we're together-
D- (sick, gently maniacal giggle) But you're lost, too.
K- What?
D- Lost, complete limbo, without a place, devoid of origin, empty- you're lost, lost... just like me. Everybody... we all are, the doctors, you, me, our daughter- (nearly choking) She's lost, lost... but if we are, then maybe, maybe it's for the best, maybe it's better, better for her... not some name on a page.. but- (turning to audience) What about you? Are you lost? Are you watched? Do you think as much, feel as much, do you HURT as much? How could you, I, I don't, how, why, do you even know? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DO? (violently pushes away from K) I HATE YOU. Damn you, and your twisted, broken creations. (deep breath) Is this it? IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE IN YOU?
K- Dawn... (runs from the room)
D- (turns toward his exit) Kathy, wait- no. Don't leave me alone. Not with them. Not with them. You. You have made me. To suffer- Why? Is there a reason? Some purpose I don't understand, some meaning behind what I, what we go through? Why are your tongues still? Is there some book that holds your answers? Some prayer to earn your words? Is all I am nothing more than your words? No, no- I am more. I am MORE. I AM MORE. (whispers, to herself) I am only painful words. Your. Painful. Words. Can you hurt so much? And still have so much left to share? Or do you feel so little that you must hurt through me to live at all? I am not here for your pain, or, or, your pleasure. But if your words create me, dictate my every action... what is left to me?... death? (half-hearted giggle, pauses, moves to the gun safe in the bottom dresser drawer)... but even that's yours, isn't it? And you know, of course you do. You know it all too well. "To be or not to be..." Is that the question you want me to answer for you? Or is it Kathy who's to die? (holding the gun before her, delicately inspecting) Would you rather I "Put out the light, and then put out the light?" hahaha... pretty good, huh? Nothing like a good, old-fashioned homicide to titillate the fucked up masses. (a thought) How many times has this dance been performed? Is my breakdown popular, well-received? Or no, no- let me guess- will Kathy run in and save me from myself? Are you such fans of the last-minute melodrama? Perhaps I'm tragic, with this self-awareness that carries me to my inevitable, self-inflicted doom?... Or does this dark comedy move you to self-satisfied smirks Do I comment on your own theatrical scene, as you recline and slumber? Which role do I play for you? Which one?! Which fucking role do you want from me? (begins rambling toward incoherency) What role, what role, to play, a stupid play, a stupid play on a stupid, fucking stage. (giggle) Whose stage? Whose head? Mine? Yours? (actor's name)'s? So many, too many stages... too many heads... I can't... I don't... I... (cradles the gun toward her left breast, like a child- looks up) How many times must I die for you? (crying, pulls the trigger- falls)
K- (offstage) Dawn?! Dawn!! (reenters holding a mobile phone) Oh, no baby. (into the phone) Doctor, send help- there's been an accident. (ends call, dials 911)
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging K at all)
K- I need an ambulance- please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding, oh my god- (pressing against the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips from his ear) I love you. I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (Dawn's eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks directly at the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor. (turns to Dawn, pauses- looks back around) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- grows quieter, and eventually freezes. Both actors should remain motionless for a few moments, and then as lights begin to slowly fade...)
D- (sighs) Damn. I did it again, didn't I? I tried so hard.
K- (running a hand through her hair) It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
II RESET:
Actors replace items, as before.
THIRD SEQUENCE:
(USC Dawn enters, freezing when she sees the audience. She steadies herself, and completes her entrance.)
D- (strides to the dresser, begins removing clothing) Packing. I hate packing. Too much preparation. If I'm going, I'd rather just go and be gone. (pause, as she considers her words, the audience, the space- she then heads immediately for the gun- removes it, considers it, glances at the audience) There's too much time to think. (puts the gun to her head and pulls the trigger- no shot- begins inspecting the weapon for damage- keeps gun and incorporates it from now on- every action knows the blind path of her words) I guess it's a good sign that I can take my own clothes this time, right? Last time it was just the scrubs, through the whole visit. Pale green against off-white walls, floors, and ceilings for months on end. If you aren't crazy to begin with, you will be shortly. The only things of color are the pills. Yellow, pink, blue... and they are endless. Depending on who's prescribing them, of course. We'll see how this one goes. Doctor Herr. She seemed okay. What do you think? She said that she can make me better. She seemed so sure, too. She looked me in the eye, handed me a bottle, and said that she could make you go away. She said that I should tell you that. That it might help. Does this scare you as much as it does me? To be honest, I don't know what I'd feel if someone could take a pill and make me go away. I've always thought that it would scare me, to be in your situation... at the whim of someone's frightful delusions, never knowing when you'll have a chance to exist again... Does it hurt to pop in and out of existence, like you do? When I don't see you, do you even know you don't exist? Well, you never answered before. I guess there's no reason why you should answer now. (pauses, looks up sharply- aims the gun at the nearest audience member) No, there is a reason. You owe it to me. Yes, yes, that's right. You owe it to me. You know you do. After all that you've stolen from my life, it's only right... I should be able to steal some from yours. An image of your childhoods... your parents... your weddings... your children- (still chokes to a stop on children) There must be some tiny bit you can give- that would make us even.. make this fair before you're gone. That would be fair. (singles out audience member with gun) Don't you think so? (singles out another, turning the gun on them, as K enters) Don't you think that's fair?
K- Think what's fair?
D- (startled, turns the gun on him- then goes back and forth from audience to K) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (looking around the room, seeing only the bare walls of their bedroom- taking in and considering the gun) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. (pausing) Have they answered you?
D- No, (turns to the audience) they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- (slowly approaching) You're not mad.
D- (glancing over her shoulder) Do you see them, too?
K- (cringing) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (bitter, angry, gesticulating with the gun) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. (puts the gun to her head- K puts out her arms- D pulls the trigger- no shot) None at all. (resignedly points the gun at the audience)
K- But it's not you. You remember... the doctor said that-
D- (reciting)... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... Of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a now nervous game between them, as she attempts to get close enough to disarm her) You're one of the sanest, gentlest, most loving people I've ever known-
D- (returning, without playfulness) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish person I've ever found.
K- Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- (grins, half-heartedly, turns and sees how close K's come- puts the gun between them- warning) And when you're gone?
K- (raises hands, freezing in place) And where would I be going?
D- (nods to herself) I'll just finish packing. (indicates exit with the gun) Could I have some time alone before we go?
K- Of course. (backing quickly, then pausing- takes a small step in her direction, arm outstretched) If you're sure-
D- (curt) Yes. (pauses- now irritated by his presence) Thank you. (K exits. She briefly resumes packing, before returning her attention to the audience.) I remember the first time I saw you... so long ago. I remember sitting alone in the front room... and then you were there with me, where the front window was supposed to be... Well, I don't know if it was YOU, you... but another group like you. What is that? Am I too weak-minded to hold onto a steady delusion? Or is there more to you than silent expectation? Do you have make-believe families and lives that you go to when I'm not looking? Could I be so creative, that I'd create an entire community in the back of my mind? A whole world? Huh. Funny thought. Well, I don't think it was you last time, either. How long has it been? A couple of years, I think... well, until last week, anyway. Why do you come? Does my suffering provide you with some pleasure? Does it fulfill some need in your lives? (reasoning) When I was seven, you were there right before mom and dad's last fight- and when I was thirteen, you watched what happened to me without lifting a finger to help. And at nineteen, you saw what I did myself and were every it as silent. I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember me begging your for help? I do. Not that you cared. Or did you? Was it you that called for help? Or was it really mere "luck" that Kathryn came along when she did? How cliche. (long pause) Do you care about me? Did I give you souls after all, souls that could give some comfort in addition to cold stares? Is your interest something tantamount to affection... concern... or love, maybe? It's not, is it. No, of course not. Love me?... You were at my wedding. That was awkward... instead of loved ones, silent strangers with blank stares... (chilled)... I'm still not sure why you were there- there was no misery on that day, except you. (K enters without interrupting) But you showed up when I found her with her ex-husband. Was that why? Was it a prelude? Some buildup, a warning of sorrows to come? Do you get some sort of kick out of watching me break? And then last week- She was- She is- She isn't... Nonsense. What would Kathy say if she could see me now? Kathy... without Kathy I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't disappear right along with you. Like some lost thought that leaves you wondering if an answer had been right there, within your grasp... if you'd only been able to take hold of it- (long pause... then begins moving toward the audience) Can I touch you? (asking permission, pause, then seizing the perceived right) If I really want to, shouldn't I be able to? If you are in my head- if I can make my eyes see what isn't there, why can't my hands be made to feel it? (she stretches out her hand with some difficult mixture of reverence and hatred)
K- Dawn, please-
D- (points gun in K's direction without altering her attention or path) I just want to touch them, just once. I deserve to touch them.
K- Don't.
D- Why not? Where's my return, here? I give them life and they do nothing but watch me hurt.
K- They're not real.
D- (screams) Of course they are. (pause, fighting words as they come out) No. No? No, no they're not. I made them, they're in my head. I know. I really do. (continues moving toward the audience- desperate, terrified- she successfully touches someone) Aahu- (noises of surprise, dismay) Did you see?! I touched him/her! Hahaha... I did it! I did it, I did, right there- the one with the (describes audience member). I touched him/her... hahahaha... Kathy, Kathy I did it, I made it happen, they let it happen, we, we touched- (to the audience member) Did you feel it? You must've, if I did- hehehe... hahaha... Oh, oh my, it's, it's like, umm... like having a third arm you didn't know about turn out to have been asleep all this time- Oh Kathy- this is so much more-
K- Dawn, Dawn- (moves near her, quickly) You touched the wall. See? (slides her hand through the air as if along a solid wall)
D- But I- (terrified, elated, ever more confused) No, no- I did touch him/her. I did. I did, just a moment ago. Right there- (to the audience member) You remember, don't you? Of course, how could you- I mean, it was just-... (back to K) How could you think that- a wall? No, no, I did, my fingers remember... (aims the gun at an audience member and fires- no shot- aims at herself again, fires- no shot)
K- Dawn, Dawn... look at me. (moves her hand to catch D's attention, without getting too close) I'm going to get your medicine.
D- Might as well. I obviously can't fix me.
K- It's okay. (realizing it's anything but) It will be okay.
D- Will it? That's good to know. Did you hear her? She said it's going to be okay. Good, good. I wonder when.
K- I'll be right back. (exits)
D- (inspects her hand, smells it... touches her cheek to see if it registers... to the audience member she touched) I did touch you, didn't I? Please give me some response, one way or the other... I can take it, it's okay. Or (gestures after K with the gun) it will be. (demanding) Did I touch you, or didn't I? (increasingly short-tempered) Please answer me, this once. Just a word, that's all I want. I- I know that I touched you, right there. You cannot take that away from me, not now. I've seen you, smelled you for years... and now I've felt you, I've finally, finally touched you. What I would give to- (notices a program and picks it up) to... to... what a strange... (giddy, a bit nauseous) Simple... by Sarah Scott. Why- (looks up at the audience member from whom she's taken the program, then back to the program itself) Characters... Dawn... (actor's name). Who's (actor's name)? Kathryn- that's my wife, she's just left... who's (actor's name)? (whispered) No. No. That's not- that's not possible. You're in MY head. Mine. Yes? Yes. Right? I'm real, I made you up in my chemically imbalanced head. I couldn't, I mean, how could I be... No. You're in my head. I'm not in yours. (loaded pause) Am I? (her eyes glaze a bit, and she turns from the audience, feeling her body out, sorting sense information supporting both possibilities... after a few moments, she turns to look at the audience, growing angrily confused until she begins to rush an audience member- K enters, seeing her wife about to throw herself into a wall, rushes to catch her- K throws her off-balance, they briefly fight for the gun, which D keeps. Dawn holds it between them, again, with both hands- now completely distrustful.)
K- Please, Dawn. (near panic) Please... oh, please, Dawn... Dawn, Dawn- look at me. Focus. Focus on me, I'm here. Look at me. I'm right here... (tries to catch Dawn's eyes, hold her focus)
D- (how many times has she said this?) No. You aren't.
K- Shh... (trying to cozy up to her, again) Shh.. I love you. I AM here, Dawn. I will not leave you. Not ever. (D points the gun at K, fires- no shot)
D- (babbling this whole time) Whoah, I just- I, uh... hahaha... I don't know how- I, found a, um, a program, and it, it had us in it, me, and you, I mean- and I don't- I mean, is that possible? No, no, it's not, we're not- they're not... I- I... I'm lost, Kathy. So long, so long I could see them... smell them... and now, now I've touched them, they let me touch them, just in time for this, for this, this charade, this game. It's over, I can't, I can't- I'm lost... (points gun at herself, fires- no shot)
K- No, no you're not- I've got you right here. As long as we're together-
D- (sick, maniacal giggle) But you're lost, too.
K- What?
D- Lost, complete limbo, without a place, devoid of origin, empty- You're lost, lost... just like me. Everybody... we all are, the doctors, you, me, our daughter- (nearly choking) She's lost, lost... but if we are, then maybe, maybe it's for the best, maybe it's better, better for her... not some name on a page... but- (turning on audience) What about you? Are you lost? Are you watched? Do you think as much, feel as much, do you HURT as much? How could you, I, I don't, how, why, do you even know? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DO? I HATE YOU! Damn you and your twisted, broken creations. (deep breath) Is this it? IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE IN YOU?
K- Dawn! (runs from the room)
D- (turning toward K's exit) Kathy, wait!... No... Don't leave me alone. Not with them. Not with them. You. You have made me, to suffer- Why? Is there a reason? Some purpose I don't understand, some meaning behind what I, what we go through? Why are your tongues still? Is there some book that holds your answers? Some prayer to earn your words? Is all I am nothing more than our words? No, no- I am more. I am MORE. I AM MORE. (whispers) I am only painful words. Your. Painful. Words. Can you hurt so much? And still have so much left to share? Or do you feel so little that you must hurt through me to live at all? I am not here for your pain, or, or your pleasure. But if your words create me, dictate my every action... what is left to me?... death? (waves the gun about, fires it at herself a couple times- no shots- bitter and rhetorical)... but even that's yours, isn't it? And you know, of course you do. You know all too well. "To be or not to be..." Is that the question you want me to answer for you? Or is it Kathy who's to die? (turns to attempt to exit- invisible barriers prevent her leaving- she turns violently) Would you rather I "Put out the light, and then put out the light"? hahahah... Pretty good, huh? Nothing like a good, old-fashioned homicide to titillate the fucked up masses. (a thought) How many times has this dance been performed? Is my breakdown popular? Or no, no- let me guess- (hopelessly hopeful) will Kathy run in and save me from myself? Are you such fans of the last-minute melodrama? (she knows this) Perhaps I'm tragic, with this self-awareness that carries me to my inevitable, self-inflicted doom?... Or does this dark comedy move you o self-satisfied smirks? Do I comment on your own theatrical scene, as you recline and slumber? Which role do I play for you? Which one?! Which fucking role do you want from me? What role, what role, to play, a stupid play, a stupid goddamn play on a stupid, fucking stage. (giggle) Whose stage? Whose head? Mine? Yours? (Actor's name)'s? So many, too many stages... too many heads... (begins trying to point the gun at herself for the actual shot, trying to fight it) I can't... I don't... I... (places the gun to her chest, asking softly, without any hysteria) How many times must I die for you? (throws the gun to the ground- shot fires- she falls)
K- Dawn?! Dawn? (enters holding a mobile phone) Oh, no baby. (into the phone) Doctor, send help- there's been an accident. (ends call, dials 911)
D- I tried not to, Kathy... I tried... (she mutters softly, slower and slower, without acknowledging K at all)
K- I need an ambulance- please. My wife, she's, uh, she's had an accident, she's bleeding- oh my god. (trying to find the wound) Please- please- (the phone slips to the floor) I love you. I'm right here, Dawn. Right here. Dawn? (D's eyes close, she goes limp) Dawn, Dawn, look at me. (grabs for the phone) I need an ambulance! (looks to the audience) One of you, get a fucking doctor! (turns to D, pauses- looks back around. Now K remembers.) Fuck. (turns her attention to Dawn- K grows quieter, and eventually freezes. Both actors remain motionless for a few moments, and then as the lights begin to fade...)
D- (sobs) Damn. I did it again, didn't I? I tried so hard
K- (holding Dawn's face in her hands, trying to hold her together) It can't be helped. We're only so many words.
III RESET
Actors reset, as before.
FOURTH SEQUENCE
Dawn enters, appearing stricken. After entrance, she immediately attempts to exit again, but invisible barriers prevent her leaving.)
D- Packing. I hate packing. (covers her mouth with her hands, but words continue coming as she looks about desperately. She becomes aware of the booth. She finds a piece of clothing to gag herself, the lines still pouring out of her, and goes to get the gun, threatening the stage manager and board ops, firing repeatedly into the booth from the stage- no shots. When this fails, she then sets out to stack furniture to climb into the booth. During this, K enters on cue, responding to lines even through her gag.)
K- (taken aback) Think what's fair?
D- (she shoots at K from her perch- no shots- she throws the gun at K. Coming down from her perch, she removes her gag, and then rushes K as she speaks) That they should share their lives with me. As I've been forced to share with them.
K- (attempts to exit when D rushes her, but invisible barriers prevent K's exit, as well) Yes, that seems perfectly fair. Have they answered you?
D- No, (she wrestles K to the ground, hard) they never want to interact with me. No gestures, no words... not a goddamn thing. They're content to stare me down until I'm too mad to-
K- (obviously fighting her own lines, at this point) You're not mad.
D- (pauses for a moment) You see them, too?
K- (nodding her head, yes) No, I-
D- No, no, no... (bitter, angry, sad- she fights her way atop K) I only see masses of silent people watching me as if I were some character upon a stage. No crazy here. None at all.
K- But it's not you. (torn between understanding the situation, and terror at D's actions) You remember... the doctor said that-
D- (reciting, monotone) ... seeing what isn't there is a flaw in my gray matter, not a reflection of my person and reason... of course, of course.
K- You are not crazy. (a now desperate struggle as they've both spotted the gun beside a pillow on the floor- they go for it, D reaches it first, beats K over the head with it until she's nearly limp, fighting to remain conscious even more than she's fighting D at this point) You're one of the sanest, gentlest, most loving people I've ever known.
D- (without any playfulness, placing the pillow over K face, pushing hard and desperately, even as she begins crying) And you are the craziest, meanest, most selfish person I've ever found.
K- (struggling weakly for a few moments [take the time], using the last of her breath to cry through the pillow) Beside me, you must be perfect.
D- (openly weeping, as K's struggles stop) And when you're gone? (she pauses, then prompts again, even as she pushes down on the pillow to be sure) And when you're gone? (pause- she removes the pillow, uncovering K's lifeless face, eyes open and unseeing- she falls to kissing K, as she cries. She then dries her face on the same pillow. She considers the pillow, holds it briefly against her face until she realizes that she can't hold it hard enough or long enough to complete the act herself. She stands, attempts to exit, but she isn't allowed. She kneels beside K, caresses her face.) And when you're gone? (stares hard at the booth) And when you're gone? (takes a long moment looking about the audience, then lies down beside K, allowing her eyes to glaze over. She should be beside K, in reverse, with her feet beside K's head- equally unresponsive- both sets of eyes open and unblinking.)
Stage Manager: (from booth, attempting to prompt them) And where would I be going? (pause) And where would I be going? (pause) And where would I be going? (this continues, as lights slowly fade- the final line of "And where would I be going?" spoken in complete darkness)
Houselights up.
Run crew should begin tear down after audience begins exit, including removal of the catatonic actors. If house fails to begin exit within two minutes, clear set anyway.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Suicides R Us
(This is another skit written for the improv group I was involve with, in school. The performers were male, so the dialogue is written in the masculine- however, the gender of the characters was originally imagined as being female, and ultimately unimportant. Alter he/sir to she/ma'am. Only the gender of the author was intended to remain fixed.)
1: Hello?
2: Greetings and welcome to Suicides R Us. My name is Two, UpRight. How may I kill you, today?
1: Well, I-
2: We're running a special on copycat celebrity suicides this week, with an additional ten percent off the mystery favorite of the day.
1: What if I-
2: We're also running a couples' discount for-
1: I'm not sure I want to do this, quite yet.
2: Three! We need a full work-up on this one!
3: Full work up, yes sir. If you'll just step over here, sir. Now, my name is Three, DownLeft. Can I please get your full name, for our records.
1: One, OnStage.
3: OnStage, can you spell that for me, please?
1: O-N-S-T-A-G-E, OnStage.
3: 's not a spelling bee, but thank you for repeating it.
1: I'm sorry, I-
3: Now, Mr. OnStage, would you be so kind as to tell me your date of birth?
1: October 2nd, 2004.
3: Funny. That's my birthday.
1: Well, that is when she finished the skit, so I'd imagine that all our birthdays are on the second of October.
3: Really? Mr. UpRight!
2: Yes, Three?
3: When's your birthday?
2: October 2nd, of course. Really man, do you think that we existed before she wrote us down?
3: Well, there's no reason to get uptight about it.
2: UpRight, you fool. Anyone can see that I am UpRight, and you DownLeft.
3: So what's his deal?
1: I'm OnStage.
3: Oh.
2: Quite right-
3: So the new kid, Four, BackStage-
2: If you don't mind, I'm sure this gentleman would like to decide whether to live or die, sometime today.
3: Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.
1: 's quite alright.
3: Now then, what recent events brought you to us, today?
1: Funny you should ask because, to be honest, I'm not sure there were recent events.
3: How's that?
1; Well, before I walk on in the beginning, I don't even exist as a person-
3: Then why are you here?
1: She wrote me entering.
3: Yes, but if you have no recent events that would bring you here, then why come at all?
1: Well, I only exist within the confines of her text. If I was to refuse to enter, I would never exist.
3: But we deal in death, here-
2: Suicides, DownLeft.
3: My apologies, Mr. UpRight. Suicides, specifically. Why bother to walk onstage at all, if you've been written to die?
1: Well, I don't know how the script ends. I'm rather hoping she decided to give me a happy ending.
(2 and 3 laugh)
3: A happy ending? Have you met our author?
1: Well-
2: The best ending you can hope for is a painless one, Mr. OnStage.
1: Now wait a minute- do you two know something more about the script than I do?
3: Well, Two? Do you have any answers?
2: Sorry- she didn't write answers into any of us.
1: Maybe there'll be more characters, shortly.
2: A "deus ex machina" set up, you mean? She doesn't deal in foreshadowed salvations, I'm afraid.
1: But I just foreshadowed!
3: No, actually, you "wished for," making a direct reference to a later arrival you would like to see. Foreshadowing, on the other hand, is a very subtle, crafty technique employed by authors, not characters, to hint at a later development through indirect character statements and onstage settings.
1: Oh.
2: Well done, Three.
3: Thank you, sir.
1: So I'm doomed?
3: 'fraid so, sir.
1: But when?
3: Whenever you wish.
1: How?
2: In whatever manner you choose.
1: Why would she write me this way?
3: These are all very good questions, sir- healthy, natural questions that anyone would ask in such a situation.
1: What's the point of any of this if she's only written me to die? Why even bother?
3: That's where we come in, sir.
2: Quite right.
1: You both seem awfully chipper about all of this.
3: We've found that maintaining a positive attitude at work sets a strong contrast for our clients.
2: Especially those who aren't sure, yet.
1: Oh.
3: So which method do you prefer, sir?
1: Method?
3: Of suicide. We have a rather impressive variety ranging from quiet slumbers to bloody, ghastly horrors-
1: Do people really opt for the horrors?
3: Some feel that if they can't make a mark living, they can at least leave a mess dying.
1: 's a certain logic to that, isn't there?
3: Of a sort. Shall I list the horrors we,re offering at the moment, then? Keep in mind that if you don't like anything we have on-hand, we also take special orders to be fulfilled upon arrival of the material, provided you leave a deposit and arrange for a payment plan. However, if you were to find a reason to live before the set date, we would have to keep your deposit.
1: How often does that happen?
3: What would you say, Two? Two or three time a year?
2: Hasn't happened at all, this year. We've had a few incompletes, but no one's backed out entirely.
1: I see.
3: So is there anything you'd like to see, sir?
1: What are the quieter methods? If you don't mind.
3: Of course, sir. Our number one request, especially among the ladies, is prescription sleeping pills- pop forty to sixty of these puppies and you'll be free in no time.
1: Free from what, exactly?
3: Your wasted life, of course.
1: Was it wasted?
3: Well, you are here, sir.
1: Ah.
3: Our second category is gases, sir.
1: Gases, you say?
3: Yes, sir. We offer an interesting assortment of gases from the natural gases in old-style ovens to the carbon monoxide produced in defective heating units, to basic helium used for balloons. Between you and me, the gases are generally more reliable than the pills.
1: Really?
3: Oh, certainly. Tried the pills myself, once. After you've decided to die, there's no sense of failure more complete than waking up.
1: You woke up?!?! They're sleeping pills, how-
3: They aggravated my ulcer.
1: Ah. Of course.
3: Would you like to try the gases, then?
1: I'm still not sure I want to-
3: Sir, your life is obviously no longer worth living. In fact, given the shallow brevity of your existence, I would daresay it was never worth living, and that our author did in fact waste her own precious time bringing you into this world.
1: You'd better watch yourself, sir. My life may not be much, as it is, but as a supporting character, your entire existence is based on my desire to end this life you so flippantly denigrate.
2: He's got you on that one, Three.
3: When did we establish that he was the main character?
1: I am the only character allowed to roam the stage. And it's my line that breaks the stasis, thus initiating the entirety of our existence.
2: Ruffles the feathers, doesn't it, Three?
3: A bit, sir.
1: Come now, it's nothing to be upset about. Apparently being the main character requires an indecisive death wish, which is not the most becoming characteristic a person like myself cares to sport.
2: True. Very well, then, Mr. OnStage, you are indeed the main character.
3: Congratulations. Are you ready to die, now?
1: Yes, I believe that I am.
3: And have you decided upon a method, or would you-
1: I'd like a gun, please.
3: We have another minor horror, Mr. UpRight. Do you have a preference as to which type of gun you'd like, sir?
1: I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the different types. Could you-
3: Would you like an open casket funeral?
1: Oh. I hadn't really thought of that.
3: And now that you have?
1: I'd rather be cremated.
3: Very good, sir. For those concerned with the appearance of their corpse, we often recommend a smaller weapon, despite the increased possibility of failure. But in your case, we have several rather large guns that cannot help but succeed.
1: Does the size of the weapon increase the pain?
3: Honestly, we aren't quite sure. The down side to such an effective weapon is that we never get client feedback.
1: Of course. Well, I suppose the largest will do nicely, then.
3: Very good, sir. Shall we set the rental for an hour, or do you believe you'll need some time for contemplation?
1: Just a few minutes should be quite enough, I think.
3: We only rent in hourly increments, sir. That often ensures that everyone has the time to get home and settled, before they go.
1: Home? Aren't there rooms in the back for this sort of thing?
3: You want to do it here, you say?
1: Of course. I live alone- I'd rather not die so, if it can be helped.
3: I'm afraid we do not offer companionship, sir.
1: Can't I pay extra?
3: Mr. UpRight, Mr. OnStage wants to add a hand-holder at extra charge- can we do that?
2: I'm sorry, Mr. OnStage, but that's against our policy.
3: Sorry, sir. Do you have a friend you can call?
1: If I had one of those, I wouldn't be standing here discussing the details of my death with a complete stranger now, would I?
3: I suppose not, sir.
2: She really did write you in a rather sickly way, didn't she?
1: It would seem so.
2: Worse comes to worst, Three and I have each other, at least. Some poorly developed, previously existing, if un-experienced relationship to anchor us in the world-
1: She did write several good friends into my background, I think. But she must've forgotten to endow me with the strength and will necessary for either trust or intimacy.
3: She forgot. I'm sure that's it, isn't it, Two?
2: Oh, of course. She forgets a lot, that one.
1: Maybe she'll forget to have me kill myself.
3: Wouldn't be very therapeutic for her, now, would it? Or profitable for us? Or even entertaining for those watching? You know, you might try thinking a little beyond yourself, on occasion.
2: Three's got a point, you know.
1: Are these my why's? One, OnStage is written to kill himself for the benefit of an author who brought him into such a miserable existence in the first place, a couple of two-dimensional characters who would never have existed if not to aid this pointless exercise, and a group of people he cannot even directly acknowledge, and yet for whom his death is to provide a few laughs before they return to their own skits?
3: Yeah. Seems that way.
1: Fine. I'll bet she doesn't even have that many meanings.
3: (hands weapon over) Here you go, sir: one sawed-off shotgun for the next hour. Have a pleasant death, sir. And do come back, if anything should go wrong.
1: Most kind.
2: Best of luck, sir.
1: Good night, gentlemen.
(1 exits with the weapon- not to be fired in performance)
3: Hey, Two.
2: Yes, Three?
3: How long do you think we'll have to sit here before she gets sick of us, now that she's destroyed her main character?
2: Nervous?
3: No. Well, maybe a little. Does disappearing hurt, do you think?
2: No more than this, I'd imagine.
3: Do you think we'll know?
2: Not exactly. I imagine we'll just dissolve into our actors without even realizing it.
3: Why won't they keep us?
2: Would you want two immobilized catalysts running your life?
3: No, I suppose not.
2: Then, there you go.
(pause)
3: So, do you think Four's bitter about being BackStage?
4: (from backstage) I thank my lucky stars, and She-That-Wrote-Me, every second of my nonexistent existence for being spared a trip through your hall of horrors, you two-dimensional hacks.
2: There you have it.
3: Lucky bastard. Well, it's been an existence, Two.
2: So it has. Better luck, next time, Three.
3: And to you.
1: Hello?
2: Greetings and welcome to Suicides R Us. My name is Two, UpRight. How may I kill you, today?
1: Well, I-
2: We're running a special on copycat celebrity suicides this week, with an additional ten percent off the mystery favorite of the day.
1: What if I-
2: We're also running a couples' discount for-
1: I'm not sure I want to do this, quite yet.
2: Three! We need a full work-up on this one!
3: Full work up, yes sir. If you'll just step over here, sir. Now, my name is Three, DownLeft. Can I please get your full name, for our records.
1: One, OnStage.
3: OnStage, can you spell that for me, please?
1: O-N-S-T-A-G-E, OnStage.
3: 's not a spelling bee, but thank you for repeating it.
1: I'm sorry, I-
3: Now, Mr. OnStage, would you be so kind as to tell me your date of birth?
1: October 2nd, 2004.
3: Funny. That's my birthday.
1: Well, that is when she finished the skit, so I'd imagine that all our birthdays are on the second of October.
3: Really? Mr. UpRight!
2: Yes, Three?
3: When's your birthday?
2: October 2nd, of course. Really man, do you think that we existed before she wrote us down?
3: Well, there's no reason to get uptight about it.
2: UpRight, you fool. Anyone can see that I am UpRight, and you DownLeft.
3: So what's his deal?
1: I'm OnStage.
3: Oh.
2: Quite right-
3: So the new kid, Four, BackStage-
2: If you don't mind, I'm sure this gentleman would like to decide whether to live or die, sometime today.
3: Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.
1: 's quite alright.
3: Now then, what recent events brought you to us, today?
1: Funny you should ask because, to be honest, I'm not sure there were recent events.
3: How's that?
1; Well, before I walk on in the beginning, I don't even exist as a person-
3: Then why are you here?
1: She wrote me entering.
3: Yes, but if you have no recent events that would bring you here, then why come at all?
1: Well, I only exist within the confines of her text. If I was to refuse to enter, I would never exist.
3: But we deal in death, here-
2: Suicides, DownLeft.
3: My apologies, Mr. UpRight. Suicides, specifically. Why bother to walk onstage at all, if you've been written to die?
1: Well, I don't know how the script ends. I'm rather hoping she decided to give me a happy ending.
(2 and 3 laugh)
3: A happy ending? Have you met our author?
1: Well-
2: The best ending you can hope for is a painless one, Mr. OnStage.
1: Now wait a minute- do you two know something more about the script than I do?
3: Well, Two? Do you have any answers?
2: Sorry- she didn't write answers into any of us.
1: Maybe there'll be more characters, shortly.
2: A "deus ex machina" set up, you mean? She doesn't deal in foreshadowed salvations, I'm afraid.
1: But I just foreshadowed!
3: No, actually, you "wished for," making a direct reference to a later arrival you would like to see. Foreshadowing, on the other hand, is a very subtle, crafty technique employed by authors, not characters, to hint at a later development through indirect character statements and onstage settings.
1: Oh.
2: Well done, Three.
3: Thank you, sir.
1: So I'm doomed?
3: 'fraid so, sir.
1: But when?
3: Whenever you wish.
1: How?
2: In whatever manner you choose.
1: Why would she write me this way?
3: These are all very good questions, sir- healthy, natural questions that anyone would ask in such a situation.
1: What's the point of any of this if she's only written me to die? Why even bother?
3: That's where we come in, sir.
2: Quite right.
1: You both seem awfully chipper about all of this.
3: We've found that maintaining a positive attitude at work sets a strong contrast for our clients.
2: Especially those who aren't sure, yet.
1: Oh.
3: So which method do you prefer, sir?
1: Method?
3: Of suicide. We have a rather impressive variety ranging from quiet slumbers to bloody, ghastly horrors-
1: Do people really opt for the horrors?
3: Some feel that if they can't make a mark living, they can at least leave a mess dying.
1: 's a certain logic to that, isn't there?
3: Of a sort. Shall I list the horrors we,re offering at the moment, then? Keep in mind that if you don't like anything we have on-hand, we also take special orders to be fulfilled upon arrival of the material, provided you leave a deposit and arrange for a payment plan. However, if you were to find a reason to live before the set date, we would have to keep your deposit.
1: How often does that happen?
3: What would you say, Two? Two or three time a year?
2: Hasn't happened at all, this year. We've had a few incompletes, but no one's backed out entirely.
1: I see.
3: So is there anything you'd like to see, sir?
1: What are the quieter methods? If you don't mind.
3: Of course, sir. Our number one request, especially among the ladies, is prescription sleeping pills- pop forty to sixty of these puppies and you'll be free in no time.
1: Free from what, exactly?
3: Your wasted life, of course.
1: Was it wasted?
3: Well, you are here, sir.
1: Ah.
3: Our second category is gases, sir.
1: Gases, you say?
3: Yes, sir. We offer an interesting assortment of gases from the natural gases in old-style ovens to the carbon monoxide produced in defective heating units, to basic helium used for balloons. Between you and me, the gases are generally more reliable than the pills.
1: Really?
3: Oh, certainly. Tried the pills myself, once. After you've decided to die, there's no sense of failure more complete than waking up.
1: You woke up?!?! They're sleeping pills, how-
3: They aggravated my ulcer.
1: Ah. Of course.
3: Would you like to try the gases, then?
1: I'm still not sure I want to-
3: Sir, your life is obviously no longer worth living. In fact, given the shallow brevity of your existence, I would daresay it was never worth living, and that our author did in fact waste her own precious time bringing you into this world.
1: You'd better watch yourself, sir. My life may not be much, as it is, but as a supporting character, your entire existence is based on my desire to end this life you so flippantly denigrate.
2: He's got you on that one, Three.
3: When did we establish that he was the main character?
1: I am the only character allowed to roam the stage. And it's my line that breaks the stasis, thus initiating the entirety of our existence.
2: Ruffles the feathers, doesn't it, Three?
3: A bit, sir.
1: Come now, it's nothing to be upset about. Apparently being the main character requires an indecisive death wish, which is not the most becoming characteristic a person like myself cares to sport.
2: True. Very well, then, Mr. OnStage, you are indeed the main character.
3: Congratulations. Are you ready to die, now?
1: Yes, I believe that I am.
3: And have you decided upon a method, or would you-
1: I'd like a gun, please.
3: We have another minor horror, Mr. UpRight. Do you have a preference as to which type of gun you'd like, sir?
1: I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the different types. Could you-
3: Would you like an open casket funeral?
1: Oh. I hadn't really thought of that.
3: And now that you have?
1: I'd rather be cremated.
3: Very good, sir. For those concerned with the appearance of their corpse, we often recommend a smaller weapon, despite the increased possibility of failure. But in your case, we have several rather large guns that cannot help but succeed.
1: Does the size of the weapon increase the pain?
3: Honestly, we aren't quite sure. The down side to such an effective weapon is that we never get client feedback.
1: Of course. Well, I suppose the largest will do nicely, then.
3: Very good, sir. Shall we set the rental for an hour, or do you believe you'll need some time for contemplation?
1: Just a few minutes should be quite enough, I think.
3: We only rent in hourly increments, sir. That often ensures that everyone has the time to get home and settled, before they go.
1: Home? Aren't there rooms in the back for this sort of thing?
3: You want to do it here, you say?
1: Of course. I live alone- I'd rather not die so, if it can be helped.
3: I'm afraid we do not offer companionship, sir.
1: Can't I pay extra?
3: Mr. UpRight, Mr. OnStage wants to add a hand-holder at extra charge- can we do that?
2: I'm sorry, Mr. OnStage, but that's against our policy.
3: Sorry, sir. Do you have a friend you can call?
1: If I had one of those, I wouldn't be standing here discussing the details of my death with a complete stranger now, would I?
3: I suppose not, sir.
2: She really did write you in a rather sickly way, didn't she?
1: It would seem so.
2: Worse comes to worst, Three and I have each other, at least. Some poorly developed, previously existing, if un-experienced relationship to anchor us in the world-
1: She did write several good friends into my background, I think. But she must've forgotten to endow me with the strength and will necessary for either trust or intimacy.
3: She forgot. I'm sure that's it, isn't it, Two?
2: Oh, of course. She forgets a lot, that one.
1: Maybe she'll forget to have me kill myself.
3: Wouldn't be very therapeutic for her, now, would it? Or profitable for us? Or even entertaining for those watching? You know, you might try thinking a little beyond yourself, on occasion.
2: Three's got a point, you know.
1: Are these my why's? One, OnStage is written to kill himself for the benefit of an author who brought him into such a miserable existence in the first place, a couple of two-dimensional characters who would never have existed if not to aid this pointless exercise, and a group of people he cannot even directly acknowledge, and yet for whom his death is to provide a few laughs before they return to their own skits?
3: Yeah. Seems that way.
1: Fine. I'll bet she doesn't even have that many meanings.
3: (hands weapon over) Here you go, sir: one sawed-off shotgun for the next hour. Have a pleasant death, sir. And do come back, if anything should go wrong.
1: Most kind.
2: Best of luck, sir.
1: Good night, gentlemen.
(1 exits with the weapon- not to be fired in performance)
3: Hey, Two.
2: Yes, Three?
3: How long do you think we'll have to sit here before she gets sick of us, now that she's destroyed her main character?
2: Nervous?
3: No. Well, maybe a little. Does disappearing hurt, do you think?
2: No more than this, I'd imagine.
3: Do you think we'll know?
2: Not exactly. I imagine we'll just dissolve into our actors without even realizing it.
3: Why won't they keep us?
2: Would you want two immobilized catalysts running your life?
3: No, I suppose not.
2: Then, there you go.
(pause)
3: So, do you think Four's bitter about being BackStage?
4: (from backstage) I thank my lucky stars, and She-That-Wrote-Me, every second of my nonexistent existence for being spared a trip through your hall of horrors, you two-dimensional hacks.
2: There you have it.
3: Lucky bastard. Well, it's been an existence, Two.
2: So it has. Better luck, next time, Three.
3: And to you.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Childhood Dreams, Take Two (in progress)
he drinks, therefore
he is. or so
his mottled gray tee
would have us
believe. sprawled
between our parents'
vanilla lined, sandstorm
love seat and the ring-
stained table supporting
his laborer's feet, right hand
mildly contorted, perpendicular
to the strings
of a poorly tuned guitar
bedecked with garish roses
of lemon drop and baby-girl pink,
he picks a simple
arpeggio, 6-3-2-1, 6-1-2-3,
6-3-2-1, unconsciously dangling
an unlit cigarette
from his chicken-thin
lips. with a grimace
ridden to the brink
of casting the unfortunate
instrument into the face
of his do-it-yourself
tv instructor, he pauses,
stilling the dissonant
notes with his palm.
rolling his eyes with a tight
smile in my direction, he sighs,
sets the mass-produced
resonator aside and runs
his cramped picking,
concrete-pouring hand
through his short, sun-bleached
hair, and shrugs, "maybe
this isn't for me."
he is. or so
his mottled gray tee
would have us
believe. sprawled
between our parents'
vanilla lined, sandstorm
love seat and the ring-
stained table supporting
his laborer's feet, right hand
mildly contorted, perpendicular
to the strings
of a poorly tuned guitar
bedecked with garish roses
of lemon drop and baby-girl pink,
he picks a simple
arpeggio, 6-3-2-1, 6-1-2-3,
6-3-2-1, unconsciously dangling
an unlit cigarette
from his chicken-thin
lips. with a grimace
ridden to the brink
of casting the unfortunate
instrument into the face
of his do-it-yourself
tv instructor, he pauses,
stilling the dissonant
notes with his palm.
rolling his eyes with a tight
smile in my direction, he sighs,
sets the mass-produced
resonator aside and runs
his cramped picking,
concrete-pouring hand
through his short, sun-bleached
hair, and shrugs, "maybe
this isn't for me."
Monday, July 22, 2013
the sun also sets
love is the flag we follow-
though the bearer impales our flesh,
fighting fear we continue the effort
'til the crowd loses interest-
and our aficionado offers mercy
at the tip of a spear.
though the bearer impales our flesh,
fighting fear we continue the effort
'til the crowd loses interest-
and our aficionado offers mercy
at the tip of a spear.
misc. 1
voice voice voice
it's all about the voice
"you've got to find your voice."
well, i don't have a voice.
i have a sob
and a cry
and a pen that doesn't know
what to do.
it's all about the voice
"you've got to find your voice."
well, i don't have a voice.
i have a sob
and a cry
and a pen that doesn't know
what to do.
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