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Archive for June, 2008

Play to be Produced

June 25th, 2008 No comments

I feel somewhat remiss. My play, which received a reading at CPT under the title A Howl in the Woods, will receive a 5-week run November 20-December 20, 2008, at convergence-continuum. Yay! Merry Christmas!

The title was changed by Clyde Simon, Artistic Director, to Lord of the Burgeoning Lumber. Clyde has a thing about sexual innuendo in the titles. Well, sometimes it’s innuendo. Sometimes it’s pretty obvious. His thoughts on titles have been shaped on the anvil of experience though. The best-attended performance convergence had was Jeff Goode’s Poona the Fuck Dog; followed closely by Mac Wellman’s 7 Blowjobs. Chris Johnston wrote a play for convergence about homeless people who think they’re superhero’s in our oil-saturated, post-post-modern, post-industrial desolation–I forget the original name of it, it was something linke An Underground Comic, but Clyde named that one Spawn of the Petrolsexuals: An Underground Comic. Clyde has a good ear.

Regardless, I look very much forward to the run. To the process. I even follow Buried Child! That will be a grave disappointment to some, I imagine. I, of course, am flattered to be on the same bill as Sam Shepard…as well as the other very fine writers whose productions are going up this season. So far I’ve seen Mr. Marmalade and will see In the Garden this weekend.

Clyde and convergence received a rather nice write up in Northern Ohio Live, as well.

I go off to glory

June 25th, 2008 No comments

A Little Girl wearing a dress with pockets. She is tap dancing. She is bright and filled with energy and enthusiasm. She speaks in a voice that is loud and strong—vibrant—almost like a stage actor with no recognition that she is in a small room—too much projecting. The girl will periodically stop talking and just tap—tap in place, tap in a circle, etc. At start, she is tapping and humming. She stops and stares.

Girl

Oh! Hello! One thousand sincere pardons. Didn’t see you there. But…

[She taps]

I sure am glad you stopped by.

[Flourish]

Molly’s my name and…

[She taps]

fortune telling’s my game. [Beat] My ma’ got me started on it. Before she died. Said I had a gift.

[She taps after each boast that follows]

Can predict the future.

[Da da da]

Can see into the past.

[Ta ta ta]

Can talk with the dead.

[She stops all activity]

Talk to my ma all the time.

[She resumes tapping]

When I was a girl. [Laughs] Well, younger than I am right now. I woke up screaming.

[She taps]

I said, I woke up screaming from my sleep.

[She screams the words:]

Fire! Fire! Fire!

[She taps]

Bet you can’t guess what I saw!

[She taps]

Bet you can’t guess.

[She taps with increasing fury]

I was sweating. I was breathing. I was sweating and breathing hard. And then…

[She stops cold]

well… I was right.

[Beat]

[Almost to her self]

Poor mama.

[She reaches into her dress pocket and pulls out a scarf and soft hat. She taps in a circle as she puts on the scarf. She continues as she puts on the hat. She stops when done, facing the person/enquirer, and with a flourish throws the end of the scarf around her neck.]

I go off to glory!

[She taps]

I go off to glory.

[She taps and stops]

You know who said that?

[Beat]

Isadora Duncan

[Beat]

Right before her scarf got tangled ‘round the axle of the car she was riding in.

[Motions with the scarf as though hanged.]

[She smiles and then taps in a circle]

Glory! Destiny! I pulled on my hat and scarf after my mama died and I hit the street.

[She taps]

Much like you see me now.

[She taps]

Stayed with my aunt for a while.

[She taps]

But that was a bust.

[Stops]

Wanna see a picture of her?

[Beat]

My mama?

[She takes out the picture from another dress pocket. It is wrapped. She shows it. She looks at it. She carefully re-wraps it and puts it away. She takes a small flask from the same pocket and hits it. She puts it away. She taps quickly.]

Gotta keep the cold out. Gotta keep it out. Keep that cold cold out. [Stops] Oh, I know what you’re thinking. No…not that. That’s obvious. You’re thinkin’ ‘what does she mean—cold?’ Right? Its summer. July. It’s hot.

[She screams]

Well not here.

[Pounds her chest]

Not here it ain’t.

[Pounds her chest]

Not here.

[Pounds]

[She taps wildly. She screams. She falls to the ground. She writhes.]

I want my mama, mama, mama.

[Screams]

There’s gonna be a fire, mama. Gonna be a fire. He’s gonna light a match, mama. I seen it. I seen him. Plain as day, Mama. He’s gonna do it. A fire. Can’t stand us. Can’t stand any of us. Not even little Joe. He’s got matches. Mama?

[Stands up. To the enquirer.]

Say, “Shut up, girl.”

[She taps]

[She stops]

[To the enquirer]

Say, “Shut up, girl.”

[With more urgency]

Say it. [Beat] Say it. [Beat] Say it. [Beat] Say, “Shut up, girl.”

[She repeats this until the enquirer complies.]

That’s what Mama said.

[Reaches in her dress and pulls out a spatula]

She hit me with this.

[She taps]

I’m going off to glory.

[She taps]

[Stops]

Oh. Do you want your fortune?

[She spits]

Companion to the earlier entry.