tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91677945734250394012024-03-04T20:24:51.189-08:00LongenblogJohn Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-23736199249222832612018-01-25T12:08:00.001-08:002018-01-25T12:34:02.808-08:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do I ever feel bitter about being a playwright? Of course not. Here's a short play I wrote a couple of years back about the fun and excitement of play development. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOweIKu-C9_CWcI7se47I__g8xB2zBxrBYQZV_ez5qJxtRTtNQ8SU24r9u7l961zfMpiyjDALPNoHcaV_HvRQroIDm5qVQff1ItVhBeEXpcEXsNmeHUAFNvkv2NpkeSP-plipxS1k6gCI/s1600/DSCN1082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOweIKu-C9_CWcI7se47I__g8xB2zBxrBYQZV_ez5qJxtRTtNQ8SU24r9u7l961zfMpiyjDALPNoHcaV_HvRQroIDm5qVQff1ItVhBeEXpcEXsNmeHUAFNvkv2NpkeSP-plipxS1k6gCI/s320/DSCN1082.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
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<br />
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hell, with Drinks Afterwards </span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> -or-</span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Every New Play Reading Talkback I Have Ever Attended or Been A Part Of</span></h4>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> (Stage of the Generic Arts Playhouse<br /> five minutes after the reading of a new<br /> play has ended. Facing us, both seated,<br /> are the Moderator and the Playwright,<br /> each of either gender. There may be<br /> actors sitting in chairs behind them,<br /> or since they say nothing, they can be<br /> imaginary. Audience Members 1-4 are<br /> distributed throughout the house.)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /> (clapping hands)<br /><br /> Okay, now that we've all had a good stretch and the<br /> people who've had to go have taken off, let's get<br /> started. My name's Alex and I'm the dramaturg here<br /> at Generic Arts, and I'll be moderating the<br /> following talk-back session. With me is the<br /> playwright, Kelly Reynolds.<br /> (the moderator gestures at the playwright, who<br /> waves hand, mouthing "thank you," but nothing<br /> comes out as the playwright is paralyzed by<br /> fear and/or social anxiety.)<br /> And behind us are the actors, who are wondering why<br /> they're still up here. We're not going to ask them<br /> to comment on the play themselves. Instead, let's<br /> give them another round of applause for just sitting<br /> there, shall we?<br /> (s/he leads another brief flurry of applause.)<br /> A bonus applause for being good sports. Okay now.<br /> Let's start off by me giving some strict if<br /> seemingly arbitrary topics for conversation that may<br /> or may not reflect questions that the playwright<br /> actually has, depending on if they fit into my<br /> personal "talk-back system." I will state that we<br /> want real criticism, while giving a subtle warning<br /> that Kelly is not just an artist but a human being<br /> who may start crying if things go badly.<br /> (pause)<br /> Anyone?<br /> (another pause)<br /> Any initial thoughts?<br /> (another pause)<br /> Well, if you're here you wanted to say something. We<br /> gave everyone else five minutes to gather their<br /> coats and leave. This is the part where you are<br /> supposed to talk back. That's why we call it a talk<br /> back.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b><br /><br /> I thought it was a great play.<br /><br /> (The playwright and moderator both look<br /> relieved.)</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> Thank you. Would you care to expand on that?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b><br /><br /> Not really. I just said something because the pause<br /> made me uncomfortable and I'm friends with the<br /> playwright.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> Well, thank you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> Thank you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b><br /><br /> No problem.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b><br /><br /> I think the playwright is marvelously gifted and a<br /> wonderful human being. I am also a friend of the<br /> playwright. Maybe even a potential future romantic partner.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> Really? Well, that's great news. Thank you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /><br /> I didn't understand one small detail, but it'll take<br /> me a while to get around to saying what it was. But<br /> eventually I will get around to my question to the<br /> playwright? Even though it's not clear if it's a<br /> question?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> Yes. Yes you will.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT<br /> </b><br /> And I'll answer it. And I'll make a note.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> I also didn't understand that same thing.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> I also didn't understand that. And here's something<br /> else I didn't understand. And one thing I didn't<br /> like.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> Thank you. And....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b>And something else I didn't like.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> I'll make another note, and then put it in quotes</span> <span style="font-size: large;"> because mostly I think this person is an idiot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> And something else....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> And thank you. We'd love to hear from someone else.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> Since it's clear that there are other people who had<br /> problems with the play, I now feel free to say what<br /> I didn't like from earlier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> And it's somewhat harsh.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> And it's somewhat true.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b><br /><br /> It is somewhat true.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b><br /><br /> It is.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> Ouch. Well, okay. I will make a note and change....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> Now that there's some blood in the water, I've got<br /> a couple of other things I didn't like.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /> Me too.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> We'll go back and forth a couple of times.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> I will pretend to take notes but this is either<br /> stupid or minor stuff that I can fix in five<br /> minutes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /><br /> And another point, mostly because I think I sounded<br /> GREAT when I made my last point.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> And because I also want to sound great, I will<br /> pontificate here for a bit even though I don't<br /> actually have anything. To say.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /> Well, thank...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> Wait no I do. Sort of. No, lost it.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> I'm hoping this is almost over.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> And I'm thinking it's time to wind things up...</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> But what if....</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> Oh no.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /><br /> Now hear me out....</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b></span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Please no.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> You rewrite the play. I mean, don't actually rewrite<br /> it, but write it so that there's an extra character.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> Or two extra characters.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /><br /> Or two less characters.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b><br /><br /> Ooo! I love this part. How about if you put Act Two<br /> before Act One?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> How about if you change the setting? What if it was<br /> set one hundred years in the past?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b><br /><br /> What if they're all Native Americans?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> What if he's the killer, not her?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /><br /> What if she doesn't die?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /> AUDIENCE 1</b><br /><br /> What if we think that she dies but she doesn't,<br /> but...and hear me out...then she actually does?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /> (to Moderator)<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Please. Please help me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> Well, at this point we're rewriting the play. Which<br /> really isn't the purpose of this talk back.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> Thank you.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> But as long as we're doing it, what if you write the<br /> play that I've been wanting to write for years like<br /> every dramaturg, and it will incorporate every great<br /> idea I've ever had, and it will be far better than<br /> this play or any of the plays in our upcoming<br /> season, only no one ever takes me seriously as a<br /> writer, mostly because I am a dramaturg?</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /><br /> I don't like that idea.<br /> (there's general assent here from the audience:<br /> this is a stupid idea. The Moderator decides to<br /> cover over wounded pride by bringing things to<br /> a close.)</span> <span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> And with that we'll take just a couple more comments.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> I will affirm that I like the playwright and the<br /> play.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> The playwright is a helluva good person.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> I will thrown in one last strangely harsh criticism,<br /> like I was bored or I didn't like that actor,<br /> (pointing him out)<br /> but then I will say the playwright is a fine human<br /> being.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Let's applaud the actors and the playwright and me<br /> one more time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> (they applaud)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /> I am going to go get drunk.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>MODERATOR</b><br /><br /> I am going with you so we can talk more about the<br /> play.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> I will pretend I like that idea but I really hate<br /> you right now.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 1</b><br /> (coming up to the playwright along with<br /> Audience Member 2)<br /><br /> Thank you for the free entertainment. Clearly I like<br /> you a lot to come along to these things.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 2</b><br /> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Yes, thank you. I wish I'd said more things that I<br /> didn't like, but mostly I was bored, though I won't<br /> tell you that.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 4</b><br /> (coming up to the playwright)<br /><br /> I'll come along with you now and tell you more<br /> things you should change to make it more like the<br /> great but imaginary play that's in my head.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /><br /> I hate you more than I hate the moderator, but sure,<br /> why not come along, my bitterness is not yet<br /> complete.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>AUDIENCE 3</b><br /> (coming up too)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /> Then I'll come too. I also have an idea for a great<br /> imaginary play that you should write, only if you do<br /> I will get angry at you for stealing my ideas.<br /> <br /><br /> <b>PLAYWRIGHT</b><br /> <br /> I am in hell, only with the possibility of drinks,<br /> which makes it marginally better.<br /><br /> <br /><br /> (Exit. End of Play.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-29248823676608943342014-04-06T16:37:00.001-07:002014-04-06T18:07:33.691-07:00FaceCookie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqV9HcsWmpVPMUxIbDAwj75fld1J7F1Qasy17zc_8g3-WlQP2v7mW0cs-OCnx9VtwmnTATbKpgoJxxJa9KZSRxFUiL209EDvVBdobsovm8mhUYRkGXCwVhw4cJi80yhfbNAie3ly_45M/s1600/chocolate+chip+cookie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqV9HcsWmpVPMUxIbDAwj75fld1J7F1Qasy17zc_8g3-WlQP2v7mW0cs-OCnx9VtwmnTATbKpgoJxxJa9KZSRxFUiL209EDvVBdobsovm8mhUYRkGXCwVhw4cJi80yhfbNAie3ly_45M/s1600/chocolate+chip+cookie.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So here's my second one-minute play for the upcoming festival. I solicited for ideas on Facebook, and received a bewildering and inspiring collection that could probably keep me going for the next decade. In the end, this is what I came up with. I dedicate it to the entirety of my Facebook tribe.</span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">FaceCookie</span></b></div>
<b>
</b><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> (Two men, two women, all at their</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> computers.
It's Sunday afternoon on</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Facebook.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hey guys
and gals! Just ate a delicious cookie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Smiley
face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> What kind?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chocolate
chip.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Gluten
free?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> No.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Yum.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Can I just
say? I find the term "gal" offensive.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Oh. Sorry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Organic
free trade chocolate?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I don't
know...</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slave
chocolate?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Wait,
what?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I don't mind being called a gal. Smiley face</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Do you
know how much blood goes into your chocolate?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> None, I
hope.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Thanks for
betraying your own gender, "sister."</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> What?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Laugh all
you want, but people are dying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> NED</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> From
chocolate?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> He was
just saying what sort of cookie he likes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I don't
need to be "mansplained" about cookies. If</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I don't want to eat gluten that is my
choice. It's</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;">
"gals" like you that make things harder for all of</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> How?</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I am not
going to waste time on bombastic Republican</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> fascists
like you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> For once
in your life think about reading a book,</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Barbie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> STAN AND MARY</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Unfriend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> (Beat. Then
to Ned:)</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SUSAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I like
cookies. Smiley face. </span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoPlainText" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">END OF PLAY</span></div>
<br />
<br />John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-81815420260008623152014-04-04T10:33:00.000-07:002014-04-04T10:56:02.749-07:00The Statistician: A One Minute Play<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLqpZ5-0VAIgzLo7z3JX-jRgAbAysZVr2ELU3xe7Z-445pL1QIkgPbmXlzyhMf-RuRP4_CdaY2iZjqF_Q2_57wmQA80cZ6Eap-_C3Y7XZwNBzZsWPYnfWGlXBCFJJU7tbjrQmWR-P4oc/s1600/statistician.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLqpZ5-0VAIgzLo7z3JX-jRgAbAysZVr2ELU3xe7Z-445pL1QIkgPbmXlzyhMf-RuRP4_CdaY2iZjqF_Q2_57wmQA80cZ6Eap-_C3Y7XZwNBzZsWPYnfWGlXBCFJJU7tbjrQmWR-P4oc/s1600/statistician.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Statistician</b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been asked to write a one-minute play for an upcoming short play contest. The topic was pretty general--whatever happened to be on my mind and in the air at the time I was writing. It didn't come til the last minute, but here it is. I have to say that I'm pretty proud of it because it does exactly what I want it to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b>(Three people: a boy, a housewife, and a soldier, sit on three chairs, with a fourth one empty. A person with a clipboard stands in front of them.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> (indicating the empty seat)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Sorry about that. Unpleasant. Now. Who's next?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE BOY </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I think I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> All right. And where are you?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE BOY </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> At school. Fifth period algebra. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(The Statistician makes a note)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> (friendly but clinical)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> And how's that?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE BOY</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Boring. I'm daydreaming.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(He nods and turns to:)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> And you?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> HOUSEWIFE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> At the mall with a friend. It's a spa day and we're starting with</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> our nails.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Your children?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> HOUSEWIFE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Neighbor's got them for the day, thank god. About ready to kill</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Jenny. She just won't stop picking on....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Yes, yes. I see. It's not really relevant.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> HOUSEWIFE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> No?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> They're not with you. That's the important part.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> HOUSEWIFE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Oh.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> (turning to the soldier)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> And you?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE SOLDIER</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Just leaving my shift at the base. Nothing up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Nothing?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE SOLDIER</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> (thinks)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Nope. Not so much as a kid with firecrackers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(The statistician makes another note.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE BOY</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Excuse me? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Yes?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE BOY</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> What's the point of this?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> It's our sacred duty.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> HOUSEWIFE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> Sacred? How could it be....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> It's in the Constitution.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE SOLDIER</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> That's sacred.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> THE STATISTICIAN</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b> I'm glad you agree. Because I'm afraid...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> (he checks the list again)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> It's your turn.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> (The statistician pulls a gun out from his or her coat and points it at the soldier. All three look on in weary horror.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Close your eyes. It'll be over in a moment. And God bless America. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Lights out)</span><br />
<br />John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-76333877849189801982013-12-31T14:31:00.002-08:002013-12-31T14:31:48.666-08:00Happy New Year--A Decade Ago!<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Here's a play that I wrote way back in 2002 for a 14/49 called "Auld Acquaintance." You know, I think I got a few things right about the future--though I'm hoping Pope Francis has better luck....</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ33Wo4OOiJab-p2gPJunlSoC1KYVSKV78erHFWrlrLiFktmFuJlGsnEvKYTKU6r0Sdh0TIxAvKqNil-gpK-Ksu-AFj7eyc_56nF3yZgPceyIbITHtwWYH7Dqi7QuG_0yDj97ySjWv8oo/s1600/martha+stewart+party+hats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ33Wo4OOiJab-p2gPJunlSoC1KYVSKV78erHFWrlrLiFktmFuJlGsnEvKYTKU6r0Sdh0TIxAvKqNil-gpK-Ksu-AFj7eyc_56nF3yZgPceyIbITHtwWYH7Dqi7QuG_0yDj97ySjWv8oo/s1600/martha+stewart+party+hats.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And then
that year things got bad.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>No, back
up a minute. I think things started going</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>bad earlier on.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Well, that
may be, but I think the worst thing about</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>2002 is
how so many people thought that the worst</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>had
already happened.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Exactly.
They were even talking about how "the world</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>will never
be the same after the events," like</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>history
had suddenly received a neat divider, like</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>when the
Cretaceous Era shifted into the Tertiary</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Period.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Morning,
Diplodocus.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Morning,
Stegosaurus.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Well, you
look like hell.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Tell me
about it. Woke up this morning to find those</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>little
furry bastards had been burrowing around in</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>the nest.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>No!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Yes!
Pecking at the shells and everything! I</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>squashed a
couple with my huge webbed foot, but the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>rest got
away.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>What a
mess. Man.<span> </span>Not that I don't have
problems of</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>my own.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Do tell.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Where do I
start? I've had this cold hanging on for</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>months, my
customary diet of lush verdant greens has</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>become
sparse in the changing climate, and, oh I</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>don't
know. I just don't seem to be having fun</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>anymore,
you know what I mean?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(Dinosaurs
3 and 4, a
pair of</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>Phorushacus, or large
flightless</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>primitive
birds, go running past,</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>hooting and
hollering like teenagers)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Now who
the holy hell is that?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>It's those
damn Phorushacus.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>Phorushacus?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Large
flightless primitive birds.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(they
come laughing and screaming past again)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Hooligans!
I know your parents!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The days
of gracious grazing are past, my friend.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The future
belongs to the likes of them.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I fear
you're right. It's depressing, you know?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Don't let
it all get you down. Hey, I hear there's</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>going to
be a spectacular meteor shower tonight!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>DINOSAUR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Really?
Well at last! Something to look forward to!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>What was
all that about?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Context.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Well,
anyhow, can we move up a bit, to say, the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>beginning
of 2002?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>It started
nice for me anyway.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>We were at
that party. And I had a new dress to show</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>off.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And no one
felt like they had to talk about politics.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>God no. I
haven't picked up a paper in weeks.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And midnight came, and we raised our
glasses.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I propose
a toast.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Oh God.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>To the end
of a difficult year, and the promise of</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>a new one.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Jacob
always has to do this.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>To peace
in our time, and the healing of our hurt</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>hearts.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The guy
starts writing movie reviews for the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Stranger,
and suddenly he's a goddamn toastmaster.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>To better
times and the wisdom to appreciate them.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside; referring to Actor 5)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>He was just about to kiss me! He was going
to kiss</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>me at the
stroke of midnight! I could
just tell!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>To the
hope that children inspire, and their gift of</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>clear
innocent vision.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>God I'm
drunk.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(aside)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Shut up!
Shut up with your damn speeches!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Now if we
can all link up and sing Auld Lang Syne.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I've had
the song sheets printed up with all five</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>verses.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Uh, I've
got to get going.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(leaves)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>That's my
ride.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(leaves)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Excuse me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(he
runs off to be sick)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Perfect.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Well,
okay. We'll start with the second verse, just</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>you and
me. "And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And surely
I'll be mine."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Go to
hell, Jacob.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>So yes, we
had a bad start to the year. And I made</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>fondue!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>My tongue
needed a lawnmower the next day.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I got the
flu, that weird one, where. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>You feel
almost drunk, but never fun drunk, for days</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>on end?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>No.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The one
where you can't keep anything down except 7-</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>up and
crackers?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>No.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The kind
where you can't call the woman you almost</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>kissed on
New Year's?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>What are
you talking about?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And then
finally I got laid off.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>And that hurricane hit Cancun,
but I didn't want to</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>go alone
anyhow.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And work
got, believe it or not, even more boring.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Things did
tend to get both obscure and speeded up</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>somehow.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Are we
still at war?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>America
at War: A Special Report.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The War on
Terrorism: the Invisible Enemy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>America's
Special Invisible War.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Who is Our
New Enemy?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The War on
Drugs and the War on Terrorism: Are They</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>the Same
Thing?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>Eco-Terrorism: The New Green Look of War?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Is anyone
reading these stories, or just the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>headlines?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>They
aren't writing stories anymore. Just headlines.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>My
definition of terrorism? The news media of the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>last six
months.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I saw him
at the grocery store. He was standing near</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>the
express lane.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I don't
recognize the world I'm living in any more.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>When did I
jump the rails?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And I
decided to be direct.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I hate
that little fucker, and so do all my friends,</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>so where
is this 90% approval rating coming from?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>(rehearsing)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Hey, how's
it going? You lose my number or what?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>It's like
that movie where they have those</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>sunglasses
where when they put them on they can see</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>that all
those people around them are actually. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(He puts on
glasses from kiosk)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTORS 1, 2 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>(undergoing momentary hideous transformation)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>REPUBLICANS!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Finally I
get up the nerve.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(she
starts towards him)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Screw this
line. I'll buy my milk and eggs at the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>corner
market.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(he
brushes past her without seeing her)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Excuse me.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Well
things just got worse.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Oh they
did. The recession became a depression,</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>and. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>There was
that oil spill, and the genetically</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>engineered
bacteria that ate it along with all</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>plastics
on the Eastern seaboard, and. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The pope
got very, very weird.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>THE POPE</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>You like
my new robe?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ANNOUNCER</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Recurring rumors
about the Pope's deteriorating</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>mental
state have been vehemently denied by the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Vatican.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>THE POPE</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>That
Bjork, she's one hot momma!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ANNOUNCER</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>"The
Holy Pontiff is as healthy today as upon his</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span>election."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>THE POPE</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>All of
that stuff about contraception and abortion?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>What was I
thinking? You get it on, young people!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>But play
safe!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(two
cardinals come and hustle him off.)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ANNOUNCER</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>After a
brief illness, his holiness passed into</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>eternity.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Meantime
there was another anthrax scare, and the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>hostage
situation up at ANWAR.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And more
wars, with someone. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And more
craziness. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span>
</span><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And more
school shootings. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And he
still hasn't called.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And the
earthquake and subsequent tsunami.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And I got
a new job.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And I got
fired.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>So did I a
week later.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And work
dried up. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And so did
the lawns that summer. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>And I went
back to school that autumn, which was. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Boring.
Boring! Boring! Day after day watching the</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>severance
package dwindle, and nothing to look</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>forward
to, and then it was Christmas with my psycho</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>family,
and then Jacob's. . . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>New Year's
Party, and I'm making fondue!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 2</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>What the
hell.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>I've got
nothing else to do.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>Last year's sucked, but. . .</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>There's
always hope. And this year I'm not really</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>drinking.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 1</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>This year
I don't have a long boring toast.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>This year
I'm high as a kite.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 4</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Mmmm. Me
too.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Hey! Well
what a lovely surprise!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Hello
yourself.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>God, it's.
. .Diane, right?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Uh-huh.
And you are...</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>Jerry.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>That's
right. Well, nice seeing you.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>More than
nice to see you.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(the
others begin a countdown)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Umm, you
going to step out and see the fireworks?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Might as
well.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Maybe this
year the damn thing will actually launch.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ALL</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Happy New
Year!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 3</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Happy New
Year.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(she
gives Jerry a little kiss.)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>ACTOR 5</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Happy New
Year.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>(he
kisses her back. It's good. They stop and</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>look
at each other.)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>THE END</span><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</div>
John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-48987195911573736522013-11-09T00:23:00.000-08:002013-11-09T00:23:33.988-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_OGQRIuOosl0NNntqnZ2TeHjvZc4rjI48fbKUlWoJ0jY3HMhwiIOqV6o2Qb50oPPEmr2bbxjaLrwsLH8iyzvpCWGdZxWEdANrVI-JVBkanm_kzzQ4grJWnrMvu2Avh0w52_AJWjps8c/s1600/IMG_20130203_113932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_OGQRIuOosl0NNntqnZ2TeHjvZc4rjI48fbKUlWoJ0jY3HMhwiIOqV6o2Qb50oPPEmr2bbxjaLrwsLH8iyzvpCWGdZxWEdANrVI-JVBkanm_kzzQ4grJWnrMvu2Avh0w52_AJWjps8c/s320/IMG_20130203_113932.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We're off. New website, new blog. Or new attempt to blog with a little more regularity.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a rollercoaster few months. I put it this way a while back on Facebook.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(knock knock)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me--Who's there?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Change--Change.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me--Oh, okay. Just a minute, let me get the</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Change--(crash) HA! I AM HERE! I AM RUNNING AROUND KNOCKING OVER YOUR FURNITURE! I AM DESTROYING ALL ORDER IN YOUR LIFE! I OWN YOU! YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me--sigh. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You can do what you will to prepare for change, to welcome it, to even anticipate it, but even when it's for the good there's little you can do to control it, to rein it to your will.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Except, maybe, sometimes, write about it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then it starts to make some sense, and you start to understand that telling yourself the story of the change yanks you above the current for a moment, so instead of kicking with it or against it you can watch yourself moving in it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Writing's given me a lot in this life--a craft, an art to aspire to, and even something that approaches a living. But the gift of making my life make sense is maybe the greatest one. So yes. Welcome. (or welcome back.) This is my writing. Though little of it is autobiographical, it's probably is the best way for anyone to get to know me.</span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-90661587384452361112012-09-22T08:49:00.002-07:002012-09-22T08:49:51.120-07:00In the Trees II: Lust on the Limb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQmytPgGWn-n4L9ycxS8aJhfGXxBx8SXrgh8FlwozsOFKdoI5JQUJzfUpJ8-S-lx0Q47drvpC2cgtNYFyJVt1PjDivNp-FfEvBPycUA2iQdyIbDu1QE_WfbqKil5GMdwGrTBM4nU5YQQ/s1600/sloth_three-toed+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQmytPgGWn-n4L9ycxS8aJhfGXxBx8SXrgh8FlwozsOFKdoI5JQUJzfUpJ8-S-lx0Q47drvpC2cgtNYFyJVt1PjDivNp-FfEvBPycUA2iQdyIbDu1QE_WfbqKil5GMdwGrTBM4nU5YQQ/s320/sloth_three-toed+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And here's the sequel to my Doubleshot 60 second play, this one based on the word "Lust." </span><br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(Scene: we're high
in the forest canopy of South America, eight
years later than the last scene. Two of our sloths, Cynthia and Albert, are
hanging from the same tree limb. They're laughing and flirting.)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh, you!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh, you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No, oh YOU.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No, oh YOU.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(They laugh.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>ALBERT
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>God, Cynthia, I love this time with you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And I you, Albert. You make me happier than
I ever thought I could be again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It's been eight years, Cynthia.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And sometimes I think that's almost enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh Cynthia. You know I love you. That's why
I keep hanging on this limb. Monsoon or drought, brown beetles or brown leaves,
I've been here with you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It's true.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have wanted you so. Gazing day after day
on your svelte curves, your delicate snout, that cute little band of coloration
over your eyes....</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We all have that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But on you it's so erotic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Albert, I've wanted you too. And now that
the children have left the limb and are halfway to another tree, I think that
maybe I can imagine a different life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A life with me?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes. Yes, I think so.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ALBERT </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My darling!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>CYNTHIA </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My own!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(They begin to rush
towards each other. They're sloths. Before they can get there, from the trunk
end of the limb:)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>OLIVER </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I'm back!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(End of Play)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-87294914437235247332012-09-21T22:19:00.001-07:002012-09-21T22:21:04.042-07:00In The Trees<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYT788SgkoAU2Z_Dd16h2lqkgvzkXWhiEt24Ch3IRK7l0ORjx4YEVLElQ8c2tCf1qw_wY6EKmBZOlfasfburofJJGvnniBAWl4R8cnjN4nMj4xcHf2uUphNRwX-50mNsVVdQqGzWq6AA/s1600/three+toed+sloth.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYT788SgkoAU2Z_Dd16h2lqkgvzkXWhiEt24Ch3IRK7l0ORjx4YEVLElQ8c2tCf1qw_wY6EKmBZOlfasfburofJJGvnniBAWl4R8cnjN4nMj4xcHf2uUphNRwX-50mNsVVdQqGzWq6AA/s320/three+toed+sloth.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The good folks at NPA are staging Doubleshot, their 24 Hour Play Festival, tomorrow at 7:00 pm as part of the Broadway Center for the Performing Arts' "Free For All" Fall Festival. This time round they asked me to write a 60 second play--with the option of a second one to fill in for a fellow playwright who's had to drop out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I did. It was so much fun I wrote a second one right after.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The theme of this Doubleshot's "The Seven Deadly Sins," and yes, I drew Sloth. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So without further ado, here's a tiny drama I call "In the Trees."</span><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Scene: We're high
in the tree canopy of the South American rainforest, upwards of 60 feet above
the forest floor. It's a lovely late afternoon. Hanging on one long tree limb
are three large sloths, Albert, Oliver and Cynthia. Oliver is hanging between
Albert and Cynthia. Oliver has just woken up with a start.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ohmygod HELP!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Albert and Cynthia
wake up.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ohmygod please help me someone I'm
slipping!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Oliver?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ohmygod!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> What's going on?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Oliver's yelling!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I'm slipping!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Oh my god he's slipping!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Do something!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> We've got to do something!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Oliver! We're coming sweetheart! Just hold
on!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I'm slipping!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Albert and Cynthia
start to move towards Oliver as fast as they can. They're sloths.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It's okay buddy! We're coming!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Hang on darling!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I'm still slipping!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Just don't look down!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> My toes! My toes! They're letting go! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> CYNTHIA </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Almost there sweetheart! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> (they're not a lot closer.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Why god why? Why me?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Don't look down!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Why just three toes? Do you hate sloths?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Almost there buddy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Oh god. Cynthia, tell the children
that...Cynthia?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ALBERT </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I think she's asleep Oliver.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> OLIVER </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Really? Well that's just....</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> (he looks over to Albert, who's also
nodded off.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Well that's just...</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> (he nods off, still hanging on.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(End of Play)</span></span></div>
John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-39555532775517415812012-06-22T15:33:00.002-07:002012-06-22T15:33:53.898-07:00Steamy Port Townsend Tales II: The People Behind the Steam<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What made the recent Brass
Confederacy Steampunk Convention at Port Townsend special was that it was truly
a community event, not just another weird geekfest ignored or at best tolerated
by the locals. <span> </span>The volunteers I spoke to
over the weekend included members of the Jefferson County Historical Society
and other groups that were co-sponsors of the Convention, and the Festival felt
like it had the whole town supporting it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For Teresa Verraes, Executive
Director of the Jefferson County Chamber of Commerce, the first challenge to
getting the community behind the Festival was explaining what Steampunk was.
“When I was talking to the downtown merchants, I said it was like the Victorian
Heritage Days and the Kinetic Sculpture Race had a love child and it grew up to
be a mad scientist,” she says, referring to two well-established Port Townsend
Festivals that run at other times in the year. The result of her outreach was over
a dozen original window displays featuring Steampunk throughout the downtown
area, including in book stores, jewelers, antique dealers and cafes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The couple acknowledged as the driving
force behind the Brass Screw Confederacy are Cindy and Nathan Barnett, two
recent Seattle transplants who took
over The Old Consulate Inn, a Victorian B&B, just under a year ago. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8ipPTIJbFqsomuLU5k4kONtM5SPoxEsc9f3MdkPaf06dCUxUF5v8JYWBs2y0E6ILCveZoatdYlb2duV00hK-qB5s4LGW0Ati2EXFF84PU2U-DZYi6XGIn4e2HVvpho2D1UbI7Tr0ZPk/s1600/shot_1339444448653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8ipPTIJbFqsomuLU5k4kONtM5SPoxEsc9f3MdkPaf06dCUxUF5v8JYWBs2y0E6ILCveZoatdYlb2duV00hK-qB5s4LGW0Ati2EXFF84PU2U-DZYi6XGIn4e2HVvpho2D1UbI7Tr0ZPk/s320/shot_1339444448653.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The splendidly atmospheric Old Consulate Inn. Old Consulate not included.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before
I left PT they invited me over for coffee and a chat. I was a little surprised
when Cindy met me at the door dressed in a long black skirt and a white blouse
that went up to a prim buttoned neck, but I shouldn’t have been; the couple are
comfortable in neo-Victorian clothing and Nathan (who sported a natty vest and
comfortably rumpled formal shirt and trousers) admitted that it’s pretty much
their daily wear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While both were worn out from the
weekend’s festivities, they were also delighted that The Brass Screw
Confederacy had been a hit in its “blueprint year.” They had assisted with the
Victorian Festival back in the Spring, and their energy and innovations had
helped revitalize that event and garnered them enthusiastic cooperation for
their own Festival. “The Victorian revival in Port Townsend started in the late
’70s when people were working to revive the town,” explains Nathan. “The
trouble is, those original participants are now all older, and they haven’t
kept the younger people involved, so it’s become something that they’ve started
to avoid. When we got involved I brought in things that were more oriented to
general interest, like an exhibition bout of bare-knuckle boxing and period
fencing. We even brought down a Gatling gun. Afterwards a lot of younger people
told me “you know, I grew up hating Victorian days, but this is actually
cool.’”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet the couple are both curiously
ambivalent about the phrase ‘Steampunk.’ “I hate the word,” admits Nathan. “I
don’t do punk. There are parts of the ‘punk’ aesthetic I like, the look of a
film like <i>Blade Runner </i>for example,
but to me that post-apocalyptic aesthetic isn’t a necessary part of Steampunk.
Punk is also an attitude. It’s in your face. I don’t think that the sort of
Steampunk that I enjoy is about that. It’s more refined and polite.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“In that way it’s like this town,”
adds Cindy. “Port Townsend has its rough edges and rough people, but any of
them will hold the door for you. It’s the most polite town to that I’ve ever
known.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Though one positive thing about
the ‘punk’ in Steampunk is that it lowers the bar for entry,” says Nathan. “Not
everyone is going to have formal trousers and vests or corsets and bustles. But
I can go shred an old leather jacket and buy a cheap pair of goggles, and
there’s my Steampunk costume. So while it’s not my style, I think it’s got
validity.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We discuss neo-Victorianism and
living a Steampunk lifestyle. Though both are comfortable in every-day
Victorian dress, they don’t describe themselves as neo-Victorian. “We have
friends in town who truly live a Victorian lifestyle,” explains Cindy. “She
lives corseted, even while she’s biking. They use gas lights and oil lamps, and
while their house has electricity, they don’t really use it. In contrast we’re
both tech-savvy and appreciate modern conveniences. But at the same time we
love the aesthetic.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They talk about their future plans
for the Bed and Breakfast, which thanks to their renovations is already a
gorgeous testament to their knowledge and appreciation for all things
Victorian, even down to the loving stuffiness of bric-a-brac in the parlor.
They explain that eventually it will have a Steampunk den downstairs, and while
they’ve been reluctant to cross-promote the Festival and their B&B, they
feel grateful that the business and the event inform each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While other people may don a bustle
or a frock coat for a weekend event like Steamcon, Nathan and Cindy get a
chance to live Steampunk in a daily fashion, and it encourages them to look
more deeply at the movement than simply costume or reading fiction. “A friend
of ours is developing a flying machine, not from a blueprint or a model, but by
trying to work out things like gear ratios and speed needed for lift-off,” says
Cindy. “I think this is great. Just focusing on your costume sometimes feels
very self-involved to me. What we want is not just people walking looking cool,
but actively thinking about issues of technology and society.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Looking back at their own journey
into Steampunk, Nathan says he’s surprised at just how much you can live your
daily life as fantasy. “There was a time when I was in very much into the
Renaissance. My Monday, Thursday and Fridays were fencing long sword, and my
Tuesday and Saturday were singing Renaissance drinking songs. Now that we’ve
embraced this new form, I teach Victorian combat once a week and get to explore
this whole new world. That’s what’s so wonderful to me about all of this.
Contrary to what you’re told, you can live your fantasy life. Maybe you won’t
be chased by zombies or fall in love once a week, but you can still live the
life you dream about in books if you dedicate yourself to it.”</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I left their magnificently Victorian
home to return to the bus stop and a trip back to the real world, I realized that for me, this is the beauty of Steampunk:
it's a fantasy that’s almost actually accessible, not in faraway lands but just down a street we've not gone down before. Perhaps it's something we’re living today anyway, if we adopt the right
perspective. Through the wide eyes of a Victorian inventor, we are living in an
astonishing future, where fantasies of flight, instantaneous communication,
mechanized labor and even interstellar travel come true. Steampunk wakes us up
to the miraculous nature of the time that we are actually living in.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-87852955065091136902012-06-16T17:59:00.001-07:002012-06-16T18:06:20.543-07:00Steamy Port Townsend Tales part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBILhFGdAoykcbWdIApxNsJf9QOPgtqzKYJT3aZ1iKNL612XDb0FBn-qTfuyMe56eL_RlxS1qPR04byOaep4htgbOlZn4_N9yh0IoiGxI4GLilGFrViVFLKwnBMMl1wL9PJV_wF7DE8_8/s1600/shot_1339194303800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBILhFGdAoykcbWdIApxNsJf9QOPgtqzKYJT3aZ1iKNL612XDb0FBn-qTfuyMe56eL_RlxS1qPR04byOaep4htgbOlZn4_N9yh0IoiGxI4GLilGFrViVFLKwnBMMl1wL9PJV_wF7DE8_8/s320/shot_1339194303800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So: I spent last weekend over in Port Townsend, a town that has long been a favorite of mine but I now like even more after seeing it through the brass-colored goggles of Steampunk. The event that lured me to town was the inaugural year of the Brass Screw Confederacy, a brand-new Steampunk Convention. And I have to say, Port Townsend has never looked finer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The brainchild of new PT arrivals Nathan Barnett and Cindy Madsen (now proud proprietors of The Old Consulate Inn Bed and Breakfast, of which more later), the Brass Screw Confederacy was pulled together in a series of months by the newly formed Olympia Peninsula Steam, which is passing along some of the profits to local arts and culture organizations. Though there were only a few events on the calendar, they were well chosen, at least from my perspective: at the Friday evening absinthe tastings I had a wonderful time mingling with other guests in assorted finery, enjoyed the fire dancers, and ended the evening by following the Green Faery with unsteady steps back to my tasteful hotel room at the always-elegant Water Street Hotel.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh yeah. My room. This is how I roll, out of town anyway.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then on Saturday I dropped by the Bazaar of the Bizarre, which featured tables full of Steampunk merchandise (in some cases somewhat loosely defined--Steampunk preserves, anyone?).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">That's STEAMPUNK Dandelion Nectar!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Picked up a new gray cravat for the ensemble, because--well, it's harder to find cravats than you might think. Watched some blacksmithing and daguerreotype processing, and enjoyed the sight of little kids running around wearing top hats and faux brass goggles. Then I headed over to the Key City Cabaret (a fetching little black box theatre) for the scheduled seminars and events. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The first guest was the major reason I'd come over for the weekend, one of my favorite science fiction writers, Neal Stephenson, reading from one of my favorite of his novels, <i>The Diamond Age.</i> The sartorially elegant Mr. Stephenson read from the novel and engaged in a generous Q&A about some of the themes of that astonishing book and how it relates to Steampunk as fiction and as a movement. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It was heartening to hear</span><span style="font-size: large;"> someone who's done such a superb job of avoiding genre labels in his own career apparently untroubled at his work being taken up by the Steampunk movement. (Even if you think all this Steampunk stuff is some sort of middle-aged derangement on my part, read <i>The Diamond Age</i>. It's a neo-Victorian hearty idea soup about nanotechnology, virtual realities and the revolutionary power of pedagogy, and it's a corker.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Steamcon founder Diana Vick delivered a great and compact feature on what the well-dressed Steampunk lady is wearing these days. The elegant Ms. Vick is a great ambassador for Steamcon and peppered her presentation with a whole series of amusing anecdotes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The acts that followed, Professor Payne's Flea Circus and The Shadow Sprites, were both quintessentially delightful. Payne completely reconstructs the old vaudeville Flea Circus act and it's an hilarious and exquisite hour, the sort of entertainment that was once described as "fun for the whole family" before that honorable term was copyrighted by Disney (your check is in the mail, Mouse lawyers). And the Shadow Sprites? All I can tell you is if you ever get a chance to see them, do. Like everyone in the audience I thought that the old fashioned 3D red/blue glasses I was given when I came in to confront a white screen were a joke. But then the music came on, and the shadows behind the screen became three-dimensional creatures before our eyes. Absolutely astonishing, and in our sensation-saturated age an honest-to-god novelty. I hope to steal this wonderful idea some day and make millions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The evening ended with a Steampunk Hootenany at the American Legion Hall, where the assembled throng was an elegant answer to the question "What's Steampunk, anyway?" (Almost every person I talked to admitted that they hadn't even known what Steampunk was until a week or two before, but thanks to some internet research they'd figured what to buy, what to pull from the closet, and here they were!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also got wonderful answers to my eternal question: "what do you think of Steampunk?" My favorite answer came from a young guy working Security who'd grown up in Port Townsend. He admitted that he'd gotten pretty bored with the annual Victorian days celebration, and said that this was one of the first times he'd seen an event where both the young and the old in town had come together and shared interests. (In fact he said "partied like it was Saturday night," which it was and they were.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">More on the Brass Screw Confederacy soon--including zombies vs. steampunks, beautiful books, and my visits with several of the folks who dreamed it all up and made it happen.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I am a visitor to your adorable Victorian town. Kindly direct me towards the absinthe.</div>
<br />John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-29626596394667634402012-06-05T22:43:00.002-07:002012-06-05T22:43:44.671-07:00The Boyproof Watch: Conclusion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
(hey friends: and here's where it all wraps up. It's been a fun experiment writing a serial, and while I'd do some things differently next time, I've been enjoying seeing where the story has gone--including a few places that I hadn't expected! Thanks to those of you who've written with comments and suggestions. Keep them coming!)<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>VII</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When Maskelyne woke the next day it
was late morning so he sent an order to his kitchen for brunch, an order he had
to eventually give to his clock in diagram form. Nevertheless the kitchen staff
succeeded in the unorthodox task admirably, and as he polished off the last bit
of smoked salmon frittata and crisp bacon he momentarily considered making
brunch a regular feature.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">On leaving his house he considered
not activating his garden sentinels, but decided that it was best to do so. His
enemy must not suspect the trap, so as near as he could he would stick to his
routine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was Monday and his absence had
created piles of work but he could scarcely concentrate on any of it. Invoices,
playbill design, construction and repair orders were all scanned then pushed
aside. He left his office and sought out Mirch, demanding his assistant give
him a complete tour of the backstage and a progress report from all the
mechanics. His staff was flustered and unprepared but though he scowled he
really had little interest in their mistakes, so while his questions were
pointed he gave no reprimands. At 4:40
when he held the daily meeting with his staff his distraction was obvious, and it
was the gossip of the company after his departure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As he approached his front door he
could hear the sound of his hallway alarm bell insistently ringing, but he
entered at a steady pace. He didn’t even bother to open up the cabinet and see
where the security had been breached. He merely doffed his coat and hat, took
his gin and tonic from the coat rack, and walked upstairs, his excitement
growing with each step.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The first thing he noticed was that
again the Aetheric Navigator had been moved on the workbench, and now the
lights on its console were blinking erratically. His visitor had begun here,
further meddling with the mechanism. He moved it aside impatiently. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The box with the Boyproof Watch was
gone. He brought his hands together in a satisfactory clasp. He hadn’t dared
hope that his unseen nemesis would act so quickly, but now that he had, he felt
like a celebration. He practically danced down the stairs to his study, drained
off his drink, and instructed the coat rack to fetch him another. He went on to
enjoy a particularly fine Bordeaux
that night from his cellars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That night Maskelyne lay in bed
smiling and imagining his enemy’s fascination and frustration with his “gift.”
Given the skill that the boy had already demonstrated in eluding his sentinels
and breaking into his home multiple times, he was certain that he’d be doing
more than dropping the watch down some stairs or prying at it with a jackknife.
He thought back on his own childhood exercises in destruction, how he’d studied
levers, pry bars, screws and joints in his attempt to crack open any number of
items. He had to hand it to the boy: he suspected him of an even greater talent
for mischief than he had had as a child.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But talent enough to open the
watch? He doubted it. Even Maskelyne himself with his workshop, with forge,
presses, weights and drills, would find opening the casing a daunting task. And
he had enough faith in his own skill as a watchmaker to know that nothing short
of this, not fire, water nor lightning, could otherwise disturb its mechanism.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He fell to sleep to the reassuring
tick of his bedside clock.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The weeks passed without event. The
silver bell in the hall was silent and his work went undisturbed, with no
further disturbances at his house nor any items in the newspaper regarding
children and explosions. Soon Maskelyne had returned to his work and his
routine. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By December the events of the
autumn were a vague memory. The Egyptian Fortuneteller was back at his post,
gears and workings replaced, and more popular than ever, thanks to certain
adjustments that his creator had made which allowed it to stroke its crepe beard
meditatively. In fact Maskelyne’s creative mind had been rejuvenated by the
contest, and he had constructed a new act for the Theatre, a trapeze troupe of
mechanicals who executed aerial somersaults and pirouettes of such exquisite
flawlessness that he had been threatened with legal action from two local
circuses claiming unfair competition.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His sole mechanical frustration was
the Aetheric Navigator, which ever since its last visit from his adversary had
taken to flashing its lights in a steady yet meaningless sequence not
corresponding at all to the code he had developed for calculating astral
longitude and latitude. Until he could determine how to fix it he banished the
mechanism to the basement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then one late afternoon the week
before Christmas he came up the snowy path to his front door and saw by the
porch light a small box covered in silver paper. Leading to, and away, from the
box were small shoe prints in the snow. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He left the package where it was,
and switching on his electric torch followed the trail. It weaved through the
grounds until it intersected with the sculpture of a winsome badger. Beneath
the badger was a small pool of blood, and its razor-sharp teeth were red and
still wet. From here the footsteps were shadowed by a separate trail of drops of
red. He followed these to a section of the perimeter gate. Bending close, he
saw that that there was a curve in the metal ornamental juncture just large
enough for a small body to wiggle in and out of. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite his expectations, Maskelyne
felt no exhilaration. Instead an anxious nausea roiled his stomach. For the
first time he considered his small enemy as a human being, and it was a deeply
uncomfortable feeling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He returned to the porch and took
the box inside. He placed it on a small table in his study and opened it with
his fingertips gingerly, fearing a trap. Inside was a small blue pot containing
a single flower. It was of a form and color he had never seen before, the folds
of a rose re-imagined as flame, with bright red petals at its fringe turning
orange and yellow towards its center, and in the deepest part of the blossom
was just the thinnest tinge of blue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Alongside the flower was a folded
letter. “Dear Professor Maskelyne,” it began, in a child’s careful cursive.
Maskelyne read through the note, of apology and explanation. Then he read it
again. And then he turned and walked at a brisk pace out of his house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When the maid at the Del La Roches
opened the door she was clearly agitated and distracted. She explained that
Grace, the older of the two daughters, had been injured in a sledding accident
while playing and her father had rushed her to the hospital. Maskelyne received
the name of the hospital and left immediately. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That evening the De La Roches,
father and daughter, received a visit from Maskelyne at their hospital room.
Young Grace was asleep and her skin was even paler than her straw-blonde
hair.<span> </span>The wound to her arm had nicked an
artery and bled much, but the surgery was successful and her doctor predicted a
full recovery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Mr. De La Roche blamed himself.
Ever since his wife’s death several months ago he had failed to give his
daughters proper supervision, he said. Maskelyne had no words of comfort, but
when the father expressed anxiety about his other daughter back at home, he
suggested the man go fetch her while he himself remained watching over Grace.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Two hours later when De La Roche
returned with his other daughter, Grace was awake and chatting with Maskelyne.
“Your daughter is quick-witted and charming,” he told De La Roche. “And I
believe that we have an affinity. I would like to offer her a position as an
apprentice in my workshop.” Grace, though still pale, gave her father such a
heartbreakingly hopeful smile that he agreed at once.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Within a week Grace had begun her
after-school apprenticeship with her neighbor, working until dinner each
evening. As a first order of business Maskelyne gave her a copy of the key to
his front gate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In years to come their relationship
was not always easy, for they were both strong-willed, devious and imaginative.
But on one thing they both agreed: Maskelyne was the greatest inventor of his
age. And among his many successes he could count the invention of the world’s
first Boyproof Watch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-63158979035698871242012-06-02T15:55:00.000-07:002012-06-02T15:55:27.656-07:00The Boyproof Watch VI<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmLEmCd5Ghle-f0rPwy7nLFyVkzdl7SqD119yNiDeuiNiI9ej4wQFwBIeKH6m1NhgE3ZkOGZdkCBNVPL55wzhNQ4nkIzY9qwlV-xOX5314YAKJjkYW6omWhFCBKfLkJ9-if_mmbQcVQw/s1600/Boyproof+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmLEmCd5Ghle-f0rPwy7nLFyVkzdl7SqD119yNiDeuiNiI9ej4wQFwBIeKH6m1NhgE3ZkOGZdkCBNVPL55wzhNQ4nkIzY9qwlV-xOX5314YAKJjkYW6omWhFCBKfLkJ9-if_mmbQcVQw/s320/Boyproof+II.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>VI</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The next morning Maskelyne sent a
note via his patented Mechanical Courier to his staff saying to not to expect
him in the office for the remainder of the week. They would assume he was
repairing the Egyptian Fortuneteller, but he didn’t so much as uncrate that
venerable automaton. Instead, he skipped breakfast, told his bedside clock to
inform the kitchen he wanted a full carafe of black coffee, and walked to the
upper workshop as his clock scampered downstairs to deliver his message. Once
in his workshop he pulled out a large bottle of superior brandy, poured just a
bit more than was required to wet the sides of his glass, and sat at his
drafting table.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This was his favorite method of
creation, to alternate the stimulant of the coffee with the depressive
qualities of the alcohol, enough to keep him awake yet not jittery, relaxed but
not clumsy, setting his talent like a precision tool. His head and hands
floated slightly above sober through the day, aided by the alertness of an
empty stomach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne designed through free association,
with the lines on the paper begun before he himself knew what their form might
be. A curve would become a spring, a line a pin, a doodle a gear. He worked
quickly and fluidly and with no regard to the time or amount of paper he used.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He had long had a Boyproof Watch in
his imagination. The greatest reason that Maskelyne hated children was their
uncanny ability to destroy delicate machinery with their tiny hands and cunning
if underdeveloped minds. More than once, tallying up the number of repairs required
due to their sabotage, he had consulted his ledger to see if his Theatre could
operate with no children in the audience, but no matter how he fiddled the
numbers, it couldn’t. It wasn’t simply the income to be gained from the tykes
but the high percentage of parents, yoked by custom and necessity to their
offspring, who attended his programs. To remain profitable he had to continue
to allow the brats in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That didn’t mean he had to like it.
A prerequisite of all of his staff was that they were both childless and
discouraged from showing affection for children. While it would not have been
in his nature to tolerate discourtesy, he had let go certain employees who were
too sentimental towards the younger patrons. And since the day twenty years ago
that he had opened the Theatre he had never offered any special ticket price to
children—though he was both generous and courtesy to the elderly, and gave many
complimentary tickets to deserving charities throughout the City.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Lunch sat prepared but ignored on a
side tray and before he looked up from his drawings it had been joined by a
dinner tray also grown cold. Inspiration had sat next to him all day, and
having decided on this project it was one that eagerly awaited his discovery. He
had not only years of salvage work to draw from, clocks and machines and
automatons and devices all returned to him after being crippled or killed by
boys, but his own memories of inspired destruction. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The challenge was devising a casing
strong enough, a mechanism sturdy enough and a form captivating enough to catch
the eye of any boy, and then resist every stratagem, every tool that his tiny
hands and malevolent mind might try on it. Faced with such a challenge even the
greatest of Maskelyne’s creations had proved to be but a Goliath facing David’s
sling. But now he would find the solution.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Dawn found him working on his final
draft. The bell in the hallway cabinet had stayed silent all night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> After a few hours sleep he ordered another
full carafe of coffee and began again, now gathering the plates, pins, screws,
wheels, pinions, and springs he would need. He laid out the miniscule inventory
in meticulous order, for there is no “approximate” in watchmaking. Then he
began assembling the gear trains, the escapement and eventually the balance and
hairspring, not only reinforcing each element but building in secondary
fail-safe mechanisms. By the time he finally fell into bed eighteen hours
later, he had given the tiny mechanical engine a single key wind and heard it
tick with an even amplitude.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While he had worked and while he
slept the bell in the hallway cabinet remained silent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When he rose at noon he took breakfast to settle his stomach then
descended to the basement. He had instructed his workshop mechanicals to heat
the forge days before as he planned to make the casing from the new wolfram
alloy he’d been sent by a colleague in Schaffhausen, and while he was unsure at
what temperature it was workable, he knew it must be very hot indeed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The next few hours were frustrating
and so infernal in temperature as to reduce the eternally sanguine Maskelyne to
curses and his undershirt. Much of the alloy was wasted and several tools were
rendered useless. But by that evening he had finally completed the case, and by
midnight he was again at his aerie
workbench, delicately setting the mechanism into its grayish-white casing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then he reached under the workbench
and with a deft movement undid a tiny latch. Out of a hidden drawer he retrieved
a small silver tinderbox. On it was written <i>I
have myself passed through the fire, I have smelt the smell of fire.</i> He
reached inside and pulled out a tiny bright red seed and placed it on the
workbench before him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This was the seed of a Salamander
Blossom, gained by Maskelyne through a complex series of trades with
various antiquarians. It was the subject of study by scholars throughout Europe
and one in America, who noted that whatever was the eventual product of the
seed (for no one had every claimed to see so much as a root tip or a shoot
emerge from the tiny scarlet casing) it had certain remarkable physical
properties. When exposed to a spark, it would explode into a flame of
astonishing heat. Maskelyne had discovered in his own experiments that when
encased in ectoplasm the flame would burn even hotter, at greater radius and
with greater duration. He pulled out his silver flask and extracted a small
amount of that near-intangible substance with silver tweezers that he then used
to wind it round the seed. Using the same tweezers he inserted it deep into the
mechanical heart of the watch. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He then took a miniscule brush and
with precise care painted around this gauzy substance with phosphorus paint,
highly reactive and flammable. As it dried he took two pieces of flint each no
larger than an infant’s fingernail and inserted them resting next to each other
in the watch’s frame.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Now was the most delicate part of
the operation. Carrying both halves down to basement, he heated a tiny amount
of solder on his forge, and then drew it around in a thin line around the
interior edge of the watch’s casing. Working quickly but with infinite care he
brought the casing to set against the watch’s back, holding his breath. To his
relief there was no combustion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But there would be if the case was
ever opened. Indeed, he calculated that the resulting explosion would injure or
even cripple any person foolish enough to try.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While the case cooled, he pulled
out a blank watch box. In his florid yet supremely legible handwriting he wrote:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Boyproof Watch</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When it had cooled, he would place
the watch in the box, and the box on his workbench. And then he would wait.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-41510899793222926602012-05-26T23:06:00.001-07:002012-06-02T15:34:33.718-07:00The Boyproof Watch V<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZp9l8KnbYIclQIO2iBa5_tWfvK7gAAJdsfXjYH_Y_8RpiGVQ7wVNnR-Wo4REI3PjIC5jddHu9tQlefEBfX-ZE18Plwmr7kev3eSKLgLfRT2Q4qPd68mgj6BhxIMoVFko8ivHv76IZZ0c/s1600/IMG_20120506_150920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZp9l8KnbYIclQIO2iBa5_tWfvK7gAAJdsfXjYH_Y_8RpiGVQ7wVNnR-Wo4REI3PjIC5jddHu9tQlefEBfX-ZE18Plwmr7kev3eSKLgLfRT2Q4qPd68mgj6BhxIMoVFko8ivHv76IZZ0c/s320/IMG_20120506_150920.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>V</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne made the rounds of his
neighborhood that afternoon, calling at every residence in a three block radius
of his house. He knocked on each door and explained, top hat deferentially
doffed, that as a gesture of autumnal goodwill he was offering free tickets to
his Mechanical Theatre to all his neighbors. Normally this would of course exclude
the servants, but they were welcome as well, with their tickets thoughtfully reserved
for a night separate from their employers to avoid embarrassment. He simply
required the names and ages of each of the home’s residents—information gratefully
given, and noted in his little silver notebook.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite his thoroughness, the
results were unpromising. His neighbor’s gardener’s son, it turned out, was now
away at boarding school, thanks to an ambitious father. And as suspected, the
family with the two daughters down the street only hosted “dear cousin Jack”
during the summer holidays—and besides were preoccupied with the recent death
of one of the parents, though he was too polite to ask which one. The rest of
his neighbors had no sons or had boys either too young or old to be likely
suspects. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It had been an expensive investigation,
he mused, looking over his notes. He’d be giving away a lot of tickets in the
next month.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When he returned to his home the
large wooden crate with the Egyptian Fortune Teller had arrived and stood on the
sidewalk, attended by two of his mechanics. He opened the gate and they
followed him through to the front door, struggling with their load and eyeing
the lawn ornaments whose heads ominously followed them. Maskelyne engaged the
porch lift, and as they lowered the crate and its contents to the basement he
walked the grounds with tool kit in hand, looking for signs of malfunction in
his decorative sentinels. Aside from a delicate faun whose hidden fangs needed
oiling, all seemed in working order.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He returned to find the two
mechanics still on the porch, petrified, as he hadn’t told them that the
ornaments had been switched to “observe.” He would have scolded them for their
timidity, but there had been a few incidents involving his employees and his
automatons in the past decade that had resulted in injury—but not, he was
careful to remind them, death. They nodded in agreement and hurried down the
path to the gate as if they feared it might shut them in permanently.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He entered the house, set the
sentinels, and realized that it was past six and his entire evening’s routine was
off. The ice had melted in his gin and tonic, and there was no time to more than
glance at the newspaper’s headlines before dinner. As if affected by their
Master’s mood the kitchen staff produced a meal both undercooked and
over-spiced, with the low point being a warmed romaine salad draped listlessly
over white fish.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Leaving his meal half-eaten, Maskelyne
ascended to his aerie workshop more or less on schedule. He turned up the gas lamp
over his workbench, revealing several projects in various stages of repair or
creation. There were two differential equation centers and an experimental oil
regulator, and at the back of the bench was an invention that had sat there for
months, the Aetheric Navigator. He had felt certain that the device could
increase his nightly yield of ectoplasm by crudely mapping the invisible world
for richer currents of the stuff. Yet so far it was sporadic and unreliable and
when switched on the colored lights on the console sparked feebly and in no
clear pattern.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He walked to the window and surveyed
the warm September night. The porch lamp cast a warm glow over the path below but
most of the grounds were in darkness. He reached out and pulled the curtains
slowly shut, knowing that the light from the room would continue to illuminate
them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then instead of returning to his
seat, he crept silently down the stairs, into the kitchen, and descended into
the basement. Moving in the darkness, he took a seat in a wooden chair against
one wall, facing the bank of windows through which his visitor had entered the
night before.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He felt certain that having visited
him once without being caught, the boy would come again. After all, he had been
a boy once. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As a child he had been tremendously
destructive. When scarcely more than a toddler in the orphanage he had
dismantled and destroyed clocks, watches, kitchen appliances, gardener’s tools,
the laundry’s mangler, the headmaster’s trouser press, the kitchen’s dumbwaiter
and the orphanage’s furnace before the staff wisely shipped him off to an<span> </span>apprenticeship with an aged watchmaker in
Brussels. Compared to his master’s dour demeanor the gray rain-soaked buildings
of that city were practically florid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The man was stern and cruel and a
firm believer in corporal punishment, but at least he recognized in his student
a great talent. “Any moron can destroy. Rise above your bastard beginnings boy,
and learn to create,” he would tell him between beatings. When Maskelyne began
to learn his craft, he was sometimes so absorbed that he would work far past
dinner. The clockmaker, who at least didn’t starve the child, would leave him a
tray of congealing stew. <span> </span>“Solitude is
the inevitable companion of genius,” he would quote, turning the key in the lab’s
lock, shutting the boy in for the night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This night reminded him of those,
the intensity, the sense of purpose. For tonight he was sure he would meet his
nemesis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As he continued his vigil he
thought on his history of creation, of the long road from obscure apprentice to
world-renowned master, from a child driven only by anger and loneliness to a
man of power and triumph. Now at the height of his art, some awful boy was
smearing his pudgy fingers into the inner workings of his mechanical children.
It would not be tolerated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly he heard a bell ringing.
It was the same bell he’d heard the night before, yet the windows before him remained
closed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Swiftly he was out of his chair and
up the stairs. He threw open the doors of the Perimeter Monitor, and saw that the
copper wire glowed red at the window of his library. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He rushed into the room and saw the
open window, but nothing else was amiss. He pulled out the derringer kept in
his right waistcoat lining and began going from room to room, his nerves
quietly humming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Up in his aerie workshop he saw it.
The Aetheric Navigator had been pulled forward right to the front of his workbench
and his Lensing Station had been set over it. The lights on the console now
glowed steadily.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He had been here, and left this,
his handiwork. It was an insult. And he knew now there could be no mercy. He
would have his revenge. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I shall catch him,” he said,
leaving the workshop. He would of course check the rest of the house, but he
felt sure that having completed his taunting vandalism, the boy had left. “I
shall catch him,” he repeated, in a </span>low tone. “For I shall create a trap he cannot
resist. I shall create a Boyproof Watch.”</div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-87422636696618977612012-05-17T15:48:00.000-07:002012-05-17T15:48:57.645-07:00The Boyproof Watch IV<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eX3lH7y8iwE7b-7KM11HMRm1NQqIPWwOUvS8LQAsDJSvwCgT_yKVJka-TnykPX35LUMmKKQizSdz-BJdqVEKSR11BCR3W_QX_C5P08AivmWtUfFXTgSQA1Qs8y6cOwAh6_ZkFWSMlMw/s1600/IMG_20120506_150415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eX3lH7y8iwE7b-7KM11HMRm1NQqIPWwOUvS8LQAsDJSvwCgT_yKVJka-TnykPX35LUMmKKQizSdz-BJdqVEKSR11BCR3W_QX_C5P08AivmWtUfFXTgSQA1Qs8y6cOwAh6_ZkFWSMlMw/s320/IMG_20120506_150415.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>IV</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The next morning Maskelyne was in
his office pretending to look over the month’s financials while compiling a
list of possible suspects. The list was chiefly descriptive, as Maskelyne had
no idea of any of his suspects’ names. There was the butcher boy and the son of
one of the servants across the street—the gardener’s child? There were the two
brothers down the block, though he was fairly sure that one was scarcely out of
his pram and the other had recently headed to college. There was the boy who
sometimes lived with the two girls three doors down—a cousin perhaps?—though he
seemed to be present only during the summer months.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He had much research to do. He’d never
bothered to learn the names or relationships of any of his younger neighbors,
let alone any of the assorted guttersnipes who roamed the nearby streets.<span> </span>Frankly he’d never had a reason for noting
their individual qualities. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His musings were interrupted by a
tepid knocking at his door—the door which was wide open. Maskelyne’s staff knew
their master’s temper well, and treaded softly even while trying to get his
attention.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The grease-stained yet pallid
figure who stood at the doorway of his office was Mirch, his chief automaton
craftsman. Mirch was obedient and observant if not particularly bright, and his
exalted position meant that more often than not he was charged with bringing
bad news. Maskelyne swiveled in his chair to regard him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I’m afraid I have some unpleasant
information, sir, the nature of which is serious enough to warrant my appearance
in this office at this time so as to provide you with full details of said
information, despite the fact that seeing as it is unpleasant information it is
not information that you will probably want to hear in detail.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Mirch routinely wrapped bad news in
this sort of fulsome speech like a cherry round a pit.<span> </span>Maskelyne nodded for him to continue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“It seems sir that the Egyptian
Fortune Teller is in serious need of a repair.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“What’s wrong with it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Mirch shifted feet uneasily.
“Perhaps I could speak as to the probable cause and potential solutions that I
have been considering as we proceed from here to the automaton in question,
that is if you could spare a few minutes for such an examination.” Maskelyne
sighed and rose.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One of Maskelyne’s first
masterpieces, The Egyptian Fortune Teller sat in a glass booth that greeted
patrons in the lobby. When a coin was fed into the slot, it would not only cast
hieroglyphic runes, but its sonorous voice would divine the meaning of the
fortune, and dispense a small piece of rolled papyrus with a short prayer taken
from the Book of the Dead. It was a popular attraction and there was
practically always a queue of eager querents gathered for a fortune.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Though his skill had advanced far
beyond its craftsmanship, Maskelyne retained a fondness for the swarthy
automaton. The voice of the oracle was his own, recorded over several days on
wax cylinders. In some small nearly sentimental corner of his heart he was
truly proud of the Fortune Teller, not just the clockwork movements but the
ingenuity, the philosophy that he had put into it.<span> </span>It reminded him of his youthful ambition,
which is a very different sort of ambition than the one of a middle-aged master
of his craft.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As they reached the lobby Mirch was
still explaining. “Was Wiggins saw it first sir, noticed that the queue to see the
Egyptian was getting awfully long, at which point a small child came up and
tugged at his coat until he asked the urchin what was the matter. Any road, it
turns out that some unknown child, not we must assume the child speaking to
Wiggins, had stuffed several caramels above, under and through the coin slot of
the machine. Frankly sir seeing the resulting sugary muck, and please do excuse
my strong language sir, I half-believe that the child must have had access to
some sort of crucible and an independent heat source to melt the sweets and
create the situation what you are about to see.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The automaton stood just off the
foyer to the street and slightly to the left of the life-sized portrait of
Maskelyne himself, painted just three years ago following his triumphant return
from his world tour. Ordinarily the Fortuneteller’s eyes glowed with an eerie
green light, but now the right eye blazed bright emerald while the left was
completely dark, and the mechanical arm that picked up and tossed the
hieroglyphic runes was twitching and tapping the glass in a spasmodic fashion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne gave the hatch cover a
clever twist and it came open. He looked into the innards of his creation and
saw that the melted caramels had left a wet brown river down from the coin box
into the gears at three different places, and now a sticky film covered cogs,
pins, and gears as deep as he could see. No doubt the entire mechanism would
now have to be replaced—a mechanism for which he had no schematic other than
his own memory.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne rose to his feet. He
stared in the face of his crippled creation as its fingers continued to tap
erratically at the glass. “Mirch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Sir?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Shut him down, pack him up, and
deliver it to my home workshop this afternoon. I will leave for home now to
prepare for it, and so you will chair the meeting of the Theatre Staff at 4:40.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Absolutely sir.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Make sure to tell the stage
manager that I expect a full show report on my desk tomorrow morning.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes sir.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne began to cross the lobby
back to the stairs to his office. “Oh, and Mirch?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Sir?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Tell the Theatre confectioners that
their services are no longer required. Prepare them each a final pay packet. We
shall have no more sweets of any sort for sale in the lobby, in the theatre, or
anywhere near our premises.” And with that he was out of the room, leaving the
unfortunate Mirch to his tasks.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-87703323843951030452012-05-14T18:04:00.002-07:002012-05-14T18:11:05.459-07:00The Boyproof Watch III<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglOWhSTYur-S0bZRlnkX4ZaBtXMKQ5AqhWDZnPiV1bHnCBm1ci7ZsjFpk1QUnRR20fAQNmvCAiQbZqZ6NT_SBMa2-lHOPp58mswIGPWaFde3M-9Uhde6xaEbg1YHDN7Fo6qv3K5BFkeuA/s1600/IMG_20120506_145248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglOWhSTYur-S0bZRlnkX4ZaBtXMKQ5AqhWDZnPiV1bHnCBm1ci7ZsjFpk1QUnRR20fAQNmvCAiQbZqZ6NT_SBMa2-lHOPp58mswIGPWaFde3M-9Uhde6xaEbg1YHDN7Fo6qv3K5BFkeuA/s320/IMG_20120506_145248.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>III</b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne did not believe in the
spirits of the dead. He was also a man of fearsome aspect, and to tell the
truth was as dangerous as he looked. His elegant clothes concealed an assortment
of subtle but effective weapons. Under his hat brim was a rounded razor, his
shoes produced spikes with a heel click, and his walking stick was armed at
both tip and handle. There were no less than three small pistols on him at any
time, though only two could be found in a casual search of his person. So when
he rose from his worktable he was unhurried and deliberate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He walked down the side of the stairs
to avoid creaks and into the hall next to the study, where a large teak cabinet
stood. It was from here that the bell was steadily pealing. He opened the cabinet
doors to reveal a detailed map of his house, with all three floors and the basement
outlined in copper wire. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This device, the Auto-Electro
Domicile Perimeter Monitor, had been a commission for the Premier of Canada,
but Maskelyne had installed the prototype in his own home. The copper wire
surrounding the outline of the house glowed a dull red in one area, showing a breach
of the perimeter down at a bank of basement windows. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maskelyne stared intently at the
map. Whoever it might be, they had exhibited both skill and courage in climbing
over the spiked iron fence and passing through the mechanical guards stationed
around the grounds. Anything larger than a squirrel or crow that entered his
estate was set upon without warning, and anything slower than a cat would
almost certainly be killed. (And indeed, he had found shreds of fur and bone
scattered about his garden in the past. The neighborhood felines had learned
that there was nothing but chase and fear within those dark gates.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Usually when he descended to the
basement workshop it was via the stairs in the kitchen. But his ingenuity and
caution had led Maskelyne to include hidden paths throughout his home, so
instead he walked down the hallway and took a right to enter the library. On
the way he passed several automatons that sat, hung or stood motionless.
Several of these could be activated for protective measures, but for the
moment, not knowing the identity or attributes of his intruder, he preferred to
have nothing moving in his house except for himself and his uninvited visitor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the library he crossed to the
middle of the six tall bookcases which curved round the spherical room. Well
aware of the cliché of bookcases that revolved or slid aside to reveal a hidden
door, he had decided, for his amusement as much as for security, on a different
construction. He grabbed the middle shelves hard and yanked upward, and the
entire bookcase slid with counterbalanced ease into the ceiling, revealing a
dark doorway. He struck his stick sharply on the ground and the handle burst into
a white-hot flame, an excellent source of illumination and a formidable weapon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He walked down the steps, and when
he reached the blank wall one floor down his fingers deftly found the small
hidden catch. With a light groan the doorway slid open (must make sure that’s
oiled, he thought to himself) and he was in the dark basement, now lit by his
brightly-burning walking stick.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The basement was vast. When
Maskelyne had met with his architect, his original instructions had been for a
basement and sub-basement, seeing as he was a man with many projects and even
more secrets. Instead the architect had persuaded him to invest in a single
particularly deep cellar dug past the walls of the building above, so the
workmen had excavated under a portion of his back lawn. That half of the
basement was doubly supported by sturdy if ugly hardwood posts. Arranged in
orderly rows throughout the single large room were tables on which rested
automatons in various stages of building and repair, each covered with a thick
white sheet to protect them from dust.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> To someone of even moderate imagination it
resembled a morgue, but Maskelyne had practically no imagination at all. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He made his way over to the bank of
windows that had been indicated on the Auto-electro Domicile Perimeter Monitor,
outwardly casual but alert as an owl. He held the stick up, and saw in its
brilliant white light an open window above, its latch hanging. The window was
low and narrow, made even less accessible by two thick iron bars. It would take
a flexible frame indeed to wriggle through such a small opening. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He stepped back and held the light
to look across the room. There was no motion, no sound. As he slowly moved the
stick the unvarying white flame shuffled the shadows of the sheets on the
tables, and he saw that on one of them the sheet was lying unevenly. It was not
in his nature to leave anything uneven, so he crossed to it and in one motion
grabbed a corner and threw it back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Underneath was the automaton that
he had left there, a mechanical stoop and pavement scrubber that Maskelyne had
not yet managed to cure of a tendency to also ferociously scrub any small
domestic animals it met. Roughly the size of a barrel hoop and only twice as
thick, the scrubber’s differential equation center, a panel on the left side of
its hood, had been open for the inventor’s tinkering. He now saw that the panel
was closed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He opened the panel. Inside he saw
that his most recent work had been completely undone. Wires, gears and cogs
that he’d painstakingly rearranged after the scrubber’s recent encounter with a
beloved Pomeranian had been shifted by an unknown hand. He was even fairly
certain that several components were missing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He swung around, stick raised and
ready, his face reddening. The contracts that he had potential clients sign always
included a lengthy clause regarding penalties for unauthorized tinkering with
his creations. Maskelyne guarded his art as an eagle guards its eggs, and once
his work was ready to leave his shop the maintenance panels were welded shut.
Whoever had been here had been poking his fingers into the proprietary genius
of a very dangerous man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There was no motion, no sound. Maskelyne
turned his light on the ground next to the table. A recent incident with a
patented Articulated Chimney Serpent had left traces of soot on sections of the
floor that had not yet been cleaned. He saw footprints leading from the table
to the floor under the window—prints coming and going, suggesting that the
intruder had entered from the window, and had already escaped via the same
route.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The evidence of those small footprints
was conclusive. Maskelyne’s intruder was his natural nemesis: a boy.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-55330065001468530092012-05-12T10:06:00.000-07:002012-05-12T10:08:11.598-07:00The Boyproof Watch II<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>II</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Each day at 4:40 Maskelyne would leave his office above
the Mechanical Theatre and descend to the lobby to discuss the evening’s
program with the ushers, confectioners and box office staff. He would receive
final reports from the stagehands about required repairs and anomalies that
required observation. And then, reminding the stage manager to have a show
report waiting on his desk the next morning, he would straighten his coat, don
his top hat, and walk home. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When his key had been inserted into
the front gate the gas lamps of his house would ignite, and as he walked the
path up to the front door the deer, rabbits and other woodland sculptures would
turn to watch him, bowing their heads slightly in deference. They were far less
docile to unauthorized visitors.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the anteroom his doorman, an
early unnamed creation, would take his coat with one hand, his hat with the
other and present him with a freshly mixed gin and tonic with the other. Then
assuming that he didn’t pass an umbrella to its fourth hand, it would revert to
the form of a coat rack. As he walked through the door of his study the player
pyrophone in the corner would begin its program of Mozart etudes, the bar of
orange flame that fronted the fire organ undulating with the music, casting a lively
dance of shadows across the room. He would sit and read the newspaper fetched
for him by his automatic paper, slipper and ball fetcher, which would lie
curled at his feet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At seven o’clock the dinner chime
would ring and he’d put down the paper and his drink and proceed to the dining
room, where his clockwork servants would serve the meal that they had prepared
for him. There were never less than three and sometimes as many as eight of
these automatons, depending on his current research and the menu. Across the
table might scuttle a small mechanical intent on keeping his wine glass filled,
while draped around the chandelier above, a sinuous segmented artifice would
spin its internal spice rack at his request and shake vigorously where he
pointed. The other more human-shaped automatons would move to and from the
kitchen delivering courses and taking away empty plates and silverware.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Occasionally there would be
accidents—food spilled, or poorly prepared, or other irregularities. When these
occurred, Maskelyne would pull a small silver notepad from his vest pocket and make
a note for future repair and refinement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After dinner, he would climb the
stairs to his workshop in the aerie. While much of the construction of his
automatons was done in the basement, it was in the upper workshop that he made
the fine adjustments and detailed work that transformed articulated metal into authentic
creations. For it was here that he performed the infinitely minute work of
clockwork, and the much more mysterious task of imbuing it with spirit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The truth was, for all of his wide reading and
experience the greatest lesson of clockwork that Maskelyne had learned was as a
young apprentice. Then he had learned that the most accomplished Makers always
left a small space in their mechanisms right in the midst of the gears, cogs,
pillars and pinions. This tiny gap in the machinery was, he was told, to be
filled with something immaterial. Traditionally, this was a personal wish that
the clocksmith would whisper into the mechanism. But in Maskelyne’s creations, what
was stuffed in the space was a gauzy piece of almost-nothing that he kept stored
in a small silver flask.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The spiritualists call this
substance ectoplasm, a near-transparency that they believe is the materialized
essence of the spirits of the dead. Maskelyne, who had seen more ectoplasm and
put it to greater use than the most celebrated of mediums, was convinced that
they had foolishly misidentified it. He believed that this translucent
material, fragile as a spider-web and with even less weight, was astral
ephemera, the foam of an invisible sea, and entirely unrelated to the soul or any
other human matters. But he also knew that when placed in a mechanism the
material provided an indefinable vitality that made his inventions nonpariel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The method of collecting the ectoplasm
was inspired by shipwrecked mariners in sun-scorched seas, who capture precious
fresh water by filling a cup with seawater and collecting the drops of
condensation that gather on its sides. In a similar fashion, he created an
object to collect the condensation of the astral realm. In the center of a
glass orb he had placed an artificial icon, an abstract symbolic sculpture of
gold, silver and brass. The object was devoid of specific meaning—Maskelyne was
rigorously uninterested in religious matters—but the design and material
mimicked those of traditional iconography. When charged with electricity, over
hours the icon would accrete a layer of fine dust which would gradually begin to
grow webs, then a tissue, and finally a gossamer-thin covering of translucent
material. This was the ectoplasm, which he cut with a slender silver knife and
then captured with a tiny silver net, to be stored in the flask. A small amount
of this substance went into the ticking heart of every one of the Professor’s
creations.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">On this particular September night
with which we are concerned, a windy and warm evening filled with flying leaves,
Maskelyne was engaged in this very process, bent over his workbench, loupe held
in his monocle eye, slicing the misty stuff with the care of a surgeon into an
organ or a pauper into his last orange, when he heard the ringing of a tiny
bell. It was soft yet very distinct—it had to be, in a house filled with bells
and chimes. It was insistent. And it told the Professor that there was an
intruder in his house.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-79570718582006595562012-05-10T11:27:00.000-07:002012-05-10T11:31:38.720-07:00The Boyproof Watch(author's note: ever since I started getting into Steampunk I've had this recurring difficulty of explaining what it is, which sends me flailing around for a definition. Finally I've decided that instead of trying to describe it, I'd just write a Steampunk story, and publish it on the blog in serial form. So without further ado, here's the first installment.)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVImQ6CT06SbM5KzlaVOCe41qoCw_ss6oADX_i009lKCYG5uXt7l8BYlzfc8tE8F66VZH1Z58W3EAGtuUDznS5GiT4TqTw3FndtqqKEEzgbcaYVvYto5ankbVgMzqMygeH551UUtuxjA/s1600/shot_1336505698773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVImQ6CT06SbM5KzlaVOCe41qoCw_ss6oADX_i009lKCYG5uXt7l8BYlzfc8tE8F66VZH1Z58W3EAGtuUDznS5GiT4TqTw3FndtqqKEEzgbcaYVvYto5ankbVgMzqMygeH551UUtuxjA/s320/shot_1336505698773.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Professor Davenant Maskelyne
consorted with spirits and lived with automatons. The public visited his
Mechanical Theatre in droves and certain wealthy patrons had seen the inside of
his workshop, but no one ever called upon him at home. He was too frightening. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There are men who seek to assume
the façade of Mephistopheles, going through canisters of moustache wax and a
wardrobe full of red silk shirts to try and personate the devil. Such spiritual
braggarts rarely achieve any effect greater than mockery. But Professor Maskelyne
looked like Satan all the time. Even in the bathtub, his long oily black hair
and trimmed Van Dyke threaded into sharp points. His triangular crafty face had
a natural rougish tinge, and on hearing his deep sinister laugh one simultaneously
expected to see a sinuous tail with a barbed end dart out from between the
tails of his frock coat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Modern thinkers may suggest that
the façade makes the man as much as the man makes the façade. For it is true
that a man like the Professor might have begun his life with the soul of a
saint, but when you sport the look of a lean Vice from a pageant play, what
road is a man’s character supposed to take? When babies stare and sob in your
presence, when fathers clutch their adolescent daughters as you pass them on
the street, when a merchant hesitates to take your coins, as if fearing them
heated—well. It gives a person a certain distant attitude towards humanity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While they feared him, the
Professor was always in social demand. He was a dabbler in obscure areas of
knowledge and a master of some rare skills. Chief among these was clockwork.
His automatons, many of which were featured in nightly performance in his
theatre, were astonishing. Maskelyne understood clockwork not just as a
scientist, but as an artist. His creations did everything he had designed them
to do, and not just the ones that danced, strutted, declaimed and sang on his
specially designed stage. The worker automatons that he built on commission
swept floors, cleaned church windows and skittered through plumbing cleaning
scum and splooge efficiently and without malfunction. What was more, his
mechanizations performed their tasks with unmistakable flair and personality.
His patented mechanical rodent-catcher would end each massacre by curling up
and cleaning the blood off its needle-sharp fangs and razor-covered limbs with
an oiling mechanism located in its “mouth,” raising each limb to lap them
exactly like a cat washing itself. His mechanical housemaids would chuckle
appreciatively if you slapped their brass bottoms. And his mechanical parrots
not only flew around the room and pecked bird seed from your hand, but repeated
random phrases overheard from their owners in high tinny voices.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His ingenuity made him rich, and
his genius made him alluring. There was really only one aspect of his social
personality that bothered people. He hated children.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That’s not to say that he was cruel
to them. No one had ever seen him raise a hand to a child, even when it was the
infamous Ashdown twins. During their mother’s dinner party they had escaped
their German nanny and snuck under the dining room table, only to burst forth screaming
during the asparagus soup. Maskelyne had leapt up with a start only to discover
that his shoes had been tied, and he had tumbled with a thud at the feet of the
Master Butler. Nevertheless, Mrs. Ashdown received a lovely silver bracelet a
week later along with a short note of thanks for the invitation, and the matter
seemed settled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But for the next month, the twins
complained separately and together of monsters hiding under the bed and behind
the curtains, particularly a demonic monkey who squeaked when it walked and watched
them with glowing red eyes as they slept. After Eustace had a screaming fit and
Clovis had stopped eating, the pair
were packed off to a boarding school in Trieste,
where they were said to be happy, most probably meaning that they had
reestablished their reign of terror.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Weeks later, the upstairs maid
noticed that the curtains of the room and low sections of the wainscoting had
strange dottings of dark oil. But since she had detested the boys she blamed
them for the mess and said nothing to her mistress.</span></div>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-50851902911018940782012-05-08T00:35:00.000-07:002012-05-08T00:37:15.403-07:00Steamy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqS1VF0ua7EhiljzaXxvj4gBCABK2cydwsnPiIZutmJdmeHSd71GJzefHqqsokv9RX0NxaKieiuW5yUnjuqGJ8Qu13NWMWXHez1-CuW5CX0j4wmIZfvpFUqPfmV-Bq_P5jesM1i7B9rk/s1600/IMG_20120506_144855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqS1VF0ua7EhiljzaXxvj4gBCABK2cydwsnPiIZutmJdmeHSd71GJzefHqqsokv9RX0NxaKieiuW5yUnjuqGJ8Qu13NWMWXHez1-CuW5CX0j4wmIZfvpFUqPfmV-Bq_P5jesM1i7B9rk/s320/IMG_20120506_144855.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoV1Pq8shQKQphyphenhyphenI0knyJJQrENkOl_KbNu-ixeBEx72KtkR5slO2powlFnudauD5aDeX5PAplHOMDfj-4CjTt4UGJQVtqWSDvxC4gEq-mWit8Db-wGhtAaqSsJZ8msCfs6hUrGBl9i6ME/s1600/IMG_20120506_150838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Greetings! It's been a long absence from the blog, but I swear to you all it's not been intentional. The simple tru</span><span style="font-size: large;">th is that I've been writing and thinking very little about theatre recently, as I'm in the midst of writing my first full-length novel. A novel, unlike a play, is such a huge ravenous creature that it demands to be fed words not by the discreet sentence but by the paragraph, the page, the chapter. It's sucked the vitality away from almost all my other writing. Even my e-mails have grown telegraphic. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So here's where I tell you what the novel's about: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Steampunk, Seattle, Used Bookstores and Sherlock Holmes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are crimes and at least one murder. There is also an airship, and I'm not promising a duel on that airship, but that might happen too. Because one of the real advantages of writing fiction instead of plays is that my budget is limitless.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A lot of you know about Used Bookstores, and everyone knows about Sherlock Holmes. But what exactly is Steampunk?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In a nutshell, Steampunk is a multidisciplinary art and culture movement that draws from the glorious science fiction of the Victorians, particularly H.G. Wells and Jules Verne. It embraces fashion, fiction, music and social life. It's a bit Goth, if Goth could ever not take itself seriously. It's a lot geek, but the sort that enjoys technology that you can actually open up and take a shot at repairing or modifying yourself, even if you might get greasy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And it's a completely gorgeous aesthetic.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I recently went on a tour of the Georgetown Steam Plant, a stunning old building that's an wonderfully no-frills industrial museum, with much of the original machinery. Built in 1907, the Plant supplied electricity to the entire neighborhood using several steam engines, powered first by oil, then by coal, then converted back to oil. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our guide had worked at the Plant back in the 1970s, and at the end of the tour took us up to a space between the three engines. "What you see here are 30 years of steam history all in one place," he said. "That one there, that's from the 1890s. That beautiful vertical engine there, that's from about 10 years later, and this third one, that's from 1920." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoV1Pq8shQKQphyphenhyphenI0knyJJQrENkOl_KbNu-ixeBEx72KtkR5slO2powlFnudauD5aDeX5PAplHOMDfj-4CjTt4UGJQVtqWSDvxC4gEq-mWit8Db-wGhtAaqSsJZ8msCfs6hUrGBl9i6ME/s1600/IMG_20120506_150838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoV1Pq8shQKQphyphenhyphenI0knyJJQrENkOl_KbNu-ixeBEx72KtkR5slO2powlFnudauD5aDeX5PAplHOMDfj-4CjTt4UGJQVtqWSDvxC4gEq-mWit8Db-wGhtAaqSsJZ8msCfs6hUrGBl9i6ME/s320/IMG_20120506_150838.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> (The picture above is the vertical engine, which as he said was the prettiest.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He described an experiment that he and a co-worker had tried years ago to see if they could get the vertical engine running using a compressed air pump. "We started it up, and it went AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRK, WWWERRRRRRAACK CREAK, just these godawful screams, but then it eventually got up to a low speed. Then a couple years later, we decide to see if we could get the boiler going, you know, actually get some steam in there. Well that was a whole other process, but we managed it. And you know, when it was running on steam, not cool air? It ran like a dream. The heat just made that machine purr."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I believe that a lot of things in life, including art, work the same way. Apply heat, let the pressure build, and you often find that the process is so much smoother. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">More about Steampunk soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-15062319090339326132011-11-16T01:29:00.000-08:002011-11-16T01:38:34.006-08:00Good Dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomeDw0VjbjFP-aWJ2Sjxji-TReXHwrjtxlW_y4_QvQgp333KHPeVHKPt2D9umX_MG0JoqQy3DU57HtaMUEgD8sRCk5ulHpchyuSbqdI39Lnp9U-f-z_NPmLxk0W2x46z-Zhrw4XQaXII/s1600/Sadie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomeDw0VjbjFP-aWJ2Sjxji-TReXHwrjtxlW_y4_QvQgp333KHPeVHKPt2D9umX_MG0JoqQy3DU57HtaMUEgD8sRCk5ulHpchyuSbqdI39Lnp9U-f-z_NPmLxk0W2x46z-Zhrw4XQaXII/s320/Sadie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675525537845172882" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />So I’m stepping aside from writing about theatre to write an appreciation of my Mom’s sweet dog Sadie, who passed away a couple of days ago. This won’t be a regular occurrence but she wasn’t a regular dog. </span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sadie was a hound of unknown pedigree, but was immediately recognizable to anyone who’s ever seen one of James Thurber’s cartoons. She was the living embodiment of one of his many sad-eyed hounds, dogs that seem not just melancholy but beset by deep insecurities. Sadie’s constant demeanor was morose even when she was joyous and her tail was doing circles like a helicopter propeller.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Mom brought Sadie home from the Juneau pound almost ten years ago. I remember my sister saying that she really couldn’t understand my Mom’s choice—the dog was already grown, not much of a “looker,” and at that time anyway was given to heavy bouts of enthusiastic, and none-too-fragrant, panting. But when Mom brought her down to her book store, Sadie headed right to a back corner, curled up, and lay there through the long afternoon as various customers came in and enthused over her.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sadie had, like Gertrude Stein (whom she somewhat resembled), a deep but passive love of company. She would look up when you came in the room, perhaps give a few thumps of her tail, and then wait to see what you were going to do. If that was skritching her ears and giving her some belly pats, she would lay back and give you a grateful look that made you feel like you weren’t just petting a dog, you were performing a useful community service.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sadie wasn’t what I would have called a “fun” dog. On walks she could be awful, tugging on her leash, or when released, disappearing on lengthy secret missions. Walks with Mom would often include a long bout of her calling her name while we would periodically hear her romping about in the underbrush. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">But Sadie was a dog with soul. I remember Mom saying when she got her that the vet had said she’d had puppies when she was younger—fate of said puppies unknown. It was easy to believe. Sadie seemed to carry some sad wisdom always about with her, even if it was just the burden of a tough past and the knowledge that in the present she had it good.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">And she did have it good. Mom tends to spoil her pets—not to the point where they’re intolerable, but certainly to where they’re well aware that they have a good life. The dog got more than her share of table scraps and treats. Mom and Sadie used to do morning yoga together, Mom curling herself up with her feet in the air and the dog nibbling the treats that her mistress had placed between her toes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I last saw Sadie she was depressed about Mom’s absence—Mom was off on her annual book-buying and cartographer conference trip to England and the Continent, while I looked after the house and dog, and went through the vast number of books I have stored in her basement. Yet after a few days Sadie cheered up to the point where she would actually play with me in a melancholy sort of way—she’s bring me one of her stuffed animals, I’d throw it, and she’d look at me reproachfully, as if to say “is that how you treat my toys?” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">This last week Sadie got out of Mom’s house late at night and went rummaging. Unfortunately the poor old girl ended up with a fatal case of garbage gut—she’d never been the most discriminating of dogs—and though she received surgery she didn’t survive it. Though she was getting stiff and was easily satisfied with a short walk and a full dog bowl twice a day, she still had a few good years left, and it’s very sad to lose her. She lived an odd and seemingly melancholy life. But she had the pleasure of being loved by a lot of people—and that’s a considerable accomplishment for a lifetime.</span></p>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-14588080736941163802011-10-09T14:11:00.000-07:002011-10-09T15:02:48.387-07:00Hmmmm to Persephone<span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yASus-wVm1eeo6yygr2y16zYKD8brDsUJ4kZQFdDBUp0g1s7ZyARsK4jcK20RqlBLZgcpaxRCrRnKKkYrtUNaFfAQu7q1JrRub1oduTjfDrRRjQBF2I4uPoHpfqZWm191yfglyTl0us/s1600/persephone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 95px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yASus-wVm1eeo6yygr2y16zYKD8brDsUJ4kZQFdDBUp0g1s7ZyARsK4jcK20RqlBLZgcpaxRCrRnKKkYrtUNaFfAQu7q1JrRub1oduTjfDrRRjQBF2I4uPoHpfqZWm191yfglyTl0us/s320/persephone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661611301866070722" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />From--"New World Under"<br /><br />PLUTO </span><p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She was happy. I was happy. But up above, things got</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">bad. </span></p><p class="MsoPlainText"><span style=";font-size:130%;" > </span></p><p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">My daughter is dead!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PROSERPINA</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Relax, Mom. I'm not dead.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She is dead!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUTO</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Try yelling up through a well.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PROSERPINA</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm not dead!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Gods! She has been buried alive.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PROSERPINA</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">That's more accurate.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And I will save her.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PROSERPINA</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She will, too.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUTO</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She won't. She can wail and scream and stomp around up there....</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I will wail and scream and stomp!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUTO</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But she can't come down here without a visa.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PROSERPINA</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I wouldn't bet against my mother.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Knock knock!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUTO</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I'll get it.</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES (entering)<br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Abductor!</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUTO</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">How did you get here?</span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">CERES</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I wailed and screamed and stomped and the earth turned gray and cold and they filled out a visa right quick, I can tell you.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Fairy tales and mythologies derive part of their great power to enthrall us because while they seem to make sense, there's always a lovely element of the irrational that is hidden there somewhere. Why "three" wishes?" Why does the Giant always announce his presence with "Fee, fi, fo, fum?" Why is it that of the three Gorgons only Medusa is mortal, and what do the other two do after she gets her head lopped off?<br /><br />Since human nature also carries a lovely hidden element of the irrational (perhaps most strongly when are we trying to be our "most rational") there seems to be a correlation between these stories and our psychology. To understand people, it's worthwhile to try and understand our myths.<br /><br />The myth of Persephone (the Roman's Proserpina) is one that I thought I understood. It's a very old story; the first time it shows up in Greek literature is Hesiod's </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Theogony</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, a work that predates the 5th century Greek renaissance by a couple of hundred years. It's also one of those myths that seems a straightforward pre-scientific attempt to explain natural phenomenon.<br /><br />Persephone, daughter of the Goddess Demeter (the Roman's Ceres, "Mother Nature"), is abducted by Hades (Pluto), god of the Underworld, who's fallen in love with her beauty. Demeter goes on a "hunger strike" until her daughter is returned, and the world suffers death and cold. Persephone is returned, but she's eaten food of the Underworld, some seeds of a pomegranate. As a result, it's determined that she must stay for part of the year with Hades. During this time without her daughter, Demeter mourns, the world grows cold and plants wither and die, and we have winter. Then she returns, Demeter's joyful, it's Spring, and the cycle begins again.<br /><br />All pretty straightforward, right?<br /><br />But...as I looked at the myth again a couple of nights ago, I found myself with some questions, particularly about Persephone. In the myth as told, she's merely an object of desire to both her mother and her lover, neither of whom seem to have much interest in her own will. She's just a child placed in a time share scheme between two feuding adults. (In fact in some versions, she also has to continue to serve part of the year as Zeus's handmaiden--and we all know what HE's like with the help!)<br /><br />But what about what she wants? Being Mommy's little baby gets old when you're a teenager. And while upstairs you're a minor goddess who helps out with the family business, downstairs you're the Queen of the Underworld. It's not the simple choice it first appears.<br /><br />So I decided to ask these questions in a 10-minute play, "New World Under," and I was surprised by some of the answers. (I was also surprised to complete it and find it fits snugly in the Arcana cycle as the "Death" card.)<br /><br />"New World Under" had its premiere this weekend at Tacoma's Doubleshot 24 Hour Play Festival. Thanks to my director Abby Dylan, and my actors James Tweedale, Ann Flanagan and Shawn Baker for bringing it all to life (and death) in front of its first audience. And thanks to NPA and especially Bryan Willis for setting up the whole event.<br /><br />I like this one. With a little luck, you'll be seeing more of it.<br /></span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-32862910817156309392011-09-21T18:17:00.000-07:002011-09-21T18:32:15.591-07:00Shepard Country<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlSDQG-opr5FI5vbkEqZGrMRvsM0o9bV_4uUW7Xeud6geaTLDeFuXmTOag7wtQnSX0UhxgvGTU8sLaFgPOdweHvJrI408WjDfAhT7b4_C2uPmeWVP7RBiLVQTs4ZhTpcaSdt82iX1b2c/s1600/collektor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlSDQG-opr5FI5vbkEqZGrMRvsM0o9bV_4uUW7Xeud6geaTLDeFuXmTOag7wtQnSX0UhxgvGTU8sLaFgPOdweHvJrI408WjDfAhT7b4_C2uPmeWVP7RBiLVQTs4ZhTpcaSdt82iX1b2c/s320/collektor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654987628632934834" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I’ve missed Sam Shepard.<br /><br />Back when I was in my early ’20s and still in college I acted in a pair of Shepard one acts, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Action</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Red Cross</i>. Both were from his gonzo years, when he’d write impossibly uncommerical plays that would be performed in weird little fringe venues—the sort of venues that I’ve grown to know and love here in Seattle. The plays were crazy in the best and most theatrical of ways. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Action</i> for example, a collection of strange refugees from some catastrophe make some sort of life for themselves, trying and failing to communicate with each other in a series of interlocking monologues. At one weird juncture I would instruct a fellow survivor how to clean a fish that had come up in the bucket from the well. I remember wishing I could write dialogue this beautiful, despite how ugly and strange the world of the plays. </span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Later I went on to direct a production of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">True West</i> at my home town community theatre—and since only one male actor came to the audition (and then backed out), it was cast with my cousin playing Lee, me playing Austin and our aunt playing our Mom. Despite the incestuous casting it was a hit in small town Alaska. I think a lot of people who came to saw it, who had ended up in this weird isolated island town instead of choosing to move there, understood the character of the dangerous grifter Lee better than I did.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Now Collektor Productions has staged Shepard’s play <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">A Lie of the Mind</i> in ACT's Bullit Cabaret, his mid-career epic from 1985, right at the height of Shepardmania (just after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">True West </i>and his bravura performance as Chuck Yeager in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Right Stuff</i>). I can’t in all honesty say it’s my favorite of his works—its length and the repetition of thematic elements work against it. At times it comes dangerously close to self-parody. (Can't anyone in this play remember anything about anything?) But it sure is great to get a passport back to the strange world of Sam Shepard, if just for an evening.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I wonder if the reason that his plays have lost some traction with our zeitgeist is that his characters always seem to partly inhabit the irrational world of symbol—the sheaves of corn brought in throughout <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Buried Child</i>, the Father’s ghost in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Fool for Love</i>, and virtually everybody and everything in earlier plays like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Tooth of Crime </i>or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Angel City</i>, which take place in landscapes constructed entirely of symbols. Back in the ’70s and ’80s it was hip and enjoyable to deconstruct uniquely American symbols like cowboys, farmhouses and honky-tonk bars, to take them back from the ad campaigns, country western songs and half-baked "American mythology" and make something new.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> But for the last decade we’ve watched a corrupt series of politicians use one symbol of "American mythology" after another in a largely successful attempt to gain our support for their klepocratic economic practices and two longstanding wars, one of which we were lied into. So when a character like Ray Tagavilla’s Jake wraps a flag around himself in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">A Lie of the Mind </i>and sets out on a journey across state lines, it seems less resonant, more dingy somehow. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">The other issue, perhaps, is that in the last decade the gulf between the people that Shepard writes about—the grifters, the dispossessed, the uneducated, the poor—and the people who go to theatre has become wider than ever. We have lost faith and covenant with these people and they with us. Let’s face it: the people who live in the trailer parks, isolated farm houses and dingy motel rooms of his imagination look an awful lot like the people who voted for George W. Bush not once but twice. (That is, if they voted at all.) Shepard cares enough about these people to elevate their language to poetry. But what writer today believes in turning the stage over to the wisdom and beauty of the poor white hick? “Curse of the Starving Class,” indeed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Still, it sure was a blast going back to Shepherd Country for an evening. The show’s cast attack the material with fervor and conviction, and I’m reminded of just what delicious parts he writes for both men and women. The term “aria” is overused when discussing all sorts of plays, because it often means that the writer has stopped the play so that one of his characters can go all poetical on us. But Shepard’s characters sing out in beautiful language because they’ve climbed as far as prose will take them. Even though I find “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Lie’s</i>” extra running time diffuses Shepard’s material instead of elevating it, it is still a wonder to hear a speech about a man’s shirt like Aimee Bruneau’s Beth delivers, where the act of putting back on a borrowed shirt becomes an astonishing riff on the weight of the masculine persona. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">So cheers to director Rob West and all of the actors of Collektor for revisiting Shepard. It would be grand if it kicked off a revival or two. Believe it or not, Shepard’s written no fewer than 10 plays since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Lie of the Mind</i> back in 1985—and some of them, including <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Simpatico </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">God of Hell</i>, are pretty good. (As far as I know, only one, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">God of Hell</i>, has received a local production.) Let’s see what that rangy old guy’s been doing in the last twenty years, Seattle.</span></p>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-8606665543634914542011-09-13T17:19:00.001-07:002011-09-13T17:24:37.457-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-B6N6zLq5wm9Kfoh7MbCfuGbAfZ7dx1WrLrWEZb_YYIdRXFGJLZBUVhf_dEFzbVwTjNZdZRa0VntL4vQuJKD-hl2Dg43ViYG0Tm_lbyNxcqxDuqduGA9MDhNmHNGfNY6dr7QtBhmRCW4/s1600/Trophy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-B6N6zLq5wm9Kfoh7MbCfuGbAfZ7dx1WrLrWEZb_YYIdRXFGJLZBUVhf_dEFzbVwTjNZdZRa0VntL4vQuJKD-hl2Dg43ViYG0Tm_lbyNxcqxDuqduGA9MDhNmHNGfNY6dr7QtBhmRCW4/s320/Trophy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652004403106576770" border="0" /></a><br />(This is not a Gregory Award. It is a very big trophy though.)<br /></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Back in April, something brought the Gregory Awards to my attention—I think it was the annual call for nominations.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’ve attended the awards a couple of times in the past, but this year, my thoughts went something like this: “why the hell should I care? This is precisely the sort of thing that I’m never nominated for, and I’m tired of toiling away like an unappreciated ant in the world of Seattle theatre while being asked yet again to celebrate my more illustrious peers. Besides, awards like this mean absolutely nothing.”</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Then last month I learned I was nominated in the 2010-2011 Playwrights Category.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> “On the other hand,” I said to myself, “the Gregory Awards are an important way for Seattle’s theatre artists to recognize excellence in their ranks. It’s good to have events like this when we can come together as a community and celebrate our achievements.”</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">“And you know? It’s an honor to just be nominated.”</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Okay, I’m being facetious. Really though, it IS an honor to be nominated. I can’t really speak to the work of Scotto Moore or Kelleen Conway Blanchard (the People’s Choice and Member’s Voice Nominees, respectively); to my regret I haven’t seen any of Scotto’s work and not enough of Kelleen’s to form an opinion. But the three other playwrights who were initially nominated with me, Elizabeth Kenny, Neil Ferron and Yussef El Guindi are all real talents. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was fortunate to check out Kenny’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Sick</i> on its closing weekend, and was delighted by its innovative narrative structure, where her autobiographical story of medication-induced mental illness was repeatedly yanked back to a linear form by her collaborator Tina Kunz. It perfectly mirrored the infinite parsing of a mind struggling in the shifting realms of schizophrenia. Neil was a student of mine, believe it or not, a couple years back in my 10 Minute Play Class at Freehold. His work wasn’t that of a student. Instead it was an undeniably mature voice that was already grappling with sophisticated technical issues of form and voice, and I looked forward to every exercise he turned in.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> And then there’s Yussef El Guindi. We’ve worked together on several projects over the years, and were both members of a long-running playreading group. In the last decade it has been a sincere pleasure to see a man whose work I have respected and admired for such a long time being given the attention he deserves. He also happens to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, even though his self-deprecation often reaches comic proportions. (At the opening night of <em>Pilgrims</em><span class="st"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> Musa and Sheri in the New World</i></span>, he told me at intermission that he thought that the show was off and the audience seemed distant and not very involved. After the show received a rapturous standing ovation, I told him that these were precisely the words I would have used to describe the audience.)</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Awards, like critical reviews and productions, are arbitrary. We all know this. And individually, by themselves, they really don’t matter. But in my case, I’m sincerely grateful for being included this year, because as a theatre artist I’ve often felt outside of the main theatre community, and this is a reminder that I’m not. I couldn’t ask for better company in this year’s Gregory Awards—and that’s not even mentioning all my friends nominated in other categories, like Charles Leggett (Best Actor) and Billie Wildrick (Best Actress). It’ll be a real pleasure to put on a tie on October 17<sup>th</sup> and head down to ACT to share in the pride of working with great artists in a great theatre town.</span></p>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-24073440468912590512011-09-11T11:46:00.000-07:002011-09-11T12:26:21.255-07:00Regarding 9/11/01S<span style="font-size:130%;">o today I hope is not about "remembering 9/11," but the letting go of such memories. This is not to say that a tragedy doesn't deserve mourning, but in the last ten years we've seen this particular event used for a whole series of very bad decisions by our leaders that have led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people who had nothing to do with it.<br /><br />Like every playwright I know, I took a crack at a 9/11/01 piece. It was staged at Babylon's "9 Holes" short play pieces in 2003. Here it is, a monologue entitled "After/Before."<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(Sound of a door slamming. Then Julia begins speaking.)</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">JULIA</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’ve been going through a bad patch lately. I’ve been wanting to sleep past the point where I can actually sleep. Maybe being cryogenically frozen for a couple of years or so. Like a bag of frozen peas shoved to the back of a grocery store freezer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’ve had time on my hands, On my feet, my back, my belly, my head. Manacled in minutes, shut up in hours, and walled up in Castle Time, where the only sound is the tick-tock of the guard’s walk.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I needed to kill time. To slaughter it. To waste it.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I borrowed a friend’s TV.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m really a radio kind of person. I don’t own a TV. Haven’t for years. So at the time I didn’t see it. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I heard it. NPR. I loves me my NPR. Doesn’t matter how bad things get. “As the earth spins out of control and towards the heart of the sun, commentator Bailey White has some thoughts about how the unseasonable weather is affecting her tomatoes.”</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I heard everything.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But I didn’t see anything.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I didn’t want to see anything.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It was good to not see. Really. Some people say, “I had to watch.” But I didn’t. I felt like that’s what was expected of me.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Like that was the whole point of it, to make us watch. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">A friend said, “I had to watch. Because my imagination would have made it much worse.” Not me. I pictured them as simply…gone. There one minute, the next not. I’ve got a tidy imagination.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">And I had no real connection, you know? Been to New York twice, never fell in love with the skyline, never paid to go up the elevator and take a look. I had no friends working there. I knew no one on any of the planes.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It pissed me off how immediately everyone wanted a piece of the experience. Hungry to link themselves, somehow, to what had happened. They knew someone, they’d had their picture taken there, they’d almost been on that flight. Like some Media Event, like the new Star Wars installment, that they HAD to be a part of, waited in line for days to see it, could recite lines from it, had the action figures.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Not me. I thought it was bad and sad but I didn’t want it in my life. So no thank you. I had permanently abstained from a viewing.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">And our leaders! Like they care. Like that little tinhorn dictator in the White House gave a damn about janitors or firemen or even stockbrokers. Like he thought anything at the time except “Jesus Christ! They’re coming after me next!”</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I borrowed this TV for the weekend. Because TV is a great waste of time. And sometimes that’s exactly what you want. Another friend loaned me a couple of bags of videos. She records TV somewhat randomly. Which is great. Tapes with labels like “Tuesday” or “Pizza Guy Episode!” or “Law and Order and Will and Grace.” I came straight home from work, made up some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and got ready to spend the next three days in sweet oblivion. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I put an unmarked tape in the machine. But nothing happened. So I pressed the remote.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">On the tape was smoke, and fire. Billowing clouds, but all cascading inwards, like being sucked up by a vast dragon’s mouth. Then, as I watched, I could see debris falling into the smoke, flying into it. Then more and more falling into the space, growing into a shape, dark and filled with fire. Then finally it was whole, and I could see the people flying up, into the sky, as if on wires.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I had hit rewind. By mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was watching it all go up again. Rising from the pillars of smoke, glass and metal and concrete shooting back to reattach itself to the sides of the buildings. Little figures flying up like souls called by the Rapture.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But it wasn’t the end of the world. It was a voyage back to innocence.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Okay, that’s bullshit. We weren’t “innocent.” We were naïve and complacent. We were the strongest, most powerful, DUMBEST nation in the world, and that includes the Australians so that’s saying quite a lot.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Nothing of consequence changed because of these events, only that everyone liked to say that everything had changed. And also the Republicans get away with all sorts of crap because they’ve got another monster to scare us, and the Democrats’ new tactic is shutting up and letting them do whatever they want.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But still, it was hypnotic. Watching it. Build themselves up. Construct themselves into a boring pair of office buildings out of fire and pain and smoke. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Up it goes. And up. And up. Reclaimed by the ordinariness of a typical Tuesday. Vanishing like a nightmare into blue sky and morning. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">And Kennedy’s head snaps forward, expelling the bullet. And the battlefields of Europe and Asia are vast maternity wards for boys about to be sent home, the Great Wars becoming vague grumblings. Every vast mistake we’ve ever made is a peace born from chaotic and inexplicable implosions of blood and matter and clouds of smoke. The history of the human race reveals itself as sensible, but only when, only when, only when we run the tape backwards.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">There are still villains in this revisionist history. Lincoln wakes up while watching a play and goes out to start a war that enslaves a race. But even this story ends happily, as hundreds of years later benevolent sea captains take the chains off and pack ex-slaves into their ships to sail to Africa, picking up some sick passengers mid-journey from the middle of the ocean.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We have a glorious future behind us. We will save the whales and the rainforests and the passenger pigeon and the dodo. We’ll ban the bomb, and the gun, and eventually even the sword and shield, in our race towards smaller wars. Countries will become quaint and charming, languages more diverse and richer, and we’ll finally get rid of TV, movies, and the novel and get back to poetry and drama. We will all adopt, voluntarily, the simple living movement. People will be gracious on a grand scale to each other, settling border disputes, leaving whole continents rather than disturb the indigenous people, and eventually the Romans will build up the Temple as a gift to the Jews and the Chinese, confident and industrious as ever, will dismantle the Great Wall. We will head back towards one race, one language, one country. Eden.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But I don’t need to see all of this. All I want to see is the towers go up again. </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">And for you to unslam that door and walk back in.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(the doorslam sfx from the beginning is played again, backwards.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 1in 0.0001pt 63pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">THE END</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:1.0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:63.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style=" Courier New"font-family:";font-size:130%;" > </span></p></span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-62071170136035949872011-08-09T13:34:00.000-07:002011-08-09T14:37:06.280-07:00Thrillsville 2011<span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGpnScAJuO-cEXcFio2dYqN5o7SsxjvUmtpXT6NqpDTB0Qy3NxSOiNYqFXWWMBXv4Sp3VxTlzMSpEu_0CSew29WrJWQdi0c_797LnBn6UuaMR-lJZhmSy1i_-D8zebft-lTI-UNtysaM/s1600/Creepy-Door-2-by-Susan-E--Adams-qpps_570669215340652.LG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGpnScAJuO-cEXcFio2dYqN5o7SsxjvUmtpXT6NqpDTB0Qy3NxSOiNYqFXWWMBXv4Sp3VxTlzMSpEu_0CSew29WrJWQdi0c_797LnBn6UuaMR-lJZhmSy1i_-D8zebft-lTI-UNtysaM/s320/Creepy-Door-2-by-Susan-E--Adams-qpps_570669215340652.LG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638968646641511810" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br />Tonight's the first public reading of my new play "The Sound in the Next Room" down in the PONCHO space at the Seattle Rep, as part of Northwest Playwrights Alliance monthly reading series. It's a comedy thriller, this draft anyway: some co-workers take an out-of-town trip for a "Mystery Weekend," and then discover that their own secrets might turn out to be not only dangerous but deadly.
<br />
<br />It's envisioned as a fun light entertainment.
<br />
<br />And it only took me eight years to write.
<br />
<br />Usually I write quickly. Working as a journalist, I've had a lot of experience with deadlines, and believe that there's a valuable heat added to your writing when you're up against the clock. A good number of my shorter plays were written overnight, for 14/48, Doubleshot or other short plays festivals. Even when a play of mine has had a long development period--"Sherlock Holmes/Christmas Carol" had two and a half years of drafts and improvements--I usually write the initial draft in a few weeks, not months.
<br />
<br />So what's up with this one?
<br />
<br />To be honest, I forgot about it.
<br />
<br />2003 was one of those times when I was up to my elbows in theater. Productions, scripts, parties--somewhere in there I was dating an actress. I was also time and again running into actresses who I had big talent crushes on. There were four that I particularly wanted to work with, and so as a playwright, I came up with a cunning plan: I'd write a play and have them read it for me.
<br />
<br />The plan worked. All four participated in three developmental readings, and since I'd chosen four women who were not only talented but whip-smart, the post-reading discussions were invaluable. I really felt like things were humming along.
<br />
<br />But theatre is always of the moment, and the moment when these four women were available went away. Two left Seattle, and the other two went on to other projects. I shelved the play and headed on to other shows as well.
<br />
<br />Then earlier this year I noticed the play sitting on my computer. I had remembered it as being about 18 pages long but promising. So when I took a look, I was surprised to find 73 pages that seemed better than promising. This play looked almost done.
<br />
<br />Well, it wasn't.
<br />
<br />When I started work trying to finish the play, I found myself arguing with the playwright. Because the guy who wrote plays back in 2003 doesn't really write like me. He was way more wordy, pop-culture centered, and his plotting was clever but a little dull.
<br />
<br />(I know I'm being hard on him. Whatever. He can take it.)
<br />
<br />I just read a piece in Salon about "continuators," those writers hired by estates to continue the adventures of James Bond or Jason Bourne or some other valuable post-mortem franchise. That's what I feel like that in completing this play. A lot of what I was trying to do with the original script is now lost to me. And the world's moved on: thankfully there's even greater acceptance of open lesbian relationships now than there was back in 2003, and sadly all my jokes about "Stella Got Her Groove Back" are no longer funny--though maybe they never really were.
<br />
<br />It's been a rough process. Sometimes I've cursed my younger self for leaving so many problems--unexamined motivations, plot snafus, jokes that almost but don't quite work (the worst kinds of jokes, really). But he didn't know any better.
<br />
<br />The one thing that's been working for me in the last week has been the actresses I'm working with this time. It's rare that one EVER gets one's "dream cast," but that's what has happened. Frankly, any director in town would probably give their right arm to work with actors like Jesse Notehelfer, Susy Schneider, Nikki Visel, and Billie Wildrick--let alone all four. And the best part is that they're also all whip-crack smart, and their feedback has improved the script exponentially.
<br />
<br />At this point my thriller is just missing one thing: thrills. That's generally provided by an audience. We'll see what the folks who come along tonight to the Rep (7:00 PM) feel like contributing.
<br />
<br /></span>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-12907456510037016962011-05-25T11:49:00.000-07:002011-05-25T14:52:38.923-07:00Exit David Mamet, Stage FAR Right<span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQiJtnEvx-DYcjtl2Zsa-bRs5rPIB2RxT1S7lEx7iVq6ijn9h-hmGadSi_yXgo037ccef3KLeR9hTzAciSCvqB1WM_A30XEL-b1Uf92Ergf3ssJJYPlV6R7OFMXoMpQ91w0Vlpni3SYw/s1600/388px-david_mamet_2_by_david_shankbone.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQiJtnEvx-DYcjtl2Zsa-bRs5rPIB2RxT1S7lEx7iVq6ijn9h-hmGadSi_yXgo037ccef3KLeR9hTzAciSCvqB1WM_A30XEL-b1Uf92Ergf3ssJJYPlV6R7OFMXoMpQ91w0Vlpni3SYw/s320/388px-david_mamet_2_by_david_shankbone.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610736604174841362" border="0" /></a><br />Remember David Mamet, America's greatest playwright? The guy who dominated the stages of the 1980s with plays like "American Buffalo," "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Glengarry</span> Glen Ross," and "A Life in the Theatre" and who wrote such wonderfully intricate screenplays as "House of Games" and "The Spanish Prisoner?"<br /><br />Of course I'm really not talking about the man who wrote the largely unfunny satire "November," the oh-for-cripes-sake-stop-being-so-obvious social screed "Race," or the mediocre films "State and Main" and "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Redbelt</span>." </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >That</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> guy is clearly just trying to ape the brilliant dialogue and dramatic construction of the younger, more talented and much more subtle playwright who shares his name.<br /><br />Great playwrights write bad plays. Every would-be Shakespeare has a "Two Noble Kinsmen" or "Henry VIII" in his past or in his future. And while the decline of a brilliant talent is a sad thing, it's the way the world often works. Success breeds success, but it also breeds complacency and intellectual arrogance.<br /><br />But the saddest thing about David Mamet is that it's also bred intellectual vacuity.<br /><br />If you doubt me, check out <a href="http://www.weeklystandard.com/articles/converting-mamet_561048.html?page=1">this</a> article in </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >The Weekly Standard</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> subtitled "A Playwright's Progress."<br /><br />Yes, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >that </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Weekly Standard. The Conservative mainstay who's calling the lackluster Republican presidential field "f</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ormidable</span>" and continues to champion the Paul Ryan "Kill Medicare" Budget even as every Republican up for reelection flees from a vote on it.<br /><br />And the "progress" they celebrate is the descent of a once whip-smart social critic and superbly gifted artist into the sort of conservative bobble-head who says things like this: </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />“...I saw the liberals hated George Bush. It was vicious. And I thought about it, and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">didn</span>’t get it. He was no worse than the others, was he? And I’d ask my liberal friends, ‘Well, why do you hate him?’ They’d all say: ‘He lied about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">WMD</span>.’ Okay. You love Kennedy. Kennedy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">didn</span>’t write <em>Profiles in Courage</em>—he lied about that. ‘Bush is in bed with the Saudis!’ Okay, Kennedy was in bed with the mafia.”<br /><br />Or on where he gets his political opinions: '“I drive around and listen to the talk show guys,” he said. 'Beck, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Prager</span>, Hugh Hewitt, Michael <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Medved</span>."'<br /><br />Like many <span class="blsp-spelling-error"><span style="font-size:13.5pt;"></span></span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:130%;">overprivileged</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Republican white guys, the roots of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-size:130%;">Mamet's</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> conversion are apparently a strange mix of fuzzily-perceived larger social issues (the 2007 Writer's Strike) and the petty and personal (an ordinance in his privileged Santa Monica neighborhood to keep hedges trimmed low enough so that neighbors could see each other's properties). Somehow this all has been brewed into the sort of potent conservative elixir that turns a man's mind to mush.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">When I read this article (and depressing as it is, it's worth the read), I remembered an </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >American Theatre </span><span style="font-size:130%;">profile of Mamet in the '80s, around the time of "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Glengarry</span> Glen Ross." The interviewer's question was something like "why do you just write about white men?" To me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Mamet's</span> answer was brilliant. He said that he found the American white male fascinating because he was going insane. He'd gone from this position of unthinking power and prestige into a tailspin because it was all going away, and the more he realized this, the crazier he got.<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Poor David Mamet. How ironic that he should age into the same crazy white guy syndrome that as a younger, more talented and thoughtful man, he was so astute at portraying on stage.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9167794573425039401.post-48004759007581981622011-05-24T17:13:00.000-07:002011-05-24T17:18:15.655-07:004 Culture: Positively Final Appearance?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I’m having coffee this morning with Jim Kelly, the head of King County’s 4 Culture, on the eve of what may very well be the vote that sinks the organization. He’s filling me in on the complicated politics that have resulted in this state when he stops, laughs, and runs his hands through his hair. “I didn’t start this year with this much gray hair, did I? I swear this is turning me gray.” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">You know, he may be right. And if you care about the arts in Seattle, 4 Culture’s current dilemma will probably give you some gray hairs too.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">As Kelly outlines it, the political fate of 4 Culture, King County’s arts funding agency, has always navigated around some fairly treacherous shoals from both Republicans and Democrats. The current crop of Republicans, emboldened by the neo-libertarian codswollop of the Tea Party, repeat the old trope that the government has no business funding the arts—or health care, food safety, transportation or any other “non-essentials.” Though they’re not the majority in our state legislature they’ve done an admirable job in voting as a block—which is where our Democratic legislators inevitably fail. It’s far too easy to peel off a few Democratic votes on any issue, even one like arts funding, where they’ve long been the standard bearers. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">In this case, one of the greatest obstacles to arts funding has been caused by a Democrat, Speaker of the House Frank Chopp. Though on paper Chopp’s a good liberal, like many long-time politicians (he was first elected back in 1994 and has been Speaker since 2002) he’s got some strange and immovable ideas about how things should be funded. Specifically, he’s made it clear that he’ll have nothing to do with arts funding that isn’t linked to funding low-income housing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> While both issues are good liberal causes, it’s baffling why they should be linked, but there you go: politicians don’t necessarily think like you or me. The result of this odd tic is that funding for 4 Culture has to be wrapped around a package of legislation that has little to do with it. In fact the most recent bill for funding 4 Culture, SB 5958, was described as “</span><span class="h3" style="font-size:130%;">providing local government funding of tourism promotion, workforce housing, art and heritage programs, and community development.</span><span style="font-size:130%;">” Funding improvements for the Convention Center and low-cost housing might be necessary, but danged if I can see why the hell they have anything to do with funding what’s probably the most efficient and effective arts funding source in Washington. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="h3" style="font-size:130%;"> SB 5958 missed by one vote last week. Here’s our best chance of getting </span><span style="font-size:130%;">SB 5961, the replacement bill that dropped on Saturday, to make it through the session TOMORROW (which is set as the last day of the session):</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> You can go here: <a href="http://www.advocate4culture.org/">http://www.advocate4culture.org/</a> and e-mail ALL of the folks in the Legislature. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Or you can e-mail and call the following three key Senators.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Phil Rockefeller (D, Bainbridge): he’s been on the fence and needs to hop off. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="mailto:Phil.rockefeller@leg.wa.gov">Phil.rockefeller@leg.wa.gov</a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">(360) 786-7644<br />Fax: (360) 786-1999</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Same goes for: </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Jim Kastama (D, Puyallup)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="mailto:jim.kastama@leg.wa.gov">jim.kastama@leg.wa.gov</a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Olympia Office: (360) 786-7648<br />District Office: (253) 840-4701</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> And here’s another strategic thought:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Pam Roach, Republican (Auburn), has shown independence and a willingness to vote against her fellow Republicans often enough to really annoy them. Contact her at:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="mailto:Pam.Roach@leg.wa.gov">Pam.Roach@leg.wa.gov</a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Office Phone: (360) 786-7660</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Toll-Free: 1 (800) 562-6000</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Fax: (360) 786-7819</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> All of this will take 10 minutes—and it’s really easy. No salesman will call, no one will yell at you, you don’t even have to mail in anything. And it just might save one of the best arts organizations in Washington.</span></p>John Longenbaughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10103370468551377636noreply@blogger.com1