[Ed's Note: This is all preliminary, remember? We know these scenes need to be condensed and that this is all really rough. That's the reason we're posting it now, instead of after it's been edited. Enjoy the rawness. We're told it's one of the author's strong points...]
GREG: (on phone) I’ve got a new hobby. Uh-huh. Yeah. A brand new hobby. No, it doesn’t involve sex. Silly. Why would you think that? No, it doesn’t involve sex, it involves getting lit. (Pause) Getting LIT. Yeah, Getting LIT, and calling Ma. That’s right, calling MA. Dear Ol’ Ma.
See, as it turns out, I’ve been putting up with Dear Ol’ Ma calling ME throughout the ages, when SHE was lit. Strange how it took me so long to figure out the right counter-attack: Call HER when I’M lit.
See, when y’er lit, you tend to focus only on y’erself. That is, yourself; the things happening to you, and how you react to them. That’s all SHE’s ever been doin’. Givin’ me th’ REPORT, y’see. When she was LIT. AS she was lit. Like I said, I can’t believe it took me this long t’figure out… And how ironic is this? I figured it out when I was LIT.
So whatoo I do now, now that I’ve discovered my favorite new hobby, and now that I know I should only talk to her LIT, as often as she talks to me LIT? Well, what I do NOW, to answer y’er question, is: I call Ma LIT. I save the items on my “return phone calls” list that just happen to deal with HER to those TIMES when I just happen to be LIT. It works out well. It works out quite well.
Because when I’m LIT, y’see, I’m incapable of holding my voice back. I’m incapable of holding back my voice, my conclusions – and my opinions. That’s right. I’m utterly incapable of holding back my opinions. And my opinions, mind you, aren’t exactly the same as hers, or as any average American bourgeois opinion. Which, mind you, are one and the same. That is, HER opinions and those of the average bourgeois American are the same. They're one and the same. Look up "Average American Bourgeois Opinion" on Wikipedia, and you'll find my mother's definitions. Well, those aren't MY opinions. MY opinions, mind you, are the products of careful examination and THOUGHT.
So when I’m LIT, y’see, I’m incapable of holding back my products of THOUGHT. Fancy that. Products of THOUGHT. Streaming forth, from someone who’s THOUGHT about them, but who can no longer hold them back. Who can no longer hold back his thoughts. That’s why I can’t believe it took me this long to get around to this. To get around to only calling Ma after I’d gotten LIT. ‘Cuz God knows SHE's always been. So why shouldn’t’ve I???
Two wrongs? Look again.
I like my new hobby.
I know I’ll never win. I’ve been told I shouldn’t even fight back. But that just goes against my nature, y’know? I wasn’t put on this earth t’let power-mongering motherfuckers – even if they are my parents – coast through life unquestioned. It’s one thing to fight back. It’s another thing to expect to win. I don't expect to win, but I just can't lay down and act like there's no battle.
Sometimes the battle is its own reward.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
River124, Initial Draft
Act I
Scene 1:
(Enter Gene and Pat, the former escorting the latter as she hops along in misery.)
GENE: C’mon, c’mon, Pat. We haven’t got all day.
PAT: (Clearing her throat) Well, it isn’t as easy as it used to be, my love.
GENE: It used to be pretty easy.
PAT: It used to be. But it isn’t anymore.
GENE: Pretty easy.
PAT: It used to be.
GENE: But it isn’t anymore. Isn't it anymore?
PAT: No, it isn’t anymore.
GENE: It used to be pretty easy.
PAT: But it isn’t anymore.
GENE: Will you let me be the judge of that, fer Chrissake?!? C’mon!
Scene 2:
GREG: (At home, on the phone) Her condition? Who the fuck are you, the Department of Health? (Laughs.) Well, her condition is “serious,” if you go by her reports. According to her, she’s on death’s doorstep. Which reminds me – I painted my doorstep. Did I tell you?
Scene 3:
PAT: (Lifting the phone and clearing her throat, addressing offstage) It’s alright. He’s busy. He has a good job now. We shouldn’t interfere. (She dials.)
Scene 3:
GREG: (Still on the phone) She’s probably trying to get through right now. If you hear a “beep,” then you lose me, that’s why. It’s because she’s finally gotten through. (Pause.) Mmm-hmm. Can’t wait to hear what the problem is this time.
Scene 4:
GENE: Couldn’t reach him?
PAT: I got his machine.
GENE: What’d I tell ya?
PAT: Oh, be quiet.
Scene 5:
GREG: (Still on the phone) I mean, 15 years. It’s been 15 years that’s she’s been battling cancer. So we’re supposed to be surprised when she gets another bout?
Scene 6:
PAT: (Leaving a message) Greg… It’s Ma. I don’t mean to burden you, but it’s not looking good. It’s not looking good at all. They’ve postponed my surgery and scheduled another biopsy. It’s higher. Much higher. It’s higher up on my lung, near the thorax and all the lymph nodes that surround it. It doesn’t look good. Even if they can get at it, they’re pretty sure it’ll have spread. Call me. Call me when you can. I understand that you’re busy, but I need you to call me. We’re pretty sure it’s spread…
Scene 7:
GREG: (Still on the phone) If we had any sort of relationship other than fighting, I’d do something. But what can I do? What can I do when all we do is fight? She’ll find a reason to fight, if I call, and then all of a sudden we’ll be in a fight. Even though all I did was call. (Pause.) Well, thanks. Thank you for understanding. You’re right. Ultimately, I don’t owe them anything. Does that sound cruel?
Scene 8:
PAT: (On phone, and "A-hem," and "a-hem"-ing…) Well, yes, I suppose he’s a little bit cruel. But between you and me, that’s what I hear about them.
GREG: (Still on the phone, on another part of the stage) Are you sure? It’s not cruel?
PAT: That they’re cruel.
GREG: Like a bitchy queen? Cruel?
PAT: Them. Gays. They’re like women. They’re cruel.
GREG: Do I sound like that? Like a woman? (Pause.) Like a woman acting cruel? Of course I know the difference between how a man and how a woman act cruel…
PAT: Not that women have the corner on cruelty, of course…
GREG: I’m just asking, do I come across as cruel?
PAT: But you know what I mean… There’s a difference. There’s a difference between the way a man and a woman act cruel.
GREG: There’s a difference, of course, but I’m just asking.
PAT: And sometimes he comes across…
GREG: I’m just asking if I come across…
PAT: As cruel.
GREG: As cruel. Because if I do, then I got it from her.
PAT: Because he does. And I think he got it from me. He’s just cruel.
GREG: I don’t know. There’s something about her. Something absolutely cruel.
PAT: He’s cruel.
GREG and PAT: (Together) Absolutely cruel.
Scene 9:
GENE: Are you ready?
PAT: Well, what do you think?
GENE: What do I think about what, Pat. What?
PAT: About what you just asked?
GENE: About what I just asked?
PAT: About what you just asked.
GENE: What’d I just ask?
PAT: You tell me.
GENE: You want me to tell you?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: You want me to tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: Yeah?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: You want me to tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah. Uh-huh. Tell me.
GENE: Tell you?
PAT: Uh-huh.
GENE: Tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah. Tell me what you just asked me.
GENE: I can’t tell you something I already asked you.
PAT: Why not?
GENE: Because. It’s not the same.
PAT: Oh, so you’re Mr. Rhetorical all of a sudden.
GENE: All of a sudden?
PAT: Well, at least now.
GENE: At least now?
PAT: Now.
GENE: Now?
PAT: Now, and often.
GENE: Often?
PAT: Are you really interested in whether I’m ready yet?
GENE: Ready?
PAT: Ready.
GENE: Yeah. Are you ready yet?
PAT: I’ll be ready in a second.
GENE: A second?
PAT: Close to a second. Now scoot…
Scene 10
(Greg, still on the phone) It’s like… I’m ready. I know it sounds cruel, but I’m ready for them to be dead. Yeah, there’ll be technicalities, but let’s face it: either they’re gonna die or I’m gonna die. I don’t think they know how much experience I’ve had with death. When I was in San Francisco, it was a different ceremony every Sunday. It became part of our schedule. Monday through Friday was work, but we had to calendar the funeral or ash-spreading ceremony that was happening during any given weekend. Oh, sure, we would gym-gym-gym and then party-party-party until said ash ceremony occurred. That was our life. That was our life in SF between the late 80s and the early 90s. Back then, that was our life. Our lives consisted of working, going to the gym, and then going to brunch and funeral ceremonies. That and – of course – the obligatory vertical sex in clubs and the requisite “I can’t believe how drunk I was” fucking that inevitably followed Happy Hour and Saturday night. Yeah, we still had a Saturday night. We had Saturday night, but the fever had long since died… And in its place grew a fear that we would, too. None of us expected to make it this far. Do you know what I’m saying? I’m not kidding. I never expected to make it this far. I can’t believe I did. And my folks think California is easy living. If they only knew…
Scene 11:
PAT: (Also on the phone, and clearing her throat) Oh, Cindy, it’s so nice to have you on my side. Thank you for cleaning the kitchen, and for the manicure, and for everything else you’ve done. Lord knows my son isn’t capable of such acts of kindness. He’s too wrapped up in his California lifestyle. You know California. “The land of the fruits and the nuts,” as they say…
Scene 12:
GENE: (Picking up the phone) Hello? Who? Greg? Oh, Greg hasn’t lived here for years. Where’s he live now? Oh, in California. Cal-i-for-nia. You know, the land of the fruits and the nuts? What? What’d I just say? When? What’d I just say WHEN? Oh, Greg? He doesn’t live here anymore. He lives in Cal-i-for-nia. That's what I just said. And I meant it. Bye-bye, idiot...
Scene 1:
(Enter Gene and Pat, the former escorting the latter as she hops along in misery.)
GENE: C’mon, c’mon, Pat. We haven’t got all day.
PAT: (Clearing her throat) Well, it isn’t as easy as it used to be, my love.
GENE: It used to be pretty easy.
PAT: It used to be. But it isn’t anymore.
GENE: Pretty easy.
PAT: It used to be.
GENE: But it isn’t anymore. Isn't it anymore?
PAT: No, it isn’t anymore.
GENE: It used to be pretty easy.
PAT: But it isn’t anymore.
GENE: Will you let me be the judge of that, fer Chrissake?!? C’mon!
Scene 2:
GREG: (At home, on the phone) Her condition? Who the fuck are you, the Department of Health? (Laughs.) Well, her condition is “serious,” if you go by her reports. According to her, she’s on death’s doorstep. Which reminds me – I painted my doorstep. Did I tell you?
Scene 3:
PAT: (Lifting the phone and clearing her throat, addressing offstage) It’s alright. He’s busy. He has a good job now. We shouldn’t interfere. (She dials.)
Scene 3:
GREG: (Still on the phone) She’s probably trying to get through right now. If you hear a “beep,” then you lose me, that’s why. It’s because she’s finally gotten through. (Pause.) Mmm-hmm. Can’t wait to hear what the problem is this time.
Scene 4:
GENE: Couldn’t reach him?
PAT: I got his machine.
GENE: What’d I tell ya?
PAT: Oh, be quiet.
Scene 5:
GREG: (Still on the phone) I mean, 15 years. It’s been 15 years that’s she’s been battling cancer. So we’re supposed to be surprised when she gets another bout?
Scene 6:
PAT: (Leaving a message) Greg… It’s Ma. I don’t mean to burden you, but it’s not looking good. It’s not looking good at all. They’ve postponed my surgery and scheduled another biopsy. It’s higher. Much higher. It’s higher up on my lung, near the thorax and all the lymph nodes that surround it. It doesn’t look good. Even if they can get at it, they’re pretty sure it’ll have spread. Call me. Call me when you can. I understand that you’re busy, but I need you to call me. We’re pretty sure it’s spread…
Scene 7:
GREG: (Still on the phone) If we had any sort of relationship other than fighting, I’d do something. But what can I do? What can I do when all we do is fight? She’ll find a reason to fight, if I call, and then all of a sudden we’ll be in a fight. Even though all I did was call. (Pause.) Well, thanks. Thank you for understanding. You’re right. Ultimately, I don’t owe them anything. Does that sound cruel?
Scene 8:
PAT: (On phone, and "A-hem," and "a-hem"-ing…) Well, yes, I suppose he’s a little bit cruel. But between you and me, that’s what I hear about them.
GREG: (Still on the phone, on another part of the stage) Are you sure? It’s not cruel?
PAT: That they’re cruel.
GREG: Like a bitchy queen? Cruel?
PAT: Them. Gays. They’re like women. They’re cruel.
GREG: Do I sound like that? Like a woman? (Pause.) Like a woman acting cruel? Of course I know the difference between how a man and how a woman act cruel…
PAT: Not that women have the corner on cruelty, of course…
GREG: I’m just asking, do I come across as cruel?
PAT: But you know what I mean… There’s a difference. There’s a difference between the way a man and a woman act cruel.
GREG: There’s a difference, of course, but I’m just asking.
PAT: And sometimes he comes across…
GREG: I’m just asking if I come across…
PAT: As cruel.
GREG: As cruel. Because if I do, then I got it from her.
PAT: Because he does. And I think he got it from me. He’s just cruel.
GREG: I don’t know. There’s something about her. Something absolutely cruel.
PAT: He’s cruel.
GREG and PAT: (Together) Absolutely cruel.
Scene 9:
GENE: Are you ready?
PAT: Well, what do you think?
GENE: What do I think about what, Pat. What?
PAT: About what you just asked?
GENE: About what I just asked?
PAT: About what you just asked.
GENE: What’d I just ask?
PAT: You tell me.
GENE: You want me to tell you?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: You want me to tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: Yeah?
PAT: Yeah.
GENE: You want me to tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah. Uh-huh. Tell me.
GENE: Tell you?
PAT: Uh-huh.
GENE: Tell you what I just asked you?
PAT: Yeah. Tell me what you just asked me.
GENE: I can’t tell you something I already asked you.
PAT: Why not?
GENE: Because. It’s not the same.
PAT: Oh, so you’re Mr. Rhetorical all of a sudden.
GENE: All of a sudden?
PAT: Well, at least now.
GENE: At least now?
PAT: Now.
GENE: Now?
PAT: Now, and often.
GENE: Often?
PAT: Are you really interested in whether I’m ready yet?
GENE: Ready?
PAT: Ready.
GENE: Yeah. Are you ready yet?
PAT: I’ll be ready in a second.
GENE: A second?
PAT: Close to a second. Now scoot…
Scene 10
(Greg, still on the phone) It’s like… I’m ready. I know it sounds cruel, but I’m ready for them to be dead. Yeah, there’ll be technicalities, but let’s face it: either they’re gonna die or I’m gonna die. I don’t think they know how much experience I’ve had with death. When I was in San Francisco, it was a different ceremony every Sunday. It became part of our schedule. Monday through Friday was work, but we had to calendar the funeral or ash-spreading ceremony that was happening during any given weekend. Oh, sure, we would gym-gym-gym and then party-party-party until said ash ceremony occurred. That was our life. That was our life in SF between the late 80s and the early 90s. Back then, that was our life. Our lives consisted of working, going to the gym, and then going to brunch and funeral ceremonies. That and – of course – the obligatory vertical sex in clubs and the requisite “I can’t believe how drunk I was” fucking that inevitably followed Happy Hour and Saturday night. Yeah, we still had a Saturday night. We had Saturday night, but the fever had long since died… And in its place grew a fear that we would, too. None of us expected to make it this far. Do you know what I’m saying? I’m not kidding. I never expected to make it this far. I can’t believe I did. And my folks think California is easy living. If they only knew…
Scene 11:
PAT: (Also on the phone, and clearing her throat) Oh, Cindy, it’s so nice to have you on my side. Thank you for cleaning the kitchen, and for the manicure, and for everything else you’ve done. Lord knows my son isn’t capable of such acts of kindness. He’s too wrapped up in his California lifestyle. You know California. “The land of the fruits and the nuts,” as they say…
Scene 12:
GENE: (Picking up the phone) Hello? Who? Greg? Oh, Greg hasn’t lived here for years. Where’s he live now? Oh, in California. Cal-i-for-nia. You know, the land of the fruits and the nuts? What? What’d I just say? When? What’d I just say WHEN? Oh, Greg? He doesn’t live here anymore. He lives in Cal-i-for-nia. That's what I just said. And I meant it. Bye-bye, idiot...
River124 (1)
Listen.
Today, my mother almost died.
My mother, who’s presently entering a living room somewhere in New England, and who’s presently “an armful,” almost died.
There.
I’ve done it.
I’ve repeated the words that so many postmodernists wish to repeat. Repeat, that is, within the context of their own subsequent “masterpieces.” Well, I can’t worry about whether this is gonna be completely postmodern, nor whether it’s gonna be a masterpiece. I can only worry about when I’m gonna get it out, which is now.
Now. Now is the time when this story should be told. This story should be told now. But I warn you:
This is not a time-deleniated story about a war hero.
This is not an Existential exercise.
Nor is it an attempt to adapt the family drama of the playwright whose name my father just happens to bear into a contemporary format.
Well, if truth be told, then I guess it would most closely be linked to the last item listed in the list above. But that’s the end of the precocious postmodernism. I promise. (For now.)
Today, my mother almost died.
My mother, who’s presently entering a living room somewhere in New England, and who’s presently “an armful,” almost died.
There.
I’ve done it.
I’ve repeated the words that so many postmodernists wish to repeat. Repeat, that is, within the context of their own subsequent “masterpieces.” Well, I can’t worry about whether this is gonna be completely postmodern, nor whether it’s gonna be a masterpiece. I can only worry about when I’m gonna get it out, which is now.
Now. Now is the time when this story should be told. This story should be told now. But I warn you:
This is not a time-deleniated story about a war hero.
This is not an Existential exercise.
Nor is it an attempt to adapt the family drama of the playwright whose name my father just happens to bear into a contemporary format.
Well, if truth be told, then I guess it would most closely be linked to the last item listed in the list above. But that’s the end of the precocious postmodernism. I promise. (For now.)
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