Playwright Portrait, Adam Rapp, Excerpt from Red Light Winter

The Playwright Adam Rapp 2006
pswb©2011

Red Light Winter


From Matt to Chrisitna
You like walked out of your dress. And then you helped me take my clothes off. And then you took my hand and led me to the bed. It was…Well, it was more than the sex, way more than that. You were like kind. And it helped me. It helped me so much, Christina. In ways that I’d need like the twelve thousand semi-tones of dolphin language to articulate. And I’m sure that with all the guys or johns or clients or whatever you call your rotisserie of men that most of the time it’s just a series of these like fast, pound-of-flesh experiences for you, but that’s not what happened for me. It wasn’t this like anecdote that American guys go over there to collect. They eat a few space cakes and fuck a window whore and get a tattoo of like a dagger or a yin-yang sign or a fucking stallion getting struck by lightning. That’s not what it was about for me. It was way bigger than that. And it was way bigger than a play or a paperback novel or like some precious cultural artifact or whatever. It was bigger than anything I could ever fucking write about.