PSWB portraiture

Edward Albee playwright 2006

2012-02-12T04:10:00.001-08:00

The Playwright Edward Albee 2008
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

Excerpt from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf
George (At NICK, not to him)

You take the trouble to construct a civilization…to..to Build a society, based on the principles of…of principle…You endeavor to make communicable sense out of natural Order, morality out of the unnatural disorder of man’s Mind…you make government and art, and realize that They are, must be, both the same…you bring things to the Saddest of all points…to the point where there is something to lose…then all at once, through all the music, through all the sensible sounds of men building, attempting, comes the Dies Irae. And what is it? What does the trumpet sound? Up yours. I suppose there’s justice to it, after all the years… Up yours.

John Collins, Elevator Repair Service Theater Company

2012-02-09T18:58:00.000-08:00

John Collins, Elevator Repair Service Theater Company

portrait 2007

Kenny Finkle, Playwright 2006

2012-02-01T08:42:00.000-08:00

Kenny Finkle, Playwright 2006
pswb©2012

Indoor/Outdoor

Matilda,

" Sometimes though I have a hard time believing anyone can ever love me. Sometimes I think that I’m going to die alone and no one will know me and I’ll be found in a spider web of my own macrame' and it’ll take them four days to dig me out of it – And I don’t want to die that way! I CAN’T DIE THAT WAY! OH GOD, I DON’T WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO LIVE FOREVER! I WANT TO BE A VAMPIRE! LIKE DRACULA! NO I DON’T! WHAT AM I SAYING? WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?"

2012-01-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

Alena Smith, Playwright 2009

The Lacy Project

HARRIET

Ah, the way that tatting makes your bustle shimmer ... oh would you ever allow me to borrow your dress?

OLIVIA

Poor Harriet. I’m afraid such an exchange would be impossible. For our gowns are sewn to our very skin.

HARRIET

Ah, ‘tis true. Such is our lot.

OLIVIA

Plus, even if I could get it off, my gear would not flatter you. For you have a fat cloth tummy, whilst I have sensuous plastic curves.

HARRIET

You are indeed quite plastic. You are plastic from your teeth to your toenails. Your very soul is plastic, dearest Olivia.

OLIVIA

Oh, yeah? Well, thank you, Harriet. I like totally take that as a compliment.

Lynn Rosen playwright 2006

2012-01-29T02:43:00.000-08:00

Lynn Rosen playwright 2006

APPLE COVE

Characters in this exchange:

Duke, a security guard at Apple Cove - a gated community, formerly swamp

Edie King, a housewife, newlywed, and new resident of Apple Cove

DUKE

Negative. Not new here, born here. My house was down the road. But my home, my escape, was this swamp, where I’d swing on vines tree to tree. My Ma would find me sleeping on a bed of moss, caked in mud, crawling with life. This very spot, your spot, was the thickest, the lushest. But that’s all past. All replaced by this house, this subdivision where I’d be trespassing if it wasn’t, weren’t, if it weren’t for my official capacity. I could run wild here before, I could roar! But now what does a person do when they get that urge to break free?

(Edie kneels and prays.)

DUKE

You pray, you wear a uniform, you suppress.

(He picks her up. Edie is in his arms.)

DUKE

But if the urge returns? If the urge returns, what do you do? Do you break free, Mrs. King? Do you let go?

Kate E. Ryan, the playwright, 2006

2012-01-25T16:55:00.000-08:00

Kate E. Ryan, the playwright, 2006
pswb@2012

free adaptation of WOMEN OF TRACHIS

CHORUS
One time I sat down in elementary school and I sat at the hard metal desk with the hard fake-wooden metal top and I wrote out all of my letters, one after the other, a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y and z. It was at night and nobody else was at school and it was in my dream.

And another time we were making snow animals at school it was an art project and it was so cold but so fun.

I made mine out in the front of the school but off to the side right in front of our classroom window actually and it was a, um…

Kangaroo. With a little pouch and my friend Jessie made a baby kangaroo and stuck it in there when I wasn’t looking.

Alvin Eng, Playwright 2006

2012-01-24T02:05:00.000-08:00

Alvin Eng, Playwright 2006
pswb©2012

The Last Emperor of Flushing

The Last Emperor:

“O.K., I wasn’t really an Emperor. But like China’s legendary ‘Last Emperor,’ Aisin Gioro Pu Yi, I am the last of my line and kind here in Flushing. Like Pu Yu, I spent the first half of my life being the Guardian and figurehead of a lifestyle that no longer existed by the time I finally left this childhood palace. Although Flushing is now New York City’s second Chinatown, aka “The People’s Republic of Floo-Shing,” when I was a young Emperor, we were one of a fistful of Chinese families here. The Flushing of my youth was still basking in the afterglow of the post World War II suburban baby boom. That boom was celebrated at the 1965 World’s Fair, held right here in Flushing Meadows Park. This World’s Fair was the zenith of “The American Century” when anything was possible. In this euphoric mood, Flushing immigrants were the last wave who would give up everything. They would forsake their customs, their language—many would have changed their appearance if they could––just to get a whiff of ‘The American Dream.’”

Mark Schultz, playwright 2006

2012-01-22T14:13:00.000-08:00

Mark Schultz, playwright 2006

pswb©2012

EVERYTHING WILL BE DIFFERENT: A BRIEF HISTORY OF HELEN OF TROY

FRANKLIN
I think. Charlotte. You know. I think that. Maybe beauty is the thing that’s always leaving. That’s always being lost. That you always have to say goodbye to. You know. And what’s hard is that, for all the goodbyes, it's never gone for good. It just keeps leaving. And leaving. And leaving. And you just have to keep letting it go. And that’s life.

_______

Courtney Erin playwright 2006

2012-01-19T17:58:00.001-08:00

Courtney Erin playwright 2006
pswb©2012

BLACK CAT LOST

SON

Why are they wearing hats?

MOTHER‚

So the evil spirit can't sneak up on them.

SON

Oh and what's that?

MOTHER

That's a dead body. They are lifting it up into that cave.

SON

And what are those?

MOTHER

Those are bones.

Courtney Baron playwright 2006

2012-01-19T17:53:00.000-08:00

Courtney Baron playwright 2006

A VERY COMMON PROCEDURE

Anil: If I stretch out my hand, palm open, like this. (They all unclench their fists, following Anil's lead, they slowly open their hands, fingers outstretched in almost a waving position.) From the tip of my middle finger to the tip of my thumb is how big the trunk of your baby's body was at birth. Her heart, the size, essentially, of the pad of my thumb,

Michael: Small.

Carolyn: Yes, Michael, small.

Eric Lane, playwright 2006

2012-01-17T23:41:00.000-08:00

Eric Lane, playwright 2006

HEART OF THE CITY

Carlos - a young, sexy, gay immigrant from Spain who finds joy in people and life - speaks to the audience. Carlito is his snake.

CARLOS:

I pack my bags and head to New York City. Here I walk down the street, I see so many faces of different color and shape. Religion and idea. And I start to laugh.

All these people run so fast. I run, too. It is only when I stop, I look in his eyes. And this is the heaven Dr. Mendelsohn tells. I see who I am to become – an erotic snake dancer. And you know the best thing…? There is no competition.

(Music begins, underneath.)

I dance on the street corner. Carlito and me. I look out. So many people and their eyes turn away. Afraid to look at the ones standing right next to them. And I think of what it is this city. And I learn. It is not the eyes that turn away. It is the ones that look back.

And so, I will dance for you.

(Music up. Carlos joyfully dances.)

Kevin Doyle, playwright 2006

2012-01-12T15:40:00.000-08:00

Robert Lyons, Playwright, Dramaturg 2006

2012-01-12T06:27:00.000-08:00

Robert Lyons, Playwright, Dramaturg 2006

Enrique Urueta, playwright 2012

2012-01-11T20:36:00.000-08:00

Enrique Urueta, playwright 2012

BH Friedman, playwright 2006

2012-01-11T20:33:00.000-08:00

BH Friedman, playwright 2006

pswb@2012

Jean Reynolds playwright 2006

2012-01-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

Jean Reynolds playwright 2006

pswb@2012

DANCE WITH ME

(Ruth and Grace drink tea)

RUTH

It was on our honeymoon.

(RAY enters during speech)

Raymond and I were at a small hotel on a point overlooking a lake. One night there was a gathering. A crowded room. I was by a window looking out into the night. I saw the room reflected in the window. A woman watched me. I had seen her on other evenings playing cards. I watched her watching me. I was afraid to turn around, afraid to see, afraid of what she would see. She crossed the room and stood behind me. Our eyes met in the glass, caught. She whispered something. Her breath was warm. It was a foreign country.

RAY

What foreign country?

(He waits for an answer)

What foreign country?

RUTH

Raymond.

RAY

What are you up to?

RUTH

Up to?

GRACE/RUTH

Talking.

RAY

Talking. Ah, talking. I envy you. Women know how to talk to each other.

Kitty Chen playwright 2006

2012-01-10T18:18:00.000-08:00

Kitty Chen playwright 2006

BLESSINGS OF CHAIRMAN M

by Kitty Chen

Prologue

Bare stage. Night. The lighting suggests a hilly forest landscape. A woman enters, carrying a heavy burden on her back. She makes her way slowly uphill. Blackout.

Act 1

Scene 1. At center, a body lies on a table in a body bag. Lighting is bright, artificial. A barely audible drone of an air conditioner. Shivers sits at a table knitting, suddenly looks at watch, goes to body, bows deeply 3 times.

Announcement (loudspeaker)

Attention, attention: It is now time to show your love and respect.

Shivers

(to the loudspeaker, with a lewd gesture) Hah! Beat you to it!

She hears someone approach. Babelov enters.

Babelov

Oh me oh my. I thought I was on the sub-sub-sub-ground level, when the whole time I was only on the sub-sub-ground level.

Shivers

What was the vote?

Babelov

I can't breathe. I’d better bring down some fans and more ice.

Shivers

BABELOV! WHAT WAS THE VOTE?!

Babelov

They told me to rush right down and they'd beep me the instant they had the count.

Shivers

WHAT'S TO COUNT?--THERE'S ONLY 20 MINISTERS. And what's with the friggin' air-conditioning?

Babelov

The generators are old. Russian leftovers. Why don't you just go ahead with the prep.

Shivers

IDIOT! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? A good prep is like BREATHING to a good embalmer--it's the first thing you do!

Babelov

Okay, okay. I thought maybe you'd have to do something special, or different, if he was a god.

Shivers

He's a god? Oh my god--he's a god!

Babelov (cutting in)

I didn't say that! Calm--down. I said "IF he was a god." IF!

Shivers

When are they going to know?

Babelov

After they count the votes!

Andi Teran, playwright 2006

2012-01-10T16:41:00.000-08:00

Andi Teran, playwright 2006

pswb@2012

For Reasons Unknown

Mr. Magnotta:

"Here’s the thing. You’ve got to pick up the pace. Slow walkers never win any races. You need to know that when you walk out that door you’re prepared to fight or else what’s the use in living here? This place…it will die without the fight. We can’t let the pigeons win."

Billy Aronson playwright 2006

2012-01-10T15:08:00.001-08:00

Billy Aronson playwright 2006

Complete Unknowns

MOLLY:

We'll all be making plays together. Always. Turning our feelings into characters. Putting our pieces out there. Adding them to the one big masterpiece, the whole story of being human, that we're sending into space. My name won't be on it. But my heart will be in it. And so will yours.

Steve Cossen, playwright 2006

2012-01-09T14:28:00.000-08:00

Steve Cossen, playwright 2006

Paris Commune

LOUISE MICHEL

Citizens! Power shared is true freedom. It is time that fraternity replaces charity, and federation replaces hierarchy! If I were the only person saying all this, people could say that I was a pathological case. But there are thousands of us now, millions, none of whom gives a damn about authority. You see? Do you see?! It’s a simple thing. Don’t beg for your place in the world, take it!

Tanya Barfield playwright 2006

2012-01-09T13:18:00.000-08:00

Tanya Barfield playwright 2006

BLUE DOOR

Simon:

"The day be blazin full-sun wit shadows made purple from the heat. I walk down to the river and I keep walkin and I walk like a man that got no name and I walk til the sun jes a cold cinder fallen in the sky. I walk through the water and I walk and walk as night come over me and I walk past the light that wake tomorrow and I walk and walk til I cant tell the day from darkness."

Keith Bunin, playwright 2006

2012-01-09T12:06:00.000-08:00

Keith Bunin, playwright 2006

Melinda Lopez playwright 2006

2012-01-09T06:55:00.001-08:00

Melinda Lopez playwright 2006

SONIA FLEW?

PROLOGUE

PILAR stands in the surf. She throws flowers.

PILAR

Calm the waters, Oshún. Lady of Charity, have mercy on me. Prepare my passage. Sand. And sea. Ninety miles spread across the ocean like oil on water. (Sound of waves.) I am not afraid. They say that only God can give life, and only God can take it away. But they are men. And they have never given life. I have. Does this make me God? I have a daughter.

(Lights rise on SONIA isolated)

I have a daughter. I have a daughter. (She steps under the waves and disappears.)

SONIA

And I said, I do not forgive you. I will never forgive you. You have broken my heart.

Charles Fuller Playwright 2009

2012-01-07T19:16:00.000-08:00

Charles Fuller Playwright 2009

Soldier's Story

CJ:

Sarge? You wrong Pete -- plus I feel kinda sorry for

him myself.

Any man ain't sure where he belongs must be in a

whole lotta' pain.

David Cale, playwright 2006

2012-01-07T07:17:00.000-08:00

FLOYD AND CLEA UNDER THE WESTERN SKY

Floyd

“I wonder how different our lives would be if we knew how long they were gonna last. If we knew we had, say, 21,900 days, which is what sixty years amounts to. Or if say we knew we only had 10,093 of those days, would it lend our lives a greater urgency? I think somewhere in the back of our heads we think we’re never gonna die, we’re gonna be the one that lives forever.”

David Johnston playwright 2006

2012-01-07T06:40:00.000-08:00

David Johnston playwright 2006

"Candy & Dorothy"

CANDY: Don’t smoke.

Don’t exploit the workers.

Don’t get a sex change.

Don’t make me a saint.

You're just an impossible pill.

Qui Nguyen, Playwright 2006

2012-01-06T20:09:00.000-08:00

Qui Nguyen, Playwright 2006

Soul Samurai

DEWDROP

Me, I wasn’t always a killer. No one is born this way. That’s not to say

I didn’t have an aptitude for it. I’ve always had a bit of a violent

streak. I just wasn’t always as smooth.

After Sally’s death, I was a cliche’ of self-inflicting pain. I was

hurting and I wanted to hurt. I wanted revenge. But I had no power in

doing that. And that’s when I met him . . .

CERT:

My name is Cert

And I’m here to kick it

Don’t step to me, boy,

Cause my shit is wicked

Ninja fly shit is how I be dealin’ it

I’m a samurai, son, so you best be feelin’ it

Konichiwa, bozu,

Fuck you up old school

Knock out ya teeth like a Eastside Sifu

Remember these words

Remember my face

I’m the C. E. R. T.

This hood’s my place.

Suzan-Lori Parks playwright 2007

2012-01-06T12:25:00.001-08:00

Suzan-Lori Parks playwright 2007

Melissa James Gibson playwright 2006

2012-01-06T07:06:00.000-08:00

Melissa James Gibson, playwright 2006

Mother Kathleen Liles 2010

2012-01-05T17:40:00.000-08:00

Mother Kathleen Liles 2010

Susan Mosakowski playwright

2012-01-05T11:07:00.000-08:00

Susan Mosakowski playwright 2007

Man-made.

DARWIN

I never thought that that UPSTART, that that BUG collector could make such advancements. I devoted my life to this work when Wallace was only in knee pants. Twenty years ago I set sail on the Beagle. For five long years I cataloged an endless procession of life. Algae, kelp, and seaweed of all shapes and colors waved beneath me like a brilliantly painted flag from the ocean’s floor. Ammonites with their fossil chambered shells begged for my ear. Batrachians hunted my fingers with their forked reptilian tongues. I sought every life form—Brachiopods, Marine Mollusca, Cephalopods, and Cetacea; those my Emma are the naked skin fish, the dolphins and whales. I chased Corolla, Cotyledons, Crustaceans, Curculio, and Edentata through the jungles of Cape Horn and Tierra del Fuego. The smell of eucalyptus fills my nose by merely uttering their names . . . oh Emma, if you could have only seen these places, overgrown and glorious.

Andrea Lepcio playwright 2009

2012-01-04T19:20:00.000-08:00

Andrea Lepcio playwright 2009

GET IN THE CAR

Our JACKSON

Want to ride in my convertible Oldsmobile Coupe.

OUR EDITH

Mama told me not to ride with strangers.

OUR JACKSON

Jackson Pollock.

OUR EDITH

Edith Metzger.

OUR JACKSON

Now we're not strangers. Hop in.

OUR EDITH

That's not what happened. You had no need to charm me. And you didn't. I was your lover's friend. Here at her invitation.

OUR JACKSON

Visiting. Everyone's always visit. Ing.

OUR EDITH

When one visits a famous person, one is especially courteous. Whether or not one actually fawns, one certainly acts aware of the other person. Of their needs and mood. It's hard to feel more significant than the father of abstract expressionism. It's hard enough for a woman to feel more significant than a man. Imagine an unknown woman, known man. Abstract expressionism.

Crystal Skillman Playwright 2006

2012-01-03T03:07:00.000-08:00

Crystal Skillman Playwright 2006

Birthday

LEILA

In my building.

When it was snowing out of nowhere here last month.

All these seagulls fl y past my windows.

Fucking weird, right?

Right in the snow.

The way they moved, right up to the windows, glide

their bodies right by, then raise up, that’s grace I

thought.

I’d like to move like that.

Some people make mistakes but can move through

them, let them go and they don’t hurt.

They don’t cry in hallways and look like shit.

They sit in corners and keep it all inside.

But I can’t.

I have this wish, the way I want things to be.

And when I see it, in my head, it’s good, it’s good but

how can I make that…

I dream about it.

Being that.

I wake up.

It’s a feeling.

Alive like…

Like there are all these possibilities.

But I wake up.

I lose it.

Gary Sunshine, Playwright 2006

2012-01-03T02:30:00.000-08:00

Gary Sunshine, Playwright 2006

FROM GOOD DEEDS FOR A WEARY WORLD by Gary Sunshine

MIKEY, standing next to the destroyed flame broiler, speaks to THE EMPLOYEE.

MIKEY

The flame broiler.

It's the heart of this.

The heart.

Maybe you could have done something.

Cause did you HEAR IT? HUH? Squeaking or grinding or.

Did you ask, like, did you say ¡Hola¡, Flame Broiler, how can I help you? Cause we all need you to suck the fat and the gristle and the sores out of the patties and leave nothing but the taste behind?

You could have asked, Can I restart you? Or grease you up? Reposition the element? Jigger your chains? Can I cool you down, is that it, are you overheated from all the hard work you've done for us? What can I do, Flame Broiler, you could have asked this in my absence, you could have gently asked the machine, YOU COULD HAVE ASKED!

But I'm sorry.

I'm out of line.

I've got a lot.

There's a lot.

Did a piece of your brain die?

Did the fence rip through your scalp when you crawled into this country?

Were you brilliant before?

Were you beautiful before?

Did you deteriorate?

Because you didn't tell me. When I hired you. You never said. You didn't say that was your plan.

To deteriorate.

Nobody ever says.

You understand, though. I'm going to have to.

EMPLOYEE

Fire me?

MIKEY

Kill you. No. I meant. Lay you off. Cause there’s no work.

FROM THIS JOAN by Gary Sunshine

JOAN

Adrienne’s teaching me to be guiltless.

HOWIE

A little guilt never hurt anybody.

JOAN

And frank.

HOWIE

Which I find to be very sexy.

JOAN

And liberal.

HOWIE

Oh how unique, a liberal Jew from New York--

JOAN

--I was completely dependent on my husband for everything but money and I refuse to get into that situation again--

HOWIE

--Your husband’s dead, dear. (Beat.) Look. I know what it’s like for you. I can see. Down here, older. By yourself. You feel like no matter where you go, you never leave any footprints. You’re still alive but there’s hardly any trace of you. But I could be your footprints, Joan. Let me change the way you walk on this earth.

Ann Marie Healy playwright 2007

2012-01-01T03:48:00.000-08:00

Ann Marie Healy playwright 2007

WHAT ONCE WE FELT

ASTRID

Macy

You haven’t even touched—

Look at this food:

This is beautiful food!

You never get to eat at Panet

This food will change your life //

Enjoy enjoy my dear

MACY

Change your life

ASTRID

(Pulling a kumquat out and eating it with her fingers)

You really should try one

They’re stuffed full of liquor

Like sucking a shot from a wet sock!

MACY

What did you offer Claire to entice her?

ASTRID

I shouldn’t have

It was ahem

A very unconventional contingency //

I shouldn’t have even tried

MACY

What did you offer her?

(Pause)

Lucy Thurber Playwright 2006

2012-01-01T02:41:00.000-08:00

Lucy Thurber Playwright 2006

2011-12-31T19:43:00.001-08:00

Daniel Talbott, Playwright, Actor, Dramaturg

2011-12-29T14:50:00.000-08:00

Daniel Talbott,

Playwright, Actor, Dramaturg

2006,

SLIPPING

by Daniel Talbott

ELI

I loved him.

………

Short silence.

When we did.

When it felt right.

Sometimes.

The few times.

Beat.

It felt like kids. Like little kids.

Like eating dog food or stealing shit from a store.

Silence.

I’d think about him.

I’d think about the ocean.

About the sun.

His skin.

Surfing.

Changing behind the passenger door of his car.

Stuffing himself inside his wet suit.

His navel. His abs.

Beat.

I’d think about sharks.

The water.

How deep it was.

I’d imagined cuts all on his body.

Him swimming out to sea…

Confident.

Secure.

Cocky.

His blood mixing with the salt and the tide.

Short silence.

I’d think of a shark falling in love with him the way I did.

His body. His blood.

Short pause.

I’d listen to it devour him.

His screams being sucked up into the surf and air.

Sinking together. To the bottom.

Into the darkness.

Short pause.

Martin Epstein, Playwright and Master Teacher

2011-12-24T17:58:00.000-08:00

Martin Epstein,

Playwright and Master Teacher 2006

VERA SIMILITUDE

SCENE: OUTSIDE A CLOSED SAN FRANCISCO MOVIE THEATRE SHOWING A HITCHCOCK RETROSPECTIVE. IT IS 2 AM. VERA, A HUNGARIAN GIRL-WOMAN IN A RAINCOAT DROPS TO HER KNEES AND KISSES THE PAVEMENT.

VERA:
(FACING THE HOUSE)
Cinema is the true religion of everyone I know. Regardless of how we were raised, or what we profess ourselves to be, the gods we love the most and would die for are all movie stars. If you think I'm joking, try to go three days without talking about movies. If anyone else brings the subject up, keep absolutely silent. If they persist, walk away. But prepare to be ostracized like a bad odor. I tried it once. Two days later, I was ready for the loony bin. (SHE KISSES PAVEMENT AGAIN, AS A FIGURE IN A BLACK SKY MASK ENTERS BEHIND HER) And this is why, my first day on American soil, I take this special moment to pay tribute to the star-spangled universe of celluloid bandits who stole my heart and kept it from despair through so many difficult years. Katherine Hepburn and company, god bless you. And thank you, America, for putting the idea in my head that the great adventure in this life is to find that special someone you can go to the movies with! Not just once, but over and over and over again, regardless of what's playing! (THE MASK ADVANCES) Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. Mystery Man! (MASK STOPS) My shy, as yet invisible moving going pal--You jumbo jet sized egotist, who long long ago roared into my life and made yourself the absent center of all my sweetest dreams...(MASK ADVANCES) Shame on you! (MASK STOPS) Shame O shame for making we wait so long! (MASK ADVANCES) Shame for making me waste my time with incompetent boys from 17 different countries before I realized you just had to be an American guy! (MASK ADVANCES) Shame most of all for still keeping yourself hidden when I've practically thrown myself at your feet! (MASK ADVANCES) But be forewarned, Sir. When you finally choose to make yourself known, I'm going to punish you, and how! Even if you turn out to be as gorgeous as the Marlboro Man and twice as rich, you're going to pay for every second you kept me waiting. For every second you kept me waiting, I'm going to drag you deeper and deeper down, until you've gorged yourself on the pleasures of the damned! (THE MASK GRABS HER HAIR, PULLING HER HEAD BACK. IN HIS OTHER HAND, AN OPEN RAZOR) Stop!

Ruth Maleczech of Mabou Mines circa 1982

2011-11-21T23:40:00.000-08:00

Ruth Maleczech avec petit fils.

circa 1982

Playwright Lynn Nottage 2010

2011-11-03T17:46:00.000-07:00

Playwright Lynn Nottage 2010

©pswb2010

Ruin

SALIMA:

He called me a filthy dog, and said I tempted them. Why else would it happen? Five months in the bush, passed between the soldiers like a washrag. Used. I was made poison by their fingers, that is what he said. He had no choice but to turn away

Do you know what I was doing on that morning?

I was working in our garden picking the last of the sweet tomatoes. I put Beatrice down in the shade of a Frangipani tree, because my back was giving me some trouble. Forgiven? Where was Fortune? He was in town fetching a new iron pot.

"Go," I said "Go, today man or you won't have dinner tonight!" I had been after him for a new pot for a month. And finally on that day the damn man had to go and get it. A new pot. The sun was about to crest, but I had to put in another hour before it got too hot. It was such a clear and open sky. This splendid bird, a peacock had come into the garden to taunt me, and was showing off its feathers. I stooped down and called to the bird. "Wssht, Wssht." And I felt a shadow cut across my back, and when I stood four men were there over me, smiling, wicked schoolboy smiles. "Yes?" I said. And the tall soldier slammed the butt of his gun into my cheek. Just like that. It was so quick; I didn't even know I'd fallen to the ground. Where did they come from? How could I not have heard them?

One of the soldiers held me down with his foot. He was so heavy, thick like an ox and his boot was cracked and weathered like it had been left out in the rain for weeks. His boot was pressing my chest and the cracks in the leather had the look of drying sorghum. His foot was so heavy and it was all I could see, as the others..."took" me. My baby was crying. She was a good baby. Beatrice never cried, but she was crying, screaming. "Shhh" I said. "Shhh." And right then...

(A moment)

A soldier stomped on her head with his boot. And she was quiet.

(A moment. Salima releases-)

Where was everybody? WHERE WAS EVERYBODY?!

Death is near.

2011-10-06T17:42:00.000-07:00

When I awake I feel a heart attack

Death is near.

Drinking coffee releasing despair.

We cowboys curse the mayor and dance ritualistic gratuity.

On my pony I race through the rain, to the ghetto,

I lie in the back seat and think of you.

The cowboys feed ghost in harmony,

We suffer the death of our father in agony.

2011-09-22T15:59:00.001-07:00

The Playwright John Patrick Shanley 2008pswb@2010

Cellini
By John Patrick Shanley
Adopted from the Autobiography of Beuvenuto Cellini

CELLINI: Now it pleased my glorious Lord and Immortal God that at last I had brought whole to completion. The Duke was stationed at a window low upon the first floor of the palace. Just above the entrance to the piazza. There, half hidden, he could hear everything that folk were saying of my statue. So on a certain Thursday morning, before the sun was fully in the heavens, and before such a multitude as I have never before or since seen, I exposed my Perseus to the public gaze. Florence! Florence! (The lights change. The company sees the Perseus. We do not. The, as first, have no reaction except to draw back ever so slightly, Then, one by one, led by Bandinello and Riccio, they begin to applaud. One breathes, “Bravo” another “Che Bella,”another “Magnifica” another “Grandiosa” another“Bellisima”Cellini faces the Pope and genuflects, He faces the Duke and bows, He throws Caterina a kiss. She returns it. Then he signals them tosilence and speaks to us). There are those who say I worked the metal too much. That my Perseus has failed the terrible test of greatness. Some flaw of proportion in the work. Perhaps. But I say to you, as I prepare to tell my life, no man can will himself to excellence. No fool or hero, of his own, can climb from the sky to Heaven itself. Such things are the province of Almighty God. But God looks down with favor on those who are merely animals, eating and drinking and fucking and dying. God looks down—and Time is nothing to Him, and our doubts are nothing to Him—He looks down with favor upon the fellow who tries his hand, who never gives up, though upon the wheel of the world turns against him and reveals to his mortal eye the insufficiency. The Creator of us all looks down upon our lives and hopes for us that we are not animals only. But that we behave in a way that does us merit on the level of divine. Whether that be in Kindness, or in Justice, or in Erudition, or in Workmanship, or in Love or Teaching or, in my pitiful case, Art. My Life has saved me, my Nature has uplifted me. I am ashamed of nothing, I have killed men and beaten women and ridiculed my enemies and I am ashamed of nothing. I will tell you. God will judge me. I have already judged myself. Write this, (the boy opens his book and poises his pen) I am happy that I was born. I have dwelt in the presence of greatness> Hold there a moment. (To the audience) Pray upon the telling of your tale, that you can say the same. Across 443 years, and all the way from Florence, buona sera. And Benvenuto.
COMPANY. (simultaneously) Benvenuto. (The lights fade. Darkness. Celebratory music. Curtain call)

Playwright and Mime Bill Bowers

2011-09-05T10:33:00.000-07:00

Bill Bowers 2007

IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING

Bill:

When people find out that I am a mime,

it usually begs the question, "Why?"

"What got you interested?"

"How could this have happened to you??!"

I’m a mime because I'm from Montana. Not that Montana is known as a hotbed of mime action; but still, it is BIG and QUIET. All that sky and all that land…it can render you …speechless. And that moon. There is nothing like a Montana Moon. When I was a kid I spent a lot of time looking up at that moon. I thought it was there just for me. That it followed me wherever I went. And I thought it actually changed shape from night to night:- from half to whole, crescent to quarter. I remember the night when I was about eight, I first saw the whole of the moon…when I saw the dark side too. I thought I was the only one who knew. It was our secret. Just between us.

Rachel King 2010

2011-08-31T18:07:00.000-07:00

The experience of a father who committed suicide

2011-08-27T07:26:00.000-07:00

The single most remarkable moment in time is when every event is frozen, In the same way the victims of Hiroshima talk about every aspect of the day before the bomb went off, The events of that time seem frozen.

That in most cases the present evaporates in the past but in this case the present occurs in the emotion of the moment. It is always present and is like a helix in that it is a point by which all others are measured. I remember the emotions surrounding the time of my fathers death, the sounds the smells, my boyhood friends, they are always present, there are events and aspects of this time and event that keep replaying themselves over and over.

In away I keep reenacting the central trauma of my life.

This is all distilled from the experience of a father who told me he loved me than killed himself.

The Playwright Nilo Cruz 2006

2011-08-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Nilo Cruz 2006

Anna in the Tropics.

Marela:

Everything in life dreams. A bicycle dreams of becoming a boy, an umbrella dreams of becoming the rain, a pearl dreams of becoming a woman, and a chair dreams of becoming a gazelle and running back to the forest.

Clown at Home

2011-08-08T17:13:00.000-07:00

Clown at Home circa 1977

Will, my God son

2011-07-28T15:20:00.000-07:00

Will, my God son

The Playwright Lee Blessing and Playwright Melanie Marnich 2008

2011-07-28T04:36:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Lee Blessing and Playwright Melanie Marnich 2008

"BLUR" by Melanie Marnich

Scene: Apartment. DOT and JOEY. JOEY has a present for her.

DOT: What is it?

JOEY: Open it! Open it! Open it!

(DOT tears into the package and pulls out a beautiful globe. In relief. So she can feel the continents, borders, countries.)

JOEY: It’s in Braille, in relief, so you can feel the places.

(JOEY spins the globe and her fingers travel.)

DOT: Kiss me. I’m through the roof.

Kiss me, I’m crossing the river.

I’m climbing the Empire State.

I’m on the Blue Ridge.

I’m swimming the channel.

I’m crossing the parallel.

I’m over the Great Wall.

(They kiss.)

A Body of Water. by Lee Blessing

AVIS: . . . this morning when I was getting dressed, I thought . . . I

might be up here trying to get you to marry me . . . But then

I found out we were married. And we have all this. For a

moment, anyway . . . And we have a lovely daughter too,

who does so many things for us . . . apparently.

. . . And you know what else I was thinking? I was thinking

that maybe this is what happiness looks like. If we could see

it, I mean. Does that make sense? Perhaps we're simply

caught in . . . a state of happiness. And there's no need to get out.

The Playwright Nilaja Sun 2007

2011-06-28T16:54:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Nilaja Sun 2007

No Child...

MS.SUN. Hi. I’m Ms. Sun. Take your seats now. And as of today and for the next six weeks, when I’m in this classroom, you will not be using the word faggot or bitch or nigga or motherfucker or motherfuckerniggabitchfaggot. Anymore, Dominicans shall not be called and will not call each other dumb in a cans or platanos.

COCA. Ah, y pero quien e heta? Esa prieta?

MS. SUN. La prieta soy yo, senorita (Coca is speechless)

BRIAN. Shrimp fwy why? Shrimp fwy why! (no one else laughs)

MS. SUN. We will respect our teacher’s ethnicity.

BRIAN. Shrimp fwy why??? (no one else laughs.)

MS. SUN. Ladies will not call each other heifers or hos.

SHONKRIKA. Shoot! That whay I’m talkin’ about.

MS. SUN. We will start class on time. We will eat our breakfast beforehand. And from now on we are nothing but thespians.

XIOMORA. Lesbians? I ain’t no Rosie O’Donnell.

MS SUN. No no! Thespian! It means actor, citizen, lover of all things great.

XIOMARA. I love that hard cash bling-bling.

MS. SUN. Say it with me class, thespian.

XIOMARA (Bored) Thespian.

The Playwright Bekah Brunstetter 2010

2011-06-21T17:39:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Bekah Brunstetter 2010

Oohrah!

SARA

Regina from my pilates class, her husband makes real good money, he works for Krispy Kreme, he’s a regional manager. (Beat.) You could do that, you could work there.

RON

You want me to fuckin sell doughnuts, Sara?

SARA

They’re not JUST doughnuts RON, they’re best doughnuts ever!

Sides, You love doughnuts! It’s a good job!

Playwright Tommy Smith 2007

2011-06-16T17:56:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Tommy Smith 2007

SEXTET

NINA: I'm so afraid when you're gone.
TCHAIKOVSKY: Why are you afraid?
NINA: The last couple nights. I've been having these terrible dreams about you. I'm in the concert hall playing the violin. I don't play the violin, I know, but in the dream I could play very well. And no one's there, just space filled with sound and I play louder and louder and faster and faster and the strings break off, just whip right off the instrument, and they cut my forearms and I try to brush it away,brush the blood away like dirt but the cuts grow bigger and I call out but the space swallows the sound. But then I can hear you. I can her you in the silence. I'm coming. I'm coming. But you never do. You never come.

The Playwright John Clancy 2008

2011-06-10T17:45:00.000-07:00

The Playwright John Clancy 2008

Fatboy

"Never a thought for poor Fatboy. Never, what would you like, sweet Fatboy? Always this way, all my life, all my lives, every tick of time. As a boy left to riot, as a man left to rot. Cocksuckers. Asshole fuckheaded cocksuckers. Always the burden. Always the load. I'M EATING A CHAIR! HAS IT COME TO THIS? Well I say no more. I say fuck all y'all and fuck you twice from behind. I am not a beast of burden. I am not a servant or a slave. I am Fatboy and I AM GOD. I will take what I need, I will take what I deserve, I will take whatever I see. I shall be rich, I shall be respected and I shall be fed."

"Assholes of the world, I address you as your king, as your god, as your destiny and destroyer. I see here before me assholes from every hellhole on earth. I welcome you, I call you assholes, I spit on your traditions and faiths. You are assholes, your parents are assholes, your heroes, statesmen and ancestors are complete and perfect assholes. Assholes, what I ask for here today is very simple. From this day forward, you must all agree to shut the fuck up, fuck yourselves and stay the fuck out of my way. I AM FATBOY. In short, fuck all y'all, you big, big assholes. Thank you."

The Playwright Amira Baraka 2009

2011-06-05T06:02:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Amira Baraka 2009

The Dutchman

"I guess I better collect my stuff and get off this train. Looks like we wont be acting out that little pageant you outlined before " Dutchman , Scene two

The Playwright David Ives 2008

2011-06-01T16:41:00.000-07:00

The Playwright David Ives 2008

"Variations on the Death of Trotsky"

TROTSKY (with a mountain climber's axe in his head, planted there by his gardener): So even an assassin can make the flowers grow. The gardener was false, and yet the garden that he tended was real. How was I to know he was my killer when I passed him every day? How was I to know that the man tending the nasturtiums would keep me from seeing what the weather would be like tomorrow...? Sometime, for everyone, there's a room that you go into, and it's the room that you never leave. Or else you got out of a room and it's the last room that you'll ever leave. (He looks around.) This is my last room. This desk, these books, that calendar... Maybe I'll go look at the nasturtiums... (Trotsky dies. The garden outside the louvered window begins to glow.) - From "Variations on the Death of Trotsky"

The Playwright Sheila Callaghan

2011-05-27T03:01:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Sheila Callaghan 2007
copyright Peter Bellamy 2011

Lascivious Something

Daphne:

You and he were living out of your small car at the San Francisco Bay. You had no more food. You had not washed yourselves in two weeks besides your feet in the water. You had sex four times a day and were on pot much of the time. You were lying with your stringy head in his lap with your eyes closed. You were talking about molecules moving in your fingers and your feet. You were talking about how your skin was not solid, how the vinyl seat was not solid. You said everything was vibrating in nature at all times, and you said it scared you so much, and you said the only time you felt still was when his voice was in your ears, low and serious. And then you felt a wet drop on your closed lids, and you opened them and he was crying into your eyes. And he said your are so beautiful Liza, you are so beautiful you could crack the sky open. And you said August you are like the universe, you are so big you fill me you fill my eyes and you fill me. He brought his head down to yours and unrolled his tongue into your mouth. And his fingers wound around your hair. And you grabbed his hip with your hand and you said the word NEED, and you wrapped your thick leg around his skinny leg, and said the word NEED, and then you sank your teeth into his hip and bit so hard you came back with part of him in your mouth. And then you made love. And you fell asleep. And when you woke up you had a red smear on your face where you fell sleep in his blood. But he was gone. (A beat) That was the last you saw of him.

Lascivious Something/Roadkill Confidential/That Pretty Pretty; Or, The Rape Play: Three Plays [Paperback]

http://www.amazon.com/Lascivious-Something-Roadkill-Confidential-Pretty/dp/1593764146/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1306510854&sr=1-7

The Playwright Stephen Belber 2008

2011-05-09T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Stephen Belber 2008

FAULT LINES

JOE:

The reason plates shift, if I understand correctly, is that stress builds up in the rocks. Which is the same for us. Lotta stress out there: “Commitment;” “career choice;” “should we have kids?” “bizarre prostate behavior”---and when the stress gets to a threshold point, two things can happen: We either make an adjustment of some sort and thus ease the stress. Or---we fundamentally crack. What was once one solid land mass……becomes two.

The Playwright Rachel Hoeffel 2007

2011-05-05T17:25:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Rachel Hoeffel 2007

Quail

Alan: Damsels in distress. They're often wonderful and so gracious. You can't think how they get into such messes. Part lacking judgment when it comes to the character of the men they choose and the rest is just bad luck maybe. Dean likes to represent the damsels because he can smoke a lot around them to show concern. I once had a whole roster of damsels in my practice in Buffalo. And I did a lot of advocacy for dead whores. You can see where that's gotten me.

Elizabeth Meriwether 2007

2011-04-24T04:59:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth Meriwether 2007

The Mistakes Madeline Made

WILSON

I wanted to know if you wanted to have a coffee with me—

EDNA

I don't shower, Wilson.

WILSON

Well. Turn on the water.

EDNA

I can't, I can't just turn on the water. I don't shower.

WILSON

Oh. Well, I'd like to see you. Um. If not for coffee maybe we could go swimming.

2011-04-18T23:22:00.000-07:00

GROUNDWORK OF THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS:

FAH LO SEE:

Everything is fairly clear and straightforward, like on a balcony in bare feet with the stone of the balcony against your face, shot in the back, fallen to the ground with an arrow sticking out of your head.

And I’m sorry to have been such a disappointment to you. I mean that sincerely. But I also feel kind of like, fuck you.

The Playwright Mac Wellman 2006

2011-04-16T17:42:00.001-07:00

The Playwright Mac Wellman 2006

ANTIGONE

By Mac Wellman

___

Antigone:

Once senses the presence of an unknown god. Then another. Then another. We behold for the first time (once more) the curvature of the earth. Once more the Rock appears. Castle Rock. In the middle of air. High above us. The Rock opens. A brilliant geode, violet and luminous. Antigone is enshrined within. She looks almost like a goddess. Which one? No man can say. No man can say. No man can say. How many can stay. And I slipped out the back and I made myself very small and I slipped out the back way and when I awoke. I was in a different place, a thin place, as though it were the place of a compass focus.

The Playwright Adam Szymkowicz 2009

2011-04-14T14:57:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Adam Szymkowicz 2009

Food For Fish

BOBBIE: This is the story of the boy. This is the story of the man the boy could have become. This is the story of the three sisters, Barbara, Alice and Sylvia. This is not the story of the gravedigger, who is the father of the three sisters, or of his wife, the poet, who died young. This is my story. When you have visions that beat at your brains while other people are talking. When you hear non-stop streams of screams. When synapses pop or won’t stop crackling, and when blood pumps, and the pounding don’t stop pounding. Then you look for an exit to start the ending or search sideways in vain to extract a distraction, but even then, what will curls of hair give to you, hips and breasts, lips sip out of you, in a moment, distract what abstraction pounds-pounds ’til you steal ... a kiss.

The playwright WIll Eno 2006

2011-04-11T06:53:00.000-07:00

The playwright Will Eno 2006

Excerpt from

THOM PAIN (based on nothing)

by Will Eno

What a mysterious scene. And somewhere in the same night another youth bleeds between her legs, staring out a window, wondering whom to tell, wondering what to tell them. What a mystery. The onset of the breeding years. Growth. The cancers are almost all in place. Nature laughs last, ladies and gentlemen, laughs hardest and best and last, deep into the night, at you. But, think of it all. What a paradise, as I have said. What a surprise to have a body.

The Playwright Brooke Berman 2007

2011-04-08T18:04:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Brooke Berman 2007

UNTIL WE FIND EACH OTHER

Sophy:

"Welcome, Ye of the Congregation of the Broken-hearted. Welcome, Motherless Children. Welcome, you who wrestle with angels. I used to wrestle with angels. But not anymore."

The Playwright Adam Rapp 2006

2011-03-29T16:32:00.000-07:00

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.

The Playwright Sarah Treem

2011-03-19T14:58:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Sarah Treem 2007

A Feminine Ending

amanda:

"It is known, by the few that know enough to care and care enough to know, that any piece of music has one of two beginnings. They are gendered. A masculine piece begins with an emphasis or “stress” on the first beat. A feminine piece begins with the “stress” on the second beat. Or sometimes, the third. This is a feminine beginning."

The Playwright Sarah Ruhl 2007

2011-03-07T13:14:00.001-08:00

The Playwright Sarah Ruhl 2007
copyright Peter Bellamy

FROM THE PLAY EURYDICE

She puts the letter on the ground.
She dips herself in the River.
A small metallic sound of forgetfulness—ping.
The sound of water.
She lies down next to her father, as though asleep.
The sound of an elavator—ding.
Orpheus appears in the elevator.
He sees Eurydice.
He is happy.
The elevator starts raining on Orpheus. He forgets.
He steps out of the elevator.
He sees the letter on the ground.
He picks it up.
He scrutinizes it.
He can’t read it.
He stands on it.
He closes his eyes.
The sound of water.
Then silence.

THE END

The Playwright Edward Albee

2011-02-28T14:12:00.000-08:00

The Playwright Edward Albee 2008

Excerpt from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf

George (At NICK, not to him)

You take the trouble to construct a civilization…to..to Build a society, based on the principles of…of principle…You endeavor to make communicable sense out of natural Order, morality out of the unnatural disorder of man’s Mind…you make government and art, and realize that They are, must be, both the same…you bring things to the Saddest of all points…to the point where there is something to lose…then all at once, through all the music, through all the sensible sounds of men building, attempting, comes the Dies Irae. And what is it? What does the trumpet sound? Up yours. I suppose there’s justice to it, after all the years… Up yours.

The Playwright Rinnie Groff

2011-02-05T05:34:00.000-08:00

The Playwright Rinnie Groff 2008

Orange Lemon Egg Canary

the prologue.

Henrietta:

"Everybody loves magic. Everybody loves to be fooled, tricked. Everybody loves to be caught with their pants down. Everybody loves to be cheated and misled. Everybody loves it when someone lies to them. Especially when they watch that certain someone very closely and they’re trying to catch him in his lie, but he’s quick with the sleight of hand, too quick; and a girl is left feeling both stupid and angry, and third of all, empty. People love that."

The Playwright Itamar Moses 2008

2011-01-26T17:28:00.000-08:00

Stories

The reader:

The terrible thing about writing, the thing that, sometimes, he finds the most terrible is the way that that initial spark, that maybe orange glowing ember-tip of a new thing, that genesis, that it happens so easily, that the idea for something comes in a flash, which, while, okay, admittedly, is not a very original way to describe a moment of inspiration in the creative process, but it’s true, it’s almost literally true if you think of neurons and the way they make little electrical storms, but how an idea will come in a flash: A man and a woman. Sitting at a table. There is history. There are particulars. That comes, all of it, in a single moment. Or, okay, full disclosure, because that was never the idea, so, more accurately, to be really really truthful, the idea of a scene that doesn’t get to start, because it is hijacked by its own opening stage direction, by someone nameless, identified only as: “The Reader.” This idea comes in a flash, and it’s joyous, it seems right, and good, and like it will be, for as long as it takes to write, it will be the answer to all of my problems. He thinks. But how, and this, finally, is the terrible thing, how the process of actually writing it is nothing at all like that first flash. The rest is just the day to day work of building something. Often frustrating. Often boring. Often seeming to be almost entirely without the prospect of any discernible reward. And that the choices are therefore to write it and feel only deadened by the poor results especially in light of the brightness of the flash. Or not to write it. And to be haunted by it. A chance unruined because it went untried. An impossible choice unredeemed by the fact that even this, even this idea to write about the choice itself, making use of slightly more recently developed but no less contrived meta-formal meta-conventions, as a way of maybe, finally, saying something a little bit near the vicinity of what he wants to say, even this was part of the idea from the beginning. This was always the idea.

The Playwright Josh Fox 2009

2011-01-19T17:02:00.000-08:00

A Great Country Will Be Cleared

Woman: Something I heard a crack like winter coming and I felt cold. I built a fire and still felt cold. Something inside could bend no further. And then weak. And I know of my strength and started to know weakness. I slept next to my axe a week before I knew weakness. Can you stop a phrase by holding your breath?
Bite a falling apple in the air? Can you stop the axe on the way down? This falls like love.

Title:
A Great Country Will Be Cleared
Character: Woman

The Playwright Horton Foote 2007

2011-01-14T09:34:00.000-08:00

The Playwright Horton Foote 2007

A COFFIN IN EGYPT

HORTON FOOTE

MYRTLE

I’m older by twenty years than the mulatto, Maude Jenkins,

but I’ve outlived so many, I might outlive her. Who will

come to her funeral? There will be lots of Jenkins there,

because they are still thick in the country and the blacks

will come from everywhere from all the bottoms and the

prairies, out of curiosity if nothing else.

(a pause)

And I’d like to go just to get a look at her after all these

years. But I couldn’t, of course, even if I was still alive

then.

(a pause)

“The Angel that talked with me came again, and waked me, as a

man that’s wakened out of his sleep.”

(a pause)

“The Angel that talked with me came again, and waked me, as a

man that’s wakened out of his sleep.”

(a pause)

What was the name of Mr. Frohman’s theater? The Empire.

It was across the street from the Metropolitan Opera House.

They’re both torn down I read somewhere. I attended them

both. Many times. I loved New York. I loved Paris. I

loved Algiers. I loved Rome. I loved...Egypt. Not, Egypt,

Texas, but Egypt. Egypt...Magic, Egypt. I used to tell

Hunter that when I died I wanted to be cremated and have my

ashes taken to one of the beautiful places I’d known as a

young woman. But now, I don’t care. Who is there left to

take my ashes anywhere? Anyway, they have a place for my

body between Hunter’s grave and my two girls and that’s where

I’ll end. In a coffin in Egypt. This Egypt. Out on the

prairie. And in the spring our graves will be covered with

the wildflowers, with primroses and Indian blankets and blue

bonnets.

the Playwright Ken Urban 2009

2011-01-06T06:03:00.000-08:00

Playwright Ken Urban 2209

©pswb2011

From Nibbler

MATT

Hayley, you think I don’t want to have numerous women of various ages slap my face with their luscious breasts repeatedly?

You think I don’t plan on watching pornographic movies featuring the most vile and extreme expressions of sexuality between man, woman and beast?

You think I don’t desire to enter a hotel room off of Route 130 and stand in line to fuck a faceless man’s asshole while the others fuck his mouth repeatedly, each of us eventually cumming on his face?

You think I don’t envision a lost weekend where every one of my orifices is poked and probed by an incalculable number of genitals, devices, mouths, fingers, household appliances, electrical fuses, and young reptiles?

Everyone has dreams Hayley, everyone.

We will have a Volvo and two kids and our parents will envy us and we’ll tell everyone at cocktail parties we met in high school, we are high school sweethearts, and every time, they will coo and moo at the sight of our unending love, jealous of our perfect union, completely unaware that hours ago I was involved in acts of extreme debauchery at a Motel 6 in Pennsauken with a young Asian couple and their lapdog, while you’re pretending to be fucked by a man thrice your age in a Santa costume.

But see, they’ll never know. Because there are things you never talk about.

THAT’S CALLED BEING AN ADULT

THAT’S CALLED MARRIAGE

THAT’S CALLED LOVE.

Playwright Taylor Mac 2009

2010-12-30T02:14:00.000-08:00

"The Lily's Revenge"
song lyric.

LILY
The floating down
a flower free
to be
to be

as tears descend, decree
the cheek
home
but with the weight of all they learn
must cling then fall
and seek to
roam
disperse upon the earth
adjourn from yearning
tomes

A flower falls
much faster than a wish
and so my longings lay
are late
lost
and I am left to know my fate
to land
to lose.
This ache, the cost of being what you’re not
and I will die upon the grating frost.

The Playwright John Patrick Shanley 2008

2010-12-19T15:35:00.000-08:00

The Playwright John Patrick Shanley 2008

pswb@2010

Cellini

By John Patrick Shanley

Adopted from the Autobiography of Beuvenuto Cellini

CELLINI: Now it pleased my glorious Lord and Immortal God that at last I had brought whole to completion. The Duke was stationed at a window low upon the first floor of the palace. Just above the entrance to the piazza. There, half hidden, he could hear everything that folk were saying of my statue. So on a certain Thursday morning, before the sun was fully in the heavens, and before such a multitude as I have never before or since seen, I exposed my Perseus to the public gaze. Florence! Florence!

(The lights change. The company sees the Perseus. We do not. The, as first, have no reaction except to draw back ever so slightly, Then, one by one, led by Bandinello and Riccio, they begin to applaud. One breathes, “Bravo” another “Che Bella,” another “Magnifica” another “Grandiosa” another “Bellisima” Cellini faces the Pope and genuflects, He faces the Duke and bows, He throws Caterina a kiss. She returns it. Then he signals them to silence and speaks to us). There are those who say I worked the metal too much. That my Perseus has failed the terrible test of greatness. Some flaw of proportion in the work. Perhaps. But I say to you, as I prepare to tell my life, no man can will himself to excellence. No fool or hero, of his own, can climb from the sky to Heaven itself. Such things are the province of Almighty God. But God looks down with favor on those who are merely animals, eating and drinking and fucking and dying. God looks down—and Time is nothing to Him, and our doubts are nothing to Him—He looks down with favor upon the fellow who tries his hand, who never gives up, though upon the wheel of the world turns against him and reveals to his mortal eye the insufficiency. The Creator of us all looks down upon our lives and hopes for us that we are not animals only. But that we behave in a way that does us merit on the level of divine. Whether that be in Kindness, or in Justice, or in Erudition, or in Workmanship, or in Love or Teaching or, in my pitiful case, Art. My Life has saved me, my Nature has uplifted me. I am ashamed of nothing, I have killed men and beaten women and ridiculed my enemies and I am ashamed of nothing. I will tell you. God will judge me. I have already judged myself. Write this, (the boy opens his book and poises his pen) I am happy that I was born. I have dwelt in the presence of greatness> Hold there a moment. (To the audience) Pray upon the telling of your tale, that you can say the same. Across 443 years, and all the way from Florence, buona sera. And Benvenuto.

COMPANY. (simultaneously) Benvenuto. (The lights fade. Darkness. Celebratory music. Curtain call)

Portrait of Playwright Dan O'Brien

2010-12-06T07:50:00.000-08:00

Playwright Dan O’Brien 2007

©pswb 2010

The House in Hydesville

MAGGIE

It upsets people. They cry. They seem overjoyed by it, somehow. Even though sometimes we

say such upsetting things . . .

And—the less I think about what Spirit will say to me, the more I listen and let the

words come to me, as if through me . . . the more people seem to believe that all I say is true.

And—I’m faking it always, like you said. But sometimes I forget, and I know what I

don’t know. —I say what I can’t possibly be thinking.

The truth is it feels good sometimes: it doesn’t feel like me.

Bookcover Suzan Lori Parks

2010-12-01T05:19:00.001-08:00

Bookcover Suzan Lori Parks 2008/2010

Portrait of Playwright Kirk Wood Broomley 2008

2010-11-29T11:34:00.000-08:00

Playwright Kirk Wood Broomley 2008

©pswbell 2010

The Welcome Mask

one of three plays in the trilogy, Three Dollar Bill – Plays on Being Queer and Conservative

Mom- Hi, son.

Son- Hi, mom.

Dad- Don’t you see, mother?

Mom- See what?

Dad- On his face?

Mom- I see nothing on his face.

Dad- Tell her what it is, son.

Mom- No! Let me guess. A carpeted jellyfish.

Dad- Can’t you see the mucous mysteries,

The bleak expositorial crevace,

The impractical tools, the fluffy wibbles?

Mom- A watermelon raised by wolves?

Dad- Can’t you see the plaguey clitoral hood?

Mom- The pancreas of an inside-out barber?

Son- It’s a vagina, mom.

Mom- Is it really?

I can’t say I’ve ever seen one of those.

Dad- Now you can, cuz it’s right there on his face!

Mom- It’s not as blurry as I’d pictured it.

Son- I got it from this goofy dude who lives

In a fit of grief.

Mom- Is the vaginamum

Related to the chrysanthemum?

Son- It’s a sex organ, mom.

Mom- What, like a piano

That gets softer the harder you pound it?

The Playwright Caridad Svich 2009

2010-11-23T15:41:00.000-08:00

The Playwright Caridad Svich 2009

©pswb2010

Iphigenia Crash Land Falls on the Neon Shell That Was Once Her Heart (a rave fable)

Iphigenia:

"Crash. Everything part of me is breaking. But I'm all right. Give me your hands, Cause you're wonderful."

Playwright Arthur Kopit 2008

2010-11-21T06:12:00.000-08:00

The Playwright Arthur Kopit 2008

Quote from Wings

MRS. STILSON

... all around faces of which nothing known no sense ever all wiped out blank like ice I think saw it once flying over something some place all was white sky and sea clouds ice almost crashed couldn't tell where I was heading right side up topsy-turvy under over I was flying actually if I can I do yes do recall was upside down can you believe it almost scraped my head on the ice caps couldn't tell which way was up wasn't even dizzy strange things happen to me that they do!

What's my name? I don't know my name!

Where's my arm? I don't have an arm!

What's an arm?

AB—ABC—ABC123DE451212 what? 12345678972357 better yes no problem I'm okay, soon be out, soon be over storm … will pass I'm sure.

Always has.

Playwright Tony Kushner 2010

2010-11-15T12:54:00.000-08:00

Playwright Tony Kushner 2010

©pswb 2010

Photographed at the Great Hall at Cooper Union at the podium where Abraham Lincoln delivered The Cooper Union Speech on February 27, 1860

From Act IV of Hydriotaphia, or The Death of Dr. Browne

DR. BROWNE (Glaring at Pumpkin,trying to make him squirm:)

I want to be buried deep. Very deep but...not too deep. Apart from the mob, but not in a lonely place. Avoid the usual cliches, no willow trees, though I’d like a view, for summer evenings. No pine box. Flimsy. Use that urne. Toss out the previous occupant, or better yet, throw me in there with him and let us mingle. (Little pause) No markers, or, well, maybe just a little unpretentious stone. Maybe... “Here lies Sir Thomas Browne, scientist.” “Here lies Sir Thomas Browne, who made his wife miserable.” “Here lies Sir Thomas Browne, no grandchildren ... BUT A GENIUS! SHAKESPEARE HAD NOTHING ON HIM!” (He is now bellowing at Pumpkin with wild hatred and immense pride:) Or maybe an obelisk! Or a pyramid! A pyre! A sea-burial, or...

GET OUT OF HERE!

PUMPKIN

I han’t following dis, Dr. Browne.

DR. BROWNE (Great delirious newfound certainty!)

I don’t need you, wretch! I’M NOT GOING TO DIE. It isn’t... conceivable! I can’t ... IMAGINE it.

IF I DIE... THE WORLD ENDS! And... (The certainty is dissipating, the hatred of Pumpkin remains:) And we’ll have no need of gravediggers then.

PUMPKIN

Ef dat happens, Dr. Browne, I findet another job.

the playwright Neil LaBute 2008

2010-11-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

Playwright Neil Labute 2008

with Edwin Booth as Hamlet

©pswb 2010

The Mercy Seat

Ben Harcourt: Jesus…you think I was born this way, like some cut-throat pirate of the high seas? Huh? Hell, I’m just trying to muddle through, that’s all, just muddle my fucking way through to middle age, see if I can make it that far. You like trivia so goddamn much, well here’s a little tidbit for ya…I’m faking it. Okay? Totally getting by on fumes. I put my game face on and go out there and I’m scared shitless. (BEAT) I’ve screwed up every step of my life, Abby, I’m not afraid to admit it. Happy to, actually, I am happy to sing it out there for anybody who wants to hear. I always take the easy route, do it faster, simpler, you know, whatever it takes to get it done, be liked, get by. That’s me. Cheated in school, screwed over my friends, took whatever I could get from whomever I could take it from. My marriage, there’s a goddamn fiasco, of which you’re intimately aware. The kids…I barely register as a dad, I’m sure, but compared to the other shit in my life, I’m Doctor-fucking-Spock. No matter what I do or have done, they adore the hell out of me and I’m totally knocked out by that. What kids are like. Yeah… (BEAT) And you, let’s not forget you. Us. Okay, yes, I haven’t done all that I’ve promised, said I’d do, I fuck up along the way. Alright. But I’m trying, this time out--with you, I mean--I have been trying. Don’t know what it looks like, feels to you, but I have made a real go of us and that is not a lie. It isn’t. And so then, yesterday--through all the smoke and fear and just, I dunno, apocalyptic shit--I see a way for us to go for it, to totally erase the past… (BEAT) And I don’t think it makes me Lucifer or a criminal or some bad man because I noticed it. I really don’t. We’ve been given something here, a chance to…I don’t know what, to wash away a lot of the, just, rotten crap we’ve done. More than anything else, ...that's what this is. a chance. I know it is.

Portrait of Playwright Elizabeth Swados

2010-11-03T16:19:00.000-07:00

The Playwright Elizabeth Swados 2009

©pswb 2010

excerpt from The Foundling

He lived among us
He was Europe’s child
His ways were simple and his manner mild
We looked beyond him
And saw what we chose to see
And now the truth about him stays a mystery
One sad boy One lost soul
One more story left untold
One more name scratched on a stone
One more baby left alone

Playwright Lynn Nottage 2010

2010-10-28T16:22:00.000-07:00

Playwright Lynn Nottage 2010

©pswb2010

Lynn Nottage photographed in the summer of 2010,

at the cross roads of brooklyn,

The Fulton Street Subway stop where the Franklin Shuttle meets the A train,

overlooking Fulton and Franklin Street intersection.

Gina Gionfriddo, Playwright 2010

2010-10-20T16:09:00.000-07:00

Gina Gionfriddo, Playwright 2010

a quote from the play, "Becky Shaw."

performed @ second stage nyc 2010

SUZANNA: Iraq is not your problem, Becky is not your problem...

MAX: That's right. They're not. And I make no apologies. Unless you're Ghandi or Jesus, you have a limited sphere of responsibility. You have a plot of land and the definition of a moral life is tending that plot of land--

SUZANNA: You need new material. I've heard the "plot of land" speech.

MAX: Becky Shaw is not on my plot of land! You are. And I tend my plot. I will always tend my plot.

SUZANNA: You make me sound like an obligation. Am I more than that to you?

MAX: Yes! If I didn't want you on my plot, I would rip you out and compost you. I want you on my plot.

Christopher Durang Playwright

2010-10-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

Christopher Durang playwright 2010

©pswb 2010

And think about God. You know, it was nice to believe in God, and an afterlife; and I’m sometimes envious of the people who seems comfortable because they still have this belief. But I remember when everybody won Tonys for “Dreamgirls,” and they all got up there thanking God for letting them win this award, and I was thinking to myself: God is silent on the Holocaust, but He involves himself in the Tony awards?

(above is 75 words)

- The Man in “Laughing Wild”

---

I want to talk to you about life. It’s just too difficult to be alive, isn’t it, and to try to function? There are all these people to deal with. I tried to buy a can of tuna fish in the supermarket, and there was this person standing right in front of where I wanted to reach out to get the tuna fish, and I waited a while, to see if they’d move, and they didn’t – they were looking at tuna fish too, but there were taking a real long time on it, reading the ingredients on each can like they were a book, a pretty boring book, if you ask me, but nobody has; so I waited a long while, and they didn’t move; and I couldn’t get the tuna fish cans; and I thought about asking them to move, but then they seemed so stupid not to have sensed that I needed to get by them that I had this awful fear that it would do no good, no good at all, to ask them, they’d probably say something like, “We’ll move when we’re goddam ready, you nagging bitch,” and then what would I do? And so then I started to cry out of frustraton, quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, and still even though I was softly sobbing, this stupid person didn’t grasp that I needed to get by them to reach the goddam tuna fish, people are so insensitive, I just hate them; and so I reached over with my fist, and I brought it down real hard on his head and I screamed: “Would you kindly move asshole!!!”

(274 words!)

- The Woman in “Laughing Wild”

Gregory Moss Playwright, new play, Orange Hat, and Grace

2010-09-29T06:37:00.001-07:00

Gregory Moss, Playwright, 2010

He has a new play which I saw last night and loved at the Soho Rep

Orange Hat, and Grace

Directed by Sarah Benson

Portrait of Kalob Linzy 2007

2010-07-25T04:49:00.000-07:00

I did this shot of Kalob Linzy for Out Magazine when Joey Tang was the photo editor at Out Magazine. The Wigs are part of his performance costume. His gesture I was seeking femininity his gesture. It came at the end of my association with Apostrophe. Kalob was on his way to art stardom and had also come to my attention through Robert Storr, then curator at MOMA now dean at Yale. Kalob has an ability to promote and inform about his climb. His best-known work is a series of video art pieces satirizing the tone and narrative approach of television soap opera. [Linzy performs most of the characters himself, many of them in drag. He also performs many of the same characters on stage. On July 13, 2010, he made his debut appearance on the daytime television soap opera General Hospital. He has created something to which he has become, inescapable, as Orson Wells became Citizen Kane; Kalob has become a Soap Opera Star. Careful what you wish for.