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Saturday, March 17, 2012

Playwright Portrait, Daisy Foote, Excerpt from Bhutan

The Playwright Daisy Foote, 2009


FRANCES: She has all these boxes filled with pictures and each box is
labeled with a different country's name. She can take a picture...any
picture and remember everything about it...the day it was taken...who
was there...what they were talking about...what they ate or
drank...where they went next. And after she's shown me the last
picture, she always says the same thing, "I think a brew is in order."
And while I put out the cups and saucers, Nora, Nora makes the tea.

(We stay with Warren, Frances and Mary for a few more beats and then
the lights start to fade...BLACKOUT.)

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Playwright Portrait, Heidi Schreck, Excerpt from Creature

The Playwright and Actress Heidi Schreck, 2009



The devil has started visiting me again.


It’s his duty to be persistent.
And I am almost constantly troubled with horrible temptations of flesh.


Oh well. Temptations of flesh. Why do you think I lock myself in here?


. . .


This window looks into the church. This window here is where I give my confessions. And do you see this third window? This is the window that looks out onto the world. This third window tortures me. It's a constant daily effort to love this window as little as I can. Sometimes a creature will be mad enough to put its soft little hand out toward the window and you can’t imagine how difficult it is some days not to grab it and kiss it. [beat] What happened to your head?

Friday, March 2, 2012

Playwright Portrait, Madeleine George, Excerpt from Precious Little

The Playwright Madeleine George, 2009pswb©2012

Precious Little:
Pinlight up on THE APE, draped over a great gnarled log. She reclines halfway, Odalisque, elegant and weary. She is barefoot; she wears Chanel. She does not wear an ape suit. THE APE lifts her big hand, a stalk of celery in it. She works the celery into her mouth contemplatively, grinding it into her face as if feeding a tree branch into a chipper. We watch THE APE, spotlit, as through the peephole end of an Easter egg: odd figure in an odd world.
THE APE (even, calm)

I chew. I swallow. I recognize the vegetable. I drop my hand with the vegetable, forget the vegetable. A breeze. I swell my chest to it. Light comes from every direction here. Light comes from the ceiling, someone left the ceiling open here. I stretch myself out on what they have for me to lie on. I smell the air; it smells like buildings here. I smack my lips. I close my lips like a purse over my yellow teeth.