Playwright Portrait, David Lindsay-Abaire, Excerpt from Rabbit Hole

The Playwright David Lindsay-Abaire 2007
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

Excerpt from Rabbit Hole

BECCA
This feeling. Does it ever go away?

NAT
(beat)
No. I don’t think it does. Not for me it hasn’t. And that’s goin’ on eleven years.
(beat)
It changes though.

BECCA
How?

NAT
I don’t know. The weight of it, I guess. At some point it becomes bearable. It turns into something you can crawl out from under. And carry around - like a brick in your pocket. And you forget it every once in a while, but then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is: “Oh right. That.” Which can be awful. But not all the time. Sometimes it’s kinda….Not that you like it exactly, but it’s what you have instead of your son, so you don’t wanna let go of it either. So you carry it around. And it doesn’t go away, which is…

BECCA
What.

NAT
Fine…actually.

Playwright Portrait, Lenora Champagne, Excerpt from The Best Things in Life

The Playwright Lenora Champagne 2008
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

excerpt from The Best Things in LifeLenora:"Everything turns to work in her hands. It's what she knows how to do. Sometimes she meditates on chance. Or on how things happen in time. She often goes back to what she knew first--cleaning. When she cleans, her blood moves, and the blood in turn moves her mind."

Playwright Portrait, Thomas Bradshaw, Excerpt from Cleansed

The Playwright Thomas Bradshaw 2008
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

Excerpt from Cleansed


Grandmother: Yes. Your mother should never have married that nigger. It’s been nothing but problems since she met him. When you were a child she came crying to me about the fact that kids were making fun of you. What did she expect? Everyone could see that coming a mile away. But what really upset me was the fact that she had the nerve to blame it on your classmates and their families! She called them ignorant and racist! I have lived in this town for forty-six years and I can assure you that the people in this community are neither ignorant or racist! They’re just good Christians. And all good Christians know that the mixing of races is a sin. Your mother and father are the ignorant ones.

Lauraul: Do you think that I’m a sin?

Grandmother: Goes and Hugs Lauraul
Oh no honey. Your parent’s sins are not your fault. I’m just sorry that they didn’t consider your feelings before they had you. It’s not fair that you’ve been treated this way all these years. And it makes me love you even more to know that you’re rejecting the culture and the blood that your father infected you with.

Lauraul: Thank you Grandma. I’m so glad that someone understands.

Grandmother: But you know that you must fight hard everyday to resist your tainted blood. It’s very powerful, and can sneak up on you when you least expect it. So I’m giving you something to help you to resist it.

Playwright Portrait, Sally Oswald, Excerpt from Vendetta Chrome

The Playwright Sally Oswald
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

from VENDETTA CHROME



VENDETTA
Mrs. Bosworth, I've been reading your book—

BOSWORTH
Dear Lord.

VENDETTA
And I am intrigued by some of the positions you mention.
I got some more ideas for my routine that I thought we could add.

BOSWORTH
Like what.

VENDETTA
The darker passions.

BOSWORTH
I see.

VENDETTA
We already have Surprise and Laughter,
Salvation, Submission, and Listening—
But what I want to try is
[she shuffles through the poses in “shorthand” as she mentions them]
Horror
Flight
Accusation
and Grief!

BOSWORTH
Mmhmm.

VENDETTA
And. Of course, the Dancing Girl!

[VENDETTA strikes the pose of the Dancing Girl. It looks a little like a frozen Irish jig and causes her to blush.]

BOSWORTH
I never intended that young ladies would make use of the humors in that way.

VENDETTA
But it’s all right there in your book!

BOSWORTH
That’s my early work.

Playright Portrait, Richard Foreman, Excerpt from Zamboid

The Playwright Richard Foreman
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

Excerpts from Zamboid1) Deep Voice:
Strangers are not
Permitted to view this
Private performance

2) Deep Voice:
It would be
Fine indeed
If there were rules for beginners.

3) Deep Voice:
Suppose I were to postulate—
Those things under control
Are under control backwards.
How would you deal with that?

4) Deep Voice:
Those pre-disposed to happiness
Seen nothing
Hear nothing.

5) Deep Voice:
Why not, please
Take the fun out of life?
Experience
A true stretch of time.

6) Deep Voice:
Suppose I were to postulate--
An opinion must always
Be an internal
Misunderstanding.

Playwright Portrait, Sheila Callaghan, Excerpt from Dead City

The Playwright Sheila Callaghan 2007
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010
 

From Dead City

Projected: "how many languages do you know what time of day do you find this city most beautiful do you like the way the sidewalk steams when it rains after a hot day does the smell of laundry detergent from a basement window break your heart do you ever go bowling do you believe the world is falling apart does television make you woozy what size shoe do you wear are you a vegetarian do people often disappoint you could you get lost in the smell of an unshaven beard"

Playwright Portrait, John Guare, Excerpt from Landscape of the Body

The Playwright John Guare 2006
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

Excerpt from Landscape of the Body

Rosalie: Our spirits--it's so simple--float around in space and it all makes sense when you realize the planet Earth has these fishing hooks on it. What we call gravity is fishing hooks and all the nice things in the world are baited on those hooks and our spirits floating up there all loose and aimless spy those baited hooks and we bite. And we are reeled down onto this planet and we spend the rest of our stay on this planet trying to free our moths of that hook, fighting, fighting.

You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to Earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The Earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe.