Happy Holidays to one and all!
Play a Day will be back in 2011!
Reading suggestions? Send to: email@example.com
Public dialogue is never real dialogue. Nobody will admit to anything in a crowd. I mean, I can't believe that I'm the only person that feels this way.She brings up a good point here - it's easy to say the right thing in public, when you're under pressure to do and be good. To tell the truth, as Sarah has, no matter how ugly, is the more difficult thing. They say the first step in solving your problem is admitting you have one. At least Sarah can admit that she is wrong, rather than saying one thing to a person's face and another behind their back.
"The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."In my opinion, the best have conviction, the question is whether they can be heard over the screaming ignorance of the worst.
The bathroom was nice. I guess it was a guest bathroom. They had the liquid soap in the dispenser, though, so you could really wash your hands. Sometimes people put little special soaps in the guest bathroom. Little soaps shaped like roses or something. I never know if I'm supposed to use them or just look at them.Yeah, but they're so pretty!
We cannot punish ourselves worse than to burn and stay silent. What good did my pride do me - not seeing you, and knowing you were lying awake night after night. None! It only poured blazing coals over me. You think time heals and that walls shut away but it's not true, it's not true. When things have pierced to the centre nobody can pull them out.With such deep passions and such heavy words we know this can't end well...
Will you be quiet. I want no weeping in this house. Your tears are just tears, they come from your eyes. My tears will be different. When I'm alone my tears will come from the soles of my feet. From my very roots. And they'll burn hotter than blood.The bride comes to her, alone and desperate, having witnessed the death of the two men in her life, wanting only one thing. She asks the old woman:
Stop talking. Take your revenge. Here I am. Here's my throat. You see how soft it is. Easier than cutting a dahlia in your garden.The bride is alone with her grief and sees no release from it other than death. She insists that she is pure and has never betrayed the old woman's son. The woman will not draw blood and the bride is left alone to sob in the corner.
When it comes to figuring out what to do with my life, I've been seriously claustrophobic. Because choosing things narrows down your life, it limits you and it freaks me out. I'm not kidding. Every time you make a decision, you narrow your life more and more...I responded to this moment because it reminded me of a conversation I had with an agent a little while ago about how sometimes you have to limit yourself temporarily in order to expand your options in the future (for more on that conversation, buy me a drink). It can be hard to make those big decisions. For Jen, her path was pretty much revealed when she found out she was pregnant. It's funny how life will hand you something wonderful just when you need it. Or just when you can't have it. Or just when you least expect it. Or, or, or...
It doesn't matter how many you sell. If your poetry affects one person, then that's all that matters. That's how you change the world. You're changing the world with your poetry.This could easily come off as cheesy, but the romantic in me believes that art can and does change the world. Poems speak right to the heart, just as songs change minds, and theatre drives you to action.
I wanted this. I wanted everyone to converge. I needed it to happen. I mean, breaking this kind of news to a girl... THREE TIMES... and having to deal with the fallout three times and I'm telling you: I just couldn't handle that. I'm weak. So... Dinner. Everyone at once. Three birds with one stone.And herein lies my main issue. I think that he should have to go through that three times. Each woman is unique and deserves to hear the truth from him individually. I don't think it was weak of him, I think it was cowardly (ultimately more dramatic for play purposes? yes, but still). I just can't feel bad for a guy who takes the easy route. And don't think you'll win me over with your heartfelt soliloquies.. that didn't work for Richard III and it won't work for you, Ty.
Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.A simple 'ten o'clock' would have sufficed. This sets up Falstaff's role in the community and also lays the ground for many a fat-joke throughout the rest of the play. This is also the first scene where we meet Hal, the prince and heir to the throne. His 'loose behaviour' is set up here, showing him drinking and carousing with his friends -- not very princely. In the previous scene his father, the King, was telling us how he wished that his son had been switched at birth with the noble warrior Percy. Ouch. That's rough. But then comes this brilliant speech by Hal (and one of my favorite male monologues in Shakespeare.)
Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell, and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man and therefore more frailty. You confess, then, you picked my pocket?Oh, is Falstaff overweight? I hadn't realized. I'm glad he told us. Seriously though, how many Falstaff=fat jokes do we think are in the play? 100? More?
Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word 'honour'? What is that 'honour'? Air. A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism.Wise words. When he uses his wit, he sometimes says things worth hearing. And yet, his honor does lead him on to fight, and he must not be half bad either, because he lives to see another day. Though, not without some trickery. More on that later.
Well: all letters are love letters.In a way, I suppose they are. Especially these days, if someone is going to take the time to hand write you a letter or a card, there is more than likely some love behind it. There is a certain intimacy in seeing someone's handwriting.
..why not just have a series of very very beginnings, and if that isn't better, then why does it feel so much better?The trick is finding someone who makes you feel like every day is better than the last. I think.
Look, all I'm saying is: I think the thing to be afraid of is not that you will never publish, or whatever, but that you will never write anything good. And I think if I did write something good, if I knew that I had done that, I would be satisfied to let it just sit in a drawer forever. And I think that if that's not true, then the things I write probably won't be any good anyway.That's easy to say, but if you wrote a masterpiece, no matter how humble you may be, I'm pretty sure you'd want to share it with someone. Probably lots of people. Preferably who give you money.
Because love by its nature desires a future.
I have a black black side I know. I have a side so green you will never know.
You look reasonably happy for someone who's not.
You get mixed messages because I have mixed feelings.
I won't settle for a life in the dark.
What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is simply the absence of grief.Reading Sarah Kane makes me feel that I have things easy. Even my darkest moments cannot compare to the despair in her writing. I hope she has found peace.
In the beginning of something, its ending is foretold.What would we not do for love? This is the tale of a young woman who wants to catch a certain beau's eye so she places herself in a magician's box that allows her middle to be separated from her head and feet - thus, the zig-zag woman. "Maybe now he'll notice me," she says.
Tough debate. Married or single. Single brings a sadness, but sadness has its own perfection. Marriage brings a misery of a rare kind, the kind that loves company.Finally, we meet the object of the Zig-Zag Woman's affection. He is a young man who has had a "brilliant flash of insight." He doesn't notice the Zig-Zag Woman but he tells the other men:
Every emotion is consumed by its opposite. Every ounce of pleasure is balanced by an equal amount of disaster. Generosity breeds contempt; power breeds weakness. Agony leads to a greater appreciation of bliss. You love your friends, they start dying; when your friends start dying, you take more chances with your own life. Every ache you feel makes its inverse more possible. And that is the ecology of joy and pain.Why do we constantly fall for the Hamlets of the world? I suppose there's something beautiful about pain.
She understands, as I do, that with the exception of a few profound and fleeting moments in our lives, everything we say is a lie.I could not love a man who felt this way. Or, rather, lived this way.
Who gets the final call on what public taste should be, to say nothing of education and information?These sorts of questions should still be asked. We take for granted that what we see and hear around us - on TV, in advertising, on the radio - is informative and beneficial. We know in the back of our heads that regulations are in place and that people follow rules and therefore all that we see is fair, and true. UH. We also know that this is NOT true. One only has to watch certain entire networks to know that bias is out there. It is up to us to educate ourselves from multiple media outlets and then determine what is the truth.
It's gonna change everything. It's gonna end ignorance and misunderstanding. It's gonna end illiteracy. It's gonna end war. By pointing a camera at it.If only.
I don't understand people who say what business do we have going to the moon when people around the world are starving. First of all, people aren't starving because we went to the moon, one doesn't have much to do with the other. But you go to the moon 'cause it's next. We came out of the cave, went over the hill, crossed the ocean, pioneered a continent and took to the heavens. We were meant to be explorers. Explorers, builders and protectors.Just thinking about West Wing makes me feel patriotic. So, remember to go out and VOTE!
I lie a lot. [smiling] It helps me control the world.She certainly attempts to control Clay, publicly dancing and asking him to "rub bellies" with her. Clay has maintained his cool but Lula's harsh words become too much for him and he snaps:
Don't you tell me anything! If I'm a middle-class fake white man ... let me be. And let me be in the way I want. [Through his teeth] I'll rip your lousy breasts off! Let me be who I feel like being.I won't reveal what happens at the end because I hate when things are ruined for me, but I will say that Lula came on that train looking for trouble.
Old love makes the ground beneath you slick. I understand this. I could sparkle for you now, if you like. I will become a holiday. I will decorate myself with twinkle lights and sing a song about a man who buries his heart in the dirt and later eats the dirt to remember how the heart tasted.
That damn champagne! I'm not used to that stuff. It makes me too friendly.On his website, Sam Bobrick says:
For the most part, my plays are comedies. There is nothing more satisfying to me than to sit in an audience and listen to people laugh. Although I feel there are moments of insight and enlightenment in my plays, I've never really had a depressing message I felt necessary to share with the public. My main goal has always been to entertain, to have people leaving the theatre feeling good. Life is tough enough. Why send an audience home suicidal. It only cuts into future ticket sales.Fair enough. He also wrote a play called Hamlet II - Better than the original. The summary reads:
"Hamlet, but with a happier ending. Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are Groucho and Harpo, Ophelia is a slut and Hamlet is a pest. If you've had trouble grasping the intent of Shakespeare's classic endeavor, this should clear it up once and for all. The text remains very true to good old Will's basic fundamentals. The play is frequently performed in high schools and colleges as well as by professional theatre groups."THAT I want to read. Anyone have a copy?
I hate the movies. All that air conditioning - a person could catch pneumonia.Apparently this week's theme is neurotic writers who aren't satisfied with their work.
I GOT A JOB! Law and Order!!! It's just the corpse in the cold opening - but you know Law and Order. This week's corpse is next week's killer!How long can we keep making L&O jokes?
It's times like these I ask myself, "Why are we so cruel? Why do we hurt each other with such reckless abandon?" Is it because we're all so desperate to create? Because we're artists trying to live in a world that devalues art, that places no importance on our work, on our lives. So we fight, urgently, for a piece, a tiny piece of a pie that's so small it couldn't possibly nourish all the thousands of actors and artists, musicians and human being starving, decaying in the wilderness? Or are we just pricks?There is some truth to the "dog eat dog" nature of our business, but it is my belief that to find happiness and fulfillment in this career path, we must rise above the petty judgements and competition and reach out a helping hand to our fellow artists. This business will be what we make of it - if we choose to move things forward in a more positive manner - one that focuses on the emotional and physical well-being of people on both sides of the table - perhaps we will find more day-to-day joy. Pay it forward, friends. It'll come back to you.
Why do my dreams, which should be the best part of me, why do my dreams, my wants, constantly humiliate me?This idea of humiliation, or rather - the avoidance of it, becomes the focus of the play. Each character's best qualities seem to be their downfall.
What a dream... it's awful to have to wake up. For my dreams, I need a passport and shots. I travel the whole world.His dreams are his strength and his weakness. He wants desperately for his songs to be in the movies but he can't seem to make it happen. As it turns out, the actual Pope is coming to New York and has caused quite a stir. Artie's lover, Bunny, wants Artie to brings his songs to the Pope to be blessed. My favorite part of the show was when Artie's wife asks him to play one of his songs and then she shows him that it has the exact same melody as "White Christmas." Revenge is sweet.
All my life I been treated like an old shoe. You turned me into a glass slipper.That's love, I guess :) ... though it doesn't take long for her to leave him for Billy and fly off to California. Before he goes, Billy tells his friend:
Do you know what the greatest talent in the world is? To be an audience. Anybody can create. But to be an audience ... be an audience ...I don't really agree. Anybody could create, but not everyone has the courage to. Or the desire. Likewise, anyone could be an audience. To be a good audience, that is, a real listener - someone who can listen selflessly and respond from the heart.. that does indeed take talent.
Hacks go into rehab. Good writers drink.It'll make you laugh and/or groan, whether you're in the Business or not. As for the title - there are four main characters all fighting tooth and nail to "make it." Fame as a bone, in this case, makes perfect sense. It reveals the characters at their most animalistic .. their most pathetic, and shows us what the limelight can do when you stop working for the love of it and start chasing your name in lights.
Hear me when I say, there's beauty to staying in the background. Remember Brutus. He did very well. Till he wanted to direct.Will this play change your life? Probably not. Will it entertain you? Absolutely.
It can be interesting to see if other people - like dead people who wrote books - agree with what you think.Eurydice's father is dead and on the occasion of her wedding to Orpheus he sends her a letter from the Underworld with his advice for a happy life:
This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.There is a chorus in the play, in the form of stones. They act as guides, they give warnings, they speak truths. The little stone thinks:
Love is a big, funny word.I think love is a small word for something so big.
I mean, you know what they say about the stamps. It's the errors that make them valuable. That's kind of my theory on people.She is wary, as she knows that they will probably insult her intelligence with their offer. And, they do. She starts to leave, Dennis tries to make her stay and also reassure Sterling, he calls her crazy and Jackie doesn't take that too well:
I don't like you saying I'm crazy because the fact is I am the least crazy person you have ever met. Logic that you don't see is private for a reason, and that reason is potentially the smartest, least crazy thing possible in any given situation.That is certainly not the end, but I'll let you read that for yourself. I loved the play, and my only issue was actually with the ending. *SPOILER ALERT* I wish that Jackie had burned those stamps when she threatened to. Sure, it's nice to imagine her and Dennis sipping margaritas on the beach, but if she had let that page burn she would have taught Mary a lesson she should have learned in kindergarden - how to share.
|WTE Theatre presents|
Stinky Flowers and the Bad Banana
An Original, Multi-Media Fairytale Show
by Croft Vaughn
directed by David A. Miller
October 7 through October 24
Thursdays at 8pm
Fridays at 8pm
Saturdays at 8pm
Sundays at 3pm
Sam, Stu, and Sinclair discover an audience in their attic. Clearly these quiet strangers are going to eat them, so they distract their guests with their grandfathers' stories. They find the courage to create their own tale, and discover the answer to, "Are we still loved after the person who loves us is gone?
Under St. Marks, 94 St. Marks Place (1st Ave & Ave A) / Show me a map!
$18 General, $15 Students & Seniors, $10 Children
1 hr 20 mins, No intermission
Tickets are available through Smarttix.
Michael J. Connolly*,
Robert James Grimm III,
Stage Management: Barbara Dente*. Assistant Director: Lauren Heirigs.
Scenic Design: Jennifer Varbalow, Costume Design: Bradley Erickson, Lighting Design: Kate Ashton & Sam Gordon.
Music: Alana McNair, Animation: Matt Burnett & Double Blind, Video Design: Jeff Heyman.
Press Representation by Emily Owens PR
|Robert James Grimm, Michael J. Connolly and Lauren Sowa in Stinky Flowers and the Bad Banana||*Denotes Actor Appearing courtesy of Actors’ Equity Association|
Check out an interview with playwright Croft Vaughn ("Stinky Flowers, Sweet Thoughts") onwww.happiestmedium.com.
Proclaim your love for Stinky Flowers by RSVP'ing to the event that is Stinky Flowers on Facebook.
Just look at yourselves! Dancing at our time of day? That's for young people with no duties and no responsibilities and nothing in their heads but pleasure.Why should those qualities should be limited to young people? Everyone deserves a break from the weight of the world (why do you think weekends exist?) Course, for us theatre people the weekend is still the workweek, but even then it's full of pleasure! I digress.
And there's bound to be something right about the cause, isn't there? And it's somewhere to go - isn't it? Maybe that's the important thing for a man: a named destination - democracy, Ballybeg, heaven. Women's illusions aren't so easily satisfied - they make better drifters.What he really needs is some order, a sense of structure in his life. No doubt he'll find that in a war.
Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to movement - as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the very heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary ...That's exactly how it feels to me when I dance. It's a fuller form of expression. So often I feel that words alone cannot fully convey the meaning in my heart or in my head. It's a shame that if I broke out into choreography on the street or in a bar people would think I was loony.. because I'm really just feeling on a different level.
You don't talk to a man the way you oughta! You talk too serious! And if there's anything scares the hell out of a fella it's a serious-talkin' girl!On a side note, I'm not convinced that Jim is the one she should be taking romantic advice from. After all, he's going with a girl named Snookie. Of whom, the other brother Noah says, "If you wanta get mixed up with poison, you go right ahead! But I wash my hands!" Anyone sense a Broadway revival starring our current media sensation? The audiences would flock! (but the jokes on them, Snookie never makes an on-stage appearance)
People want to get together - they oughta get together. It don't matter how, does it?Love is love. Everyone is deserves it and we are all worthy of it. If the play tells us anything, it tells us this.
Look here! There's one thing I've learned! Be independent! If you don't ask for things - if you don't let on you need things - pretty soon you don't need 'em!I have certainly felt this way at times in my life. It can be hard to ask someone for something, it shows a weakness. File is a proud man and cannot bring himself to admit that he needs Lizzie. They part. Lizzie is convinced that she will end up a spinster until a strange travelling con man who calls himself Starbuck comes to town promising to bring rain to the town for a fee of $100.
Don't let Noah be your lookin' glass! It's gotta be inside you! And then one day the lookin' glass will be the man who loves you! It'll be his eyes maybe! And you'll look in that mirror and you'll be more than pretty! - you'll be beautiful!He and Lizzie share a moment of true connection and Lizzie is happier than she's ever been in her life.
You look up at the sky and you cry for a star! You know you'll never get it! And then one night you look down - and there it is - shining in your hand!
Did you know... did you know sound waves never die? So every noise we make goes into the sky. And there is a place somewhere in the corner of the universe where all the babble of the world is kept.I love the thought that somewhere are stored all the stolen moments and secret gossip and heartfelt fights. A reminder that words are powerful and you should choose them carefully and stand by them if in fact you were forced to hear them again.
The writer must experience everything, every kind of degradation. Nothing is closed to him. It's really the degradation that attracted me to the job.A little wink from Hare to other writers?
Say no more. We have eaten. We did not wait. In Burma we say if you cannot be on time do not come at all.Well said, sir. Well said.
I don't know why it is, but every time I reach out for something I want, I have to pull back because other people will suffer.Chris is a good man, but he wants to be happy and he invites Ann to his home to propose to her. His mother is completely against the idea - she believes that Larry is still alive. Ann is overjoyed and seems to have been waiting for Chris to ask her for a long while. Do we get a happy ending? *SPOILER ALERT* Well.... yes and no. Chris' world is shattered when he realizes that his father is guilty. He is destroyed and doesn't know what to do:
What? Do I raise the dead when I put him behind bars? Then what'll I do it for? We used to shoot a man who acted like a dog, but honor was real there, you were protecting something. But here? This is the land of the great big dogs, you don't love a man here, you eat him! That's the principle; the only one we live by - it just happened to kill a few people this time, that's all. The world's that way, how can I take it out on him? What sense does that make? This is a zoo, a zoo!The most heartbreaking line was when Chris confronts his father:
I know you're no worse than most men but I thought you were better. I never saw you as a man. I saw you as my father.The moment when a child sees his parent as a person is a true loss of innocence. In a way it is a bridge we must all cross into adulthood but it can be difficult. Chris wants to believe the best in people and he tells his mother:
You can be better! Once and for all you can know there's a universe of people outside and you're responsible to it.I take this line away with me as something we should all remember. Whatever you believe in, our world will only be as good as we make it - the energy you put in will be the energy you get out. I choose to live today with love and a positive spirit.
Let's all just set ourselves resolutely to make this world a happier place! A decent world! A good world! A world where no nation plots against nation! Where no neighbour plots against neighbour, where there's no persecution or hunting down, where everybody gets a square deal and a sporting chance and where people try to help and not to hinder! A world where suspicion and cruelty and fear have been forever banished! That's the sort of world I want! Is that the sort of world you want?Here here!