update from the planet Zed

The baby alien play has a due date: November 22.

bamboozled

I'm at my parents house, house-sitting. Initially, I was sad to relocate for the week, the place being a ways from campus. But now that I am here, I feel like I am on a special "retreat." My mom has made a sort of Eden out of the lawn; so when I'm out in one of the wooden rockers reading I can very easily imagine that I am a novelist, relaxing* on the "estate." The kitchen is stocked with fresh peaches, tomatoes, onions, dips, crackers, coffee, salmon, and cereals. The clean house has a peacefulness spread through all the rooms. In fact, the Stout-House is a perfect example of the Utopian household in Ben Jonson's poem, "To Penshurst." In the text, as in my parents' home, the mystification of labor surrounds the masters and guests of the place-- and comfort and necessities spring up, is if of their own accord, to meet any wanting hands.

I wonder if it will be possible to write anything interesting this week while I am in floating on the foam of reality.

*"The Writer on Holiday", an article from Roland Barthe's book Mythologies is another example of mystification. Instead of labor and effort becoming mystified, (as is the case in my home: first because of the distance between where our food/furniture/etc. is produced and purchased, and second because of my visiting here results in my not even collecting the mystified home-objects in the first place) Barthe's explores how the act of writing is specifically mystified by journalistic portrayals of authors on vacation. One of my favorite cultural reads from Barthe's book.

Zoo-Bop

The Zebtones, in concert, soaked in blood. Their collective zen entranced them to kill. The stunned crowd explodes. "This is the new level, man!" Above the mass, electric hazzbahs pop occasionally.

playwriting workshop

LAST EXCERSIZE:

Characters:

Ladybug Sticker Babies.

Mother Sheet.

Spear.

There is a huge group of ladybug stickers. Since they are immobile, their little voices all call out, clamor, and crawl around one another. Which is to say, they overlap.

LADYBUGS:

Its warm on this ledge

Who left us out here?

The girl

The girl

The girl

Dont you remember?

Oh look inside the living room

Oh wow!

Cool!

Lamp! Lamp lamp lamp.

Its green and huge.

Whats a lamp?

Its warm.

Like the ledge in the sun.

And the white paint on the window sill.

The girl.

She’s warm.

The SPEAR enters, singing like a troubador.

SPEAR:

Oh I ramble through the jungle

Step step step

Do you want to hold me

Defend golden Incan troves with me

Uh uh uh

Keep me in your hands

Thrust thrust thrust

Baby

In the jungle

Thrust thrust thrust

I’ll attack I’ll protect

But this is a two way street.

I need someone too baby

Use me, misuse me

Ill use youuuuuuuu

Thrust thrust thrust.

Good evening little ladybugs.

LADYBUGS:

You are so big and threatening.

It’s a giant.

A skinny giant.

A giant stick bug!

A stink bug?!

Ewww

SPEAR:

Don’t be afraid, I'm only dangerous in the wrong hands.

LADYBUGS:

We are never dangerous in anyones hands.

SPEAR:

How nice to not have responsibility. You don’t bare the burden of violence.

LADYBUGS:

We are still a little scared of you.

A little.

Yeah a little.

SPEAR:

I miss the jungle. I miss the canopies and the sloths.

LADYBUGS:

Why are you telling us?

Yeah why us? That’s not our problem.

We’ve never seen the jungle. We go with handmade cards. And sometimes lists. We’re sort of like tadpoles. Yeah. But we’re afraid of ants. Yeah.

SPEAR:

I thrust. Oh its wonderful! Have you ever seen a thrust?!

(thrust)

LADYBUGS:

Ah!

SPEAR:

(thrust)

LADYBUGS:

Ah!

SPEAR:

(thrust)

LADYBUGS:

Ah!

SPEAR:

Don’t you like this?

A new voice emerges, deep and maternal. Singular.

MOTHER SHEET:

No, no, please stop.

SPEAR:

Who are you?

MOTHER SHEET:

I’m the paper sheet, these ladybugs are my children.

You are frightening them with your abrupt thrusts.

SPEAR:

Well then you should raise them to be more fearless.

Then there is a noise of a loud slide, like a rolling metal wave.

SPEAR:

Ah! Whats that!

MOTHER SHEET:

The patio door. Oh fearless one.

The ladybug children snicker.

The MOTHER SHEET gathers steam.

MOTHER SHEET:

And who are you to tell me how to raise my kids? I shelter them and keep them close the best I can. I try to keep them with me, as a family. Sometimes that’s nearly impossible to do, but its not my fault! I wish I had to teeth to bite back the sticker peelers.

SPEAR:

Maybe I could offer you protection.

MOTHER SHEET:

Maybe you’d corrupt my children.

SPEAR:

Trust me.

We are a unit. We stick together. Go back to where you came from you… you big brute.

SPEAR:

Paper sheet! Don’t talk that way to me!

MOTHER SHEET:

Keep away from me, keep away from my lucky tiny babies.

SPEAR:

I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I cant help how I was made. Its not my fault.

MOTHER SHEET:

Its not my problem.

SPEAR:

One time… someone used me to kill a tiger. I hated that. One time… someone used me to kill another person. I’ll never forget that. It gives me nightmares.

MOTHER SHEET:

Its not my problem. I have to keep my family together, when something bigger is always trying to pull us apart.

LADYBUGS:

We want…. ICECREAM!

Icecream!

Icecream!

Icecream!

Icecream!

MOTHER SHEET:

Sh! Now quiet!

Spear. No one has talked to me in a long long time.

I have the uncontrollable urge to tell you something.

SPEAR:

Whats that?

MOTHER SHEET:

To her self in angst

How can anyone keep secrets when their children are always around?! Stuck on me like…she whispers as softly as a drifting iceburg) burrs.

SPEAR:

Just keep whispering. They wont hear.

LADYBUGS:

Yeah we wont hear.

We wont listen.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

MOTHER SHEET:

Ah its no use.

SPEAR:

I think I know your secret.

MOTHER SHEET:

How could you?

SPEAR:

I’ll write it down for you. You can read it and see if I’m not right.

He writes. A screen comes down.

The words are displayed on it. They say:

I’m tired of caring for my children. I love them. I’ll always love them. But that doesn’t feel big or important. That feels like default.

MOTHER SHEET:

Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh no.

Maybe I’m not cut out to love. I am an object, so what is my purpose? I think I’d like one.

SPEAR:

To be used.

And whats use, but mis-use? Lets find a trap door. Lets slip out.

MOTHER SHEET:

My babies…

SPEAR:

Find them other sheets of paper to stick onto.

MOTHER SHEET:

Not so loud.

SPEAR:

I can’t hear them.

LADYBUGS:

Mom?

Mom?

Mom?

Mamma?

Silence.

at the french market with sweet lou

artwork by Dan Fuller.

I like these less as paintings... more as sets.

What kind of collecting am I doing? What is the difference between magic and nostalgia?

pop quiz ditto 1-2

Circle the following true statements.

Do not flip to the next page unless the bottom corner says GO.

Stop when the bottom corner of the page says STOP.

Make your mark heavy and dark.

1. I was as happy as a clam.
2. I was as miserable as the night, that slurps wet on a pillow.
3. V. found an anthill.
4. The problem was an anthill.
5. A molehill is an anthill is a mound of beans.
6. The letter left un-mailed whimpered, then watched T.V.
7. S. threw the toaster.
8. The toaster never feared.
9. I lost all the paper clips.
10. S. didn’t throw the toaster.
11. The toaster was afraid.
12. If G, then H. If J, then K.
13. If G, then K. If J, then H.
14. If A, then B.
15. If A, then I.
16. If B, then I.
17. C. wants V’s beauty.
18. V. wants for nothing
19. The cat and the dog were friends.
20. The cat and the dog were enemies.
21. It was red.
22. It was rain.
23. On a Sunday, the running in the park.