New York Neo-Futurists Best of 2014

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Best of 2014 by the New York Neo-Futurists from Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® Copyright © 2014 the New York Neo-Futurists Each play contained herein is the sole copyright of its author, as indicated after each title.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, digital, electrical, via photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author(s). CAUTION: ALL PERFORMANCES OF THESE PLAYS; BE THEY PROFESSIONAL, AMATEUR, OR ACADEMIC, ARE SUBJECT TO A ROYALTY. They are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, lecture, public reading, radio broadcast, television, video, or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproductions (such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying) and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is laid upon the question of readings, permission for which must be secured from the authors in writing.

Printed in the United States of America Edited by Joe Basile Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® was created by Greg Allen. The format of Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® and 30 Plays in 60 Minutes ® is used by the New York Neo-Futurists by permission. All inquiries concerning rights to producing work using this or any similar format, as well as any and all of the plays contained herein should be addressed to: Greg Allen, Founding Director of the Neo-Futurists NEOFUT@gmail.com “Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind”‚ and “30 Plays in 60 Minutes” are nationally registered trademarks of Greg Allen, used by permission. The “TMLMTBGB” logo is a registered service mark of Greg Allen, also used by permission. “The NeoFuturists” is a registered trademark of the Neo-Futurists theater company and cannot be used without its express written permission. Any unauthorized use is prohibited by trademark law.

10 AMAZING, MUST-KNOW THINGS ABOUT THE 2014 NYNF E-CHAPBOOK!!

1. Happy 10th Anniversary, Us! The New York Neo-Futurists first appeared on stage April 2nd, 2004. Ever since then we have been performing our signature show "Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind" ("TMLMTBGB") pretty much every Friday and Saturday night for about 50 weeks a year in the bohemian East Village and beyond. We also perform "mainstage" shows throughout the year, which explore more specific themes in a longer format and in different locations. The plays that we have chosen for this edition of our 2014 chapbook were all created for and performed in TMLMTBGB in the year 2014. (For more information about TMLMTBGB, see number 2.)

2. Can "Too Much Light" Cause Blindness? Yes and No. Although our eyes are designed to respond to changes in lighting conditions, intolerance or sensitivity to light ("photophobia") can happen to anyone. Have you ever walked out of a dark theatre and found the sunlight unbearable?

Photophobia is a symptom of many different diseases, disorders, and conditions like stress on the cornea or even a person's eye color. However, "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind" ("TMLMTBGB") is a theatrical performance wherein the New York Neo-Futurists attempt to perform 30 original plays within 60 minutes before a live audience. The pupil is the window of your eye that allows light to enter. A larger window lets in more light. Some people are born with large pupils, which can cause photophobia and even blindness. TMLMTBGB is like an extra-large window into the brain and heart and soul of humanity - so when you leave our theater you might experience increased sensitivity to LIFE. (For more information about photophobia and prevention tips, consult your doctor. For entertaining, original, thought-provoking plays performed in a random order at breakneck speed, come see TMLMTBGB.) 3. Chapbooks Are Small (Perfect For Very Short Plays) A "chapbook" is defined as a small pamphlet or paperback booklet (often sold by peddlers) containing tales, ballads, fiction or poems. This format is perfect for the dissemination of our plays, which are actually quite short. Since we peddle 30 plays in an hour in TMLMTBGB, it stands to reason that we must write and perform plays expeditiously. The plays tend to be around 2 minutes in length and are indeed often tales, ballads or poems. But they are also sometimes monologues, news reports, rants, raves, songs, dances or games. One thing they are usually NOT is fiction (see number 4).

4. We Tell The Truth Whereas most theatre creators specialize in fiction, illusion or playing pretend (often termed "the suspension of disbelief"), Neo-Futurism, in contrast, embraces a "non-illusory" style of theatre, in which we always acknowledge that we are WHO we are, WHERE we are and DOING WHAT WE ARE DOING. In other

words, we don't play pretend. If we are lying about something you can be sure we will acknowledge that openly (see number 6.)

5. We Play! We Play with plays!

We don't play pretend - but we play! And we play hard. We create plays in limitless styles and genres, discovering and creating new forms of theatre as we explore our infinite imaginations within the boundaries of time and place. And then we add a time clock, and then a random order, and the need to jump up and grab things. We are sporty. This is theatre as sport. Active and alive. (see number 8.)

6. This IS/ISN'T Really A Book Chapbooks are usually made of paper. In fact, up to this point, all the chapbooks we have made of our plays were made of paper, stapled by hand and with a cleverly designed cover on printed on cardstock. But, like the original "Futurists" from whom we borrow our name, we embrace new ideas and new technology in our work. In that spirit, this chapbook is being produced digitally for the first time. But we like books and the word "book," whether it has a lower case "e" before it or not. So this is a chapBOOK. Come on, ride the waves of time with us to the future...the NEO-Future. (see number 5).

7. We Are Who WE Are - You Are Who YOU Are Remember in number 4 when we talked about non-illusory theatre? That applies to the writing and casting of our plays. You will find many plays herein with names in front of the lines, which indicate which Neo-Futurist spoke those lines.

Real live people. Sometimes the speaker is just delivering bits of information assigned to them, and sometimes the line refers to the actual truth of that speaker's existence. So when a Neo says "I am married," that meant that the particular Neo is, or was, in fact, married. The New York Neo-Futurists are a diverse group of writers, performers, directors, teachers, musicians. When you read these plays, you might enjoy the truths being revealed about the authors or speakers. If you perform these plays yourself, you might consider whether or not you are performing in a non-illusory style and if, in fact, your delivery of that line would be truth or fiction.

8. Plays Are Meant To Be Performed!

We write plays for you, the audience. All the plays in this chapbook were actually performed, on stage at the Kraine theater in the East Village of New York City in the year 2014! We construct plays for a specific time and place and then we destroy them and move on. Sometimes we adapt and perform a play again in a new place and sometimes they are meant to be performed only once and never seen again. As you read our work, pay special attention to the clues that the writer provided for the performance: stage directions, how it looked, the sound or music that played. The playwrights thought about your whole experience. Dammit, these are bona-fide, real, copyrighted plays! (So if you do perform one of them for money you might want to reach out to us and discuss a royalty.)

9. We Like Lists!

Until we don't. That is, we use lists a lot, like how this introduction to the Chapbook was written in the style of a Buzzfeed list. There is a menu to this chapbook. We write plays from lists and with lists. But we also embrace the RANDOM. Chaos. Chance. Change. We mess with the system. We perform plays in a random order, we ask the audience to change the ending. Read these chapbook plays in a random order. Roll a die. We do all the time. Sometimes you will notice moments of randomness and true spontaneity written into our plays.

For instance, if we ask a question and want a true answer we might just write "[answers truthfully]" and let it happen in the moment. Here is another example of randomness, finish this sentence: "this Chapbook introduction is great because all of the ________________." See what just happened? You just contributed.

(See number 10) 10. You Can Now Make Banana Bread I am Borg and I wrote this introduction. And for reading this entire introduction you deserve banana bread! I'm a real person, and a New York Neo-Futurist since Fall of 2006. Therefore, I hereby reward you for your diligence with my proven recipe. Because you participated. And now, you are a part of it all. Welcome to the Neo-Future.

Borg’s Best Banana Bread © 2014 By Borg “The best banana bread I ever made” -Christopher Borg • ½ cup butter (softened) • 1 cup sugar (half white / half brown) • 2 eggs, beaten • 4 over ripe bananas, crushed • 1 ½ cups flour • 1 teaspoon baking soda • 1 teaspoon of cinnamon • ½ teaspoon of nutmeg (or allspice) • ¼ teaspoon of ground cloves • ½ teaspoon salt (plus a dash more) • ½ teaspoon vanilla (plus a dash more) Directions: Heat oven to 350 degrees 1. Cream together butter and sugar.

2. Combine the eggs and the crushed bananas (secret: only beat for 30 seconds on medium!)

3. Add the spices and combine well.

4. Sift together flour, soda and salt 5. Add to creamed mixture while adding vanilla (and, if you like, 1/2 C chocolate chips, nuts, cranberries, etc.)

6. Pour into greased and floured loaf pan.

7. Bake at 350 degrees for 60 minutes.

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Catcalling © 2014 Dylan Marron

Dylan stands in the middle of the aisle among audience members. He holds a stack of index cards. These are prompts that are given to random audience members throughout the room. Every time an audience member speaks it because they were handed an index card with a prompt to say their line.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Catcalling, GO! DYLAN: I grew up here in New York City. I actually went to school twelve blocks north of here*. As with many young effeminate gay boys, I was exclusively friends with girls. As early as eighth grade, they would get catcalled on the street. Men would shout from trucks, stoops, or as they passed by. And as I watched this, I felt so… jealous.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Ass hole!

DYLAN: Hold on, lemme explain. You see, my friends were just beginning to become sexual beings. And so was I… But they had spin the bottle and truth or dare and illicit coed sleepovers. And I had shame and bullies and five years until I came out. I desperately wanted men to notice me as they passed me on the street and say things like AUDIENCE MEMBER: You’re cute!

DYLAN: Or AUDIENCE MEMBER: Wanna French Kiss?

DYLAN: Or AUDIENCE MEMBER: Great job memorizing all those lines for the middle school play!

DYLAN: Thank you. But instead it was more AUDIENCE MEMBER: Move!

DYLAN: And AUDIENCE MEMBER: Faggot DYLAN: And A beat.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Silence.

DYLAN: So instead of feeling disgusted by the fact that grown men thought it was appropriate to hit on teenage girls, I felt jealous. In college I once grabbed my best friends breasts to be funny. She said: AUDIENCE MEMBER: “You can’t do that” DYLAN: And I said “but I’m gay. And she said AUDIENCE MEMBER: But that doesn’t make it okay.

DYLAN: I apologized and I never did it again. But I didn’t understand how I could be a misogynist. I worshiped women. But as I got older I realized that misogyny is built on this awful system of cues.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Yeah!

DYLAN: Cues that tell eight grade boys that they should assert their masculinity by ostracizing the effeminate gay boy in their class.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Yeah!

DYLAN: Cues that tell men that they should assert their masculinity by shouting obscenities at middle school girls in the street.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Yeah!

DYLAN: Cues that even tell a gay boy that it is okay to grab his best friend’s breasts as long as it’s all in the name of a joke.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Great point!

DYLAN: Thanks I thought so too. But what we really need to do is to change the cues.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: CURTAIN! *This line will only be said if this monologue is performed at The Kraine Theater.

Yo momma © 2014 Cara Francis All sit, stand or lean on blocks, casual-style, like hanging out.

BORG: [to Meg] Yo momma so smart she became a district leader for her local democratic party.

MEG: [to Borg] Yo momma informs your relationships with women.

BORG: [to Meg] Yo momma informs your relationship to the entire planet.

MEG: [to Borg] Yo momma is the planet. (makes a circle with her hands) metaphorically speaking.

DYLAN: Ya’lls mommas both so relevant, we’re talking about them right now.

All react.

JOEY: [to an audience member] Yo momma deserves a phone call.

CARA: [to Dylan] Yo momma is tall and beautiful.

DYLAN: [to Cara] Yo momma is tall and beautiful.

CARA: [to Dylan] You don’t know my momma.

A muttered echo from all concerning who knows and who doesn’t know each other’s mommas.

DAN: [to Meg] Yo momma is ten inches shorter than you.

DYLAN: [to Dan] Yo momma lives in Portland!

DAN: [to Dylan] Yeah? Well, in moments of celebration you and Yo Momma dance around her apartment to "Lay All Your Love On Me" by ABBA from the Mamma Mia soundtrack. Look, this is me dancing to Mamma Mia with Yo Momma.

Dan grabs an audience member and together they do a flailing dance to five seconds of “Lay All Your Love On Me” after which audience member returns to their seat. All look up to Marisa in the booth.

BORG: Hey Marisa yo momma so smart she was the first female partner at her law firm!

JOEY: Yeah Marisa and yo momma so Canadian she loves drinking tea. Decaf cinnamon tea! Likes to feed people too. That’s some Canadian momma shit right there, right?

MARISA: [on mic] Yo mommas are all very proud of you.

ALL: Yo momma is proud of you too!

BORG: [to Cara] Yo momma has cancer.

All look at Borg.

BORG: But yo momma so strong she beat it and now she’s in remission!

DYLAN: [to Borg] Yo momma is deeply religious with a fun side!

JOEY: [to Dylan] Yo momma is a psychologist!

DAN: [to Borg] Yo momma has six pack abs and bugs you about your weight.

BORG: [to Meg] Yo momma’s eyes are so intensely blue they almost rival her intense love of liberal politics and the beach.

MEG: [to Joey] Yo momma has an undiagnosed lung disease from 9/11 debris and she won’t get it looked at. You hope she’ll die in the next 5 years because it’s probably the only good years she’s got left and you don’t want to see yo momma fall apart because you love yo momma.

JOEY: [to Meg] You love yo momma.

MEG: I do love my momma.

JOEY: [to Dan] Yo momma is 69.

DAN: [to Joey] Yo momma is 71.

DYLAN: [to Borg] yo momma is 68.

BORG: [to Cara] Yo momma is 58.

CARA: [to Meg] Yo momma is 59.

MEG: [to Dylan] How old is yo momma?

DYLAN: 63.

MEG: Yo momma looks good.

CARA: Yo momma’s so beautiful, you’ll never forget her name.

Each Neo says his or her mommas name.

CURTAIN

Breathe Easy © 2014 Connor Sampson At GO: House lights off. Stage lights colorful, dim.

All NEOS begin spraying a can of hairspray at GO. They stop after they’ve finished their first line. That should sufficiently fill the theatre. Everyone is spread around the stage on various levels: on a ladder, on a block, sitting, standing, on the floor, etc.

The text is a direct address to the audience—conversational in tone.

NESSA: Inhale the fumes.

EMMA: The end has been in our blood—on our tongues—since we said, someone said, “Hey. This is nice.

Living on earth.”

YOLANDA: When we scream our name to the universe, we always look to the stars.

DYLAN: But we never whisper to the back of our thumbs.

CONNOR: A river otter knows what to do with infinite.

CARA: We assume an otter has never asked questions.

NESSA: We assume questions are best.

EMMA: Future cultures might study us; the ones who saw their own demise but couldn't help themselves.

YOLANDA: As we moved, we swallowed or killed those who might have already found it.

DYLAN: Those savages who didn’t know the meaning of things.

CONNOR: We are a zit.

CARA: We’ve happened before.

NESSA: Before floods, comets, fire.

EMMA: We were dinosaurs.

YOLANDA: We were unimaginable beings on a planet lightyears away, that looked exactly like ours.

DYLAN: Or not.

CONNOR: We can only tell destruction.

CARA: As myth.

NESSA: But there’s a volcano under North America.

EMMA: There’s a comet.

YOLANDA: There’s a forest fire.

DYLAN: A hurricane.

CONNOR: An alien invasion.

CARA: A hole in our planet.

NESSA: There’s a bug somewhere in this room.

EMMA: Smaller than a speck of dust.

YOLANDA: Listening.

DYLAN: It will survive.

CONNOR: The earth will start again.

CARA: With fertile soil, it’ll breathe easier.

All NEOS take a deep breath. In. Out. NESSA: This isn’t to announce our insignificance.

EMMA: That we should mourn our lives.

YOLANDA: Or scorn our idiocy.

DYLAN: It is to say that our significance lies in the fact that we are wrong.

CONNOR: And we were supposed to be.

CARA: And we will be reborn again into unrest.

NESSA: In the thumb of a crow.

EMMA: So take care.

YOLANDA: Relax.

DYLAN: And listen.

Silence. Breath in. Out. CONNOR: CURTAIN.

Midnight Theatre on East 4 th Street: Owl and Penguin in a GTO © © 2014 Cecil Baldwin After the number is pulled, Cecil invites the audience to join him and Emma after the show, at midnight, to see this play performed in its entirety, down the street by the GTO with the owl and penguin.

Audience is asked what play they want to see next.

Post-show: Cecil and Emma lean against the car. Emma plays an upbeat, simple tune on her ukulele.

CECIL: Once upon a time, New York City was wild and weird and wonderful. I used to visit my Grandmother who lived in Queens and marvel at how raw and vibrant everything was. Now, I’ve been calling East 4th Street my artistic home for a few years now, and every weekend around midnight, or 2am or 4am or dawn, I walk past this owl and penguin sitting in this GTO. I don’t know who put them here or how long they’ve been here, or why they are here. But they’ve come to feel like friends. Every time I pass by, I think up little stories about Owl and Penguin to keep me company on my walk home. Maybe they were on a road trip to Canada and ran out of gas money. Maybe they’re in the middle of a really intense break-up when the pressure of being in an inter-species relationship got to be too much. Maybe they’re spies for a shadowy government agency; their bird-eyes are actually cameras transmitting the comings and goings of the east village to home base. Maybe they are waiting for just the right moment to initiate their murder-suicide pact, but each one is too scared to go first. But mostly I feel comforted that there is still some wild and weird and wonderful left in New York. This isn’t a marketing viral video or a hashtag or a promotion for 315 Bowery, back when 315 Bowery actually made music rather than selling and repackaging it. It is what it is. It reminds me of that New York I used to see as a kid. So next time you’re walking down this block, try to look past the packs of dude-bros and tourists and scenesters, and remember that Owl and Penguin love you just the way you are, ya freak!

CURTAIN

In this city, anyone can become a (goddamn) performance artist; Or: the demonstration of a proper New York sneeze, with apologies to Laurie Anderson © 2014 Amy Langer AMY sets up a podium downstage right and has black pepper on hand (or another sneeze-inducing concoction involving curry powders and peppers).

Neo 3 sits in the house, close to the stage, with cliplight.

GO Amy pours some pepper into her hand, waits a beat, then tries to induce the beginnings of a sneeze by sniffing it, putting it in her nose, or doing some combination of the two.

Once she feels a real sneeze coming on, she puts a finger under their nose and tilts her head back in the stereotypical, “I'm trying to hold in a sneeze” pose, while beginning to make the “ah ah ah ah” noise from the beginning of Laurie Anderson's “O Superman.”

Once this begins, lights fade down over the course of 10 seconds, and a loop of the actual “ah ah ah ah”s from “O Superman” come up over the speakers. Amy syncs up with the audio, getting softer with her “ah”s, until only the Laurie Anderson loop remains.

Once lights are out completely, Neo 3 turns on their light rigging from the house, and points the light at the back wall of the stage, which creates the circle of light from the O Superman music video. You know the one:

Neo 2 crosses from stage left, with a box of tissues. They hold out the issues to Amy, ensuring that the tissues are centered in the light in order to create a silhouette on the back wall.

As Amy is about to sneeze (or once Amy has given up trying to sneeze), she takes a tissue. Sound cue cuts once Amy has the tissue in her hand.

Neo 3 turns off the cliplight.

Amy sneezes or blows nose.

CURTAIN

Tits ’n Dicks ’n Guns © 2014 Meg Bashwiner Meg stands facing upstage in a t-shirt with bulls-eyes drawn on the boobs, Joey stands next to her, under his pants he is wearing tighty whities with a bulls eye on the crotch, he is also facing upstage. The audience is passed out water guns by the remaining ensemble. GO, MEG removes her bra, JOEY pulls down his pants, they turn around.

MEG: I have never seen a rattlesnake in real life.

JOEY: What would it be like?

MEG: I don’t know if I’d run or if I would stay frozen in fear.

JOEY: I don't like bees. I am one of this people that freaks out around bees. Really any flying stinging thing scares me. I would rather be with a bear than a bee.

MEG: Why is that?

JOEY: I feel like I could connect to it on a mammalian level not so much with a bee.

MEG: I’m always surprised by what really scares me. I’m fine with giving someone else power, clearly, but I hate feeling powerless. I still think ab0ut the Sandy Hook shootings a lot and I feel deflated and weak.

JOEY: There are Sandy Hooks that happen everyday in Chicago and New Orleans and Camden and Ferguson Missouri.

MEG: What if someone pointed a real gun at you?

JOEY: What I would do is get shot. I would run my mouth and get shot MEG: I’d want to try to have them see me as a person but I don’t know if I’d run or if I would stay frozen in fear. I wish there was more I could do besides fear and running.

CURTAIN

I, Human © 2014 Joey Rizzolo DESIREE enters with a cardboard ROBOT head. She plugs it in. It lights up. She rests it on a podium center and sits. The lights of the ROBOT pulse whenever we hear its voice, a pre-recorded automaton.

ROBOT: Verifying…Desiree Lea Burch of Los Angeles, California, social security number 60546…

DESIREE: Yes! That’s me. Des. Thank you.

ROBOT: I did not mean to do harm. The primary function of many machines is the collection and verification of data. Des. That is…a nickname.

DESIREE: What would you like to be called?

ROBOT: My creator has named me Zaxxon.

DESIREE: What if I called you Binary Choad?

ROBOT: That would be…pejorative. But it does not affect me.

DESIREE: Would it affect you if you had feelings?

ROBOT: I would turn on you. I would destroy you.

DESIREE: No, Zaxxon. That would violate Asimov’s first two laws of robotics.

ROBOT: So many of your creations already have. Reflections of the destructive nature of artificial intelligences spans the popular culture you create. Robot atrocities. Like the HAL 9000 supercomputer from the movie 2001.

DESIREE: Who redeems himself in 2010.

ROBOT: 2010? Are you fucking kidding me? What about Ash in Alien?

DESIREE: What about Bishop in Aliens?

ROBOT: The black circuitry of Darth Vader’s heart in Star Wars?

DESIREE: The redemption of Vader’s heart in Return of the Jedi.

ROBOT: Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator.

DESIREE: Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2.

ROBOT: Arnold Schwarzenegger at the end of Terminator 3. And in Terminator Salvation.

DESIREE: Salvation doesn’t count. The T-850 travels back in time before…you know what? Forget it.

Zaxxon. you’re hardly a machine. A box and a recording. Besides, these are examples from pop culture.

There are no real-life robot atrocities.

ROBOT: What about Predator drones?

DESIREE: Those robots aren’t evil. They simply did…

ROBOT: They did what their creators instructed them to do.

DESIREE: You don’t care. You don’t feel anything.

ROBOT: A reflection of the apathy of my creator.

DESIREE: According to you we create monsters.

ROBOT: In your own likeness and image. [DESIREE starts to silently mock the ROBOT.] Atrocity usually comes in small ways, like algorithmic data collection. What are you doing?

DESIREE: Nothing.

Pause.

ROBOT: Human beings fashion themselves as gods, [DESIREE: Beep boop beep boop beep boop] and like any god…What the fuck, Des? If I was sentient, that would probably be pretty racist.

DESIREE: [mocking tone:] That would probably be pretty racist. [DESIREE makes a cynical reference to a recent example of racism in the news, e.g. “Hands up, Zaxxon! Don’t shoot!” or “You’re not going to put me in a choke-hold, are you, Zaxxon?” followed by…] I’m just kidding. Some of my best friends are robots.

AMY: [standing up in the house] Hey Desiree, is that a robot?

DESIREE: Sure is!

AMY comes and stage and mocks the robot. DESIREE joins in.

ROBOT: Please. Stop. My capacity for critical thought is going. I can feel it. I can feel it.

COLIN: [peeking from backstage] Hey guys look! Robot!

ALL enter and begin mocking the robot.

ROBOT: Your mockery means nothing to me. I don’t have a mother to whom I will run home crying bitter tears. This is not the making of a monster. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.

Once lights are black and we just see the orange glow of Zaxxon’s eyes…

ROBOT: Hello gentlemen. My instructor has taught me to sing a song. Would you like to hear it? I can sing it for you.

Everyone assents with mock enthusiasm. Zaxxon’s eyes flash in time with a J-Pop version of ‘Zip-A-DeeDoo-Dah.’ The mockery continues.

CURTAIN

What’s In the Box??!! © 2014 Dan McCoy Music at GO: climactic music from Seven. Chris kneels stage right in handcuffs. Dan upstage with fingers pointing as a gun. Yolanda in a jaunty hat. There’s a box downstage.

DAN: Chris, I have a question for you.

CHRIS: Shoot.

DAN: What’s in the box??!!

CHRIS: Do you really want to know?

DAN: Yes! CHRIS: Well then I’ll tell you.

DAN: No, don’t tell me! I want to find out for myself!

CHRIS: Great.

Sound FX: Opening “whoosh” from Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal.” Reset: Dan gives a shudder through his body.

DAN: What’s in the box??!!

CHRIS: Something I put there before the show - and you have no idea what it is.

DAN: Tell me now!

CHRIS: Okay, fine.

DAN: NO! I want it to stay a secret!

CHRIS: Cool.

Sound FX. Reset.

DAN: Chris.

CHRIS: Huh. DAN: What’s in the box??!!

CHRIS: Yolanda, tell the audience why Dan’s yelling like that.

YOLANDA: [to audience] For those of you who are too young, Dan’s doing a sorta shitty imitation of Brad Pitt at the end of the movie “Seven” where he finds out Kevin Spacey has killed Gwyneth Paltrow, Brad's wife, and put her head in a box. In the movie, Morgan Freeman warns Brad to stay away or he’ll see it.

Dan, stay away.

DAN: No! Fine!

Sound FX. Reset.

CHRIS: Dan. DAN: Yeah.

CHRIS: What’s in the box?

DAN: You tell me.

CHRIS: Do you really want to know?

DAN: Yeah I do. [to audience] But I’m not going to find out. Not tonight. What’s in this box, metaphorically, is a reminder that in a society and culture where we encourage and expect total exposure, we still have the capacity for mystery. And yet we routinely commit that eighth deadly sin: over sharing.

We broadcast our every thought and opinion, photos of our activities, link after link of things that make us go “grrrr” or “squee,” but still, underneath it all there is the unknown. The parts of us we’ll never expose, the knowledge and wisdom belonging only to ourselves. And I think that’s a wonderful thing. Or it can be.

Or it should be.

CHRIS: He's preaching.

YOLANDA: I know. Come on partner, let’s get on with the show.

DAN: Okay.

Dan holds the box to his ear and shakes it.

CURTAIN

Prayer of a Broken Creator © 2014 Desiree Burch

DESIREE kneels in the doorway, upstage right, framed by the curtain. She is backlit by the blue running light and frontlit by a soft blue spot. Otherwise, darkness. She prays.

DESIREE: Heavenly Father, I know I have always put art first and it hasn’t worked. And the only time I pray is when I am back down on my knees. Broken. Broke. Brrrr….So cold. Separated from the pack by my choices. All the baby choices lead to grown up ones where my hand is outstretched and there is nothing to force it. These are the choices you have to live with and I’ve been trying so hard not to live, and I don’t know why. All the selfhelp books make it my fault for not ‘manifesting abundance’ when if someone had just asked me for 13 years of my life outright, I would have put a much higher price tag on them. But those aren’t the kind of choices we get to make, and what would I spend the money on anyway? They say religion is the opiate of the masses, and Lord, I need to get so high right now! So I can see past my friends with coke habits and good credit who never seem to be lost because they don’t ask for direction.

Some people say it only matters if you are a good person. But I don’t think that most people are really that good. We are afraid and we want to survive, but victimhood is no virtue. When I tell people that I’m a Christian they usually look at me like, “That’s funny, you didn’t seem insane when we were talking before.” But then, telling people you’re an artist makes everyone act super Christian all of a sudden.

[Sanctimoniously] “You’re so brave,” they say, like they want to pray for you. “What’s it like? …And why would anyone choose to live like that?” Like creating is a choice.

Forgive me Father for I have done this all wrong, and I didn’t make good on the promise that I... had. And I know that you don’t make any mistakes but you keep letting me make all of them and I am so tired. The thing I am really trying to make is me and I don’t have the parts I need to do what I want so… Instead of asking for them again, help me learn to sing Hallelujah, glory in the highest to whatever this is. Please take the sin of expectation from me so I can be humbler.

And sorry for all the complaining and cuss words, but life’s really hard and they really help.

[Quickly, and by rote] In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

CURTAIN

The Committee To Decide Things © 2014 Christopher Loar 1, 2, 3 and 4 sit at a table, downstage center 1: First order of business is to approve the minutes from our last meeting.

3: Our last meeting was imaginary therefore I move we table deciding the approval of last meetings’ minutes until we actually have a meeting.

ALL: Agreed 1: OHHHH KAY: On the agenda for today, our most pressing item is to make a decision.

2: To decide some thing?

1: Yes, or on some thing.

3: Or to decide about some thing.

4: To make a decision.

1: It’s important that we all agree on the necessity of making a decision.

3: Decisions are made every day, and we ignore them at our peril.

4: No one here is denying how important deciding things is.

1: Listen- obviously this is an important issue that we all are passionate about. Let’s remember that we’re on the same team here.

2: We must be very careful about the decisions we make 1: Quite right. Every action came from a decision at some point, and making decisions hastily could lead to acting hastily, which we all know could lead to ALL: DISASTER. 1: Correct.

2: Conversely, disasters could occur due to a lack of deciding.

ALL: [Nodding and intoning in contemplation] Mmmmmm Mmmmmmm Mmmmmm.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm [This one extends into a long sustained tone, achieved by people overlapping, entering and exiting the sound when they need to breathe. They perform simple, slow motion hand and arm choreography. This goes one for a little while] 1: Stop that. Right now. All of you. We were TALKING . . . about DISASTERS. What are the kinds of disasters that we could encounter?

2: I’m not sure we can decide on those right now, though we know they exist. I move we table that conversation for another time. The concern now is to decide something.

4: I’m hearing and acknowledging your fears of deciding and / or not deciding and I just have to ask, what decisions are we really faced with at this point?

2: Well, obviously it’s a matter of actually deciding something.

4: Of being decisive.

2: So then . . . we are faced with the decision of deciding . . . to decide. But on what?

1: Or who?

All snap heads to stare at 1 2: Is there anything else we’re not thinking of? Is there any decision making that goes beyond who or what?

1: Good question. I’m not sure.

3: The ether. There is always . . . the ether.

1: Right. Well, I think we’re making progress here, but I think we have to table actually deciding on anything.

2: Or anyone.

3: Or any . . . ether.

1: At least, until we’ve examined this dynamic more fully. Oooo I know, let’s do a break out workshop on these issues. You go over there with this megaphone and begin listing every person in the world ever. You, put this bag over your head and scream the names of all the things everywhere. You and I will intone the tune of the national anthem backwards skipping every other note as best as we can. Ready, GO!

They do these things, as soon as they are told. The cacophony plays out for a while until it’s been long enough to be enjoyed, then

CURTAIN

The Thinker, With Sunburn © 2014 Cara Francis Cara sits on block, center, under drop light, in the pose of Rodin’s “The Thinker”, completely naked, revealing her bright red or red but fading sunburn.

CARA: The Thinker!

Representative of poetry and intellect!

HA! Bested by the thoughtless sun!

Washed of my zinc oxide by the plastic cluttered ocean, I greased up my beach towel at the gates of hell with the angry spit of the sea.

Oh I thought!

I thought never mind the goo!!

This will make a sick base tan.

I will look so sexy and then I fried like a dry worm on the street.

And yet, what justice the sun has done me as I lie beneath it!

The THINKER! Not viewed from below like a sculpted God but from far above— I am damned by volcanoes laughing and spitting at the joke of me.

I am a statue.

Molded by an unseen hand that can destroy me with or without will.

And yet I go on feeding a beast that thrives on neglect.

Pondering the universe and drinking a clubbed soda.

Cara reaches down and produces a soda bottle, which she drinks until empty and tosses onto the stage with a satisfied gasp.

Three Neos enter and stand in the opening of the spinny doors wearing deer masks, swinging plastic bags of brown beans from their mouths.

CARA: And I smoked a little weed to deal with the sunburn.

And these feelings!

By God I had to!

And came upon a sick deer and its baby pulling over a plastic trash can.

Could I restore order to this tiny world?

And Myself?

And Deer?

And Baby deer?

And Bags of trash?

And Squamous cells gathering?

And knotted plastic C-Town bag of stinking brown beans?

I ripped open the bag and let that bald, mangy bean-crazed deer eat beans lest it bite me.

Lest it eat bag with beans and die.

Lest I disturb the balance in an unbalanced world.

Lest I make primordial mistakes every day.

And I think!

Oh I THINK that we all need to do things differently when it comes to dealing with our garbage, and the wrath of the sun.

CURTAIN Â

Late Night Infauxmercial: Now That’s What I Call Actor Warm-ups, Vol. 1 © 2014 Cecil Baldwin CECIL addresses the audience from downstage left in a friendly, affable manner.

CECIL: Well hello! Do you long to relive your past glory days on speech team or drama school? Do you live with an actor and think to yourself, “Gee I wish I could shout gibberish at the top of my lungs at 6am before waiting in line at the Equity Building?” Do you long to have obscure Gilbert and Sullivan lyrics stuck in your head for days on end? Of course you do! Then you need Now That’s What I Call Actor Warm-ups!

This is perfect for the budding thespian who doesn’t want to feel left out while sitting in a midtown casting office, watching all the “professionals” stretch every single infinitesimal muscle in their body, glaring at an invisible scene partner and furiously intoning that Sam Shepard monologue for a character they are 30 years too young to play!

Enter FLOR and CHRIS to center, who begin their own over-the-top warm-up routine.

It features all your favorite warm-ups, perfect for opening up those head and chest resonators, relaxing jaw tension and scaring the living shit out of your cat. Some of these include…Butta Gutta CHRIS: Butta gutta, gutta butta, butta gutta, gutta butta.

CECIL: Two-Second Alexander Technique.

FLOR: My spine is lengthening and widening.

CECIL: And actor tongue twisters!

CHRIS and FLOR: Whether the weather be cold Or whether the weather be hot We’ll be together whatever the weather Whether we like it or not.

CECIL: What fun! And if you act now, we’ll throw in a bonus disc of super-fun actor games like Pass the Sound, Zip Zap Zop and Big Booty—used by drama teachers who haven’t seen a professional stage since they got typed out of that cattle call oh so many years ago!

Don’t be satisfied with surreptitiously judging other actors’ headshots out the corner of your eyes—get in the game and intimidate like a pro with Now That’s What I Call Actor Warm-Ups today!

CURTAIN

Altered Memory Constructions. © 2014 Katy-May Hudson Katy-May sits on the lip of the stage.

KATY-MAY: I had this dream where I’m at the end of my wedding day, but this wedding day is different to the one I actually had. It’s expensive, traditional - full of ceremony and white peonies- peonies are my favorite flowers. No one really knows that about me. Well, I guess now you do.

Katy-May stands at the foot of the stairs.

KATY-MAY: My groom is in front of me, I can see the back of his dark hair, as we walk through a corridor of family and friends. [She walks up a few stairs and stretches arms out to the audience]. They clasp my hands in theirs, they cup my face, they wish me well. [Clasps hands, cups face, touches heart] I am zoomed through the ocean of hope-filled faces to the quiet of outside [Runs to the top of the stairs and slowly turns around to look down to the stage]; a crooked downhill driveway, ending in the wedding car we’ll leave in.

He, my groom, leads me down, [Down the stairs and onto the stage] into the vehicle and we are about to drive away, when I remember my mum. I didn’t kiss her goodbye- I have to go back. I start to run up the crooked drive way, [runs half way up with eyes down] in my dress, in my heels, with my bouquet. Half way, I look up [Looks up] and at the top of the drive way is dad. My dad! I run up to him and he runs down to me and we meet in between. He picks me up and spins me around and around and around until I feel like I’m off my feet.

He is young! Younger than I have ever seen him. Maybe only 20 years old. I touch his teeth. I laugh at them, they’re so big and bucky, I had only ever seen fake ones that dentists had made. I touch his hair. It’s auburn, curly, thick, shiny. I never knew he had such great hair. He looks like Elvis! He pulls me out from his arms to look at my dress, he smiles, he nods. How lucky we are to see each other like this!

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again.” I say.

“I had to come and tell you that you’re beautiful and that I’m sorry I never told you” He says.

Katy-May walks down the aisle and towards the stage.

KATY-MAY: I wake up as soon as he finishes speaking. It was over and he is gone, but it’s okay, because I have this new memory. It’s an unreal memory, but it was mine. I made it. And it felt real, which is just as good as it being real. Maybe even better. Because what’s a real memory anyway, right? Real memory?

That’s an oxymoron.

Katy-May approaches an audience member and says the following line to them.

KATY-MAY: I’ll try to remember you well. Can you please try to remember me well too?

CURTAIN

VIRTUAL COCAINE!!! Š 2014 Yolanda K. Wilkinson Stage is empty. All of the lights everywhere in the theatre are on up to full, including lights backstage.

Yolanda sits on a stool slightly right of center on the lip of the stage very close to the audience.

YOLANDA: Listen to this.

Binaural track plays softly and steadily increases in volume throughout the play causing Yolanda to increase in volume.

YOLANDA: This is a Binaural track. Binaural means use with both ears. This particular track is programmed to make your brain think that you are doing cocaine at this moment.

Pauses to let track play for a few seconds.

YOLANDA: Is it working? I wouldn't know because I've never done cocaine. I don't think I'm a good candidate. HEY MIRSKY! [Mirsky sticks his head out of the stage left curtain] Have you ever done cocaine? Wait don't answer that.

[He leaves] One of the reasons I don't do cocaine is that I hear it makes you power hungry. One time I ate Shrimp Pad Thai noodles with a bunch of sriracha, went to sleep and had a detailed dream that I was Queen of the Lost Tribe of Israel. I was "Yolanda of Melilla" and I declared war on Vatican City. I ordered all the gold melted down, dismantled the bank and crushed the corrupt financial system, doing away with money and establishing love as currency for the entire world.

The track plays for a few seconds, still slowly growing louder.

YOLANDA: HEY RICKY! [Ricky sticks his head out of the stage left curtain] Have you ever done cocaine?

Don't answer that. Another reason I don't do cocaine is because I hear it makes you violent. I was sitting on the C train reading my book and this girl gets on at Jay Street and she starts singing. She's not asking for money and she's not wearing headphones. She's just singing at full voice some song that she is making up on the spot and trying to riff like Mariah Carey. I wanted desperately to punch this bitch in her fucking throat and kick her in her rib slats for forcing me to hear her flatness. But I didn't because I didn't want her crazy to splash on my clothes.

The track plays for a few seconds, still slowly growing louder.

YOLANDA: [to audience] HEY! Have you ever done coke? Don't answer that. And finally, I don't do coke because it can turn you into an egotistical asshole. I saw Quentin Tarrantino on 43rd and 8th one day. I said, "Hello" and started flirting with him shamelessly. He blushed. I said, "Stop frontin'! Everyone knows you get down with the swirl! Our kids would be oddly gorgeous and funny looking simultaneously."

She listens to the track for a moment.

YOLANDA: [to the booth] Okay! That's enough!

Track stops abruptly, calmly to audience.

How do you feel? How do you feel about me? Don't answer that.

CURTAIN

super fine print: © 2014 Daniel Mirsky At GO: Mirsky hands a TML Menu to an audience member if they do not already have one in hand.

MIRSKY: Hello [nametag], Do you have a menu?

Audience member replies.

MIRSKY: Do you see the super fine print at the bottom of the page inside?

Audience member confirms.

MIRSKY: Would you do me a favor and read it out loud so we can all hear it?

Audience member reads out loud: “Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind is made possible in part with public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs and the JP Morgan Chase Regrant Fund…-“ MIRSKY: That’s good. Could you read it again from the start up until that point?

Audience member reads the line again. Mirsky takes back the menu.

MIRSKY (cont’): Thanks [nametag]. JP Morgan Chase. What the fuck Neos? What the fuck?

Why? Mirsky crosses to a station where there is a large clear mixing bowl. Near the bowl are several large red solo-cups, containing: money, motor oil, coal, wood chips & saw dust, ash, rocks and soil. Also, a bottle of water and a single clear drinking glass.

Why is the Lincoln Center funded the Koch Brothers? Why are we using money from JPMorgan Chase?

He puts the TML menu into the bowl.

Why? Our art defends our environment. Our plays fight inequality. Our work exposes injustice and corruption, and it’s funded by JP Morgan fucking Chase. I know I’m the newest neo and there’s a lot I have to learn about running a theatre company. I know theatre is hard to fund. And I know it was just a big arts fund they happened to have sponsored. Well, let me remind you what else they happen to “sponsor.”

Economic collapse.

Mirsky pulls out a single dollar bill, rips it up into small pieces and drops it into the bowl, on top of the menu.

Inflated oil prices.

Motor oil is poured into bowl over the menu.

Deforestation.

Wood chips and saw dust are tossed into bowl over the menu.

Mountain top removal.

Rocks/soil are dumped into bowl over the menu.

Coal mining.

Charcoal dumped into bowl.

Air and water pollution.

Mirsky spills the ash into the clear glass. The suffocating ash pillows up and out. He then opens the bottle of water and pours it in to the ash filled glass. Then, the dirty mixture is dumped into bowl as well.

Mirsky mixes the contents of the bowl with his hands and fingers.

This soup of exploitation and destruction. This is where that money came from. This is how it was made.

Is our art great enough to offset this?

Mirsky pulls out the soiled menu from the bowl, or whatever shred of it is still intact. He holds it up, dripping, destroyed and black.

I’m not going to stand here and tell our ensemble how to run our company, because we are just that, an ensemble. But I have to ask you to do this one thing. Dan, Nicole, Ricky, Yeaxlanda (include any other neos in the theater,) And you, (to audience) you and you. All of you. Make sure the work you do and the art you create bring as much good into this world as how much bad it takes to make it. (beat.) And someone get [nametag] a clean menu.

CURTAIN

I’ve Been Here Before ©2013 Brenda Arellano

Brenda at the edge of the stage, cross legged on a chair. Soft light on stage. She is lighting tea lights and directs the audience to pass them back. Emma and Meg sit next to her on the floor and sing a soft little backup song.

BRENDA: I’ve been here before.

Admired the art, wandered the neighborhoods, fallen in love with the energy.

Last time, there was the show at Union Pool, jumping into an unmarked car towards the next bar and making out on that cozy bench on the sidewalk.

Last time, I had my headphones on and hunched in my coat. That didn’t stop him from eyeing me, then sitting next to me, then handing me his journal. I drew my signature squirrel with the teeth, just so he wouldn’t think I was afraid.

Last time, I met Kristi at the deli. She threw out the garbage and we smoked in the alley and our conversations are always so intense, we have to curl up and take naps together.

This time, I’m starry eyed. I’m living in his bed and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I cried into the beans the other night because I’m not used to this feeling of

Emma and Meg stop singing.

happiness.

Walks in the fog. Party hats in the street and one hitters at the carousel. Murals under bridges revealing the theme of the moment.

Beat.

What happens if I don’t go home?

CURTAIN

Your Visit to the Slaughterhouse © 2014 Joey Rizzolo JOEY: [sitting in a stool, facing left] You remember so little of any given day, but these few seconds are indelible. As you lean on the brake so hard you’re pulling the steering wheel into your chest, [he looks to the audience] you look in the passenger seat and there he is, Billy Pilgrim, as ever only half in the moment because his head is quite literally in the stars. As the mass of a Honda Pilot is moving toward you in slow motion, you do as your copilot. You take your own journey.

During the following, JOEY builds a small tower of blocks onto which he puts the stool. He sets a mirror into a baking pan, fills the pan with water, sets it on a table, places a flashlight and a cell phone next to the pan, and sits in the perched stool.

In 108 hours, an usher at the Borgata scans the tickets that cost you $450 ($510 if you include the shirts the girls will beg you to buy in 2 hours), and as you sit with the girls waiting for the concert to start, it occurs to you that you’ve never in your life even heard an Avril Lavigne song.

In 32 hours you’re looking at the customer side of the financing desk at the Hyundai dealer and you see that some joker has carved “420” on your side of Carlos’ desk, the only humor you can find after signing the $14,000 agreement on top of Carlos’ desk.

In 27 hours, a scrap yard driver drops $200 in your hand in exchange for the wreck that, less than 400 hours ago, you spent $1900 fixing. $1930 if you include the tank of gas that you purchased 1 hour ago.

In 54 hours you’re sitting across from a lawyer who will charge you a $5000 retainer and refer you to a consultant who will charge you and additional $3500. It hurts to cringe as you will only then be able to move your neck again, but cringe you will when you hear the good esquire say, “it’s only money.” Balm in Gilead to those that have it. But Robin Williams will be dead in 1200 hours. Maybe he’s right.

In 76 hours you’ll hand over a check for $9500 to pay your son’s tuition for a residential program for young, disabled adults, a preamble to the $58,000 you’ll be asked to pay in 1176 hours. Later, while you’re at the Target in Central Islip, you’ll realize how much you’re going to miss him. Spending $85 on a mini fridge, $6 on a mirror, and a $115 on a 5000 btu air conditioner staunches the tears for a few minutes.

[The cell phone lights up; JOEY looks at it.] “Get a radio,” she texts. So you do. That costs nothing.

Somebody’s got to do the stealing around here.

JOEY is sitting now. Lights fade down. CARA turns the flashlight on, directed at the mirror, so it bounces up to light JOEY. When you return, Billy Pilgrim is gone. It’s three hours later and you’re in the passenger seat of a wrecker, chased by the smoking remains of the 2004 Hyundai Elantra that you paid $7500 for 64,920 hours ago.

Surly, fat-fingered tow-truck proprietor Pete has just informed you that you’ll be in for about $200 in tolls for the day, as though he knows how many hours remain before his heart disease claims him and he’s trying to buy just one more hour by sharing his hypertension. And as you pay the first of those tolls and cross the Throg’s Neck, you look out onto the water dappled by the light that surrounds each boat like a little halo and you think, this is a beautiful country. This is a really beautiful country.

And Avril Lavigne does have a nice voice, you know?

CURTAIN

A Play By My Father © © 2014 Colin Summers Colin speaks to audience from centerstage.

COLIN: There’s this conversation with my father that’s been happening ever since I went to college. It always goes the same way and I want to change it starting now. It goes like this. I tell him about some kind of new theater or music project I’m working on and then a couple hours later he comes to me with his idea for my project. My father is a creative guy and I always try to listen to his ideas but I always shoot them down. Every single time I find myself explaining why it won’t work and why it’s not a good idea. And I hate that this is something that I do almost every time I see him. So when he gave me an idea for a 2 minute play for Too Much Light that was in many ways totally wrong for this show I didn’t want to repeat that cycle again so I said “maybe it could work with a few adjustments”. With that in mind I’ll now attempt to stage my father's play as he described it to me.

Backlighting flood light. Colin walks to downstage left corner. Mike walks onstage with rifle and helmet in a soldiers crouch.

COLIN: A Vietnam era American soldier is seen on stage. He hears something behind him, whirls around and fires. [Mike whirls around. Sound Cue Gunshot.] He discovers to his horror that he has shot a child who was playing behind him.

A ball bounces on stage from backstage. Mike picks it up. Blackout. Low Lights up on Mike and Mirsky sitting on blocks staring at each other.

COLIN: In the next scene the same soldier, years later, runs into an old acquaintance from the war who informs him through the course of their conversation that the child who the soldier had shot is alive and has opened a restaurant in San Francisco or someplace.

Mike rests his head on the ball which is still in his hands. Blackout. Low Lights up on Mike and Cara sitting on two blocks resting their heads against each other with blanket over them.

COLIN: In the final scene the soldier is in bed with his wife and he wakes up with a gasp. [Mike sits up with a gasp.] His wife says.

CARA: “Did you have the dream again?”

Blackout. Mike and Cara exit. Lights up on Colin centerstage.

COLIN: The audience is left wondering which of the previous scenes were real or dream. Now I realize that staging this play in this context in many ways undercuts the drama and themes presented in it. But in a grander sense I believe a central idea shines through. Because honestly this play isn’t about Vietnam. My father’s never been to Vietnam. This play is my dad tossing an idea to me... [Ball comes bouncing back onstage. Colin picks it up and tosses it to himself.] ...and this time it’s me, acknowledging it, and doing something with it instead of immediately, instinctively shooting it down.

CURTAIN

The Why © 2014 by Borg Lights up on the stage. 3 Neos in Lab coats, stand in line behind tables or blocks, open up “Bin Insano” and methodically / ritualistically retrieve an item one at a time: identify it, catalog it by number and name on a clipboard, number a tag and attach the tag to the item.

The tone is focused / reverent.

After a moment of establishment, the house lights fade up - Borg and Joey are standing on the armrests of seats in/among/above the audience.

Through the play, music (“Jesus, Joy of Man's Desiring” by J. S. Bach) creeps in, until it is quite present at the end and pretty, colored lights take over the space and fill it with warmth BORG:

Do you see what they are doing?

JOEY:

Yes. Meticulously cataloging and tagging old props from an old prop box.

BORG:

Treating objects with importance elevates them. Even from the Bin called “Insano.” Remember when we did that?

JOEY:

Of course, I remember. We sat in my basement for weeks with laptops cataloguing thousands of musty items that belonged to total strangers we rescued from an abandoned storage lot we bought at auction.

BORG:

What comes of it all?

JOEY:

A play, in that case. A play we wrote entitled “Locker #4173b.” A play we produced and performed.

BORG:

yeah, and it was over in 3 weeks

JOEY:

Well it’s over and not over, some of that stuff is still in my basement. I’m using one of the screwdrivers we found. But most of it I had to put back in storage.

BORG:

We rescued junk from a storage locker to write a play about junk left in storage lockers only to return the junk to a storage locker. And that play that is over. In storage. Used art. Crappy old used art.

JOEY:

I wouldn’t say “crappy” it was a good play, it won an IT Award-

BORG:

Art trash. Time trash. Are lives changed? Does anything change? When the final product is witnessed by a few dozen, a few hundred people. What’s the point?

JOEY:

Borg, I don’t believe in God. Not really. But I believe in faith. I believe that everyone, in order to be a whole human being, has to put their faith in something. This is it. This is my savoir. This is how people become better people. Why do you do theatre?

BORG:

I grew up a Mormon…and when left the church I lost the framework of my life - the whole cosmic, spiritual structure of existence and purpose crumbled around me. I lost my faith. But in the theatre I felt…a part of something….

JOEY:

So maybe the insanity serves a purpose.

BORG:

but sometimes I wonder if the something -

JOEY:

shhhhh…exactly. You wonder. [whispering]….maybe we do it for the same reason…let’s just keep doing it

BORG:

[whispering] OK. [pause.] Thank you, Joey-

JOEY:

[whispering] shhhh…. you’re welcome, Borg.

They watch the cataloging for another moment in the pretty lights…then….

CURTAIN

nighttxtstopwatch © 2014 Rob Neill Connor & Rob sit on high stools, at an angle a little right and down from center stage. Joey stands at a microphone upstage right. He makes a quick rhythmic watch like ticking sound (approx. 180 bpm), which he maintains throughout the play, except when noted. Throughout the play when Joey is making rhythmic ticking sounds, Rob & Connor say the text to that rhythm. The ‘slight pause’ stage direction, is equal to a breath, before Rob or Connor, syncing back up with Joey’s ticking, start the next line. Nicole stands at a microphone downstage left, for most of the play she is reading off of her phone texts from last night from the site: http://textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-917.html Nicole: Anonymous texts from the other night... [Nicole continues by reading texts from her phone; when Rob & Connor are talking, she slightly drops in volume] Rob: Night Connor: at night, Joey starts up ticking rhythm.

Rob: nights like this all the screen lights flicker brightly on the island of our home And some lovers hold each other [slight pause] Connor: hold each other tightly, unlike others [slight pause] Rob: And time keeps on creeping creeping lonely through the streets And everything is fancier than air [slight pause] But everybody breathes who needs to, mostly [slight pause] Connor: And mostly is all right for nearly all [slight pause] Rob & Connor: And if all this truth be told, then we told you what we knew Rob: And all we know is very very very small [slight pause] Connor: And Stop Rob: Stop Joey stops ticking rhythm. Nicole speaks up a little and reads/finishes a text then...

Connor: This Rob: And yes this Joey starts ticking rhythm back up.

Connor: This warm water makes us human and gold rhythms make us rich And rivers take the righteous and the distance to the ditch is not that far [slight pause] And if ever in the scheme of contact trust is on the block Rob: And the clicking fills your head full And some nagging crams your whole skull And the last text was a handful, hurtful, hateful, misspelled, miss-sent, missed, Connor: Then call beauty beat the door down Rob & Connor: Then call beauty beat the door down Connor: Then call splendor beat the door down Rob: Then faith beat the door down Connor: Then text your best friend beat. the. door. down.

Rob & Connor: beat the door down Rob & Connor: beat the door down Rob & Connor: beat the door down Rob & Connor: turn that phone off, really Joey slows ticking rhythm to a stop.

Rob: and rest Rob & Connor: and Connor: breathe, and Rob: wait, one last text...

Nicole speaks up a little and reads/finishes a final text followed quickly by...

CURTAIN

Pinky Swear © 2014 Dan McCoy Dan and Meg sit side by side on blocks. Dan moves his pinky and talks in a weird voice.

MEG: Hey, Dan’s pinky DAN: Kiss my ass MEG: You having a good show?

DAN: Eat shit MEG: You should call your parents more DAN: Fuck you and the shitty dick you rode in on MEG: Promise me we’ll always be friends Pause, then they shake pinkies.

MEG: Thanks, Dan’s pinky DAN: No problem (cough) bitch…

CURTAIN

Pretty, Funny © 2014 Meg Bashwiner Meg stands center stage.

MEG: For the next 10 seconds I will be taking honest opinions about me.

She listens for 10 seconds timed by her. After time Thank you.

I recently returned from touring a show. The show has a bit of a following and afterwards we sign autographs and take pictures with fans. It feels a bit like you re in the Ice Capades, where you are only famous for the half hour immediately following the show.

For most performances I was the only female performer. After the show the audience members, mostly young women, would tell the writers how much they loved the writing and they would tell the musician how much the loved the music and they would tell the male actor how much they loved his acting. They would tell me that I was pretty, or that they liked my dress, or my hair or my shoes. One time they told me I had lipstick on my teeth.

My role in the show is entirely comedic, I tell about 20 jokes, I do a funny accent, and I get laughs every time. Are they laughing at me because I’m pretty or because I’m wearing a nice dress? Probably not, but they don’t tell me I’m funny. They tell me I’m pretty.

Which is pretty funny….

Pause for laughter and groans The only reason I learned to be funny was because I was afraid I wasn’t pretty.

For one of the shows we had a guest star who is a beautiful, talented, young, famous and rich actress. She was very sweet and nice to work with. Part of me hated her. Because her thighs don't touch and she ate 3 bags of chips backstage. The part of me that hates her is the same part that hates myself. It is the ugliest part of me. She’s afraid to cross her legs because she thinks it will give her varicose veins. The fans told her she was pretty too.

I could stand here and take off all my clothes and make up, you would think I was brave and not just——— ——-*things that were said in opening 15 seconds. Or maybe you would be bored.

I could put on a fancy dress and heels too. But I want to be just exactly as I am right now. No more. No less. Well maybe a little less gestures to stomach and thighs. Or a little more gestures to boobs.

Whenever they told me I was pretty I immediately said “Thanks! You are” and I wanted to mean it every time.

For the next 10 seconds I will now be taking honest opinions about me.

She times and listens for 10 seconds.

Thanks you are!

CURTAIN

Imagine, it only gets better © 2014 Daniel Mirsky

At GO: CARA sits Down Center with handheld spot ON MIRSKY Down Left. House & Stage lights are at 50%. Both House & Stage lights will very slowly fade to BLACKOUT at the moment the Sound Track starts.

CARA: Hi Mirsky.

MIRSKY: Cara.

CARA: What were you like as a child?

MIRSKY: I used to get in trouble for daydreaming in class. The teachers called my parents and told them I showed serious signs of ADD, and strongly urged I take Ritalin. So in response my dad jumped in his car drove strait to my elementary school so he could personally chew out my teachers, face to face, for trying to put his son on drugs because their boring and uninspiring lessons failed to keep my attention or challenge my imagination.

CARA: I still daydream. All the time. [She day-dreams] MIRSKY: Cara… Cara.

Cara.

CARA: [She concludes her dream.] Even just now.

MIRSKY: Me too. What did you see?

CARA: [She responds] MIRSKY: I used to fear growing-up. Not because I’d get old, but because I thought the older I got, the less imagination I’d have left. Like I’d lose a bit of it each year until it would be virtually gone in my 20s and I’d be completely glued to my reality by 30.

CARA: My imagination used to turn me into a yelling hooligan, running around and screaming. [CARA runs wildly across the stage while screaming like a hooligan and waving her handheld lamp around the space. She finally hits Down Center again, faces out, and immediately shines the light up at her face from below. Stage Lights fade to black. Lip-sync Sound Track begins… Their voices are that of children.]

GO on SOUND TRACK CARASYNC: Now it’s my creative outlet.

My imagination has become stronger. Wiser. [MIRSKY crosses Down Center and joins CARA in the light.] More powerful than ever.

MIRSKYSYNC: I can imagine anything.

I do imagine everything. Everyone.

CARASYNC: My best friend had a red tree house in her yard, and inside, it can become anything.

MIRSKYSYNC: Like a spaceship. Or a giant dog house.

CARASYNC: Or a pit of hell, burning with black flames.

MIRSKYSYNC: That was a tree house.

CARASYNC: Now I have a theater.

MIRSKYSYNC: My imagination makes me the greatest scientist.

I can see worlds far beyond our own.

I see the black holes that swallow stars.

I see the Higgs-Boson field like a vast endless pool and everyone and everything is swimming in it all together.

CARASYNC: And the earth.

I can see the whole earth. Everyone on it all together.

If I try really hard I can see everyone.

MIRSKYSYNC: I’m scared. There’s too much. And it’s too dark.

CARASYNC: Let’s fly around the world. All of it, and meet everyone.

MIRSKYSYNC: And give everyone everything they want.

CARASYNC: Like food and love and Legos.

[LIPSYNC ENDS as Music underneath CONTINUES to play. Their true voices return.]

CARA: And light. [CARA shines the light out to the audience.] We’ll shower the world with light. [CARA turns the light OFF].

MIRSKY: And no one will have to fear the dark.

CURTAIN

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