In the past week, I have listened to the following recordings for the first time:
Adding Machine
A Catered Affair
In the Heights
Gone Missing
The Magic Show
Passing Strange
South Pacific (Revival)
and then, I turned on Assassins and realized how much I actually do love Sondheim more than anything else. Ever.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Notation.
I found a notebook in my desk today with several pages outlining play ideas and other miscellaneous crap from last summer and as I am reading over these things, I can't help but laugh at the ridiculous way my brain works. These notes are unfiltered streams of consciousness in which I wrote down every single thing that popped into my head. I thought I'd share a bit, just for a laugh.
First page:
WORKING TITLES
-Cream and Sugar: something to do with coffee, obviously, with making things taste better/differently, lightening dark things?
-First and Second (And Third and Fourth): original idea was a numbering of the scenes like this - four scenes in the play, a full-length one-act, or with a 2/2 interval, but needs some significance to his life, some relation - relationships, marriages (but he's not old enough and that would be insanely comical), what are some things that we number? Things that we say are first and second, etc. Dates. Calendar dates. The first of the month, etc. Also - romantic dates. First date. Series of dates maybe? Two-person play in a restaurant or two "story" characters, and outside visions/memories, like a comment play. Perhaps a good idea. Also - cream and sugar. Coffee in the restaurant. Got it.
Second page:
CHARACTER SKETCH
Who is Marshall Best? Marshall is the character who keeps appearing in all my work. You should be well acquainted by now. Marshall is twenty-something, gay, an artist - but not a painter. Or is he? A photographer, maybe? Try to stay away from playwrights/directors/actors. This is a man who captures the world not with words, but with images. "Who's with his camera - alone?!" A sort of Mark Cohen sans any sort of relation to Anthony Rapp. More of a Jed Resnick Mark. FOCUS! So he's a photographer, is he? Very well. Let's use our favorite Isherwood quote as a frontice piece (sp?) A concept, perhaps. The images are developing. The someday is now. Mid-life crisis before he reaches middle age. Maybe he should be older. Like [NAME REMOVED]. Maybe I could use that. Yes! Perfect, I think we've stumbled onto the essence. He has just been dumped by his long-term boyfriend and his life is crumbling as he nears his birthday. He goes on the date (one date, not four) and everything sort of peters out. Maybe he sees his ex in the restaurant. Exposure! Good title. Exposure or something else. Don't Touch the Negatives or something. Too hokey. But is Exposure too dramatic? One would think so. I guess we can try it out. -
Third page:
EXPOSURE a play by Lane Williamson
*An Outline of Sorts*
Things That Need To Happen
1. Establish his age, his backstory, that he is just coming froma relationship
2. Other possible characters
-Mother/Father
-Boyfriend
-Teenage Student
-Neighbor w/a Crush
-Musician friend
-One-night stand
-A waiter in "real time"
3. Lived with his father, mother killed herself maybe - "the pressure of the world is just too much" something like that, father alcoholic, abusive, no! He's a nice guy.
4. Teenage student trying to get into his pants, thinks it will further his career, help him along, not teens - twenties
Fourth page:
RESEARCH
1. Rent "Pollock"
Fifth page:
AND ONE
(Marshall Best, late-thirties, sits in a restaurant sipping a glass of wine and waiting. Soft piano music in the background and the quiet lighting of a bar. It is very dark and somewhat murky. [The following two sentences are crossed out:] Something is different about Marshall. We don't know what. [Back to normal:] A bright light suddenly flashes across the stage and we hear a click! as it appears. As it quickly dissipates, another man, Lloyd Charles (new name!) appears. He tentatively makes his way to Marshall's table.)
LLOYD: Marshall?
MARSHALL: Mm. You must be Lloyd.
LLOYD: Yes. I am. Hello.
MARSHALL: Hi. Please. Sit down.
LLOYD: Thanks. I've, uh, I've never been here before.
MARSHALL: Nor have I.
LLOYD: Really? How'd you choose it, then?
MARSHALL: I know the pianist.
LLOYD: Oh. Oh.
MARSHALL: Funny word. "Pianist."
LLOYD: I know people who say "Pi-AN-ist" to avoid the obvious homonym. (?)
MARSHALL: It is "pianist," isn't it?
LLOYD: I'm pretty sure.
MARSHALL: And you're an English professor, aren't you?
LLOYD: Yes. Yes. I am. You're a - photographer?
MARSHALL: Yes. When I was a child, I wanted to be a painter, but I didn't like getting paint on my hands, so I switched to plastic and film.
LLOYD: I see. (Aha.)
MARSHALL: It's much easier this way. And with the trends in modern art being what they are...Ah, [scribble] But I don't want to bore you.
LLOYD: Oh, no. I love art. I just saw an exhibit of some Pollocks the other day and was - amazed, I suppose, at the - the technique and apparent passion in each one. You can see the blood, sweat, and tears that went into each one.
MARSHALL: Yes, I agree. As much as I despise that type of work, you can't help but ["deny" is crossed out] appreciate the commitment. Pollock and Rothko and about the only modern painters I can stand.
LLOYD: I believe I have some notecards somewhere at home with Rothko prints on the front. Wonderful, just wonderful. [I have notecards with Rothko prints.]
MARSHALL: What ["sort" is crossed out] kind of English do you teach? I mean, are you a classicist or modernist or romanticist?
LLOYD: (laughing) I teach dramatic literature. Modern mostly. From Williams and Miller on. My students claim I'm biased toward Stoppard, but I find I'm more of an Albee person.
MARSHALL: Albee is absurdist, no?
LLOYD: Not absurdist in the terms of Beckett and Ionesco, but yes.
MARSHALL: And explain to me how Virginia Woolf is absurdist.
LLOYD: The actual woman or the play?
MARSHALL: The play.
LLOYD: Well...it's not, really. I suppose there are very flimsy arguments to support the converse (?), but I wouldn't call it absurdist.
MARSHALL: Nor would I.
LLOYD: Did you see it with Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin?
MARSHALL: Yes.
LLOYD: Brilliant. I thought, "If I die right now, let God speak like Kathleen Turner."
(Marshall laughs.)
[And then I abandoned it, because it's awful.]
Sixth page (stop reading when you're bored):
The shape they took in his mind led him to think that they weren't that bad. Together, they fit like pieces from different jigsaw puzzles, pieces that weren't meant to be together, but, if you pushed hard enough, snapped into a semblance of unity. They were all different, all different in appearance, personality, and disposition: some were actors, some chefs, some were computer nerds, some were handsome, some were beautiful, some were ugly as sin. Some loved him, some liked him, and some grew tired. And, in truth, he had grown tired, too. Tired of waiting for magic, of waiting for love, of waiting for the pieces to come together. And so was the start of his new outlook, of his new life."
Seventh page:
Nexus?
Prisoner in cell being doused
w/buckets of cold water
to force him to stay awake.
He screams and jumps forward
and the chair legs walk
across the cement. He is
drenched, terrifying.
Eighth page:
Sonnet I
If words were more than two dimensional
And time a greater judge of things to come
If things we said were unintentional
Who are the souls whose love we would become?
Were they the warriors of olden days
Whose fight was brave and strong (or so we hear)
Perhaps they leapt from cubicles ablaze
And flew with smoke and steel and dread and fear
We live our life in fractured, hollow shells
We're victims of events we can't control
We don't recall the tales our father tells
We know not what our days will now unroll
But if your love is really there and true
Who knows just what these feeble hearts could do?
First page:
WORKING TITLES
-Cream and Sugar: something to do with coffee, obviously, with making things taste better/differently, lightening dark things?
-First and Second (And Third and Fourth): original idea was a numbering of the scenes like this - four scenes in the play, a full-length one-act, or with a 2/2 interval, but needs some significance to his life, some relation - relationships, marriages (but he's not old enough and that would be insanely comical), what are some things that we number? Things that we say are first and second, etc. Dates. Calendar dates. The first of the month, etc. Also - romantic dates. First date. Series of dates maybe? Two-person play in a restaurant or two "story" characters, and outside visions/memories, like a comment play. Perhaps a good idea. Also - cream and sugar. Coffee in the restaurant. Got it.
Second page:
CHARACTER SKETCH
Who is Marshall Best? Marshall is the character who keeps appearing in all my work. You should be well acquainted by now. Marshall is twenty-something, gay, an artist - but not a painter. Or is he? A photographer, maybe? Try to stay away from playwrights/directors/actors. This is a man who captures the world not with words, but with images. "Who's with his camera - alone?!" A sort of Mark Cohen sans any sort of relation to Anthony Rapp. More of a Jed Resnick Mark. FOCUS! So he's a photographer, is he? Very well. Let's use our favorite Isherwood quote as a frontice piece (sp?) A concept, perhaps. The images are developing. The someday is now. Mid-life crisis before he reaches middle age. Maybe he should be older. Like [NAME REMOVED]. Maybe I could use that. Yes! Perfect, I think we've stumbled onto the essence. He has just been dumped by his long-term boyfriend and his life is crumbling as he nears his birthday. He goes on the date (one date, not four) and everything sort of peters out. Maybe he sees his ex in the restaurant. Exposure! Good title. Exposure or something else. Don't Touch the Negatives or something. Too hokey. But is Exposure too dramatic? One would think so. I guess we can try it out. -
Third page:
EXPOSURE a play by Lane Williamson
*An Outline of Sorts*
Things That Need To Happen
1. Establish his age, his backstory, that he is just coming froma relationship
2. Other possible characters
-Mother/Father
-Boyfriend
-Teenage Student
-Neighbor w/a Crush
-Musician friend
-One-night stand
-A waiter in "real time"
3. Lived with his father, mother killed herself maybe - "the pressure of the world is just too much" something like that, father alcoholic, abusive, no! He's a nice guy.
4. Teenage student trying to get into his pants, thinks it will further his career, help him along, not teens - twenties
Fourth page:
RESEARCH
1. Rent "Pollock"
Fifth page:
AND ONE
(Marshall Best, late-thirties, sits in a restaurant sipping a glass of wine and waiting. Soft piano music in the background and the quiet lighting of a bar. It is very dark and somewhat murky. [The following two sentences are crossed out:] Something is different about Marshall. We don't know what. [Back to normal:] A bright light suddenly flashes across the stage and we hear a click! as it appears. As it quickly dissipates, another man, Lloyd Charles (new name!) appears. He tentatively makes his way to Marshall's table.)
LLOYD: Marshall?
MARSHALL: Mm. You must be Lloyd.
LLOYD: Yes. I am. Hello.
MARSHALL: Hi. Please. Sit down.
LLOYD: Thanks. I've, uh, I've never been here before.
MARSHALL: Nor have I.
LLOYD: Really? How'd you choose it, then?
MARSHALL: I know the pianist.
LLOYD: Oh. Oh.
MARSHALL: Funny word. "Pianist."
LLOYD: I know people who say "Pi-AN-ist" to avoid the obvious homonym. (?)
MARSHALL: It is "pianist," isn't it?
LLOYD: I'm pretty sure.
MARSHALL: And you're an English professor, aren't you?
LLOYD: Yes. Yes. I am. You're a - photographer?
MARSHALL: Yes. When I was a child, I wanted to be a painter, but I didn't like getting paint on my hands, so I switched to plastic and film.
LLOYD: I see. (Aha.)
MARSHALL: It's much easier this way. And with the trends in modern art being what they are...Ah, [scribble] But I don't want to bore you.
LLOYD: Oh, no. I love art. I just saw an exhibit of some Pollocks the other day and was - amazed, I suppose, at the - the technique and apparent passion in each one. You can see the blood, sweat, and tears that went into each one.
MARSHALL: Yes, I agree. As much as I despise that type of work, you can't help but ["deny" is crossed out] appreciate the commitment. Pollock and Rothko and about the only modern painters I can stand.
LLOYD: I believe I have some notecards somewhere at home with Rothko prints on the front. Wonderful, just wonderful. [I have notecards with Rothko prints.]
MARSHALL: What ["sort" is crossed out] kind of English do you teach? I mean, are you a classicist or modernist or romanticist?
LLOYD: (laughing) I teach dramatic literature. Modern mostly. From Williams and Miller on. My students claim I'm biased toward Stoppard, but I find I'm more of an Albee person.
MARSHALL: Albee is absurdist, no?
LLOYD: Not absurdist in the terms of Beckett and Ionesco, but yes.
MARSHALL: And explain to me how Virginia Woolf is absurdist.
LLOYD: The actual woman or the play?
MARSHALL: The play.
LLOYD: Well...it's not, really. I suppose there are very flimsy arguments to support the converse (?), but I wouldn't call it absurdist.
MARSHALL: Nor would I.
LLOYD: Did you see it with Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin?
MARSHALL: Yes.
LLOYD: Brilliant. I thought, "If I die right now, let God speak like Kathleen Turner."
(Marshall laughs.)
[And then I abandoned it, because it's awful.]
Sixth page (stop reading when you're bored):
The shape they took in his mind led him to think that they weren't that bad. Together, they fit like pieces from different jigsaw puzzles, pieces that weren't meant to be together, but, if you pushed hard enough, snapped into a semblance of unity. They were all different, all different in appearance, personality, and disposition: some were actors, some chefs, some were computer nerds, some were handsome, some were beautiful, some were ugly as sin. Some loved him, some liked him, and some grew tired. And, in truth, he had grown tired, too. Tired of waiting for magic, of waiting for love, of waiting for the pieces to come together. And so was the start of his new outlook, of his new life."
Seventh page:
Nexus?
Prisoner in cell being doused
w/buckets of cold water
to force him to stay awake.
He screams and jumps forward
and the chair legs walk
across the cement. He is
drenched, terrifying.
Eighth page:
Sonnet I
If words were more than two dimensional
And time a greater judge of things to come
If things we said were unintentional
Who are the souls whose love we would become?
Were they the warriors of olden days
Whose fight was brave and strong (or so we hear)
Perhaps they leapt from cubicles ablaze
And flew with smoke and steel and dread and fear
We live our life in fractured, hollow shells
We're victims of events we can't control
We don't recall the tales our father tells
We know not what our days will now unroll
But if your love is really there and true
Who knows just what these feeble hearts could do?
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Villanelle.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
What’s left is left inside it there.
And still I love you even more.
It says the things we can’t ignore,
And shakes and shivers through the air.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
I put my eyes down on the floor
And firm, soft arms do me impair.
And still I love you even more.
It comes and fights until we’re sure
Enough to break the final stare.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
Excuse the thoughts that out I pour,
For these lone words can’t stand as fair.
And still I love you even more.
I’ve lost the days I had before
And all I am I long to share.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
And still I love you even more.
What’s left is left inside it there.
And still I love you even more.
It says the things we can’t ignore,
And shakes and shivers through the air.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
I put my eyes down on the floor
And firm, soft arms do me impair.
And still I love you even more.
It comes and fights until we’re sure
Enough to break the final stare.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
Excuse the thoughts that out I pour,
For these lone words can’t stand as fair.
And still I love you even more.
I’ve lost the days I had before
And all I am I long to share.
It’s at the base, it is my core.
And still I love you even more.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Little Bit of Praise.
I have to take a moment to praise ABC. Recently, the network has taken great steps in incorporating important gay stories into its shows, and every little bit is a step toward awareness, toward acceptance, and toward intelligence about gay lifestyles and same sex relationships. The Kevin/Scotty storyline from Brothers and Sisters culminated in what is, to my knowledge, the first homosexual commitment ceremony on network television, and one of the most beautiful, romantic proposal scenes ever written. On Grey's Anatomy, inarguably one of the network's most popular shows, two gay soldiers made out for an extended period of time in bright light, not hidden or obscured by a hand, a flower arrangement, or a window pane. I applaud you, ABC, for your guts, for daring to open eyes, and for maintaining quality programming when other networks fall victim to mindless sitcoms and ridiculous reality shows.
Monday, May 5, 2008
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