Hazy passes the day.
A solemn look at things been seen,
Halls traversed and teeming,
Idlers and men ensnared.
Quizzing ourselves on things we know
As the screen in our mind pulls away.
At once there is a filthy glow.
We are no longer men,
Just caricatures, rapid demise
Guarded by the lense.
bent double on the lawn
twisted, beaten upon
caught up before the dawn
with emotion sawn
theyre curled in their chiffon
the blood has spilt and gone
But dear I see the wall,
And hear your voice so clear.
My gosh, you are so near.
Can't wait to bite your ear.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Fairy Tale - Week 1
Once upon a time there was a cad, the typical tall, dark, handsome man who carried himself highly as he walked his satisfied path, ut who wanted comformit in himself to find where he belonged.
He set out to start anew - he got on a train, got off at the end of the line, and went to find a new home and new life but knew no one in the town. He realized thall of his success had arisen out of networking and that, without his former network, he had no credentials with which to establish himself.
And so, he got a job in construction. He figured the hard work he put in here would get him noticed by one of the bosses and he would be able to move to management. But he kept on working harder than anyone with no end in sight.
Until finally one day one of the bosses approached him on the construction site. Without a word he took off the man's hard hat, and then he gestured to the sky. Before turning to walk away, he said, "Think about it."
And so, in the end, leaving the hard hat perched atop a mount of dirt the man walked out of the construction site and into the world. Life was not merely a search for success, or building of networks and friends, but a simple enjoyment of everything beautiful and unfathomable.
He set out to start anew - he got on a train, got off at the end of the line, and went to find a new home and new life but knew no one in the town. He realized thall of his success had arisen out of networking and that, without his former network, he had no credentials with which to establish himself.
And so, he got a job in construction. He figured the hard work he put in here would get him noticed by one of the bosses and he would be able to move to management. But he kept on working harder than anyone with no end in sight.
Until finally one day one of the bosses approached him on the construction site. Without a word he took off the man's hard hat, and then he gestured to the sky. Before turning to walk away, he said, "Think about it."
And so, in the end, leaving the hard hat perched atop a mount of dirt the man walked out of the construction site and into the world. Life was not merely a search for success, or building of networks and friends, but a simple enjoyment of everything beautiful and unfathomable.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A Conversation with Accompanying Mood Music
The knocks on my bedroom door were curiously out of time with the Beatles. They filled in the gaps between “love” and “ly,” and “me” and “ter.” I guess that’s not too surprising, though, because the Beatles broke up a long time ago, and old sound doesn’t travel quite as fast as new sound. So I cut Paul McCartney off at “maid” while brushing my hair with my fingers and standing up. I was refreshed from a shower and tired, so not exactly in the mood for cheap talk.
She seemed surprised to see me shirtless, shoeless, and in basketball shorts. “Come in,” I said.
When she had plopped onto my bed and adjusted my pillow behind her lazy back, and I had put a somewhat wrinkle-free shirt on, I asked, “How are you today?”
“Oh you know, pretty good,” she said. “You?”
“Pretty much the same.”
I think she could sense the sunrays bouncing around in the grass outside my open window, because she got that half-embarrassed, half-playful, half-cruel little smile on her lips and in her eyes. That made me think of how it was August and I love summer. She said, “I know what you were thinking last night when we were holding hands.”
I gave one of those contented, one syllable murmur-chuckles and asked, “Oh you do?” I also raised a mental eyebrow. That night we had gotten high on sparkling cider and wandered hand-in-hand for hours through downtown.
“You were thinking about stopping time again.”
“Aww, you know me too well.”
She sat up slowly. “What are we going to do in three weeks?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this yet.”
“I think it’s time.”
The Beatles started to play in my inner jukebox. One of my feet was the bass drum, and the other was the snare. But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about December, when I would come back to her, and the season and weather would be all different.
I said, “Let’s just think about today. We could go run through sprinklers!”
She sank a little deeper into my bed. “I love your romanticism, but it’s just not practical right now.”
“But why end now?”
“Because it’s going to happen sooner than you think.”
“You don’t make sense.” The only thing left playing in my head was a thin strain of melody. I couldn’t remember how the words of the last verse ended. And she still looked so pretty to me.
She got that serious look that girls get when they weigh their female sense on relationships versus the rest of the world. “We just need to start talking about it now, or it will catch us by surprise, okay? No more fake innocence.”
“But we can still have fun?”
“Oh, I guess,” she laughed.
I got up to put a new CD in and tried to imagine the world without music. It would be a pretty terrible place.
She seemed surprised to see me shirtless, shoeless, and in basketball shorts. “Come in,” I said.
When she had plopped onto my bed and adjusted my pillow behind her lazy back, and I had put a somewhat wrinkle-free shirt on, I asked, “How are you today?”
“Oh you know, pretty good,” she said. “You?”
“Pretty much the same.”
I think she could sense the sunrays bouncing around in the grass outside my open window, because she got that half-embarrassed, half-playful, half-cruel little smile on her lips and in her eyes. That made me think of how it was August and I love summer. She said, “I know what you were thinking last night when we were holding hands.”
I gave one of those contented, one syllable murmur-chuckles and asked, “Oh you do?” I also raised a mental eyebrow. That night we had gotten high on sparkling cider and wandered hand-in-hand for hours through downtown.
“You were thinking about stopping time again.”
“Aww, you know me too well.”
She sat up slowly. “What are we going to do in three weeks?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this yet.”
“I think it’s time.”
The Beatles started to play in my inner jukebox. One of my feet was the bass drum, and the other was the snare. But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about December, when I would come back to her, and the season and weather would be all different.
I said, “Let’s just think about today. We could go run through sprinklers!”
She sank a little deeper into my bed. “I love your romanticism, but it’s just not practical right now.”
“But why end now?”
“Because it’s going to happen sooner than you think.”
“You don’t make sense.” The only thing left playing in my head was a thin strain of melody. I couldn’t remember how the words of the last verse ended. And she still looked so pretty to me.
She got that serious look that girls get when they weigh their female sense on relationships versus the rest of the world. “We just need to start talking about it now, or it will catch us by surprise, okay? No more fake innocence.”
“But we can still have fun?”
“Oh, I guess,” she laughed.
I got up to put a new CD in and tried to imagine the world without music. It would be a pretty terrible place.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Don't Say Elephant...a 10-minute play
DON’T SAY ELEPHANT
Draft 1
A Ten-Minute Play by Lara Ortiz-Luis
CHARACTERS
MILES
MAY
Miles stands in the corner of the laundry room, reading a newspaper propped up on a table shaped like a elephant. He is also ironing simultaneously. There is a quiet hum and low rumble of the laundry machine. May opens the door.
MAY: Um, hello? ‘scuse me, but when are you going to be done…ish?
MILES: Probably another five to ten min--(Pops his head out from behind the newspaper, does a double take and stares) May?
MAY: Miles?
The two walk towards each other to hug, but awkwardly have to move around the elephant table and ironing board. Miles lowers the elephant table and they hug over it. They break apart—the elephant table still between them.
MILES: Hey! So how’ve you been?
MAY: Good! Good. Yeah, you know.
MILES: Yeah! Yeah. (beat) Right, so I’ll probably be done in five or ten minutes—depending how long this ironing takes me.
MAY: Right, I remember you were always rubbish at that. (beat) So how long have you been back?
MILES: Oh, you know, a couple of weeks now.
MAY: Really.
MILES: (fidgets with the elephant table and folds the paper) Yeah, well you know, I came back early from this study abroad thing, so now I have some added weeks of summer.
MAY: You went abroad? I never would’ve thought that you, Miles Luke Madison would go abroad. Where to?
MILES: Ha, yeah. I did a semester in Barcelona.
MAY: Oh. (looks suddenly forlorn and reminiscent)
MILES: Yeah…well it seemed like a good, um, program. Good use of…language… especially, Spanish…and well not really since they speak Catalan…
MAY: Right. Right.
The laundry machine starts making a strange popping noise. Miles takes the elephant table and whacks it a couple of times until it goes back to normal.
MAY: (Snapping out of her reverie and laughing) So that’s what you use my elephant for now?
MILES: (Chuckles awkwardly) Yeah, well no, I use it to hold my newspaper or sometimes a cup of coffee if I can balance it.
MAY: Yeah, that was a stupid investment. Who would need an elephant in their bedroom anyway? Wait, do you just haul it around when you do laundry now?
MILES: Well, yeah, I mean, it’s light enough, and I can wedge my book right between the humps…so I can read while ironing. Comes in handy.
MAY: Mmhmm.
(beat)
MILES: So uh, what’s new with you? Any exciting stuff happen lately?
May holds her left finger up. It has a very sparkly ring on it.
MILES: Oh wow.
MAY: (Looks pained for a second and then smiles) Yeah. He’s great. A doctor. Who knew, eh?
MILES: Yeah. (beat) So when’s the big day?
MAY: Next month, actually.
MILES: (Smiles sadly) June. I remember you always wanted to get married near your birthday so you could—
MILES and MAY (together): --just celebrate both in one fell swoop.
MILES: (laughs) You haven’t changed a bit.
MAY: You, too. (beat) Yeah, so I’ll just come back in five to ten minutes. If you finish before I come back, well, it’s been...
MILES: …peachy.
MAY: Haha, yes quite peachy. Classic Miles. Well, bye.
MILES: Bye.
May walks out and closes the door behind her. Miles resumes ironing, but realizes he needs more water for the iron. He walks out the door into the kitchen and walks out the door.
May walks back in, expecting Miles to be there. She sees the elephant table and touches it. Miles enters, closing the door behind him.
MILES: You, uh, forget something?
MAY: No.
(beat)
MILES: Uh, so I’ll just get back to—
Miles starts to resume ironing.
MAY: It kind of hurt, you know.
MILES: I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.
MAY: I’m not stupid Miles. You and I both know that you choosing Barcelona is not without meaning.
MILES: Your reading into this way too much.
MAY: (Starting to get a little more indignant) Am I? Seriously, Miles.
MILES: We’ve done this already.
MAY: Oh, yeah, okay, we’ve done it all already, haven’t we Miles? You honestly don’t even have the right to take that tone of nonchalant bullshit. No right at all. You owe this to me.
Miles just keeps ironing. May tries to catch his eye.
MAY: (softer) I had to. You know I had to.
MILES: No, you didn’t. We could’ve done it. We could’ve--
MAY: --Stop it! You’re not fucking Hemingway! You can’t just talk in fucking ambiguities like that and expect it to be dripping with absinthe-filled meaning.
Miles just keeps ironing, keeping calm. He props the iron, holds the elephant table for a little support, and looks up at May.
MILES: One and for freaking all, let’s just call out the big white elephant that no one wants to acknowledge. (Points to the corner) It’s standing there. (beat) God, you really want to know why I left?
MAY: Because—
MILES: No, shut up for a second. I left because of the fucking white elephant in the room that neither of us would talk about. We became so estranged and so forced.
MAY: Miles, what did you expect? Did you think everything would go back to being just “peachy?” Of course it was going to be hard for a while. But it was just a bump in the road. We could’ve gotten over it you know. May and Miles, remember?
MILES: (laughs softly) Yeah. We may have gone for miles.
MAY: Bad pun. Veerrrry bad pun.
They laugh. Miles burns himself with the iron.
MAY: (Playfully) God, you’re useless. Here, let me do it.
May cuts around the elephant table and inches herself between Miles and the ironing board. Miles smells her hair, and then quickly snaps himself out of it. He starts folding clothes.
MILES: So--
MAY: --Yeah, no, I’m sorry, can we just start over.
MILES: Yeah that sounds good.
MAY: So, you seeing anyone?
MILES: Yeah. Her name is April.
MAY: You’re joking. How’d you manage that little irony.
MILES: I dunno. I guess the powers-that-be have a sense of humor.
Chuckle then awkward silence.
MILES: It’s been really nice out lately.
MAY: I know! Sunny and warm—
MILES: --highs in the high-70’s and lows in the mid-60s.
MAY: And a nice breeze to boot.
MILES: Yeah, it’s good picnic weather.
MAY: Oh I love picnics!
MILES: I know. Remember that black and white checkerboard quilt we had?
MAY: Yeah. I think I still have it actually.
MILES: Really? Today would be a perfect day to use it.
MAY: Mhmm.
More silence and then May abruptly stops.
MAY: Fuck.
Miles just stares. May stares blankly at the elephant table.
MAY: Look at us, doing laundry like we’ve been doing it together all our pathetic lives. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. (beat) Look, I’m sorry, can we just…here I’ll just finish ironing this.
MILES: It’s cool. Yeah, don’t worry about it. Here, let’s start over.
MAY: (raising eyebrows) We’ve already covered the weather…
MILES: True. We can talk about normal things though, right? We can still do that.
MAY: Yeah definitely.
Awkward silence.
MILES: So…What’s your fiancé like?
MAY: (laughs pathetically) He’s…nice. He’s from Boston. Big Red Sox fan.
MILES: Wait. How does that even work? You’re a die-hard Yankees girl!
MAY: Hah yeah, well I’m working on converting him. Don’t worry. (sets the iron aside) Ok, this is done.
MILES: Great, thanks.
She gives him the shirt, and as his hand brushes his, she grabs it. They are standing close together. They both look at the ring on her finger, which is intertwined with his.
MAY: (pleading, almost in tears) Give me a reason. Give me any reason, Miles.
The dryer buzzes. Miles breaks off.
MILES: It’s done.
Miles goes to unload the machine, and May tries to compose herself.
MILES: (Deliberately avoiding her gaze) I’m going to get a basket.
Miles walks out with the bunch of laundry in his arms.
May stares at the door for a second or two and then takes the elephant table and makes a motion to throw it, but since the room is so small, he resorts to kicking it so it falls down. She slides down the wall and sits there for another second or two. She takes off her ring, she gets up quickly, walks decisively towards the door, opens it wide, and runs into Miles, knocking the laundry out of the basket and the ring out of her hand. They both scramble to the floor to pick up the mess.
MILES: Oh--Sorry!
MILES: Sorry—no it was my fault!
Miles picks up a shirt and uncovers the elephant table.
MAY: Sorry.
MILES: It’s okay.
MAY: Okay. (beat) I’m going to go. Please don’t follow me. I can’t—I just can’t do this—not now.
MILES: Okay.
Miles grabs her hand. They both look at the ringless finger. Miles kisses it and lets go.
MAY: I have to go.
MILES: Okay.
May leaves and shuts the door behind her, leaving Miles in the laundry room by himself. He picks up the elephant table, props the newspaper there, and resumes ironing.
MILES: Okay.
Draft 1
A Ten-Minute Play by Lara Ortiz-Luis
CHARACTERS
MILES
MAY
Miles stands in the corner of the laundry room, reading a newspaper propped up on a table shaped like a elephant. He is also ironing simultaneously. There is a quiet hum and low rumble of the laundry machine. May opens the door.
MAY: Um, hello? ‘scuse me, but when are you going to be done…ish?
MILES: Probably another five to ten min--(Pops his head out from behind the newspaper, does a double take and stares) May?
MAY: Miles?
The two walk towards each other to hug, but awkwardly have to move around the elephant table and ironing board. Miles lowers the elephant table and they hug over it. They break apart—the elephant table still between them.
MILES: Hey! So how’ve you been?
MAY: Good! Good. Yeah, you know.
MILES: Yeah! Yeah. (beat) Right, so I’ll probably be done in five or ten minutes—depending how long this ironing takes me.
MAY: Right, I remember you were always rubbish at that. (beat) So how long have you been back?
MILES: Oh, you know, a couple of weeks now.
MAY: Really.
MILES: (fidgets with the elephant table and folds the paper) Yeah, well you know, I came back early from this study abroad thing, so now I have some added weeks of summer.
MAY: You went abroad? I never would’ve thought that you, Miles Luke Madison would go abroad. Where to?
MILES: Ha, yeah. I did a semester in Barcelona.
MAY: Oh. (looks suddenly forlorn and reminiscent)
MILES: Yeah…well it seemed like a good, um, program. Good use of…language… especially, Spanish…and well not really since they speak Catalan…
MAY: Right. Right.
The laundry machine starts making a strange popping noise. Miles takes the elephant table and whacks it a couple of times until it goes back to normal.
MAY: (Snapping out of her reverie and laughing) So that’s what you use my elephant for now?
MILES: (Chuckles awkwardly) Yeah, well no, I use it to hold my newspaper or sometimes a cup of coffee if I can balance it.
MAY: Yeah, that was a stupid investment. Who would need an elephant in their bedroom anyway? Wait, do you just haul it around when you do laundry now?
MILES: Well, yeah, I mean, it’s light enough, and I can wedge my book right between the humps…so I can read while ironing. Comes in handy.
MAY: Mmhmm.
(beat)
MILES: So uh, what’s new with you? Any exciting stuff happen lately?
May holds her left finger up. It has a very sparkly ring on it.
MILES: Oh wow.
MAY: (Looks pained for a second and then smiles) Yeah. He’s great. A doctor. Who knew, eh?
MILES: Yeah. (beat) So when’s the big day?
MAY: Next month, actually.
MILES: (Smiles sadly) June. I remember you always wanted to get married near your birthday so you could—
MILES and MAY (together): --just celebrate both in one fell swoop.
MILES: (laughs) You haven’t changed a bit.
MAY: You, too. (beat) Yeah, so I’ll just come back in five to ten minutes. If you finish before I come back, well, it’s been...
MILES: …peachy.
MAY: Haha, yes quite peachy. Classic Miles. Well, bye.
MILES: Bye.
May walks out and closes the door behind her. Miles resumes ironing, but realizes he needs more water for the iron. He walks out the door into the kitchen and walks out the door.
May walks back in, expecting Miles to be there. She sees the elephant table and touches it. Miles enters, closing the door behind him.
MILES: You, uh, forget something?
MAY: No.
(beat)
MILES: Uh, so I’ll just get back to—
Miles starts to resume ironing.
MAY: It kind of hurt, you know.
MILES: I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.
MAY: I’m not stupid Miles. You and I both know that you choosing Barcelona is not without meaning.
MILES: Your reading into this way too much.
MAY: (Starting to get a little more indignant) Am I? Seriously, Miles.
MILES: We’ve done this already.
MAY: Oh, yeah, okay, we’ve done it all already, haven’t we Miles? You honestly don’t even have the right to take that tone of nonchalant bullshit. No right at all. You owe this to me.
Miles just keeps ironing. May tries to catch his eye.
MAY: (softer) I had to. You know I had to.
MILES: No, you didn’t. We could’ve done it. We could’ve--
MAY: --Stop it! You’re not fucking Hemingway! You can’t just talk in fucking ambiguities like that and expect it to be dripping with absinthe-filled meaning.
Miles just keeps ironing, keeping calm. He props the iron, holds the elephant table for a little support, and looks up at May.
MILES: One and for freaking all, let’s just call out the big white elephant that no one wants to acknowledge. (Points to the corner) It’s standing there. (beat) God, you really want to know why I left?
MAY: Because—
MILES: No, shut up for a second. I left because of the fucking white elephant in the room that neither of us would talk about. We became so estranged and so forced.
MAY: Miles, what did you expect? Did you think everything would go back to being just “peachy?” Of course it was going to be hard for a while. But it was just a bump in the road. We could’ve gotten over it you know. May and Miles, remember?
MILES: (laughs softly) Yeah. We may have gone for miles.
MAY: Bad pun. Veerrrry bad pun.
They laugh. Miles burns himself with the iron.
MAY: (Playfully) God, you’re useless. Here, let me do it.
May cuts around the elephant table and inches herself between Miles and the ironing board. Miles smells her hair, and then quickly snaps himself out of it. He starts folding clothes.
MILES: So--
MAY: --Yeah, no, I’m sorry, can we just start over.
MILES: Yeah that sounds good.
MAY: So, you seeing anyone?
MILES: Yeah. Her name is April.
MAY: You’re joking. How’d you manage that little irony.
MILES: I dunno. I guess the powers-that-be have a sense of humor.
Chuckle then awkward silence.
MILES: It’s been really nice out lately.
MAY: I know! Sunny and warm—
MILES: --highs in the high-70’s and lows in the mid-60s.
MAY: And a nice breeze to boot.
MILES: Yeah, it’s good picnic weather.
MAY: Oh I love picnics!
MILES: I know. Remember that black and white checkerboard quilt we had?
MAY: Yeah. I think I still have it actually.
MILES: Really? Today would be a perfect day to use it.
MAY: Mhmm.
More silence and then May abruptly stops.
MAY: Fuck.
Miles just stares. May stares blankly at the elephant table.
MAY: Look at us, doing laundry like we’ve been doing it together all our pathetic lives. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. (beat) Look, I’m sorry, can we just…here I’ll just finish ironing this.
MILES: It’s cool. Yeah, don’t worry about it. Here, let’s start over.
MAY: (raising eyebrows) We’ve already covered the weather…
MILES: True. We can talk about normal things though, right? We can still do that.
MAY: Yeah definitely.
Awkward silence.
MILES: So…What’s your fiancé like?
MAY: (laughs pathetically) He’s…nice. He’s from Boston. Big Red Sox fan.
MILES: Wait. How does that even work? You’re a die-hard Yankees girl!
MAY: Hah yeah, well I’m working on converting him. Don’t worry. (sets the iron aside) Ok, this is done.
MILES: Great, thanks.
She gives him the shirt, and as his hand brushes his, she grabs it. They are standing close together. They both look at the ring on her finger, which is intertwined with his.
MAY: (pleading, almost in tears) Give me a reason. Give me any reason, Miles.
The dryer buzzes. Miles breaks off.
MILES: It’s done.
Miles goes to unload the machine, and May tries to compose herself.
MILES: (Deliberately avoiding her gaze) I’m going to get a basket.
Miles walks out with the bunch of laundry in his arms.
May stares at the door for a second or two and then takes the elephant table and makes a motion to throw it, but since the room is so small, he resorts to kicking it so it falls down. She slides down the wall and sits there for another second or two. She takes off her ring, she gets up quickly, walks decisively towards the door, opens it wide, and runs into Miles, knocking the laundry out of the basket and the ring out of her hand. They both scramble to the floor to pick up the mess.
MILES: Oh--Sorry!
MILES: Sorry—no it was my fault!
Miles picks up a shirt and uncovers the elephant table.
MAY: Sorry.
MILES: It’s okay.
MAY: Okay. (beat) I’m going to go. Please don’t follow me. I can’t—I just can’t do this—not now.
MILES: Okay.
Miles grabs her hand. They both look at the ringless finger. Miles kisses it and lets go.
MAY: I have to go.
MILES: Okay.
May leaves and shuts the door behind her, leaving Miles in the laundry room by himself. He picks up the elephant table, props the newspaper there, and resumes ironing.
MILES: Okay.
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