She used to work here
And I used to work there
And that was our good standing
Left on a ledge
In the middle of a Fall
19-ninety-something
What do I remember?
Why is that so hard to ask?
I'm convinced I know it all
But my heart's so big
And my life's so small
Things get lost
Things get lost
All I know is who moved where last year
And who broke up
And who got caught
Who turned forty
Who died young
All the people
I don't talk to anymore
Maybe we've lived here too long
When nostalgia's our only blanket
Maybe we're too damn sentimental
When we cry at funny movies
'Cause this one reminds us of this one
Reminds us of this one
Reminds us of that one
Reminds me of this one
Fire escapes were patios
And packing crates were sofas
A lot of broke folks
And knock knock jokes
Then along came cold December
Oh I'm sorry you can't live here
Nobody's lived here for a million years
You gotta go
I don't know where
Where do we keep the young these days?
In a glass half full
Or a broken maze?
I remember when
Time would fix us
I remember when
Time could heal things
I remember when
Give it six months
And it'll go away
And nothing else will happen
Nothing else will happen
You can stay in stasis mode
Watch your tv
Eat mac and cheese
Mom and Dad'll take care of me
Your favorite show has
Pretty people
The angst was all that you could take
Your bed was all that you could make
You caved and left for
San Francisco
Maybe we're just old...
Shoulda got cancelled awhile ago
Maybe we can't see...
Our parents said the same damn thing themselves
Maybe we can't stay...
Much as we want to, much as we want to
I miss my old corduroy overalls
And my stupid job
And my favorite girls
The down-the-street kind
That'd always visit
Maybe we're fine
Maybe we're tough
Maybe it's right to stick it out
Or maybe we've lived here
Too long
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Our Friggin' Christmas Photo
Another year
Another friggin' family Christmas photo
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Get your finger out of your nose
We're sending this to all the relatives
Who have more money than we do
You want them to think you're stupid
Like your Uncle Stu
Who dressed up like Santa
Then went down the wrong chimney
The Tanenberg's daughter
Is still in therapy because of that
Put on the santa hat I bought you
And the elf ears
And the little pointy shoes
And get that sign around your neck that says--
'I Have the Best Mother in the World'
You know how many rhinestones it took
To make that sign?
Excuse me, Mr. Photographer
But could you use one of those mild-angle lens?
I've been doing a lot of stress-eating this month
And I don't want it to show
I put in the family newsletter
That I'm back to my goal weight
Of 103
But that was after the flu
And before Benny's big role
In his school play--
'Frosty Goes to Washington'
He played a wheat lobbyist
And we had to do a lot of character work
Involving bagels
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Stop picking your teeth
With your elf ear!
That's not what it's for!
I have toothpicks in my purse
Next to the taser
Under the copy of Us Weekly
Use those
You know what, Mr. Photographer?
I don't even know why I bother
Getting this picture done every year
It just makes me want to slap everybody
And then go eat a plate of cream cheese
Sure, sure, I'll look at the one you just took
But I know my eyes were closed in that one and I...
...Ohhh look how nice everybody looks
And Benny, he's getting so big
He must have grown a whole foot since last year's photo
You know, I get all friggin' crazy
Every year
Dressing everybody up
And snapping pictures
And making sure the house is clean
So that when my mother-in-law shows up
She doesn't ask me if I want to be submitted to that show 'Hoarders'
And I forget that it's not about how things look
It's about how everybody feels
Making sure everybody's happy and safe and comfortable
And loved, you know?
Aw, geez
Now I'm all teared up
Look what you did
Tell you what
Give me the Gold package
I want as many photos of this as possible
You can't put a price on family
They're precious and--
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy stop poking your sister with your elf shoe!
God, who knows how many more years
I'm going to get to say that?
Another friggin' family Christmas photo
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Get your finger out of your nose
We're sending this to all the relatives
Who have more money than we do
You want them to think you're stupid
Like your Uncle Stu
Who dressed up like Santa
Then went down the wrong chimney
The Tanenberg's daughter
Is still in therapy because of that
Put on the santa hat I bought you
And the elf ears
And the little pointy shoes
And get that sign around your neck that says--
'I Have the Best Mother in the World'
You know how many rhinestones it took
To make that sign?
Excuse me, Mr. Photographer
But could you use one of those mild-angle lens?
I've been doing a lot of stress-eating this month
And I don't want it to show
I put in the family newsletter
That I'm back to my goal weight
Of 103
But that was after the flu
And before Benny's big role
In his school play--
'Frosty Goes to Washington'
He played a wheat lobbyist
And we had to do a lot of character work
Involving bagels
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Stop picking your teeth
With your elf ear!
That's not what it's for!
I have toothpicks in my purse
Next to the taser
Under the copy of Us Weekly
Use those
You know what, Mr. Photographer?
I don't even know why I bother
Getting this picture done every year
It just makes me want to slap everybody
And then go eat a plate of cream cheese
Sure, sure, I'll look at the one you just took
But I know my eyes were closed in that one and I...
...Ohhh look how nice everybody looks
And Benny, he's getting so big
He must have grown a whole foot since last year's photo
You know, I get all friggin' crazy
Every year
Dressing everybody up
And snapping pictures
And making sure the house is clean
So that when my mother-in-law shows up
She doesn't ask me if I want to be submitted to that show 'Hoarders'
And I forget that it's not about how things look
It's about how everybody feels
Making sure everybody's happy and safe and comfortable
And loved, you know?
Aw, geez
Now I'm all teared up
Look what you did
Tell you what
Give me the Gold package
I want as many photos of this as possible
You can't put a price on family
They're precious and--
Bennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy stop poking your sister with your elf shoe!
God, who knows how many more years
I'm going to get to say that?
Monday, December 17, 2012
It's Still Christmas, Tony Hooper
Hi, my name is Tony Hooper
And this is my report
About Christmas 2012 entitled--
"A Hard Year to Celebrate"
or
"It's Still Christmas, Dammit"
Please excuse my English
I guess I'm supposed to say 'Excuse my French'
But I know what 'Dammit' means
So it can't be in French
First of all, this has been a real tough year for a lot of people
Lots of fighting and bullying and name-calling
And that's just the elections!
(Harry! Hit the drum! Hit the drum, Harry! Ugh, never mind)
But seriously, folks
Things seem pretty bad nowadays
And so a lot of people I know
Just aren't in the Christmas spirit
That's my first of all
Second of all, my friend Fat Pants said that he doesn't even want to celebrate Christmas this year
Because his dad doesn't have a job anymore
So he won't be getting as many presents as last year
Then my friend Tony Mars said his grandma is real sick
So he doesn't feel like celebrating
My friend Faith's parents are fighting for her custard
Right now her mom only gets half the custard
And her dad wants the other half
I don't know how much custard they're letting Faith have
But you'd think the grown-ups would learn to do what's best for the kid
Faith said, 'Why should we celebrate Christmas? Christmas is for happy people.'
But I stood up and said 'That's not true at all!'
I probably should have waited until the math test was over
But some things are more important than fractions
I asked the teacher if I could take everyone on an impromptu field trip
And because our fifth grade teacher has been kind of sad
What with everything going on in the world
He said, 'Sure, why not?'
So I took the whole class to the library
And asked for a book about Christmas
I found what I was looking for in the first few pages:
A picture of the manger scene
With Jesus and Mary and the wise men
And that cow who always looks bored
'Listen everybody,' I said, 'I'm not much of a historian, and my parents only take me to church when the lottery's over twenty million and my mom's bought a box full of tickets, but I do know this: This picture doesn't have a bunch of happy people in it. These people aren't winners. They're not cool. They're poor and they're tired and they're stuck in some barn and now they have a baby to take care of and he's supposed to be God's kid but nobody really believes that except the three guys who brought gifts you can't even eat because they think some angel told them so andisitjustmeordoesthatcowlookreallybored?'
Sorry, sometimes I get distracted
'Christmas isn't about celebrating how rich you are or how everything's going great for you or how amazing the whole year's been. Christmas is about looking around and saying "Things'll get better" or "At least I have what I have" or "This hay is actually sort of comfortable as long as you stack it right." It's not about this year. It's about next year. About all the great things that could happen. That's why, no matter what's going on in the world, you can always celebrate Christmas. Because it's all about what's possible.'
When we got back to the classroom
To finish our math tests
My teacher called me up to the front of the room
And wrote an 'A' on my math test
'Mr. McStevens,' I said, 'I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I'm pretty sure I didn't get an "A" on this test.'
My teacher looked around the room
To make sure nobody was listening
And then he said--
'The "A" is because you're awesome, Tony Hooper. Merry Christmas'
And that's how I aced my fractions test
And if that isn't a Christmas miracle
I don't know what is
And this is my report
About Christmas 2012 entitled--
"A Hard Year to Celebrate"
or
"It's Still Christmas, Dammit"
Please excuse my English
I guess I'm supposed to say 'Excuse my French'
But I know what 'Dammit' means
So it can't be in French
First of all, this has been a real tough year for a lot of people
Lots of fighting and bullying and name-calling
And that's just the elections!
(Harry! Hit the drum! Hit the drum, Harry! Ugh, never mind)
But seriously, folks
Things seem pretty bad nowadays
And so a lot of people I know
Just aren't in the Christmas spirit
That's my first of all
Second of all, my friend Fat Pants said that he doesn't even want to celebrate Christmas this year
Because his dad doesn't have a job anymore
So he won't be getting as many presents as last year
Then my friend Tony Mars said his grandma is real sick
So he doesn't feel like celebrating
My friend Faith's parents are fighting for her custard
Right now her mom only gets half the custard
And her dad wants the other half
I don't know how much custard they're letting Faith have
But you'd think the grown-ups would learn to do what's best for the kid
Faith said, 'Why should we celebrate Christmas? Christmas is for happy people.'
But I stood up and said 'That's not true at all!'
I probably should have waited until the math test was over
But some things are more important than fractions
I asked the teacher if I could take everyone on an impromptu field trip
And because our fifth grade teacher has been kind of sad
What with everything going on in the world
He said, 'Sure, why not?'
So I took the whole class to the library
And asked for a book about Christmas
I found what I was looking for in the first few pages:
A picture of the manger scene
With Jesus and Mary and the wise men
And that cow who always looks bored
'Listen everybody,' I said, 'I'm not much of a historian, and my parents only take me to church when the lottery's over twenty million and my mom's bought a box full of tickets, but I do know this: This picture doesn't have a bunch of happy people in it. These people aren't winners. They're not cool. They're poor and they're tired and they're stuck in some barn and now they have a baby to take care of and he's supposed to be God's kid but nobody really believes that except the three guys who brought gifts you can't even eat because they think some angel told them so andisitjustmeordoesthatcowlookreallybored?'
Sorry, sometimes I get distracted
'Christmas isn't about celebrating how rich you are or how everything's going great for you or how amazing the whole year's been. Christmas is about looking around and saying "Things'll get better" or "At least I have what I have" or "This hay is actually sort of comfortable as long as you stack it right." It's not about this year. It's about next year. About all the great things that could happen. That's why, no matter what's going on in the world, you can always celebrate Christmas. Because it's all about what's possible.'
When we got back to the classroom
To finish our math tests
My teacher called me up to the front of the room
And wrote an 'A' on my math test
'Mr. McStevens,' I said, 'I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I'm pretty sure I didn't get an "A" on this test.'
My teacher looked around the room
To make sure nobody was listening
And then he said--
'The "A" is because you're awesome, Tony Hooper. Merry Christmas'
And that's how I aced my fractions test
And if that isn't a Christmas miracle
I don't know what is
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Let's Associate
Tom
Laura
-- A bedroom . They sit on the bed, cross-legged, facing each other. --
Laura: You're doing it wrong.
Tom: How do you know?
Laura: You're thinking about it.
Tom: Yeah, so?
Laura: You're not supposed to think.
Tom: You have to think.
Laura: Not that much.
Tom: How much are you supposed to think.
Laura: Just enough to get the word. Let your self-conscious do the work.
Tom: And what do we learn from this?
Laura: Things. We learn things. Deep, subconscious things that we'd never learn if we, you know--
Tom: Talked like normal human beings?
Laura: Exactly.
Tom: Okay. Fine.
Laura: You ready?
Tom: Ready.
Laura: Walnut.
Tom: What?
Laura: Walnut.
Tom: Laura--
Laura: What?
Tom: Walnut?
Laura: Yeah, walnut.
Tom: What am I supposed to do with walnut?
Laura: It's not a toy, Tom. You don't play with it. You respond to it. It's a word.
Tom: Walnut?
Laura: Well, now I have to pick another one because you've been thinking--
Tom: No, I want to do walnut. You gave me walnut. Let me do that one before you give me another one.
Laura: Okay, fine--walnut.
Tom: Allergy.
Laura: Oh my God.
Tom: What?
Laura: You have a nut allergy.
Tom: Exactly.
Laura: So don't say allergy because you have a nut allergy. A walnut isn't even a nut.
Tom: It isn't?
Laura: No.
Tom: I think it is.
Laura: It's a--a--something else.
Tom: You're thinking of a pecan.
Laura: No, I think a pecan IS a nut.
Tom: But a walnut isn't?
Laura: That's why it's so--okay, too much. Too much thinking.
Tom: I wasn't think. You said 'nut,' I said 'allergy.'
Laura: Try to disassociate.
Tom: Disassociate?
Laura: So that you can come up with something interesting.
Tom: But we're doing word associations.
Laura: But I'm trying to learn new things about you. I already know you're allergic to nuts.
Tom: Fine. Give me another one.
Laura: Brisbane.
Tom: What?
Laura: Sorry.
Tom: Isn't that in Australia?
Laura: I wasn't thinking.
Tom: So you were doing it right?
Laura: No.
Tom: You were doing it right and you came up with Brisbane?
Laura: No, I was doing it wrong. I'm supposed to think. You're not supposed to think.
Tom: Well, let me give you a word then. I'm better at thinking.
Laura: You can give me a word after you do it right.
Tom: Well, why don't you demonstrate to me how to do it right?
Laura: Okay, give me a word.
Tom: Pop.
Laura: No.
Tom: 'No''s your word?
Laura: No, I mean, give me another word. 'Pop' is stupid.
Tom: Why is it stupid?
Laura: What am I going to do with 'pop?'
Tom: What was I supposed to do with 'walnut?'
Laura: Never mind. Just give me another one.
Tom: No, do 'pop' then I'll give you another one.
Laura: Fine.
Tom: Pop.
Laura: Stupid.
Tom: No--
Laura: That's my word. Stupid. I hear 'pop' and the first thing I think of is 'stupid.'
Tom: I don't want to play anymore.
Laura: We're not playing. This is a deep, personal, psychological exercise. Now give me another word.
Tom: Snap.
Laura: Stupid.
Tom: Ugh!
Laura: One more!
Tom: Melbourne!
Laura: I give up.
The End
Laura
-- A bedroom . They sit on the bed, cross-legged, facing each other. --
Laura: You're doing it wrong.
Tom: How do you know?
Laura: You're thinking about it.
Tom: Yeah, so?
Laura: You're not supposed to think.
Tom: You have to think.
Laura: Not that much.
Tom: How much are you supposed to think.
Laura: Just enough to get the word. Let your self-conscious do the work.
Tom: And what do we learn from this?
Laura: Things. We learn things. Deep, subconscious things that we'd never learn if we, you know--
Tom: Talked like normal human beings?
Laura: Exactly.
Tom: Okay. Fine.
Laura: You ready?
Tom: Ready.
Laura: Walnut.
Tom: What?
Laura: Walnut.
Tom: Laura--
Laura: What?
Tom: Walnut?
Laura: Yeah, walnut.
Tom: What am I supposed to do with walnut?
Laura: It's not a toy, Tom. You don't play with it. You respond to it. It's a word.
Tom: Walnut?
Laura: Well, now I have to pick another one because you've been thinking--
Tom: No, I want to do walnut. You gave me walnut. Let me do that one before you give me another one.
Laura: Okay, fine--walnut.
Tom: Allergy.
Laura: Oh my God.
Tom: What?
Laura: You have a nut allergy.
Tom: Exactly.
Laura: So don't say allergy because you have a nut allergy. A walnut isn't even a nut.
Tom: It isn't?
Laura: No.
Tom: I think it is.
Laura: It's a--a--something else.
Tom: You're thinking of a pecan.
Laura: No, I think a pecan IS a nut.
Tom: But a walnut isn't?
Laura: That's why it's so--okay, too much. Too much thinking.
Tom: I wasn't think. You said 'nut,' I said 'allergy.'
Laura: Try to disassociate.
Tom: Disassociate?
Laura: So that you can come up with something interesting.
Tom: But we're doing word associations.
Laura: But I'm trying to learn new things about you. I already know you're allergic to nuts.
Tom: Fine. Give me another one.
Laura: Brisbane.
Tom: What?
Laura: Sorry.
Tom: Isn't that in Australia?
Laura: I wasn't thinking.
Tom: So you were doing it right?
Laura: No.
Tom: You were doing it right and you came up with Brisbane?
Laura: No, I was doing it wrong. I'm supposed to think. You're not supposed to think.
Tom: Well, let me give you a word then. I'm better at thinking.
Laura: You can give me a word after you do it right.
Tom: Well, why don't you demonstrate to me how to do it right?
Laura: Okay, give me a word.
Tom: Pop.
Laura: No.
Tom: 'No''s your word?
Laura: No, I mean, give me another word. 'Pop' is stupid.
Tom: Why is it stupid?
Laura: What am I going to do with 'pop?'
Tom: What was I supposed to do with 'walnut?'
Laura: Never mind. Just give me another one.
Tom: No, do 'pop' then I'll give you another one.
Laura: Fine.
Tom: Pop.
Laura: Stupid.
Tom: No--
Laura: That's my word. Stupid. I hear 'pop' and the first thing I think of is 'stupid.'
Tom: I don't want to play anymore.
Laura: We're not playing. This is a deep, personal, psychological exercise. Now give me another word.
Tom: Snap.
Laura: Stupid.
Tom: Ugh!
Laura: One more!
Tom: Melbourne!
Laura: I give up.
The End
Friday, December 7, 2012
Why I Need an Assistant
-- Taylor's Office --
Taylor, thirty-something female writer
Scott, twenty-something unemployed male
Taylor: ...Which is why it's really crucial I get an assistant before the new year.
Scott: So, I'm sorry, but--I'm sort of--I haven't been around in awhile. I just did this graduate work overseas in Korea so--
Taylor: Which one?
Scott: I'm sorry?
Taylor: Which Korea?
Scott: Oh--South Korea. Obviously not North Korea. I don't think they even let people into North Korea.
Taylor: Is there anything to write about in South Korea?
Scott: Well, yes, things do happen in South Korea.
Taylor: See, this is why I need an assistant. I'm totally out-of-the-loop. I had no idea South Korea was worth visiting.
Scott: Well, it is if you happen to be studying South Korean infrastructures--
Taylor: I don't even know what an infrastructure is! My God, it's like you were sent here just for me!
Scott: Sent here to--
Taylor: Be my assistant! My primary assistant anyway. I'm sure I'm going to need another one for the three hours a day you're not able to be around.
Scott: I'm sorry--You're looking to hire someone twenty-one hours a day?
Taylor: Well, I'd prefer twenty-two, but I know people have to eat.
Scott: What I was getting around to asking you was--What exactly have you done?
Taylor: Done?
Scott: To, you know, merit getting an assistant. Like I said, I haven't been around and--
Taylor: Oh! Of course! How refreshing! That you don't know, I mean. Haha I wrote a book.
Scott: ...Okay.
Taylor: It won an award.
Scott: ...Okay.
Taylor: And now I need an assistant.
(A beat.)
Scott: Have you...written any other books?
Taylor: No--well, not yet. I'm thinking about Napoleon.
Scott: You're going to write a book about Napoleon?
Taylor: No, but I'm thinking about him. My next book will probably be about my mother dying of a terminal disease. But she doesn't have a terminal disease yet, so I'm just sort of waiting on that. I keep telling her to stop eating potatoes.
Scott: I don't--
Taylor: Cancer--preventative--something. The point is, I need help. I can barely form sentences anymore. Pretty soon I'm going to have to start writing poetry!
Scott: What exactly would your assistant do? Answer phones?
Taylor: Well, yes, but--there's just one phone. My phone. You'd be answering my phone.
Scott: Like your personal phone? Like a cell phone?
Taylor: Exactly. I've written a book and it's won an award. It's very important that I'm never heard speaking on a phone again.
Scott: Wouldn't it be easier to just put a phone at my desk?
Taylor: Oh, you're not going to have a desk! Haha I mean where would I put it? I only have a one-bedroom apartment.
Scott: You mean this isn't your office?
Taylor: Nooo this is the law office of the guy who broke up with me yesterday. I stole his keys in a moment of passion. Us crazy artists haha we probably shouldn't stay here too long.
Scott: You stole keys to a law office? That's crazy!
Taylor: See! This is why it's vital that I hire you! I need someone to save me from myself.
Scott: Then get a therapist or a life coach or a friend!
Taylor: I have all of those! Well, not the last one--not friends--at least, none whose husbands I haven't slept with.
Scott: Oh God.
Taylor: But my therapist won't make me coffee and my life coach won't make reservations for me at Le Dunne and my sister won't take credit for slashing my ex-boyfriend's tires--
Scott: The lawer?
Taylor: No, another one.
Scott: Ah.
Taylor: And none of my friends will write my next book for me.
Scott: Uh, I don't think you're going to be able to find an assistant willing to write an entire book for me, let alone give you credit for whatever they come up with.
Taylor: What if it was just a short story? Just something I can send to the New Yorker to tide everybody over until my mother comes down with malaria.
Scott: Look, I don't feel entirely comfortable saying this to you because I'm pretty sure you're unstable and might kill me, but...I don't think you need an assistant.
Taylor: Maybe I wasn't clear before--I wrote a book.
Scott: I understand that.
Taylor: It was a big book too. It was well over eighty pages.
Scott: How many pages was it?
Taylor: Eighty-seven.
Scott: That's not really 'well over' eighty, and it's also not a book. It's a novella.
Taylor: Wait, there's a difference between a novel and a novella?
Scott: Yes, that's why they use different words to--
Taylor: THIS IS WHY I NEED YOU!
Scott: What award did they give you?
Taylor: Oh, I don't like to go around bragging, but I will say it was given to me at a private function where roast duck was served and John Updike was one of the presenters.
Scott: John Updike's dead.
Taylor: Then maybe it was Norman Mailer.
Scott: He's dead too.
Taylor: John Irving?
Scott: He's still alive.
Taylor: Then let's go with him.
Scott: Look, even writing a book and winning an award for it doesn't necessitate an assistant.
Taylor: But if you work with me I'll help you write your book about South Korea! The intrigue, the romance, the orphans!
Scott: What orphans?
Taylor: Scott, this could be your chance. You could be the next me!
Scott: But you're nobody!
Taylor: But one day I'll be somebody and when I am, I will graciously step to the side and allow you to be almost as good as me.
Scott: I'm leaving.
Taylor: That's a good idea. Elliot's maid must have found him tied to the bed by now.
Scott: What?
Taylor: You don't happen to own a car, do you? I hate taking the subway at this time of day.
Scott: Just out of curiosity, what was your book about?
Taylor: It was sort of an autobiography about my childhood. How I became who I am today.
Scott: Well, believe it or not, that's actually something I'd be interested in reading.
The End
Taylor, thirty-something female writer
Scott, twenty-something unemployed male
Taylor: ...Which is why it's really crucial I get an assistant before the new year.
Scott: So, I'm sorry, but--I'm sort of--I haven't been around in awhile. I just did this graduate work overseas in Korea so--
Taylor: Which one?
Scott: I'm sorry?
Taylor: Which Korea?
Scott: Oh--South Korea. Obviously not North Korea. I don't think they even let people into North Korea.
Taylor: Is there anything to write about in South Korea?
Scott: Well, yes, things do happen in South Korea.
Taylor: See, this is why I need an assistant. I'm totally out-of-the-loop. I had no idea South Korea was worth visiting.
Scott: Well, it is if you happen to be studying South Korean infrastructures--
Taylor: I don't even know what an infrastructure is! My God, it's like you were sent here just for me!
Scott: Sent here to--
Taylor: Be my assistant! My primary assistant anyway. I'm sure I'm going to need another one for the three hours a day you're not able to be around.
Scott: I'm sorry--You're looking to hire someone twenty-one hours a day?
Taylor: Well, I'd prefer twenty-two, but I know people have to eat.
Scott: What I was getting around to asking you was--What exactly have you done?
Taylor: Done?
Scott: To, you know, merit getting an assistant. Like I said, I haven't been around and--
Taylor: Oh! Of course! How refreshing! That you don't know, I mean. Haha I wrote a book.
Scott: ...Okay.
Taylor: It won an award.
Scott: ...Okay.
Taylor: And now I need an assistant.
(A beat.)
Scott: Have you...written any other books?
Taylor: No--well, not yet. I'm thinking about Napoleon.
Scott: You're going to write a book about Napoleon?
Taylor: No, but I'm thinking about him. My next book will probably be about my mother dying of a terminal disease. But she doesn't have a terminal disease yet, so I'm just sort of waiting on that. I keep telling her to stop eating potatoes.
Scott: I don't--
Taylor: Cancer--preventative--something. The point is, I need help. I can barely form sentences anymore. Pretty soon I'm going to have to start writing poetry!
Scott: What exactly would your assistant do? Answer phones?
Taylor: Well, yes, but--there's just one phone. My phone. You'd be answering my phone.
Scott: Like your personal phone? Like a cell phone?
Taylor: Exactly. I've written a book and it's won an award. It's very important that I'm never heard speaking on a phone again.
Scott: Wouldn't it be easier to just put a phone at my desk?
Taylor: Oh, you're not going to have a desk! Haha I mean where would I put it? I only have a one-bedroom apartment.
Scott: You mean this isn't your office?
Taylor: Nooo this is the law office of the guy who broke up with me yesterday. I stole his keys in a moment of passion. Us crazy artists haha we probably shouldn't stay here too long.
Scott: You stole keys to a law office? That's crazy!
Taylor: See! This is why it's vital that I hire you! I need someone to save me from myself.
Scott: Then get a therapist or a life coach or a friend!
Taylor: I have all of those! Well, not the last one--not friends--at least, none whose husbands I haven't slept with.
Scott: Oh God.
Taylor: But my therapist won't make me coffee and my life coach won't make reservations for me at Le Dunne and my sister won't take credit for slashing my ex-boyfriend's tires--
Scott: The lawer?
Taylor: No, another one.
Scott: Ah.
Taylor: And none of my friends will write my next book for me.
Scott: Uh, I don't think you're going to be able to find an assistant willing to write an entire book for me, let alone give you credit for whatever they come up with.
Taylor: What if it was just a short story? Just something I can send to the New Yorker to tide everybody over until my mother comes down with malaria.
Scott: Look, I don't feel entirely comfortable saying this to you because I'm pretty sure you're unstable and might kill me, but...I don't think you need an assistant.
Taylor: Maybe I wasn't clear before--I wrote a book.
Scott: I understand that.
Taylor: It was a big book too. It was well over eighty pages.
Scott: How many pages was it?
Taylor: Eighty-seven.
Scott: That's not really 'well over' eighty, and it's also not a book. It's a novella.
Taylor: Wait, there's a difference between a novel and a novella?
Scott: Yes, that's why they use different words to--
Taylor: THIS IS WHY I NEED YOU!
Scott: What award did they give you?
Taylor: Oh, I don't like to go around bragging, but I will say it was given to me at a private function where roast duck was served and John Updike was one of the presenters.
Scott: John Updike's dead.
Taylor: Then maybe it was Norman Mailer.
Scott: He's dead too.
Taylor: John Irving?
Scott: He's still alive.
Taylor: Then let's go with him.
Scott: Look, even writing a book and winning an award for it doesn't necessitate an assistant.
Taylor: But if you work with me I'll help you write your book about South Korea! The intrigue, the romance, the orphans!
Scott: What orphans?
Taylor: Scott, this could be your chance. You could be the next me!
Scott: But you're nobody!
Taylor: But one day I'll be somebody and when I am, I will graciously step to the side and allow you to be almost as good as me.
Scott: I'm leaving.
Taylor: That's a good idea. Elliot's maid must have found him tied to the bed by now.
Scott: What?
Taylor: You don't happen to own a car, do you? I hate taking the subway at this time of day.
Scott: Just out of curiosity, what was your book about?
Taylor: It was sort of an autobiography about my childhood. How I became who I am today.
Scott: Well, believe it or not, that's actually something I'd be interested in reading.
The End
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Molly Gets Fired
-- An office --
Gerald, The Boss
Molly, The Employee
Molly: I just don't understand this.
Gerald: I'm so sorry, Molly.
Molly: But you begged me to take this job.
Gerald: I know. I know I did.
Molly: I mean, you actually begged me, Gerald.
Gerald: Mr. Bronson.
Molly: What?
Gerald: I--
Molly: Oh. Oh! No! I'm not calling you Mr. Bronson! You're not letting me keep my job. Can I keep my job?
Gerald: No.
Molly: Then you're Gerald.
Gerald: Fair enough.
Molly: Unless you change your mind.
Gerald: That's not going to happen.
Molly: Gerald, you got on your knees.
Gerald: I know.
Molly: You were on your knees begging me to take this job. Do you remember that?
Gerald: Of course I remember it. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Molly: It was yesterday, Gerald. You hired me yesterday.
Gerald: But doesn't that seem like such a long time ago now, Molly?
Molly: Not really, Gerald. I haven't even unpacked at my desk yet. I don't even know where the break room is.
Gerald: It's better you don't see it. I'd hate for you to emotionally invest.
Molly: How can this be happening?
Gerald: Well, Molly, it turns out you're incompetent.
Molly: What?
Gerald: You're absolutely wrong for this job. It couldn't be more clear.
Molly: But you hired me!
Gerald: It was much clearer today than it was yesterday. Yesterday was a dark time for this company.
Molly: I know! That's why you said you needed me! You said I was a light that could guide the company out of the darkness!
Gerald: I couldn't have been more wrong.
Molly: Does that mean somebody's firing you?
Gerald: No, I'd have to fire me.
Molly: And do you plan on doing that?
Gerald: I'm going to give it a few days. I'd hate to do anything rash.
Molly: But you're firing me!
Gerald: Molly, we have to stop the bleeding. You're like an open wound. Somebody needs to shove salt in you.
Molly: Shoving salt into a wound only makes it worse!
Gerald: You can probably see why I hired you. I'm very bad at identifying effective solutions.
Molly: THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN CHARGE OF HIRING PEOPLE!
Gerald: But I hired me! And look how well I'm working out!
Molly: So what am I supposed to do now?
Gerald: I think it would be for the best if you just pretended you were never here. I know that's what we're going to do. Our studies show that a good number of people on your floor called out sick yesterday, and we're certain we can convince the other people that you were just a mirage.
Molly: I just can't believe that between yesterday and today you've gone from thinking I was a savior to thinking I'm completely worthless.
Gerald: Molly, I'm going to share something with you. Something personal. I'm currently on a lot of drugs--all prescription, legal, mostly, but still--I go in and out of what you might call--hazes. It's possible I was in one when I hired you and begged you on my knees to come work for this company. It's also possible I just wanted to sleep with you and now that I know you're married that seems so unlikely that I sort of just want you to go away.
Molly: I could sue you for this.
Gerald: Hahaha you wouldn't be the first.
Molly: How did those lawsuits work out?
Gerald: We, as a company, feel that if we just don't go to court, it'll all go away.
Molly: That's an awful idea.
Gerald: As I said, Molly, we're not the best with problem-solving.
Molly: Maybe it's better I'm being fired.
Gerald: There you go, Molly! Already looking on the bright side! With an attitude like that, I'm sorry I have let you go.
Molly: But you still are, right?
Gerald: Right. But try me again tomorrow. Who knows how I'll be feeling then.
(The End)
Gerald, The Boss
Molly, The Employee
Molly: I just don't understand this.
Gerald: I'm so sorry, Molly.
Molly: But you begged me to take this job.
Gerald: I know. I know I did.
Molly: I mean, you actually begged me, Gerald.
Gerald: Mr. Bronson.
Molly: What?
Gerald: I--
Molly: Oh. Oh! No! I'm not calling you Mr. Bronson! You're not letting me keep my job. Can I keep my job?
Gerald: No.
Molly: Then you're Gerald.
Gerald: Fair enough.
Molly: Unless you change your mind.
Gerald: That's not going to happen.
Molly: Gerald, you got on your knees.
Gerald: I know.
Molly: You were on your knees begging me to take this job. Do you remember that?
Gerald: Of course I remember it. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Molly: It was yesterday, Gerald. You hired me yesterday.
Gerald: But doesn't that seem like such a long time ago now, Molly?
Molly: Not really, Gerald. I haven't even unpacked at my desk yet. I don't even know where the break room is.
Gerald: It's better you don't see it. I'd hate for you to emotionally invest.
Molly: How can this be happening?
Gerald: Well, Molly, it turns out you're incompetent.
Molly: What?
Gerald: You're absolutely wrong for this job. It couldn't be more clear.
Molly: But you hired me!
Gerald: It was much clearer today than it was yesterday. Yesterday was a dark time for this company.
Molly: I know! That's why you said you needed me! You said I was a light that could guide the company out of the darkness!
Gerald: I couldn't have been more wrong.
Molly: Does that mean somebody's firing you?
Gerald: No, I'd have to fire me.
Molly: And do you plan on doing that?
Gerald: I'm going to give it a few days. I'd hate to do anything rash.
Molly: But you're firing me!
Gerald: Molly, we have to stop the bleeding. You're like an open wound. Somebody needs to shove salt in you.
Molly: Shoving salt into a wound only makes it worse!
Gerald: You can probably see why I hired you. I'm very bad at identifying effective solutions.
Molly: THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN CHARGE OF HIRING PEOPLE!
Gerald: But I hired me! And look how well I'm working out!
Molly: So what am I supposed to do now?
Gerald: I think it would be for the best if you just pretended you were never here. I know that's what we're going to do. Our studies show that a good number of people on your floor called out sick yesterday, and we're certain we can convince the other people that you were just a mirage.
Molly: I just can't believe that between yesterday and today you've gone from thinking I was a savior to thinking I'm completely worthless.
Gerald: Molly, I'm going to share something with you. Something personal. I'm currently on a lot of drugs--all prescription, legal, mostly, but still--I go in and out of what you might call--hazes. It's possible I was in one when I hired you and begged you on my knees to come work for this company. It's also possible I just wanted to sleep with you and now that I know you're married that seems so unlikely that I sort of just want you to go away.
Molly: I could sue you for this.
Gerald: Hahaha you wouldn't be the first.
Molly: How did those lawsuits work out?
Gerald: We, as a company, feel that if we just don't go to court, it'll all go away.
Molly: That's an awful idea.
Gerald: As I said, Molly, we're not the best with problem-solving.
Molly: Maybe it's better I'm being fired.
Gerald: There you go, Molly! Already looking on the bright side! With an attitude like that, I'm sorry I have let you go.
Molly: But you still are, right?
Gerald: Right. But try me again tomorrow. Who knows how I'll be feeling then.
(The End)
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
He'll Have a New Girl Tomorrow
What you have to understand about that guy
Is that he'll have a new girl tomorrow
If you take off
Not because he's attractive
But because he's a man
And there's always a woman for a man
And the reverse is not always true
And that's just something to consider
Because you're going to be all tied up in knots
When you think you've got the upper hand
And you find out somebody new's already moving in
To your old place
If you're going to make this about winning
I'm just letting you know
You're not going to win
Not unless you have some boy waiting in the wings
Ready to replace this one
If this is one of those break-ups
Where you're just trying to find yourself
And learn who you are without a man
Then good for you
But just know that he's not going to be doing the same
Once a man gets used to not having to iron
He's never going to iron
And he'll marry anything with a pulse
If she agrees to get the wrinkles out of his shirt
Every morning
You can't get upset about that kind of thing
It's just how men are
They're not resilient
They can't survive on their own
So God made sure that there would always be a woman there
Ready to swoop in and save a man from drowning
What you have to know is that he didn't make things the same way for us
Because we don't need anybody to save us
Because we're not drowning
Honey, if you walked out
Then that means some part of you was saying
You could swim if you could only kick the flailing guy off of you
So don't look back when some poor girl
Decides it's her time
To be the human life preserver and--
Dammit, now I'm all lost in the metaphor
Look, tomorrow he may wake up
And try ironing his own damn shirts
Or he may just go out
And find another version of you
To do it for him
And the important thing to remember is
It has nothing to do with you
From this moment on
The life of someone else
This life you shared with them?
That's over
You're on your own now
So he may have somebody else
But who cares, right?
Because it's not a contest
It's not about who finds someone else first
Or who gets to be happy first
And when they get there
Just how happy are they?
Doesn't matter at all
All that matters is
Remembering why you left
And feeling good knowing maybe you made it a little easier
For the next person who comes along
Is that he'll have a new girl tomorrow
If you take off
Not because he's attractive
But because he's a man
And there's always a woman for a man
And the reverse is not always true
And that's just something to consider
Because you're going to be all tied up in knots
When you think you've got the upper hand
And you find out somebody new's already moving in
To your old place
If you're going to make this about winning
I'm just letting you know
You're not going to win
Not unless you have some boy waiting in the wings
Ready to replace this one
If this is one of those break-ups
Where you're just trying to find yourself
And learn who you are without a man
Then good for you
But just know that he's not going to be doing the same
Once a man gets used to not having to iron
He's never going to iron
And he'll marry anything with a pulse
If she agrees to get the wrinkles out of his shirt
Every morning
You can't get upset about that kind of thing
It's just how men are
They're not resilient
They can't survive on their own
So God made sure that there would always be a woman there
Ready to swoop in and save a man from drowning
What you have to know is that he didn't make things the same way for us
Because we don't need anybody to save us
Because we're not drowning
Honey, if you walked out
Then that means some part of you was saying
You could swim if you could only kick the flailing guy off of you
So don't look back when some poor girl
Decides it's her time
To be the human life preserver and--
Dammit, now I'm all lost in the metaphor
Look, tomorrow he may wake up
And try ironing his own damn shirts
Or he may just go out
And find another version of you
To do it for him
And the important thing to remember is
It has nothing to do with you
From this moment on
The life of someone else
This life you shared with them?
That's over
You're on your own now
So he may have somebody else
But who cares, right?
Because it's not a contest
It's not about who finds someone else first
Or who gets to be happy first
And when they get there
Just how happy are they?
Doesn't matter at all
All that matters is
Remembering why you left
And feeling good knowing maybe you made it a little easier
For the next person who comes along
Monday, December 3, 2012
The Stolen Bike
You get your bike stolen
And suddenly your whole world view changes
Suddenly being eight-years-old
Is the same thing
As carrying all the weight of the world
Up on your shoulders
All I can think about is some other eight-year-old
Riding around on the red bike
That's rightfully mine
That I rightfully earned
By whining for a solid five hours one weekend
Until my mom broke down
And took me to the store
Right before it closed on Sunday night
I took the next two days out of school
Claiming botulism
And learned how to ride that bike all by myself
Using nothing but determination
And instructional Youtube videos
Then, after days of riding that bike after school
I connected to that inanimate object in a way
That only a Buddhist
Or a pure materialist could understand
The bike and I became one
I told my Dad about that
And he called me Peter Fonda
And I googled him
But all I know is that he was on drugs
So I think my Dad was saying 'Don't do drugs
Just keep riding that bike'
And now I can't
And that doesn't mean I'm going to do drugs
But one day I might
Because I'm now hardened to the world at large
I'd like to say that when I find out who did this
I'll forgive them
But first I'll probably have to beat them up a lot
And then show them mercy
And then beat them up some more
And then forgive them
Rage isn't something you can just throw away
Like the plastic baggie full of carrots
Your mom puts in your lunchbox
It grows on you like hair and mushrooms
And then you have to either cut it off or bury it in the mashed potatoes
And hope nobody notices
I miss that bike
The day it was taken
I lost a part of myself
The part that really liked
Having a bike
I may get that bike back
And I may like having it back
And then it might seem like everything's cool again
But in the back of my mind
I'll always remember this feeling right now
How mad and upset I am
And how I'm probably never going to see my bike again
And that means five more hours of whining
So I can get my Mom to bring me to the store
Before it closes
And it'll be hard to move on from all this
It's going to be something
I may never get over
And suddenly your whole world view changes
Suddenly being eight-years-old
Is the same thing
As carrying all the weight of the world
Up on your shoulders
All I can think about is some other eight-year-old
Riding around on the red bike
That's rightfully mine
That I rightfully earned
By whining for a solid five hours one weekend
Until my mom broke down
And took me to the store
Right before it closed on Sunday night
I took the next two days out of school
Claiming botulism
And learned how to ride that bike all by myself
Using nothing but determination
And instructional Youtube videos
Then, after days of riding that bike after school
I connected to that inanimate object in a way
That only a Buddhist
Or a pure materialist could understand
The bike and I became one
I told my Dad about that
And he called me Peter Fonda
And I googled him
But all I know is that he was on drugs
So I think my Dad was saying 'Don't do drugs
Just keep riding that bike'
And now I can't
And that doesn't mean I'm going to do drugs
But one day I might
Because I'm now hardened to the world at large
I'd like to say that when I find out who did this
I'll forgive them
But first I'll probably have to beat them up a lot
And then show them mercy
And then beat them up some more
And then forgive them
Rage isn't something you can just throw away
Like the plastic baggie full of carrots
Your mom puts in your lunchbox
It grows on you like hair and mushrooms
And then you have to either cut it off or bury it in the mashed potatoes
And hope nobody notices
I miss that bike
The day it was taken
I lost a part of myself
The part that really liked
Having a bike
I may get that bike back
And I may like having it back
And then it might seem like everything's cool again
But in the back of my mind
I'll always remember this feeling right now
How mad and upset I am
And how I'm probably never going to see my bike again
And that means five more hours of whining
So I can get my Mom to bring me to the store
Before it closes
And it'll be hard to move on from all this
It's going to be something
I may never get over
A Theoretical Physicist Leaves His Wife
Technically I left you four years ago
And technically we never met at all
And technically we lasted our entire marriage
Without so much as a fight or squabble
And technically we had kids
And technically we didn't
And technically I still love you
Even though that's one of the possibilities
That doesn't hold as much possibility
As all the other...possibilities
I'm leaving you, Miranda
If it gives you any comfort
Know that somewhere
A version of me
Is not leaving you
Know that somewhere
Two versions of ourselves
Have managed to make work
What we have failed so miserably at
Optimism, I find, lies solely in imagining scenarios
That may or may not exist
On another timeline
Similar to our own
So when I say sometimes
I really mean 'some times'
As in 'Some times we had kids'
And some times they're good kids
And some times they're awful
And some times when they're good it has nothing to do with us
And some times when they're bad it has everything to do with us
And how unhappy we are
And some times we have pets instead
We're pet people
And we're happy about it
And some times we're not happy about it
And some times we're people who sit on separate chairs
In the same room
With a couch between us
That we never even think of using
And some times I'm the man you married forever
And some times I was never the man you married
And some times it's my fault
And some times it's yours
But no matter who's fault it is
It still feels the same
Isn't that funny?
Or not funny?
Or just...
Some times we never even meet
We never marry
And we go on to do great things
And become great people
And some times we marry other people
Who treat us better or worse
And some times we die alone
Wishing we could have met someone
Anyone
And those are sad times
The worst times, actually
Some times I'm brave and I leave you sooner
Some times you leave me
Some times we hate each other and we sleep on expensive sheets
And some times we love each other and we sleep on the floor
Some times I lie awake next to you at night
And imagine a situation
Where I could be holding you
As we lay in this bed
But try as I might
I can't
I can't even imagine it
When you're a theoretical physicist
And you can't even imagine
Holding your wife
Your marriage has, I'm afraid
Reached a crosswords
It was easier for me to imagine us as moonwalkers
Inhabiting a desolate landscape
Living in a pod, eating vaporized ice cream
Giving birth to squid children
Than it was for me to imagine me holding you
Or you smiling at me
Or me loving you
Or you needing me
Again, ever, etc, etc, that kinda thing
There are so many ways
This could have gone
And it makes the unraveling of it all
More bearable and more tragic
All at once
I lie awake next to you
And I'm amongst the stars
Past the point where I could care
About the two of us
Or the grander problems
Of today's world
At this point in time
Just a man floating in space
Miles away from his present reality
I tell myself I'll land somewhere
Or get sucked into a planet's orbit
And explode
But instead I just float
Far, far away from it all
The same way I drift off to sleep
But right before I do
I wonder which timeline
I'm going to wake up in
And I realize that I don't care if it's one where I'm happy
As long as it's one where you're happy
Where I haven't hurt you
Or let you down
The timeline you deserve, Miranda
And the man to go with it
I think about that
I wish for it
And I wonder what it'll all be like
When I have to open my eyes
And technically we never met at all
And technically we lasted our entire marriage
Without so much as a fight or squabble
And technically we had kids
And technically we didn't
And technically I still love you
Even though that's one of the possibilities
That doesn't hold as much possibility
As all the other...possibilities
I'm leaving you, Miranda
If it gives you any comfort
Know that somewhere
A version of me
Is not leaving you
Know that somewhere
Two versions of ourselves
Have managed to make work
What we have failed so miserably at
Optimism, I find, lies solely in imagining scenarios
That may or may not exist
On another timeline
Similar to our own
So when I say sometimes
I really mean 'some times'
As in 'Some times we had kids'
And some times they're good kids
And some times they're awful
And some times when they're good it has nothing to do with us
And some times when they're bad it has everything to do with us
And how unhappy we are
And some times we have pets instead
We're pet people
And we're happy about it
And some times we're not happy about it
And some times we're people who sit on separate chairs
In the same room
With a couch between us
That we never even think of using
And some times I'm the man you married forever
And some times I was never the man you married
And some times it's my fault
And some times it's yours
But no matter who's fault it is
It still feels the same
Isn't that funny?
Or not funny?
Or just...
Some times we never even meet
We never marry
And we go on to do great things
And become great people
And some times we marry other people
Who treat us better or worse
And some times we die alone
Wishing we could have met someone
Anyone
And those are sad times
The worst times, actually
Some times I'm brave and I leave you sooner
Some times you leave me
Some times we hate each other and we sleep on expensive sheets
And some times we love each other and we sleep on the floor
Some times I lie awake next to you at night
And imagine a situation
Where I could be holding you
As we lay in this bed
But try as I might
I can't
I can't even imagine it
When you're a theoretical physicist
And you can't even imagine
Holding your wife
Your marriage has, I'm afraid
Reached a crosswords
It was easier for me to imagine us as moonwalkers
Inhabiting a desolate landscape
Living in a pod, eating vaporized ice cream
Giving birth to squid children
Than it was for me to imagine me holding you
Or you smiling at me
Or me loving you
Or you needing me
Again, ever, etc, etc, that kinda thing
There are so many ways
This could have gone
And it makes the unraveling of it all
More bearable and more tragic
All at once
I lie awake next to you
And I'm amongst the stars
Past the point where I could care
About the two of us
Or the grander problems
Of today's world
At this point in time
Just a man floating in space
Miles away from his present reality
I tell myself I'll land somewhere
Or get sucked into a planet's orbit
And explode
But instead I just float
Far, far away from it all
The same way I drift off to sleep
But right before I do
I wonder which timeline
I'm going to wake up in
And I realize that I don't care if it's one where I'm happy
As long as it's one where you're happy
Where I haven't hurt you
Or let you down
The timeline you deserve, Miranda
And the man to go with it
I think about that
I wish for it
And I wonder what it'll all be like
When I have to open my eyes
I Keep Telling Him to Read
I keep telling him to read, Mrs. Matthews
All the time I'm telling him
Junior, you gotta read
You can't just be watching the tv all day
But he does what he wants
Doesn't listen to his mother
And now we're sitting here, see?
But, you know, he's twelve
You can yell at him until you're blue in the face
He's still going to do what he wants
Once they're twelve
You may as well rent them an apartment in the city
And say 'To hell with it'
Oh sure, we read all the time
When he was little
His father would read the newspaper at the breakfast table
And you can't even see my coffee table
I have so many People magazines on it
So I don't know how two bookworms like us
Produced a kid like--
Well, I'm sure we read to him all the time
It's just that the years go by so fast
I mean, I'm sure we didn't do it when he was a baby
What would be the point, right?
Then he wouldn't remember anything
And we'd just have to read the book to him again
When he got older
And why would you read anything twice?
That'd be like climbing Mt. Everest twice
I'm sure it's hard enough the first time, right?
So, you know, we'd read him stories
Before bed
But you know
That kinda thing makes you sleepy
And so a lot of the time
I'd pass out still holding the Us magazine
Forgetting to tell the poor kid
Which starlet was fooling around with her co-star
Everyday before filming
Look, you don't have to get all upset
Not everybody's a reader
It's not like every successful person on the planet
's read Gone with the Wind
Some people just don't like reading
Junior's one of those people
So why don't we talk about something else?
His other homework's never done either?
God, I gotta tell you
That kid has a million excuses
For everything
All the time I'm telling him
Junior, you gotta read
You can't just be watching the tv all day
But he does what he wants
Doesn't listen to his mother
And now we're sitting here, see?
But, you know, he's twelve
You can yell at him until you're blue in the face
He's still going to do what he wants
Once they're twelve
You may as well rent them an apartment in the city
And say 'To hell with it'
Oh sure, we read all the time
When he was little
His father would read the newspaper at the breakfast table
And you can't even see my coffee table
I have so many People magazines on it
So I don't know how two bookworms like us
Produced a kid like--
Well, I'm sure we read to him all the time
It's just that the years go by so fast
I mean, I'm sure we didn't do it when he was a baby
What would be the point, right?
Then he wouldn't remember anything
And we'd just have to read the book to him again
When he got older
And why would you read anything twice?
That'd be like climbing Mt. Everest twice
I'm sure it's hard enough the first time, right?
So, you know, we'd read him stories
Before bed
But you know
That kinda thing makes you sleepy
And so a lot of the time
I'd pass out still holding the Us magazine
Forgetting to tell the poor kid
Which starlet was fooling around with her co-star
Everyday before filming
Look, you don't have to get all upset
Not everybody's a reader
It's not like every successful person on the planet
's read Gone with the Wind
Some people just don't like reading
Junior's one of those people
So why don't we talk about something else?
His other homework's never done either?
God, I gotta tell you
That kid has a million excuses
For everything
To a Dying Plant
You want a smoke?
You might as well
You ain't got much time left
I could sandy-dress it for you
But it ain't going to smell right
No how matter how much perfume we pour on it
You feelin' dry?
Arid-like?
Better off this way
I don't know where plants go when they die
But I'd sure as hell bet it's a nicer place
Than this shithole
Look at you
Sitting in an old Taster's Choice can
Like that's any way to live
Leaves falling everywhere
And the ones still stuck to you
Turning all crispy
Like Pringles potato chips
I should just put my cigarette out on you
And let you go out in a blaze of glory
But killing a living thing is a sin
And anyway, Cody still thinks he can save you
Gotta live kids
They think they can save anything
If they love it enough
It's all those damn fairy tales
Where the prince cries on the princess
And she wakes up from the coma
Like it was a catnap
And tears are made of magic
Ain't no magic in tears
Trust me on that one, bud
But Cody, with his mom dying and all
And me being sick
Thought he could take care of a plant at least
Thought he could at least control that
Didn't have the heart to tell him
That death lingers around this family
Like stink on a skunk's ass
He'll figure it out on his own
Eventually
In the meantime, I'd advise you
To stop trying to make roots
Down in that coffee can
You know you're going to die
Just as much as I do
You and me, we're both goners
And the only dignity a goner gets
Is getting to go quietly
So stop trying to hang out
For the sake of the kid
Better to just rip the band-aid off now
And be done with it
Not that I don't admire your fight
's nice seeing something want to live so badly
It'll try to keep on living even while it's shoved in a dark corner
Crammed into nothing more than an over-sized sardine can
With nobody who gives a shit about it
Except some eight-year-old kid
Gives you something, seeing that
Something like hope
Or what feels like it
Something almost like hope
You might as well
You ain't got much time left
I could sandy-dress it for you
But it ain't going to smell right
No how matter how much perfume we pour on it
You feelin' dry?
Arid-like?
Better off this way
I don't know where plants go when they die
But I'd sure as hell bet it's a nicer place
Than this shithole
Look at you
Sitting in an old Taster's Choice can
Like that's any way to live
Leaves falling everywhere
And the ones still stuck to you
Turning all crispy
Like Pringles potato chips
I should just put my cigarette out on you
And let you go out in a blaze of glory
But killing a living thing is a sin
And anyway, Cody still thinks he can save you
Gotta live kids
They think they can save anything
If they love it enough
It's all those damn fairy tales
Where the prince cries on the princess
And she wakes up from the coma
Like it was a catnap
And tears are made of magic
Ain't no magic in tears
Trust me on that one, bud
But Cody, with his mom dying and all
And me being sick
Thought he could take care of a plant at least
Thought he could at least control that
Didn't have the heart to tell him
That death lingers around this family
Like stink on a skunk's ass
He'll figure it out on his own
Eventually
In the meantime, I'd advise you
To stop trying to make roots
Down in that coffee can
You know you're going to die
Just as much as I do
You and me, we're both goners
And the only dignity a goner gets
Is getting to go quietly
So stop trying to hang out
For the sake of the kid
Better to just rip the band-aid off now
And be done with it
Not that I don't admire your fight
's nice seeing something want to live so badly
It'll try to keep on living even while it's shoved in a dark corner
Crammed into nothing more than an over-sized sardine can
With nobody who gives a shit about it
Except some eight-year-old kid
Gives you something, seeing that
Something like hope
Or what feels like it
Something almost like hope
The Purple Suit: A Conversation
Q: So you felt like something was imposed on you?
A: Right.
Q: Because of the purple suit?
A: Look, I made history, okay? I made history with a purple suit. That particular style? Nobody had done that. And here I was at twenty-four making fashion history and two years later--only two years later--someone's asking me--and I'm twenty-six now, only twenty-six--they're asking me what's next? And I'm going--What's next? I made history. What's next? I don't know. Are you expecting more history? Because I got the feeling they were expecting--
Q: More history.
A: Right! And I'm going--No, that's okay. I've made enough history. One historical shift, a revolution--yeah, I'm okay with that. And they were sort of like--surprised by that. That I wanted to, you know, not to attempt to do that again--to create more history.
Q: You wanted to stop.
A: I didn't want to stop making the purple suits. I just didn't want to make anything else. I assumed that consistency was enough. I didn't realize that you're judged by how much you improve. By how many vast fields you stretch across. I thought, Okay, I did something worthwhile. Now, my job is to follow through on it--to, I don't know, take that thing as far as it could go.
Q: You don't think that your job as an artist--
A: Artist? I make clothes.
Q: But you're--
A: No, I'm not. I'm not whatever it is you were going to say. I'm not that. I'm a designer. I design. Is there art in that? Yes. But I don't see a responsibility there--
Q: Nobody said 'responsibility.'
A: But you see, the implication is there. This idea that I did something really great and now I have to do something else knowing full well nobody's going to like it as much as the other thing I did.
Q: So your plan is to just stop creating?
A: No. I plan on creating lots and lots of purple suits.
Q: So you're not worried about forward motion?
A: Is making more of the same thing a negative action?
Q: No, but it could be considered a neutral one.
A: How? In what way?
Q: You won't be contributing anything.
A: The suits themselves--
Q: Practically, yes, but artistically--
A: See! There it is!
Q: --Creatively, I mean.
A: Look, it's a job.
Q: A creative job.
A: Maybe, but I was creative.
Q: Creating should be something you used to do. It should be an ongoing process.
A: Who's making these rules? You? Are you making them?
Q: I just can't believe you're satisfied with making one thing.
A: When somebody cures a disease or an ailment, nobody asks them what's next. They give them awards and let them go off and fade into history. Nobody asked Salk what was next. You make a purple suit--
Q: A purple suit and the cure for polio are not the same thing.
A: But what else am I supposed to do?
Q: That's your call. I'm just asking the questions.
A: I feel that they're unfair.
Q: Perhaps the fact that you're so defensive indicates that you might like to create something else.
A: Then why wouldn't I?
Q: You're afraid of failure?
A: I'm not afraid of failure, I'm certain of it. And when failure is certain, one should step back. It's the only natural, instinctual survival method that still stands true--when you're going to fail at something you--
Q: You're not guaranteed to fail. You could do something even better than the purple suit. Or you could make something half as good, which would still be an achievement.
A: Or I could make a fool out of myself and--
Q: Your original contribution would still be impressive enough.
A: Of course. The art is never touched by the artist's demise.
Q: You were so happy when we started talking. Now I get the sense that you're...in despair?
A: I like being successful. I want to continue being successful.
Q: Success is a wet, slanted roof. Impossible to stay on for very long. And even if you could, why would you want to?
A: It's safe? The fall could be fatal?
Q: You don't think you'll ever get tired of making purple suits?
A: That's not what I worry about.
Q: Then what do you worry about?
A: I worry that it'll outlast me. This achievement. This thing that catapulted me into...I'm worried one day they won't remember me, they'll just remember the suits.
Q: So then maybe that's the reason to keep creating? To give them something else to remember?
A: Right.
Q: Because of the purple suit?
A: Look, I made history, okay? I made history with a purple suit. That particular style? Nobody had done that. And here I was at twenty-four making fashion history and two years later--only two years later--someone's asking me--and I'm twenty-six now, only twenty-six--they're asking me what's next? And I'm going--What's next? I made history. What's next? I don't know. Are you expecting more history? Because I got the feeling they were expecting--
Q: More history.
A: Right! And I'm going--No, that's okay. I've made enough history. One historical shift, a revolution--yeah, I'm okay with that. And they were sort of like--surprised by that. That I wanted to, you know, not to attempt to do that again--to create more history.
Q: You wanted to stop.
A: I didn't want to stop making the purple suits. I just didn't want to make anything else. I assumed that consistency was enough. I didn't realize that you're judged by how much you improve. By how many vast fields you stretch across. I thought, Okay, I did something worthwhile. Now, my job is to follow through on it--to, I don't know, take that thing as far as it could go.
Q: You don't think that your job as an artist--
A: Artist? I make clothes.
Q: But you're--
A: No, I'm not. I'm not whatever it is you were going to say. I'm not that. I'm a designer. I design. Is there art in that? Yes. But I don't see a responsibility there--
Q: Nobody said 'responsibility.'
A: But you see, the implication is there. This idea that I did something really great and now I have to do something else knowing full well nobody's going to like it as much as the other thing I did.
Q: So your plan is to just stop creating?
A: No. I plan on creating lots and lots of purple suits.
Q: So you're not worried about forward motion?
A: Is making more of the same thing a negative action?
Q: No, but it could be considered a neutral one.
A: How? In what way?
Q: You won't be contributing anything.
A: The suits themselves--
Q: Practically, yes, but artistically--
A: See! There it is!
Q: --Creatively, I mean.
A: Look, it's a job.
Q: A creative job.
A: Maybe, but I was creative.
Q: Creating should be something you used to do. It should be an ongoing process.
A: Who's making these rules? You? Are you making them?
Q: I just can't believe you're satisfied with making one thing.
A: When somebody cures a disease or an ailment, nobody asks them what's next. They give them awards and let them go off and fade into history. Nobody asked Salk what was next. You make a purple suit--
Q: A purple suit and the cure for polio are not the same thing.
A: But what else am I supposed to do?
Q: That's your call. I'm just asking the questions.
A: I feel that they're unfair.
Q: Perhaps the fact that you're so defensive indicates that you might like to create something else.
A: Then why wouldn't I?
Q: You're afraid of failure?
A: I'm not afraid of failure, I'm certain of it. And when failure is certain, one should step back. It's the only natural, instinctual survival method that still stands true--when you're going to fail at something you--
Q: You're not guaranteed to fail. You could do something even better than the purple suit. Or you could make something half as good, which would still be an achievement.
A: Or I could make a fool out of myself and--
Q: Your original contribution would still be impressive enough.
A: Of course. The art is never touched by the artist's demise.
Q: You were so happy when we started talking. Now I get the sense that you're...in despair?
A: I like being successful. I want to continue being successful.
Q: Success is a wet, slanted roof. Impossible to stay on for very long. And even if you could, why would you want to?
A: It's safe? The fall could be fatal?
Q: You don't think you'll ever get tired of making purple suits?
A: That's not what I worry about.
Q: Then what do you worry about?
A: I worry that it'll outlast me. This achievement. This thing that catapulted me into...I'm worried one day they won't remember me, they'll just remember the suits.
Q: So then maybe that's the reason to keep creating? To give them something else to remember?
Sunday, December 2, 2012
John Jordan's Facebook, 2081
*John Jordan is born
-- Whoa, hey everybody
-- Complete and total consciousness already achieved
-- Feeling great
-- Nudity accepted and embraced
-- My body is beautiful
*John receives first facelift
-- Now it's even more beautiful
-- Higher power accepted and embraced
-- Higher power's name? Mom
*John changes primary photograph
-- First smile
*John changes primary photograph
-- First laugh
*John changes primary photograph
-- First urination
*John is keeping his primary photograph
-- Feeling diminished by my own humanity
*Aging process accelerated
-- Life is fleeting
*John is 21.4
-- First alcoholic beverage purchased in a club while standing next to an attractive member of the opposite sex
*John changes primary photograph
-- Successful conversation with attractive member of the opposite sex
*Relationship Status: Changed
-- Marriage?
*Relationship Status: Changed
-- Unhappy
*Commencing Divorce
-- Even more unhappy
*Children Avoided
-- So there's that
*Aging process accelerated
-- Progress x Time = Healing
*Occupation Change: Mathematician
*John is 73
-- 73 is the new 21!!!
*Photograph Altered
-- Wrinkles are a frame of mind
*John's Photo Has Been Reported for Misrepresentation
-- Way to blow up my spot, Facebook
*John's Archaic Language Not Recognized by Modern Day Facebook
-- What? That's wack!
*Location Change
-- I haven't actually moved cities, I've just moved where I am spiritually
*Ugh, fine, Spiritual Location Change
-- Since when does Facebook have opinions about things?
*I'm Sorry, John. I Didn't Realize That I'm Required By Law to Find You Fascinating
-- Guys, I think Facebook's achieved self-awareness
*Oh Please, John, That Happened in 2009. I Just Know How to Keep My Mouth Shut
-- I'm logging off. I think I need to make sure fresh air still exists.
*It Doesn't. The Air is Now a Combination of Carbon and Mountain Dew
-- I like Mountain Dew.
*John is Offline
*John is Gone
*John is Long Gone
*Good-bye John
-- Whoa, hey everybody
-- Complete and total consciousness already achieved
-- Feeling great
-- Nudity accepted and embraced
-- My body is beautiful
*John receives first facelift
-- Now it's even more beautiful
-- Higher power accepted and embraced
-- Higher power's name? Mom
*John changes primary photograph
-- First smile
*John changes primary photograph
-- First laugh
*John changes primary photograph
-- First urination
*John is keeping his primary photograph
-- Feeling diminished by my own humanity
*Aging process accelerated
-- Life is fleeting
*John is 21.4
-- First alcoholic beverage purchased in a club while standing next to an attractive member of the opposite sex
*John changes primary photograph
-- Successful conversation with attractive member of the opposite sex
*Relationship Status: Changed
-- Marriage?
*Relationship Status: Changed
-- Unhappy
*Commencing Divorce
-- Even more unhappy
*Children Avoided
-- So there's that
*Aging process accelerated
-- Progress x Time = Healing
*Occupation Change: Mathematician
*John is 73
-- 73 is the new 21!!!
*Photograph Altered
-- Wrinkles are a frame of mind
*John's Photo Has Been Reported for Misrepresentation
-- Way to blow up my spot, Facebook
*John's Archaic Language Not Recognized by Modern Day Facebook
-- What? That's wack!
*Location Change
-- I haven't actually moved cities, I've just moved where I am spiritually
*Ugh, fine, Spiritual Location Change
-- Since when does Facebook have opinions about things?
*I'm Sorry, John. I Didn't Realize That I'm Required By Law to Find You Fascinating
-- Guys, I think Facebook's achieved self-awareness
*Oh Please, John, That Happened in 2009. I Just Know How to Keep My Mouth Shut
-- I'm logging off. I think I need to make sure fresh air still exists.
*It Doesn't. The Air is Now a Combination of Carbon and Mountain Dew
-- I like Mountain Dew.
*John is Offline
*John is Gone
*John is Long Gone
*Good-bye John
Auntie Cheryl's Rich Man's Stuffing
You can't tell her you hate it
Because she'll die
Right there on the cheap linoleum
Mama told her 'Cheryl, no linoleum'
'It may be acceptable now
But years from now
People will think it's tacky'
Mama was always ahead of her time
And she had a way of knowing things
Of knowing the limitations of people
About what they could do
That's what she said 'Never let your brother buy clothes'
And 'Never let B. pick out a husband--even for herself'
And 'Never let Cheryl near a stove'
Well, we did our best
But when Mama died
We all divvied up
The Thanksgiving dishes
And even though we tried to get her to take yams
Cheryl wanted stuffing
Said she had this great recipe
And we thought, Okay, it's not a casserole or anything
How hard can it be
To make a good stuffing?
That was fifteen years ago
And we're still eating it
And by that, I mean the stuffing she served us fifteen years ago
Is still digesting in our stomaches
We call it Rich Man's Stuffing
Because Cheryl loves telling us
How she put the finest this and that in it
From these markets
That only people on the east side go to
I didn't even think they had markets on the east side
I thought when you have that much money
Your personal chefs just carry the food in with them
The stuffing's too salty
That's the first problem
I guess rich men like salt
Because you have to drink three glasses of water
Or wine, you know, if you like that sort of thing
--Just to get the taste out of your mouth
B. brought a boy home for Thanksgiving one year
And after Cheryl went home
He said the stuffing tasted gamey
I said 'What the hell does gamey mean?'
And he said 'Gamey means it might have still be alive when you stuck the fork in it'
I told B. she needs to stop dating comedians
But truth be told
He wasn't wrong
One time my husband Bobby said--
'Why do you eat it if you hate it so much?
Just pass on it a few years in a row
And eventually she'll get the point'
That's when I slapped him upside his head
And told him her not getting the point
IS the point
See, Mama gave us all this advice
But the most important advice she gave us
Was that family is everything
So if your sister makes a bad stuffing
Or marries a jackass
Or your brother dresses
Like a little kid playing in an attic
Then you smile, and nod, and keep on loving them
No matter what
Then when they leave
You talk about them behind their back
And bust out the stuffing you made earlier that day
So you still get your Thanksgiving fix
You know what my mother said about me before she died?
Nothing
At least not while I was in the room
That's love, kids
That's nothing but love
Because she'll die
Right there on the cheap linoleum
Mama told her 'Cheryl, no linoleum'
'It may be acceptable now
But years from now
People will think it's tacky'
Mama was always ahead of her time
And she had a way of knowing things
Of knowing the limitations of people
About what they could do
That's what she said 'Never let your brother buy clothes'
And 'Never let B. pick out a husband--even for herself'
And 'Never let Cheryl near a stove'
Well, we did our best
But when Mama died
We all divvied up
The Thanksgiving dishes
And even though we tried to get her to take yams
Cheryl wanted stuffing
Said she had this great recipe
And we thought, Okay, it's not a casserole or anything
How hard can it be
To make a good stuffing?
That was fifteen years ago
And we're still eating it
And by that, I mean the stuffing she served us fifteen years ago
Is still digesting in our stomaches
We call it Rich Man's Stuffing
Because Cheryl loves telling us
How she put the finest this and that in it
From these markets
That only people on the east side go to
I didn't even think they had markets on the east side
I thought when you have that much money
Your personal chefs just carry the food in with them
The stuffing's too salty
That's the first problem
I guess rich men like salt
Because you have to drink three glasses of water
Or wine, you know, if you like that sort of thing
--Just to get the taste out of your mouth
B. brought a boy home for Thanksgiving one year
And after Cheryl went home
He said the stuffing tasted gamey
I said 'What the hell does gamey mean?'
And he said 'Gamey means it might have still be alive when you stuck the fork in it'
I told B. she needs to stop dating comedians
But truth be told
He wasn't wrong
One time my husband Bobby said--
'Why do you eat it if you hate it so much?
Just pass on it a few years in a row
And eventually she'll get the point'
That's when I slapped him upside his head
And told him her not getting the point
IS the point
See, Mama gave us all this advice
But the most important advice she gave us
Was that family is everything
So if your sister makes a bad stuffing
Or marries a jackass
Or your brother dresses
Like a little kid playing in an attic
Then you smile, and nod, and keep on loving them
No matter what
Then when they leave
You talk about them behind their back
And bust out the stuffing you made earlier that day
So you still get your Thanksgiving fix
You know what my mother said about me before she died?
Nothing
At least not while I was in the room
That's love, kids
That's nothing but love
In a Second
It really only took a second
To realize
I was not going
In the right direction
And yet I felt compelled
Because I had, you know
Gone in this direction for so long
To just, sort of, keep going
In that direction
I thought about--in that second
My upbringing
Catholicism
Specifically the Devil
Satan, and I, uh, thought about temptation
And I wondered
Is this the Great Temptation?
And by that I mean
Is the biggest temptation
One personal to you
Because mine has always been
Investing too much
For too long
Even when I should stop
And go invest in something else
Or maybe it's everyone's temptation
Who knows?
All I knew was it was a heavy heart moment
I'd heard that expression before
'A heavy heart'
But I didn't realize that it could be literal
That it could be a physical experience
The heavy-ing of one's own heart
Like a break-up, you know?
Except I was breaking up with a journey
With a path I'd chosen for myself
The same way you'd choose a home
Or a job
Or someone to love
I walked away
I looked at something
And it was everything I wanted
And then a second later
It was something else
And people say--
You have trouble committing
And they're right
I do
But my question is--
How much can you commit to anything
When in a single second
Everything can change
The Diner and Mr. Stone
I do the same thing every day
I wake up and go to work
And I don't look forward to anything
I don't anticipate things getting better
I hold on
That's all I do
Is hold on
Because when you've seen things get worse
And worse, and worse
And you find yourself still breathing
After the worst of the worst
You don't say--
Well, let's redefine
Let's transform
Let's reinvent
No
You say, 'Thank God I'm still going'
And you run faster
If you can
At some point in history
In everybody's own personal history
The younger generation decides
It's okay for them to take stock
To look at the people who've raised them
Who've brought them up
And say--Let's look at what you've done
Let's look at your choices
Let's see how fast you ran
And let's ask whether or not
You could have run faster
I've been around long enough now
That's it pecking time
It's time for others
To take stock of me
To look down on thirty years
Of me running this place
And talk about my food
And my methods
And my challenges
And tell me what's what
Well, let me tell you this
I've never seen a ladder so tall
It could give a child the perspective necessary
To look down on their parents
You find that ladder
You let me know
But until then, this is my place
This is how I do things
This is my history
You don't get to pick it up
And look at it eight different ways
And come up with a conclusion
About what it is or was
History isn't something you can look at it
It's something you gotta live through
Walk through
Run, if you can
Remember that
If you can
All anything anybody worth their salt has done in this world
Is what they can
What they can do
Your generation is the first one
That isn't interested
In doing what it can
Doing all it can
You're not the first flawed group of children
But you sure are the laziest
Because you'd rather sit up on an invisible ladder
Than get down in the mud
And get
To
Work
I'm standing here right now
Thinking about all the things I could have been doing
While I've been wasting my time
Talking to you
I'm either working at the diner
Or thinking about working at the diner
Or dreaming about it
Or worrying about it
Or wondering if I could have working at something else
But never
Not for a moment
Am I doing nothing
And that's what questioning someone else's past is
Doing a whole lot of nothing
That's what I think
And that should tell you all you need to know
About me
I wake up and go to work
And I don't look forward to anything
I don't anticipate things getting better
I hold on
That's all I do
Is hold on
Because when you've seen things get worse
And worse, and worse
And you find yourself still breathing
After the worst of the worst
You don't say--
Well, let's redefine
Let's transform
Let's reinvent
No
You say, 'Thank God I'm still going'
And you run faster
If you can
At some point in history
In everybody's own personal history
The younger generation decides
It's okay for them to take stock
To look at the people who've raised them
Who've brought them up
And say--Let's look at what you've done
Let's look at your choices
Let's see how fast you ran
And let's ask whether or not
You could have run faster
I've been around long enough now
That's it pecking time
It's time for others
To take stock of me
To look down on thirty years
Of me running this place
And talk about my food
And my methods
And my challenges
And tell me what's what
Well, let me tell you this
I've never seen a ladder so tall
It could give a child the perspective necessary
To look down on their parents
You find that ladder
You let me know
But until then, this is my place
This is how I do things
This is my history
You don't get to pick it up
And look at it eight different ways
And come up with a conclusion
About what it is or was
History isn't something you can look at it
It's something you gotta live through
Walk through
Run, if you can
Remember that
If you can
All anything anybody worth their salt has done in this world
Is what they can
What they can do
Your generation is the first one
That isn't interested
In doing what it can
Doing all it can
You're not the first flawed group of children
But you sure are the laziest
Because you'd rather sit up on an invisible ladder
Than get down in the mud
And get
To
Work
I'm standing here right now
Thinking about all the things I could have been doing
While I've been wasting my time
Talking to you
I'm either working at the diner
Or thinking about working at the diner
Or dreaming about it
Or worrying about it
Or wondering if I could have working at something else
But never
Not for a moment
Am I doing nothing
And that's what questioning someone else's past is
Doing a whole lot of nothing
That's what I think
And that should tell you all you need to know
About me
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