The All Tea Party

Boston Harbor.  Late at night.  1700’s.

JOHN:  All right, now first off, we need to be very quiet.

BEN:  Wait, wait, wait—who’s this new guy?

LEE:  I brought my cousin Nick from the New York Colony.

NICK:  Yasssss New York up in here!

A beat.

BEN:  What was that?

NICK:  What?

BEN:  You just—

JOHN:  Gentlemen, could we please lower our voices?

BEN:  But he just—

LEE:  Are you casting aspersions on my kinfolk, Ben?

BEN:  No Lee, I just—

NICK: C ousin to the rescue—Yassssss.

BEN:  He’s just very…loud.

JOHN:  Ben, quiet!  Please!

LEE:  It seems as though you’re the one being loud.

BEN:  Oh fine.  Enough of this.  Just get on with it.

JOHN:  We must dump all the tea we find into the harbor.

BEN:  All of it?  That seems to me such a waste.

JOHN:  Yes, all of it.

NICK:  Yasssss—all the tea!

BEN:  Okay, seriously, what is this?

NICK:  You got a problem?

BEN:  Yes, what are you talking about?

NICK:  I’m in agreement with you guys.  Dump that tea, bitch.

BEN:  Is there a unkempt woman nearby?

JOHN:  Ben, you are making such a racket—

BEN:  I’M making the racket?

NICK:  Yasssss racket.

BEN:  Is anyone else seeing this?

LEE:  My cousin makes a good point.  We should dump all the tea.

BEN:  Your cousin didn’t say that.  He said ‘Dump that tea, bitch.’

JOHN:  Ben, please stop speaking of women that way.

BEN:  But—

NICK:  Yasssss colonial feminism!

LEE:  He said ‘All the tea.’  And I am in agreement.  We should dump all the tea.

NICK:  All the tea.

BEN:  Fine.  Who boards the boat first?

JOHN:  I shall go first.

NICK:  Yassssssss John.  All aboard.

LEE:  I shall go second.

NICK:  Yassssss Lee.  You better follow up.

BEN:  I guess that means I’m—

NICK:  Yasssss Third Time’s a Charm, Lady Ben of Tea-Ville.

BEN:  What does that even—

JOHN and LEE:  Ssshh!

BEN:  You know what?  I’m out.  I’m going to go be a spy for the British.

NICK:  Yasssssss Benny.  You better betray your country.

BEN:  I’ll see you all on the battlefield.  I’ll be sure to shoot this one first.

NICK:  Yassssss come for me, Mama.

BEN exits.

JOHN:  And that’s how we lost Benedict Arnold.

LEE:  I’ll never understand it.

JOHN:  Nor will I.

NICK:  What a traitorous bitch.  Okay, so when are we dumping this tea?

The End

No One Knows Why They're Attracted to Me

No one knows

Why they’re attracted

To me

It’s the craziest thing

Women walk up to me

And they’re like—

They kinda cock their heads

And just stare a little bit

And I’m like—

I know, I don’t get it either

But there’s something about me, I guess

I used to think it was me not caring about shit

And that might still be the reason

But after years of not caring about shit

I have permanent

‘I don’t give a fuck’ face

And it’s intoxicating

To the vast majority of people

Plus I drink beers

And I drink them slowly

And I hang out at bars

Where they play country music

And I have a few scars

That could have come from knife fights

But are actually just from untreated acne

So all of that could contribute

To me getting laid

All the time

I wear denim

Lots of denim

And I talk about myself
As if I have a troubled past

When really

I’m just kind of boring

And I only know a few words

So talking isn’t my, uh, thing

I smoke, but not regularly

Only after sex

And my love-making has a steady

Yet uninteresting quality about it

I kind of just live and let live

That’s my whole philosophy to—

Pretty much everything

I grunt answers

Whenever I can

Especially ones

That have to do with

How I’m feeling

Or how my day was

Or what I think of pretty much anybody

Bartenders know me

And they know my drink order

--Again, just a beer

Nothing too fancy

If possible, I would drink a bottle of something

With just the word ‘Beer’ on it

And let that be that

A woman comes up to me—

I’ll buy her a drink

But only one

After that

She’s on her own

If she wants to buy me a drink

I let her

If she wants to take me home

I let her

If she wants to scream at me

Six weeks later

About how I put up walls

And don’t let anybody love me—

I grunt

And sometimes

She tries to kill me

But that’s how

Women are

With me

Women laugh at me

Even when I don’t say anything funny

I think it’s sort of that uncomfortable laughter

That comes out of you

When you know the person you’re talking to

Is going to make you fall in love with them

Just by allowing you

To project yourself and your dreams

Onto their person

Only to never love you back

And you won’t accept it

Even when they tell you—

‘Don’t fall in love with me’

Over and over again

Because it’s just not possible

Because you gotta love somebody

And it can’t be somebody

Who loves you back

Because what would be

The point of that?

…Oh, and I like salt and vinegar potato chips

I like ‘em a lot

And that about sums me up

So…

You doing anything right now?

Looking Bad Out There

An Office.  MIKE is at his desk.  CINDY is at the desk next to him.  ROB enters.

MIKE:  Rob, where the hell have you been?  It’s eleven fifteen.

ROB:  Snow, Mike.

MIKE:  Rob, it’s not snowing.

CINDY:  It’s supposed to snow.

MIKE:  It was supposed to snow four hours ago.

CINDY:  That’s what I just said.

MIKE:  Okay, but it’s not snowing right now.

CINDY:  It could start any minute.

ROB:  I didn’t want to take any chances, Mike.

MIKE:  Take chances with what?  It’s not snowing.

ROB:  Looks like it’s gonna be bad out there.

CINDY:  Gonna be really bad.  I cancelled my yoga class tonight.

ROB:  Looking real bad out there, Mike.

MIKE:  It hasn’t even started doing anything yet.

ROB:  But they said it was gonna, Mike.

MIKE:  Them saying it doesn’t mean it’s actually happening.

CINDY:  You want to be out on those roads when it starts?  You could get yourself killed.

ROB:  Not worth it, Mike.

CINDY:  Not worth your life.

ROB:  Or anyone’s.

CINDY:  Not worth mine, I’ll tell you that much.

MIKE:  But why were you over two hours late?

ROB:  Because I didn’t want to be on the road when it started.

MIKE:  You live down the street.

ROB:  You know how many accidents happen just a few feet from your house?

CINDY:  Thousands every year.

ROB:  (Over-lapping on the word ‘every.’)  Thousands, every year.

MIKE:  The sun was out this morning.

CINDY:  That’s how it starts, Mike.

ROB:  (Over-lapping on the word ‘how.’)  That’s how it starts.

MIKE:  They said it’s only going to be one to two inches.

CINDY:  Oh, that’s bad.

ROB:  That’s really bad.

CINDY:  One to two?  Jesus.

ROB:  Jesus Christ.

CINDY:  Wow.

MIKE:  That’s nothing!  This is New England.

CINDY:  Mike, it only takes one patch of ice.

ROB:  One patch, Mike.

CINDY:  One patch, and you go right over a cliff.

MIKE:  What cliff?

CINDY:  The one you’re driving next to.

MIKE:  Have you two ever driven in the snow before?

CINDY:  Once.  And let me tell you something, I almost died.

MIKE:  You had an accident.

CINDY:  I mean, I didn’t pee my pants if that’s what you’re—

MIKE:  No, I mean, like—you were in an accident?

CINDY:  No, but I was all over the road.

MIKE:  What does that mean?

CINDY:  It means I was swerving in and out of lanes.

ROB:  Swerving, Mike.  It’s like that right now out there.

MIKE:  It’s fifty-two degrees out.

ROB:  Hey listen, I didn’t make the weather, okay?

MIKE:  That doesn’t even mean anything.

CINDY:  I should go home now.

MIKE:  What?

ROB:  I can give you a ride if you don’t feel safe driving.

MIKE:  There are kids outside with t-shirts on!

CINDY:  Friggin’ kids.

ROB:  No respect.

CINDY:  You got kids, Mike?

MIKE:  No.

CINDY:  Then why are you acting like an expert?

MIKE:  On kids or the weather?

CINDY and ROB:  Both.

MIKE:  Neither of you is going home.  It’s fine outside.  There’s no snow.  There probably isn’t going to be any snow, and if there is, Cindy you drive a truck and Rob drives—I don’t even know what the hell it is, but it’s at least two-stories high so I think it can handle a little snowstorm.

ROB:  You want to tell my mother I’m dead if I go out in that storm and don’t come back?

MIKE:  Oh my God.

ROB:  You want to tell her, Mike?

MIKE:  I thought your mother was dead?

CINDY:  Jesus, Mike.

MIKE:  He took two days off when she died last year!

ROB:  Oh, that was just to go to a Pat’s—Yeah, you know what?  She’s dead.  God rest her soul.  But you would have to tell my father.

CINDY:  And you’d have to tell my dogs.

MIKE:  What about your kids?

CINDY:  Like my kids friggin’ care.  All they care about is that phone.

ROB:  The kids with the phones.

CINDY:  The friggin’ kids with the friggin’ phones.

ROB:  Jesus.

CINDY:  No respect.

ROB:  Stay in school.

CINDY:  Get off the Facebook.

MIKE:  Everybody sit down and get back to work.

(ROB and CINDY look at each other, realize the jig is up, and sit down at their respective desks.  A minute later, the door opens, snow comes pouring in, and a man dressed in a snowsuit enters.)

MAN:  What are you people doing working?  It’s a madhouse out there!

                (CINDY and ROB look at MIKE.  MIKE puts his head down on the desk.)

                                                The End

The Look Back

Look, when I go somewhere new

That’s it

I’m done

I’m not looking back
And everything

Everything

Is a look back

You send out an e-mail going—

‘I’m here!  I made it!  All safe!’

And that’s a look back

You’re creating these

Ties

To this place

Or whatever

That you’ve been

And it’s just not smart

It’s not a smart thing to do

You know people will forget about you

If you let them

They’re not gonna go

Out of their way

To check in on you

Or see how you’re doing

Not after the first two or three e-mails

Go unreturned

They’ve got other shit to do

They’ve got people

Right in front of them

Who need their attention

And you must be fine, right?
Because if you weren’t fine

You would be returning

Their e-mails

This is how the mind works

It’s how all our minds work

So I don’t feel bad about it

I’ve done this—

You know

I’ve done this

A million times

Moved and then just—

Cut everybody loose

It’s, like, the nicest way to do it

And it’s better for you

Like, for your mental health

Honestly

It’s just better

Because why are you moving

If you’re gonna try to keep one foot

In the place you just were?

There’s a natural progression

To these things

There are—

There’s a process that happens

Where eventually erosion kicks in

And you find yourself

With, like, a whole new life

Whether you wanted one or not

And so it makes no sense to fight it

You know?

Just go with it

Just accept that you have, I mean

You are—uh—starting over

It’s refreshing and—

Oh my God, listen to me

Like, rambling

Or whatever

Where are you from?

Cool, that’s cool

Are you here long?

Well…

Well that’s too bad

I really liked talking with you

It was…

You know what?

I’ll just leave you alone

I should head back

I have work in the morning

This, like, two hour conference call

With fucking Shreveport

It’s so stupid

But, um, you know

I would give you my number, but—

Like, why, right?

I mean, why bother

Let’s keep it honest here

You can tell

I’m really into honesty

And being upfront about…

But good luck with everything, you know

Like, wherever you’re going

Good luck, uh

Getting there

And being there

And…and, uh…

It was nice meeting you

You know, I meet a lot of people

But, uh, you know, you’re—

You seem—

Nice

Really nice

You seem like someone

Worth getting

To know

What I Did to Get the Story

You do all sorts of things

To get the story

There was a time in London

Where I was sitting with this guy

A source

At a bar

In this hotel

I’m not gonna say which one

But it wasn’t that nice of a hotel

Which is probably why

The source asked to meet me there

And I said ‘Okay’

And when I got there

He was drinking a soda

And I was like—

‘What the fuck?’

And he tells me

He doesn’t drink

He’s in recovery

Has been for, I don’t know

I think he said five years?

Maybe six?

But I order a drink

And he starts talking to me

But the thing about this guy was

He was always holding back

Always had something to say

But wouldn’t say it

Because he was too nervous

One time he thought I was bugged

And I had to take him into a bathroom

Into a stall

And let him frisk me

I would have accused him

Of doing it just to grope me

But he was so panicked

I knew it wasn’t anything sexual

He just didn’t trust anyone

The only reason he was talking to me at all

Was because of this sense of—of—uh—

I don’t know

Guilt?
Moral obligation?
Who knows?

But we’re at this hotel bar

And he’s talking

But he’s not saying much

It’s nothing I can work with

So I stop taking notes, like—

Five minutes in

Just no point

Absolutely no point

And I was a little pissed off

Not that I had anything else

To do that night

But here I was

In this shitty bar

Located in some shitty hotel

Talking to a guy

Who keeps looking behind him

Like anybody cares that we’re here

I just kept drinking

And pretty soon

I got a little punchy

And I said to him—

‘Have a drink’

Just like that

Very simple

‘Have a drink’

And he laughs

But he wants a drink

Of course he does

I quit smoking seven years ago

And I want a cigarette

Every fucking day

So of course this guy wants a drink

And he says ‘No, no, no’

But he wants a drink

I know he does

So…

I order him a drink

And I put it down in front him

And I say—just, simply, but not forcefully

‘Drink’

And, uh, he looks around

Like, as if he’s not worried about spies now

But, like, his AA sponsor showing up

And then, when he sees it’s just us

And the bartender—

He drinks

He drinks and then he says—

‘Let’s go upstairs’

And we do

To this room

This room he got

For the night

And we talk

And we have a few more drinks

From the minibar

And we smoke a little weed I had on me

And we talk

We talk all night

That’s how I got the story

What happened to the guy after that?

No clue

Never talked to him again

Wasn’t any reason to

Already got the story

He was tapped out after that night

Wouldn’t even screw me

After I offered it to him

Because he was pretty cute

And he gave me once-in-a-lifetime dirt

But—he just wanted to sleep

So I let him sleep

And I probably, you know…

I mean, who knows

Maybe I ruined his life

You know, it’s…

But I got the story

You wanna know if that’s—

Or if I think that’s all that matters?

Doesn’t matter what I think

My job’s not to think

And you know, there’s—

Ha

There’s probably a good reason
For that

The Cut

The surgeon makes the cut

And I shudder

Just a spot of blood

Not as much as

One would think

A cut

An incision

But no

A cut

Call it what it is

It’s a slice

And then--

Entry

I try not to exhale

To keep it in

To remain

Inside myself

And not float out

Out above the body
Lying on the operating table

Out above the doctor

Who I’m screwing

When he’s not at home

With his wife

And two children

Out on the roof

Of the hospital
Where the interns go
To smoke
And where the married doctor and I

Once made love

Late at night

After a sixteen-hour

Emergency surgery

On a toddler

Who had ruptured

A vital part of himself

That he couldn’t live without

We saved him
And the doctor thought

We were making love

To celebrate

But it wasn’t that

It was the cut

Not the blood

Don’t mistake me

The blood is just a symptom

Of the cut

It’s an afterthought

A kept promise

The cut

The cut makes the promise

And the cut breaks the bread

I once told a man

Sitting in a car with me

About my love of it

And he asked me

If I ever cut myself

I told him I wasn’t worthy of it

And he laughed

So I slapped him

And got out of the car

He screamed at me

From behind the steering wheel

And called me a bitch

I imagined cutting him
Along his thigh

But, like me,

He was unworthy of it

The man lying on the operating table

In front of me

Reminds me of that man in the car

But his face seems softer

Lighter

And the cut goes down his chest

And it’s so long

And precise

I feel as if I might lose myself

Become a stitch

A long line

That travels down
And never intersects

Anything

The doctor asks for something
I hand it to him

I steady my hand

I catch my breath

The blood appears

The surgery continues

The doctor hands me the knife

And I’m not sure

What I’m meant to do with it

The cut has already been administered

But the knife glistens

It wants more

I hold it to my wrist

While the lights

Shining down

On the soft man

Flicker

And I feel it

The invitation

A chance to be worthy

The temperature adjusts itself

Air rushes in

And a decision

Has been made

I’m worthy

I’ve made

The cut

Noma

Noma lived down the hall from me

In Chicago

Above a hot dog joint

All they served was hot dogs

Isn’t that the dumbest thing

You’ve ever heard?

Noma

That was his name

And I don’t believe

It was his real name

But it was certainly

A name

He used to say it was like--

‘No Ma, I don’t know where that twenty dollars went

From your purse’

And people would laugh

Noma made you laugh

He was good at that

He was good at a lot of things

He was good at knocking on my door

Late at night

When even the musicians

Upstairs from me

Were passed out

On their beds and couches

Six of them in a one-bedroom

And they would just sleep

Wherever they dropped

And they would drop

Pow pow pow

My first night in the apartment

I thought somebody was killing people
Up there

And I went running out into the hallway

And there was Noma

First time meeting him

And he told me about the musicians

And invited me into his room

For a drink

And I went in

There wasn’t much in his room

A table and chairs

A little bed

Clothes all over the place

And food-crusted pots

On his stove

I mean, the man was a slob

But he had a grin

And in Chicago

In those days

You could get pretty far

With just a grin

He grinned at me

And I said--

‘What are you grinning at?’

I thought--

Oh no, this man

Isn’t going to be

Grinning at me

I’m not up for that shit

But he kept grinning

Like he didn’t care

What I thought about him

Or why he was grinning at me

And that made me laugh

Never met a man before

Who didn’t care

About what another man

Thought of him

My father was a politician

Mayor of Blue Surrender, Georgia

He needed people’s opinions

So he could spin ‘em into votes

He wasn’t a good politician

He didn’t have a grin

But he was a good man

And he did good things with his life

And when he figured out

That I wasn’t going

To be anything like him

He gave me the boot

And I went running off to Chicago

To live down the hall

From people like Noma

Who were going to grin at me

And offer me coffee

In a dirty cup

And I drank it

I drank the man’s coffee

And I cleaned his apartment

And I helped him shave

You ever see a man

Shave another man’s face?

It’s an intimate act

A loving one

No way to do it

And not get close

Because of the trust

He puts in you

I would shave his beard

And stretch it out

For as long as it could go

Because I loved looking down into his eyes

Knowing that he put so much stock in me

In my goodness

And knowing that my dad didn’t think
I was good at all

He thought I was…

Once Noma’s face was smooth

And the cups were cleaned

And the clothes were all hung up

In the closet

In his bedroom

I’d lay down on the bed

And he’d lay down next to me

And we’d sit there

And not ask each other questions

Or try to figure each other out

We’d lay there

And wait

In that bed

For what felt like

Years

Until it was time

For the musicians

To wake up

And play us

Something

To help us

Fall asleep