Fliers

I hand out fliers because I believe in government

Because I believe it's better than its opposite

Because I don't believe in complaining if you're not willing to engage

If you're not willing to get your hands dirty

I hand out fliers despite the cold

Despite the time off I have to take from my real job

Despite the cynicism of the people who walk by me

Despite my cynicism that lingers whenever I read an article

Lambasting the candidate I've chosen to support

I hand out fliers because I want my kids to live in a better world than I do

I hand out fliers because my parents marched for civil rights and women's lib

I hand out fliers because my grandfather was in the army so I could hand out fliers

I hand out fliers because my little sister wants to be President one day and some boy in her class told her she couldn't be--that they don't let girls be President, and didn't she know that?

I walk up and down streets

And talk to people

And they're nice

They're good people

Even the ones who are rude

Or who don't stop

Or who criticize me for what I'm doing

I hand out fliers because I have a right to hand out fliers

Because though I may not be an important person

I am a person, all the same

I have an opinion

And a mind

And a voice

And a vote

I don't expect anybody to believe what I believe

But obviously I hope they will, otherwise why would I believe it?

All I do is hand out fliers

To support a woman who is running for mayor

And who will lose

I do it knowing she will lose

Because my favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird

And my favorite part is when Atticus tells his kids--

'I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.  It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.  You rarely win, but sometimes you do.'

The person I vote for is going to lose
But that doesn't change the fact
That I voted
That I believe in what she stands for


A flier may get read
Or thrown away, or ripped up


It may provoke or infuriate
Or make no impact whatsoever


But it's a voice


So I hand out fliers


I use my voice


And in that way


I am important

Naked in Heaven

When you're naked in Heaven
You're wearing an evening gown
Or jeans, or a blue sweater your mother gave you
Or extremely tiny underwear
Or a baseball cap and nothing else

When you're naked in Heaven
Your arms flow into your torso
And your legs flow out of your torso
And your torso is firm and sculpted
And your hair is free of gray or cowlicks
Or bald spots or messiness of any kind

Your skin is pristine
Your nails clip themselves
Your eyebrows stay tamed
Your teeth stay straight
Your ups stay up
And your downs--

Well, you don't have any downs

You're in Heaven after all

When I was alive
My daughter used to walk by my room
And see me in a dress
Adjusting myself

Pushing up this
Pushing together these
Pushing myself into outfits
That were too small for me to wear

And she'd say 'Mommy's beautiful'
And I'd say 'Almost, Vivian, almost'

That what she hears now
Whenever she looks at herself

'Almost, almost'

My granddaughter, Eve, is even worse

She uses her body like an army
Because she's gorgeous
And convinced that one day
It'll all fall apart
And then she'll be nothing

So she exercises her beauty
Like a surgeon's knife

I feel bad for them
And I would feel guilty
If guilt were possible up here

You pass on those sorts of problems, you know

You pass on unhappiness

It's much harder to pass on joy

Or maybe it just seems that way

Up here, we don't make such a fuss about being naked

But then again, up here, 'naked' is more of a concept

Am I naked right now?

I might be

I might look down at myself and realize I'm vulnerable in some way

I might let my hand rest against a part of myself and you might envision something and envision it correctly

I might lift up my arms and let my clothing fall off and surprise you--for a moment

I might be naked

And what would the harm be?

When you die, you shed everything, and not just the physical

You shed the guilt and the grief and the pain and the problems and you stand naked in front of time

And time gives you the choice

To embrace or wait

And some wait

Some wait quite a long time

But I--I was ready to embrace

There wasn't anymore 'Almost'

It was time to let the mirror be the eyes of someone else

I hope my daughter and my granddaughter decide the same as I did when they die
But ultimately, that's up to them

I don't miss being naked on earth

Being naked down there made me feel so disconnected
So dead, really

Now I'm up here
Existing only as a soul in an evening gown

And I feel wonderful

I feel so alive

Coffee with My Cancer

It's not so bad up close

A few scars
A lazy eye
A bald patch

But it's not so bad

I was expecting much worse

The cancer was waiting for me when I got there
Sipping what looked like black with extra sugar

Too sweet for me

I sat and waited for it to talk
But it just kept sipping the coffee
And clearing its throat

So confident for something so ugly

I explained that I was hurt
That I was hurting
That I was shocked and disappointed
And that I thought we had agreed
We had agreed that the last time was it
That it was it
That it was settled
That it was going away

'We didn't agree,' it says, 'You agreed.  I never agreed to anything.'

I want to push everything off the table
I want to pour the coffee on it
I want to scald my cancer
And leave burns wherever there isn't already a scar

I explain what the doctors said
I explain what the predictions were
The statistics
The statistics, which, after the last time
Were on my side

I try to remain calm and rational and reasonable and calm
And collected
And calm

The cancer yawns, it's heard this before
We talked on the phone
Although then I was upset
I had just gotten the news
And I was pissed
I was so fucking pissed off
I screamed at it
And it hung up

Then two days ago I sent out the e-mail

'Could we meet?  Could we talk about this?  Like adults?'

And so here I am
Talking
Like an adult
To a yawning child
Drinking coffee with too much sugar in it

I rub my face with the palms of my hands
I've been up all night
I look like shit
I'm irritated
I'm forgetting every coping mechanism I've been given

My breath is shallow
My heart is racing
The blood is rushing to my face

And why did I suggest coffee?
Why did I suggest a meeting?
Why am I sitting here
Pretending this makes a difference?

'I'll beat you,' I say, before I have the chance to think about saying it

Even I'm surprised by the solidarity of my own voice

'I did it once, and I can do it again,' I say

The cancer doesn't say anything
But its eyes, its eyes say 'Okay'

Okay like 'C'mon then.  Bring it.'

I stand up
I breathe in
I look at it

I look right at it

And then it's gone

That's when I know
I'm going to win

Duncan on Thayer Street

Duncan gets there at three
Fridays are days off
Meaning days when he's not looking for a job
Because it's taxing
Spending all week
Sitting in front of a computer
Looking for a job
So he gives himself Fridays off

'TGIF,' he walks around saying, 'God, I needed a day off'

His mother wonders if he means
A day in the sunlight
Since his room in the basement
Is rather dank, if dank is the word

A word meaning 'absolutely no natural light gets down there now that he put black construction paper over the windows because the sunlight was waking him up every day at nine am and he claims that he can't get into a looking-for-a-job mood until three pm.'

He parks off Hope and walks down
Because he doesn't want to deal
With Bowen Street
Or any traffic at all if possible

Duncan has a bad habit
Of parking in spots that aren't spots
Convinced that they're spots

'That's a spot, right?' he'll ask himself, not seeing the tow zone sign, 'Yeah, that's a spot.'

He goes down to the Starbucks
Planning to work his way up the street

There's a girl there he has a crush on
So he buys a water, just to have a reason to be in there
But a water only gets you about ten seconds of conversation
Before the line is out the door
And Duncan is somehow outside again
Watching the girl he has a crush on
Ring out three girls who act like they've never been to a Starbucks before

'Um...what are you getting?  Okay...um...well...wait...what are you getting?'
'Oh my God, guess what Josh said?'
'I'm starving.  I wish they had salads here.'
'Listen to this.'
'I think they do.'
'Not like, good ones.'
'Wait, what are you getting?'

He gets pizza and sees two kids he knew from high school
He tells them he's working on a book
Which isn't really untrue
Because in his heart there's a book
It's just a really long book
And the thought of writing it overwhelms him
And he doesn't deal well with anxiety

'So what's the book about,' the two kids ask him
'Ruby Ridge,' he says
'Wow,' they say
'Yeah,' he says, having no idea what Ruby Ridge actually is, having only heard it on the news this morning, some kind of anniversary of it or something?

It's enough to impress them
And within a few seconds
He's able to slip away
Having convinced himself
That he's fooled them into thinking
He's awesome

When in reality the first thing they say
When he walks away is--

'That asshole has no idea what Ruby Ridge is'

He gets drinks with his cousin
Who tries selling him pot
Right there in the restaurant

'Dude,' he says, 'Be cool'
'Dude,' his cousin says, 'This is totally fine.'
'Dude,' he says, 'It's really not.'
'Dude, nobody cares about pot anymore.  People only care about meth.'
'Dude, I'm pretty sure people still care enough about pot to not allow a transaction of it to occur in their restaurant.'
'Dude, do you want me to call the waitress over so she can tell you that this is okay?'
'Dude, I absolutely do not want you to call the waitress over.'

Duncan likes hanging out with his cousin
Because, in comparison
It makes him feel like an adult

By now, it's evening
And the street is becoming more crowded
With high school students
Who run up and down the street
Running into each other
And then freaking out over it

'I just saw Rich!'
'Where is he?'
'Johnny Rockets!'
'Oh my God, I'll die if I see him!'
'I know!  I died!'
'I'm going to walk by and see if I see him!'
'Oh my God!  I'll come with you!'
'Oh my God, I'm going to die!'
'I'm already dead!'
'WHY IS MY LIFE SO DRAMATIC?'

Duncan feels the urge
To walk three steps behind these girls at all times
Like a National Geographic camera crew
Following a pack of hyenas

Instead he ducks into the Avon
And catches a movie
About a village in France
That gets wiped out by Nazi's
Except for a little boy
Who grows up to be a world-class tuba player

It's called 'The Tuba' or 'Le Tube' or something
And Duncan feels smarter just watching it

After the movie, he gets ice cream at Ben and Jerry's
Where he talks to this girl who works there
Who knows the girl at Starbucks
That he has a crush on

'Is she single?'
'She's a lesbian.'
'No, no, no the pretty girl.'
'With the tattoo on her earlobe?'
'Yeah.'
'She's a lesbian.'
'Maybe I'm thinking of someone else.'
'No, I don't think you are.'
'She's definitely not a lesbian.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Because we have this thing.'
'A thing?'
'Yeah, we talk and it's a thing.'
'Okay, well, lesbians can talk.'
'But it's more of a...chemistry...thing.'
'Okay...'
'So she's a lesbian?'
'Yeah.'
'But is she single?'
'Why does that matter?'
'Because if she's single then...'
'Then what?  There's hope?'
'Um, well, there's more hope...'

That last line was the reason she charged him double
For his chocolate milkshake

Damn, he thought, I could have gotten two shakes at Johnny Rockets for that much
But then again, he countered within his own mind, I would have run into Rich
And apparently if you see him, you die

Apparently Rich is Medusa or the tape from The Ring

Half an hour before midnight, Duncan starts walking up Thayer
Towards Hope
Towards his car
Towards Saturday
Towards Sunday
Towards Monday
Towards next month
Towards next year
Towards many nights that will be similar to this one

The lesbian he's crushing on will move to Washington for grad school
Her friend at Ben and Jerry's will get married to an engineer and move to upstate New York
The hyenas will all fall in love with Rich and fight over him and he'll end up being gay and they'll marry guys who look like him but never truly feel anything like real love for the rest of their lives

The three girls in Starbucks will all write self-improvement books

Duncan's cousin will become a life coach

'Le Tube' will win the Oscar for Best Foreign Picture

And Duncan will forget where he parked his car
And wander up and down Hope
Trying to see if he can make it home
Before it's Saturday

Before it's time
To do something else

Your Son and My Son

Your son has no interest in seeing you this weekend
Your son says he's done
Waiting by the window
Waiting for you to call

He got fed up at six
I took until twenty-six

Isn't that funny?
In a tragic-in-need-of-therapy sort of way?

A six-year-old figured out you were an asshole
And I couldn't see it
Until you told me you wanted a divorce

But my son is smarter than I am
Thank God
And my son is tougher too
Thank God
And my son is fine without you in his life
And he's helping me get there as well

And shrinks can tell me
He needs you around
And why, I say?
Why does he need
To be let down

To be neglected
For whatever girlfriend-of-the-week you've got?

To be set aside
In favor of the extra cash
You can pick up
Working a weekend shift
Not like you'd spend it on him
And even if you did
I doubt your son can be bought

My son is not impressed with your credit card scores
Or the house you're buying
Or the car you're driving
Or how cool you think you are

I hear your son sits at your kitchen table
Staring at a bowl of food
You don't know he doesn't like

He waits for you to admit that you screwed up
But instead you just tell him that I'm spoiling him
By making him everything but the one thing
He doesn't like to eat

You label him with unfair names
'Picky' 'Whiny' 'Brat'

You don't know his friends
You don't know his teacher
You don't know even know his birthday

And you crack jokes that aren't funny
And tell him he should play baseball
And he fucking hates baseball
And why don't you know this?

Why don't you know this?

Why?
Why?
Why?

Why does my son have to be your son too?
Why do I have to share anything with you?
Why didn't I take off like I said I was going to
A car full of stuff
And two brand new names
And you'd never have found us
You probably wouldn't even have looked

But instead I stayed
To be the mom
The books told me to be
The happy divorced family
We never could be
But aren't all the therapists proud?

For two days a week
My son becomes someone
He truly hates to be

And I don't blame you for that
In fact, I blame me

But it's no wonder, no wonder
No wonder your son can't wait to come home
To be my son again

Ponce de Leon Finds the Fountain of Youth

In the jungle, in the clearing
There's an indentation in the land

And sitting proudly there is water
Maybe four or five tears worth of water
Resting calmly
Waiting


And an old man named Ponce de Leon
Abandoned by his men
Wandering in the jungle
Thirsty and hungry and old, above all, old
And tired, tired as well


He comes across the puddle
And he sits and dips his fingers in
And suddenly he's young again
And suddenly he's found it


He's found it


But the fountain of youth
Isn't simply a fountain of his youth
It's a fountain of all youth


And so now he's a child
In Burma
At the turn of the next century
Where Burma will be
A hub for technology
After teleportation is discovered there

Ponce de Leon will find himself
Playing with a ball in two different places
And he'll marvel at how detached he feels
Despite his newly extended presence


And so now he's a child
In Tokyo
Eight hundred years ago
Grass as green as emeralds
Covered by opulent snow

He's never seen snow like that
Or maybe he's never seen snow at all

He forgot how much he missed
The wonder of not knowing
The majesty of naivete
The brilliance of looking at something for the first time
And hearing someone say what it is

And now he's a child
The first child
Waiting for himself to grow up
And he feels alone
Total isolation

And because he's the first child
He's also the first grown-up
And so he's both at once

And he's never felt more like a child
And less like a child
Then he does in that moment

For the next thousand years
He's all sorts of children
Happy and hurt, joyful and abused
Young for two days, and young for a lifetime

The last of the children is a little boy in a high chair
Watching his mother bake bread
And clapping his hands together
Saying--

'Yes!  Yes!  Yes!'

What a wonderful word
The first time you say it

'Yes!  Yes!  Yes!'

. . . . .

When he opens his eyes
He's sitting in the jungle

His face next to the puddle of water

Some of his tears have slipped into the puddle
And now it's hard to tell the difference
Between the magic and the malaise

He'll stand up and wander a mile or so
Before he comes upon the camp of his men

They'll see that he has a few less wrinkles
That some of his liver spots are gone
And that the limp he used to walk with has vanished
And they'll ask him if it's true

Did he find the fountain of youth?

And he'll say--No, I couldn't find it.

He'll tell himself he dreamed it
That he dreamed it all
And that the small signs of his reversed aging
Are merely the results of rest
And the naturally therapeutic air of the jungle

But in his pocket
There is a small, melting handful
Of Tokyo snow

When We Visit Our Parents

When we visit your mother
She calls me 'Stavros'

'Stavros,' she says, 'My daughter should never have married you.'

I try not to be offended
Since after all, my name is not Stavros
And part of me thinks she's recalling something
From an old episode of General Hospital
She watched thirty years ago

But then she hits me with that wooden spoon she carries around with her
Despite the fact that I've never once seen her eat soup

'My daughter was going to be an Olympic swimmer,' she says

I start to remind her that you never learned to swim
But then you shake your head at me
With that look that says--

She's not all there.  Let her alone.

And yet you let her do our taxes
Can you explain that to me?

. . . . .

When we visit your father
He asks me when I'm going to have another kid

'Four girls and no boys?  It's like you're not even trying!'

I tell him that I'm done having kids
And even if I weren't done
I would have sixteen more daughters
Just to spite him

You panic at first
Until you realize I shouted it
Into his bad ear

So all he heard me say was something about the snow
And how nice his ears look

'You married a real kook,' he says to you, 'Do you know that?  She's a real Brazilian nut.'

I start to say something
But then you shoot me that look that says--

He's old.  Humor him.

Yet this is the man that we put in charge
Of renovating our bathroom last year

. . . . .

Your mother does not like the following things about me:

My haircut
My job
My driving

The way I chew my food
The way I laugh
The way I slice ham

My coffee
My complexion
My cat allergy

And the fact that I won't take off my wedding ring
When I'm over her house

'It's like you're rubbing it in my face,' she says, 'Right in an old woman's face!'

. . . . .

Your father does not like the following things about me:

My haircut
My job, or rather, the fact that I have one
My driving

The way I raise our children
The fact that I wear pants every once in awhile
The way I insist on voting in elections

My cooking, or rather, the fact that I don't
My computer, which he calls 'The Devil's Box'
My comedic sensibility, or as he calls it--

'You really married a smartass, you know that?  This Brazilian nut never met a knock knock joke she didn't love.'

. . . . .

The last time we visited your mother
You went out to the car
To put the leftovers in the trunk

That required three trips
Since she always sends us home
With enough food
To choke an ox

While you were out there, she pulled me aside and said--

'My daughter never should have married you...BUT I'm glad she did.  She is happy, and so I am happy.  You're a good man, Stavros.'

I give her a kiss on the cheek
And that's when she whispers in my ear

'Besides,' she says, 'She was a lousy swimmer.  Used to like a stone in the water.  But don't tell her that, it'll break her heart.'

. . . . .

The last time we visited your father
He sent you out to the garage
To change the oil in his car

I remember you saying--But Dad, you never drive anywhere!
And he said--Fine!  When I feel myself dying, I'll walk to the hospital!
So you went outside and changed the oil

While you were out there, he handed me a check
For a large amount of money

I told him we're doing just fine
But he said--

'Money's a dirty thing.  The only way you clean it up is to give it to people you love.'

I was very touched
And I tried not to cry
But I must have looked at least a little teary-eyed
Because he smiled and said--

'Finally you're not Miss Tough Girl for once!  Now if you'd just put on a pair of heels and adopt a boy who could carry on my name, I could finally introduce you to my friends!'

I reminded the old bastard
That he doesn't have any friends
But I promised that when we visit on Easter
I'll wear heels--just to give him a thrill

. . . . .

On the way back from your parents
We rehash what happened
And laugh with the kids

But I don't tell you about your mother's compliment
And I don't tell you about the check I'm going to put towards Kristy's college

We try to figure out
Whose house we're going to go to first
The next time there's a holiday

And then you look at me and say--

'Why don't we just have them both over to our house at the same time?'

There's a pause

And we laugh
And laugh
And laugh

Juliet in Frozen Food

She can't remember
Which of them likes turnip greens

How sad is that?

Her own children
Only three of them

And she can't remember which likes turnip greens

She only knows
That since she's been integrating turnip greens
Into the nightly meals
Because of their nutritional value
Someone has been eating all of them
While the other two leave them untouched
But she didn't think to check
Who it was that seemed to like them

She thought about calling home
And just asking

She wouldn't need to buy as many turnip greens this week
And if Charles was the one who liked them
She wouldn't need to buy them at all
Because Charles was in D.C. with her husband
For the National Geography Bee
And she was very proud

Juliet wasn't even aware
That there were National Geography Bees
But she was certainly pleased to know
That her son finally had something to excel at

Her daughter Tiffany was a brilliant young artist
Who had already been asked to display her finger paintings
In the lobby of the Advanced Learning Center that she went to
And her son Dover fancied himself a playwright
Already completing a five-act play
During recess the other day

His teacher told her that he was the most creative student at Winston Prep
And that the rest of the fourth graders were developing insecurity complexes because of him
Which made Juliet incredibly proud

And then there was Charles
Who always seemed tormented by something
Ever since he was a child

He wouldn't cry, exactly
But he wouldn't smile or laugh
He'd just look up at her, his mother
And scrunch up his face
As if the very sight of it
Gave off an unpleasant odor

Up until he was selected for the Bee
His life had was that of a background actor's
In a big budge action movie

Juliet could see him, always see him
But he always seemed to be reacting to what was going on around him
Rather than engaging in any of it

It worried Juliet, but she talked to her husband about it
He told her that it was unreasonable to assume
That all their children would be gifted

It was almost as if he were saying
'Best two out of three'
And though this offended her
She was not going to try and make a father
Understand the worries of a mother

Instead she went back to reading the book from her Book Club
Until her husband turned off the light
To go to sleep

She picked the peas out of the freezer
And the broccoli florets
Not the cuts

One time she'd bought the cuts
And the kids had howled in agony

Broccoli cuts were just chunks of something
That tasted faintly like broccoli, but overwhelmingly so
As opposed to the florets, which were fun to eat
Because it was like eating little men
With hair from the 70's

Tiffany could eat a bowl of the florets
With a little extra virgin olive oil on top
As an after school snack

She mentioned once that her friends got to eat cookies after school
But one look at a website showing the effects of too much sugar on tooth enamel
Was enough to send Tiffany running right back to the broccoli

She was fascinated with the story of how her parents met

Juliet found it sweet, but she was sad that it wasn't more of a story
So that her daughter's romanticism could be satisfied

'We met in Italy.'
'Italia.'
'Yes, Tiffany.  Italia.  Those classes are really paying off, aren't they?'
'Grandpa?'
'No, Grandpa wasn't there.  He didn't support your father marrying me.  And my parents didn't like your father or his family.  That's why we don't speak to them anymore.  It's for the best though.  They were toxic people--the lot of them.'
'Cookie?'
'All right, Tiffany, I see we're going to be spending a lot of time on Google this afternoon.'

Dover reminded her of her father

The way he'd spike his hair out at the ends
So that he looked like that comedian who smashes watermelons
Or that professor she had in college
Who used to read every word of Heart of Darkness out loud during class
At eight o'clock in the morning
Stopping between each sentence to know--

'How 'bout that, huh?  Huh?  Wow.  Okay, let's keep going.'

Dover didn't seem to like his father
Maybe that was why he reminded Juliet of Big Roy, her daddy

In his latest play--

(Selections of which were presented by the fourth grade class on 'Express Yourself' night)

--The protagonist slaughtered his father mercilessly in front of his mother using a broken plastic sippy cup that his father had taken away from his as a child while his mother watched and laughed maniacally.

The dialogue was a little stiff
But the lighting was superb.

All the same, Juliet was glad her husband had to work that night
He wouldn't have understood the implications of the production
But he would have wanted to know the play's ending
And Juliet was convinced that it probably wasn't very pleasant

'Did you ever take Dover's sippy cup away from him,' she asked her husband that evening
'Dover never used a sippy cup,' he said, 'He used to like having his liquids poured into a eye dropper, remember?'
'Oh yes,' she said, 'His baby bird fixation.'
'These pillows are too big.  I feel like I'm going to fall off the bed.'

Juliet let that be the end of the discussion

As she was contemplating whether or buy the frozen onions
Or get fresh ones in the produce department
Her phone rang

'Hello?'
'He won'
'What?'
'He won.  He's the champion.'
'Charles?'
'The National Geography Bee Champion.  There are photos.'
'Oh--oh--my--oh--'
'Online.  I think they're online by now.  They just took them, but nowadays--'
'How is he?'
'What do you mean how is he?  He won.'
'Does he look--?'
'He looks like he's always looked, but at least now, he's a winner.'
'I suppose.'
'Look, I have to go.  They're doing an interview with him.'
'An interview?  Who's--?'
'I have to go.  I'll call you tonight.'

Her husband had gone with him
Because if he had the option of taking care of two kids and not missing work
Or missing work and only having to worry about one
And get a trip to D.C. out of the bargain
He'd happily be the chaperone

Now she felt a little envious
That she wasn't there with Charles
Getting to experience his victory with him

She grabbed the frozen chopped onions
And threw them in her shopping cart

Juliet felt badly that she never has time to bother with fresh produce
But between school and extracurricular activities
And studying and reading
And making sure that every piece of paper the children used
Got recycled
She just always seemed to wind up in frozen food

And when the door to the freezer shut
She could see herself there
Reflected onto a bag of carrots

And when she tried to determine
Whether or not she looked sad

She determined that doing something like that
Was ultimately a waste of time

And her cart carried on

Ernest Hemingway Plays Billie Jean King

The main problem with you, Miss King
Is that you've been infected by your own insecurity

It's curdled up inside of you
Like milk sitting in a baby's mouth too long

You need to spit it out
Spit out that insecurity

Don't let it fester inside of you
And tell you that you're capable
Of things you aren't

Perhaps you did beat that Robert fellow
But he was already a beaten man
Before he even stepped out onto the court

I once wrote a story about a man like him

It was entitled 'Such a Way to See a Lake'

Lovely to say, isn't it?

It's about a man who kills a drifter
And then eats breakfast

He doesn't actually come right out and say he killed her
But its inferred through carefully selected adverbs

The story was never published
Because I spilled gin all over the final draft

Do you read much, Miss King?
The living never do

Especially not you living women

A living woman might just be the laziest creature on earth

As soon as one of you gives birth
Or bakes a cake
You act as if your life's mission has been completed

I wanted to strive for more in my life
I wanted to write a great novel
Something about the Ottoman Empire
But alas, I had to settle for novels about fishermen
And drunken Americans in Europe

Life is disappointment, Miss King

You might want to write that down
A quote from the dead Ernest Hemingway
Is worth quite a bit these days

Most people stop talking after they die
But I'm a little more persistent than most people

You know you're not an unattractive woman
I'm sure a fat man somewhere
Would enjoy domesticating you

Instead you waste your time playing tennis with dead writers
So that you can prove--what?

Are you hoping to prove every misogynist wrong
That ever lived?

I hope you have a lot of time, Miss King

And a thick skin, because--

--And you may not know this--

--I was an intensely good tennis player

Never lost a match in my life

I found no point in doing anything
I couldn't be the best at

Writing, tennis, making love to Mexican whores

Just a little joke on the end there
Just to break the ice

Always good to joke before a game

Perhaps afterward we could go out
And enjoy a drink or two?

I don't make it a habit of drinking with the living
But I suppose one time won't kill me...again

All right, let's play

And remember, it's not about who wins
It's about who is a winner

So in many ways, Miss King
You've already lost

Medusa Complains About Her Love Life

You know, it's just--

He's there, and he's got flowers
And I'm, you know, I'll find something to put them in

And as soon as I go to take them from him

BANG!

He turns to stone

I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?

If he doesn't want to make himself available to love
Honestly, what can I do?

The flowers were nice

But the last thing I needed in my yard
Was another stone man
So terrified of commitment
He prefers to turn himself into a lawn ornament
Rather than actually make a real connection with someone

The last guy brought a mirror

Can you believe it?

A mirror on a date

You can imagine what THAT did for my self-esteem

At least that one made eye contact
But it still ended up being a disaster

I couldn't look at the mirror for some reason
So he kept trying to get me to see me
Seeing me seeing him
And before I knew it
I had thrown the mirror down on the ground
And I was halfway through giving him a piece of my mind
When what do I realize?

He's come to kill me

Should have seen that coming, I guess

I don't mind the ones who come to kill me
It's the ones that are afraid of snakes that I mind

Do you know how many guys I've had to lecture?

'These snakes are a PART OF ME!  If you love me, you have to love ALL OF ME!  Snakes included!'

I mean, honestly
There is no sensitivity left in this world

No, no--please

Do not fix me up with anyone

I'm giving up on dating

I'm never going on another date again

...Blind?

He's...blind?

Eyes pecked out by crows as punishment for cursing the gods?

How...intriguing

Well...never say never I guess

A Broken Moment

Did it break the moment I chickened out
When you stepped on my toes
And I let my hands sit on your waist
Instead of slipping them under you shirt
Instead of believing in being bold
Instead of showing you that I could do it
That I could shed the glasses
And practiced persona
And ferocious limitations
And just declare myself to you?

Did it break when we danced together
And I couldn't figure out
The appropriate distance
Between space and you
And time and me
Never seeing
That I should have removed both
And left just us
Dancing there?

Did it break when we sat in your car
And exchanged laughter
Over something--
What?
Something
Something funny
Something I can't remember now
Yet it still makes me happy

Did it break when we spent all day together
You going through your motions
And me memorizing them
Saying to myself 'Yes, this could fit me'
'This could be my life--everyday
And that would be right
I could live this way'

Did it break because I pushed too hard
I said too much
I asked for nothing
I should have asked for something
I should have called less, more, tried, not tried, joked, been stoic, attempted--what?
I should have been a different person or more like myself

Did it break when you met him?
Was it because he supplemented you
Whereas I just gave you another person
To keep track of
To complicate things?

Did it break the night you saw me step back
When you saw that I wouldn't renegotiate
That I wouldn't settle for the original label
That I would stop calling?

Did it break when the rest of me did?
I wonder
I wonder

And can it be fixed?
I hope

And I can hope

Crazy at the Theater

Brandy, stop asking me
Where you can get licorice

This ain't no movie theater
This is a theater theater

A real theater

Where they do War and Peace and shit

I brought y'all here
Because y'all are my roommates
And y'all need some culture in your lives

I'm sick of coming home
To find the three of you
Sitting around the television
Watching 'Which Dumb Slut is Going to Slap Another Dumb Slut?'

Those shows are the devil's work
And I should know
Because I've seen every episode of 'Dumb Sluts'

So it's time we all spent a night
Soaking in some real intelligent--

Cindy, stop making eyes at that usher
That man needs to do his job
And his job is not to usher your ass
Back to his apartment after the show is over

Don't tell me he likes you, Cindy

If he likes you so much
Then how come there are four seats down front
And he still stuck us in the section
You have to take an elevator to get to?

I'm going to have to watch this show
Through the Bubble telescope or something
Because I can't see a thing

Brandy, how much did you bring back from the refreshment counter?

Is that WINE?

Ohhhh nooooo

You are not getting drunk at the theater

Who do you think you are?
One of the actors?

Tina...

Tina...

Tina...

Don't be yelling at me in the theater, Tina

Just because you wanted to get tickets to Phantom of the Opera
And instead I got us tickets to a real show

If you want to see the Phantom of the Opera
Call up your last boyfriend

I wish somebody'd dropped a chandelier on his ugly ass

Now look, everybody just shut up
Until intermission

I expect y'all to watch and listen
And culturize yourselves

And Tina you better not have forgotten to tape the 'Dumb Sluts' reunion show for me
To watch when we get home
Otherwise I'm going to throw your ass onstage
And make you tap dance

Now behave like real theater people

Ohhhh the lights are going down!

I better call my mother and tell her I'm at the theater

She'll be so proud to hear how sophisticated I've gotten

Don't shush me, Tina!

We're in a theater!

Hello Mom?

GUESS WHERE I AM?

Brian DeRivolo Lets Us Hear His Inner Monologue During Sex

Her ass is so awesome

I want to grab it again

Can I grab it again?

Should I?

I just grabbed it

I don't want to be spending all my time on her ass

But it's so awesome

Would it be bad if I spent all my time on her ass?

When else am I going to spend time on her ass?

Isn't that what sex is for?

To get to touch all the stuff you really want to touch all the time but can't because of society's restricting labels on what appropriate affection is?

She's moaning really loudly

Is her roommate home?

If her roommate is home then I feel bad

Should I ask if the roommate is home?

Should I care?

Ah fuck it, she's not my roommate

Could she be faking?

I hope she's not faking

Maybe I'm just amazing

But then how come nobody else has ever moaned like this?

Maybe I've just been sleeping with really quiet girls

Okay, okay, she's hurting me

The nails--the nails hurt

Does she think that doesn't hurt?

She must know that that hurts

Maybe she thinks I like it

Maybe I should make a sound indicating that I don't like it

Maybe I should go Ahhhh or Ehhhhh or Uhhhhhh

I don't want her to feel bad though but--

Owww okay, she definitely needs to stop

God, she wants me so bad

Why does she want me so bad?

Is she a freak?

I don't want to have sex with a freak

I mean, I am having sex with a freak

If she's a freak

But now it feels weird

If she's a freak

And maybe she's not?

You know who was a freak?

That girl I had sex with last night

She was--wow.

I should call her.

No, stop.

I need to just relax

...Is that a pimple...?

On her nipple?

Who gets pimples on their nipples?

That doesn't happen right?

Oh my God, what if she has gonorrhea?

Wouldn't she tell me?

Maybe she wouldn't

That bitch!

No, she'd tell me

She's not a bitch

She teaches middle school

Middle school teachers don't get gonorrhea

Maybe chlamydia but definitely not gonorrhea

But then what's going on with the nipple pimple?

Seriously, I'm really grossed out right now

I need to grab her ass or I'm going to lose this hard-on

I can't really get to it

Why is she making this difficult?

Does she not want me to grab her ass?

What else am I supposed to grab?

Her arm?

I can grab her arm anytime I want

This is sex time

Time for ass grabbing!

Should I say that?

Should I say--Time for ass grabbing!

Maybe she likes some dirty talk?

Maybe she'll respond to that?

Say like--Don't go hiding that ass on me, bitch.

Something like that?

Should I pull her hair?

I can't do anything rough to her breasts

I don't want to pop the pimple

I'm pretty sure if you pop a pimple during sex

You die immediately

You know what?  I just need to enjoy this

I just need to--

Wait...

Am I done?

Oh wow

I'm done

Is she done?

Well, I mean, it doesn't really matter because I'm definitely done

Wow, that was--

Wow

Okay

I should kiss her

Or, something

I wonder if she'll let me spend the night

My parents hate it when I come home this late

Plus it is my thirty-fifth birthday

I'll ask her about staying

When I come back from the kitchen

The Story of When We Were Young

We play planet coffee table
Where our world exists
Underneath the coffee table
And within that world
There are sectors
And cities
And a burgeoning metropolis
Run by a monkey named Robespierre

And we love this world
And wish to never leave it
And we are sheltered
But we're young

We run out into the backyard
Where the snow is above our heads
And we dig a tunnel
That leads into the clubhouse
Where we decide that we will host a Blizzard Party
And within an hour
We have a fire going
From burning up our father's fishing magazines
And we're singing songs
And importing apple juice from the kitchen
And the snow melts around us
Because it's now July
And time to go in the pool

And we're preposterous
But we're young

We make an art project out of bookcases
And the sofa
And the rug
And we call it 'Living Room'
And our mother tells us it's abstract
And we go 'Mmmm it is'
Even though we don't know what that means
And when our mother goes to make us sandwiches
We get into an argument over whether or not
We should unabstract our project
And we decide that we should
And so we put all the furniture back where it belongs
And our mother comes in with our sandwiches
And says--Well, now it's even MORE abstract

And we throw ourselves onto the television
Which we have placed in the middle of the room
And weep for our twisted souls

And we're confused
But we're young

We grow up in tens and twenties
And when we come back to the house
After some time away
We notice Mom under the coffee table
And we think--

Dear Lord, she's lost it

But then she tells us to get on our backs
And see what she's seeing

So we do

And underneath the coffee table
Underneath its surface
Where nobody would ever look
Written in marker and crayon and pen
Are words and stories and descriptions
Of everything we knew when we were young

And we see that Mom is crying as she reads it
Tracing the words with her fingers
As if they could open a hidden passage somewhere

And we all gather together
And begin to read

The story of when we were young

Top Ten Best Albums That Were Never Actually Made

10.  Believe in Aluminum by The Swarthy Fraggles

This definitely would have been my tenth favorite album if it had actually been recorded.  Instead, the band broke up when the lead singer's girlfriend demanded that she be lead trombonist, which was such bullshit, because Stacey McGillin is probably one of the best trombonists in the music industry, and when she left the band, the entire infrastructure fell apart.  They only got one song down on Believe in Aluminum, and when it leaked onto the Internet, it was pretty horrible, but then Stacey leaked the version of it with her on trombone, and it was the best thing I've ever heard in my entire life and probably would have changed the entire world if it could have gotten mainstream airplay which it wouldn't have because radio is fast food music for those with obese ears who like chicken nuggets.  Nevertheless, this album really could have been something.

9.  Skinny Jeans by Nicous Vixen

"Nicous--for those of you unfortunate enough to not know who he is--is pronounced "Knock It Off, Asshole."  His first album was actually self-titled, but people just thought he was saying "Knock It Off, Asshole" and so they stopped selling his stuff at Walmart, which is probably for the best.  Nicous later attempted suicide by wrapping himself in bacon and throwing himself into the lion's den at the zoo.  Unfortunately, or fortunately, I guess, he hadn't taken a bath for a few days and the bacon wasn't all that fresh, so the lions just kept roaring at him until some of the zookeepers came and got him out.  The public embarrassment was too much for him, and now he operates a llama farm.  He put out a bluegrass album a few years ago, but...yeah...

8.  Own Up To Your Nonsense by The Nonsense

They're still working on this album, but I doubt it'll ever be finished because all of them have been deported to different countries, and three of those countries are war torn.  I light a candle for them everyday.

7.  (401) 282-4479 by Bitches Who Steal Candy

This all-girl band's third album is said to be a masterpiece, but it's tied up in lawsuits, because the phone number is the number of the girl who picked on the drummer in high school.  The liner notes instruct people to call the girl and harass her...for the rest of her life.  I think it's pretty awesome, but I can see how there might be a legal gray area there.  The third song on the album is rumored to be titled "Throw Your S**t at Her House.  She Lives on 34 Stedmore Street in South Kingston.  Seriously, She Deserves It."  God, I would kill to find out what that song's about.

6.  It's Not Really Happening by 31 Down:  Apocalypse

This conspiracy theorist band is so political, when they disappeared on their way to a gig in Fresno, it was rumored that the President himself ran them off the road, then had the C.I.A. wipe their memories clean and turned them into hired assassins.  The first three notes of this album leaked online and they are the most amazing three notes in the history of music.  I was crying before note two.  Seriously, I was.

5.  Umberto Eco Is My Father by J.O.S.E.P.H.P.A.T.T.E.R.S.O.N.

J.Period, as he's more commonly known to those of us who actually know anything at all about music, was only going to be putting half a song on this album, and it was still going to be the best album ever, but instead, he decided to masturbate.  Yet another artist succumbs to tragedy.

4.  My Merry Christmas by Suck My Satan

Suck wanted to sell this album with a vial of his blood.  When he found out that, even in limited release, that would probably kill him, he claimed his record company, or as she prefers to be called--his mom, was keeping his art in a claustrophobic box.  She grounded him, and the album's been in limbo ever since.  And because of that, I've never had a real Christmas.

3.  & by @

The album is a collection of sounds made by wolves playing in a ball pit at a Chuck E. Cheese outside Augusta.  When the record company wanted to autotune the wolves, @ balked, and destroyed all the tapes.  Perhaps one of the greatest losses in the history of loss.

2.  F**k This Album by What the F**k Do You Care?

This debut album would have been the greatest debut album ever, but the artist decided not to complete it.  Instead, he got another job...as President...of a country...a big country...You probably know which country I'm talking about...Yup, that one...the one you're thinking of...Yup...

1.  It Feels Good Not to Be Dead by Elvis

The King has always been a guilty pleasure of mine, and had he completed this last album, it would have put him on the map as not only the King of Rock 'N Roll, but the King of Punk Rock.  That's right.  Elvis's last album was going to be a punk rock masterpiece.  But after he died, putting out an album with this title, just seemed to be uncouth, and so his estate chose not to release it.  But one day, some diehard musical revolutionaries will break into Graceland and give the world of music back what it so desperately needs--a punk rock Elvis album.

Until then, I'll just keep waiting.

My Last Year of Grad School

I'll have a degree

That's what I'll have
That she won't

And that's supposed to be a comfort, you understand
That's supposed to make me feel better

That she's getting work
And will continue to get work
And will probably skyrocket into the art world
While I'm in some crit somewhere
Wondering if I only wound up in grad school
Because I wasn't sure that I had the talent
To make it without a piece of paper
Certifying me as 'definitely not incompetent'

And already knowing the answer

You know why you should go to grad school?

To further you education
To learn more about your art and yourself
To make yourself more marketable in your field

All good reasons

Do you know why I went to grad school?

Because I was in my mid-twenties looking at my late twenties
And realized that they were a barren landscape
Of 'maybe's...

Maybe I'll get a job doing something I love
Maybe I won't
Maybe I'll get hit by a bus
Maybe I'll get pregnant by accident
Maybe I'll become famous
Maybe Nina and other girls like here will succeed while I fail
Unless I can give myself an edge over her

And a degree--a degree is supposed to be an edge, right?

Did you hear how I ended that

...Right?

Do you want to know the first time I thought that?

Do you want to know the first time doubt entered its way
Into my master plan?

My last year of grad school

Do you want to know when someone brought out the statistics
Of how many people there are out there with M.F.A's
Who aren't working
Indicating that the M.F.A has significantly lost its value
As a professional tool?

My last year of grad school

Do you want to know when people started suggesting to me
That perhaps going to grad school might not have been for me?

My last year of grad school

Funny how that happens, isn't it?

It's a little bit like getting to your ninth month of pregnancy
And then finding out that you're going to have dectuplets

You probably still would have chosen to have the babies
But a warning would have been nice

Nina chose not to go to grad school
Hell, she barely made it through undergrad

She rarely ever did what she was supposed to do

Massive amounts of projects let unfinished
Classes skipped, left and right
Almost no ambition or drive, whatsoever

And yet, she was given the senior showcase slot
Because the professors couldn't quote--'deny her inherent abilities'

So the moral of the story
In case you haven't quite figured it out yet
Is that you can pretty much do what you want
As long as you have the talent to back up your bullshit

And the thing is, the people with that much bullshit
Always have the talent to back it up

Because when those people are growing up
They become very aware that they're special
And they begin to behave accordingly
Unless someone stops them
Which no one does

And then other people, who do not have 'inherent abilities'
Realize that they're going to have to work twice as hard
To get noticed over the people who aren't even showing up
Because that's the card they were dealt

Nina has a gallery showing a month after I graduate
And I'm confident it will be a huge success

The press will love the fact that she didn't go to grad school
They'll love her rebellious nature
And the fact that she poo poo's those of us
Who had to 'continue our education'

Had to, not chose to, had to

Nina won't even entertain the idea
That I chose to go to grad school

Believe it or not, we socialize quite often
Because she enjoys reminding herself
That the path she could have chosen
The one I chose, or had to choose, whatever
Was a foolish path

And I spend time with her
Because I'm poor
And she's not
And she's willing to pay for her schadenfraude
With lobster and risotto
And so, I suffer instead of starve

Perhaps my opposition to starving
Is why I'm not as effective an artist as she is

That, or I should have just been a cosmotician
And nobody told me

Maybe they're waiting until the last minute

That seems to be the time
When all things
Are revealed

Marriage Math

He started smoking again
So I beat him on that

I didn't start smoking again until two days
After he started smoking
Which, by my calculations
Means I have two days more self-control
Than what he has
And I made sure he knew it too

If you wanna know
How much more of a person I am than him
That seems to be the standard answer

Two days, give or take

I went off my diet two days after he did
I can get things done two days faster than he can
I stay angry two days less than he does

When I have a secret
I know I can keep it for two days
Before he even starts to suspect anything
And he believes lies two days longer than I do
So really, it's four days

And when he tries keeping a secret
I've usually known about it
Two days before it even occurred to him
That he did something that needed hiding

I remember important dates two days before they happen
And he remembers than he forgot something
Two days after I've started giving him the silent treatment

I knew I was pregnant two days before it was confirmed by a doctor
And he realized I was pregnant two days after the baby was born

My mother said what made her marriage work
Was that she was always a day ahead of my father

Simple marriage math, she said

Well, I figured, just to be on the safe side
I better find a man two days behind me

You never know when you're going to need
That extra day

I Saw Your Ring

I saw your ring, you know

Not like you tried to hide it

Maybe you just don't care?

Well, I care

If you think I'm into married guys
Then you've misread me

I am not interested in helping you
Satisfy your oppressed desires

I am not interested in sex without kissing
Eye contact, or emotion

I am not interested in having you put on your clothes
And head out the door
Before I even find out your name

I would rather go upstairs to my room alone
And sleep alone
And be alone
Then be with you
Knowing somewhere there's a sad, little naive woman
Tucking her two kids in
Thinking her husband's out making a living
When all you're doing is sitting around a hotel bar
Trying to figure out who here is wearing the same secret as you

Maybe you come from a religious background
Or maybe you think you've been converted
Or maybe you're in denial
Or maybe you're guilt-ridden
Or maybe you're just an asshole
Who thinks they can do whatever they want

But whatever you are
It isn't right

Not with that ring on your finger

I'll give you this though
At least you didn't try taking it off
Hiding it

It wouldn't matter though

You can always tell when a man wears a ring
And not just by the white circle around his finger

A man like you looks a certain way

I saw the ring in your eyes
Before I even looked at your hand

So thank you for the drink
And thank you for the talk
And good luck
And get help
And good-bye

Thank you for reminding me
That there are worse things in this life
Than being on your own

Magellan and the Whole Wide World

If you sail around the eastern tip
Of Tahjnanistan

You can see a star
Dipping its toe in the blue ocean water

Right before shooting up into the sky

That's right

In certain parts of this world
It is possible
To see a thirsty star

Miraculous, isn't it?

I reached the Port of Pau de Sice
Eighteen weeks ago
And when I arrived there
The entire country was being run
By a woman named Olive
Who was only six years old

She ruled that land with an iron fist
Although with nobody to rule
The fist was not as intimidating
As one might presume

At the northern tip of the island
Of Northern Tip
There is a patch of snow
That sits right underneath the sun
And doesn't melt

The entire island has brought their economy
To a standstill
Waiting for the snow to melt
Even though
It doesn't seem like it will

All of the islanders still around the edges of the snow patch
And stare at it
While complaining to each other
About how much of it there is

'That patch must be three feet wide!'
'Yes, it is.'
'I'm sick of it.'
'Me too.'
'Sick of looking at it.'
'Me too.'
'Just sick.'
'Me too.'

I haven't been around the entire world yet
Because I keep stopping
To look around

I suppose it's not so bad
An explorer should explore
Although my distinction is supposed to be
The quantity of what I see
The length of the journey

Because, in theory, so much else has been explored

At least, that's what I heard
Before I started out

I was only six days gone
When a whale stopped
To ask me directions

'Excuse me, do you know the way to The No Neck Republic?'
'I'm sorry, but I don't.'
'What a pity.  I was hoping to go there since I don't have a neck.'
'Could you live somewhere else?'
'I suppose I could I just keep living in the ocean, but I can't take all the stares I get from the octopi.  Oh well.'

With that, he swam away
And I knew
I would not be coming home

When you realize how much there is to see of the world
It's hard not to want to see it all

I don't particularly care if I discover anything

Most explorers just want to plant a flag
And name a piece of land after themselves
But I don't feel that way

I've never found a place
That looked like my name

Maybe the idea is that you name the place
And then it starts to look like you

I guess I'll never know

I've sent word back that I've been killed by savages
And that is how history will remember me

That I failed to complete my journey
And that I died in a violent
And unfortunate way

The truth is I just didn't feel like coming back

And I didn't want to be the man who conquered the whole wide world

After all I've seen
It would seem an insult

An insult to a dear friend

It would seem as if I were saying
That I had conquered a lion
Or an elephant
And turned it into a house cat

And people would think that there was nothing left to see

They would stop exploring

'No point,' they'd say, 'Magellan already did it'

And that would be a terrible loss

Because even if I lived forever
I'd only ever see a tiny parcel of this world
And I'd experience even less of it

For each day a new person is brought into being
And a new day brings new circumstances
A lake dries up to reveal what was hiding underneath it
While a wave courses over a beach that no one will remember

A mountain will sink an inch or two
As a baby begins to grow

A man will sail his ship once, twice, three times around the world
And all he'll ever see is water
Because he's only concerned
About having his name in a history book

People will arrive and depart
Places will be given new names
Flag after flag will be planted
And somewhere on a shore
I'll be sitting
Quietly

Watching a star
Come down to earth
To see what all the fuss is about

The Orange Pagoda

Ricky, you at the Red House?

MARISSA!

Your father's at the Red House!

The box!  The Blue Box!  Whatever the hell it is!  What do you want?

Ricky, hang on a sec, Marissa wanted a movie

Did you get my milk?  The milk I like?

What kind did you get?

No, no, no--don't say you just got milk

There's all different kinds of milk

That's like saying you just got a baby

There's all different kinds
You can't just say you got one
And it's like you're bringing home a snowflake
That are all the same
Because it's not

Marissa, what movie do you want?

I'm making your father go back to the store
And get me the right milk
But he can get you one before he--

She wants the one with the guy

You know, the guy?

The one that was in that movie we saw last year

He did a new movie
That's the one she wants

How the hell am I supposed to remember?

You know, the guy

The guy with the thing
Where he liked the girl
What's the name of that movie?

Well, don't get THAT one
Get his new one

Look at all the little covers next on the Yellow Hut
See if anybody's face looks familiar

MARISSA!

What was the name of the guy?

She says it's Something B. Something

He's got a B. in his name
Look and see if anybody's got a B. in their name

Tell the man behind you
You're going to take your sweet time
Because rushing yourself gives you anxiety
And does he want your head in his lap
Rocking and back and forth
Trying to calm you down
If you have an anxiety attack
Because I'm not driving down there
Just because he can't wait five minutes
To rent a movie from the Orange Pagoda

WHAT?

Ricky, Marissa says she thinks there's a girl in the movie
With the guy

And it's the girl from that movie we didn't like

Remember that movie we didn't like?

Wait, I think you liked it
But I didn't

So in other words, it was a bad movie
That stupid people would like

Does that sound familiar?

Ah, to hell with it

Just bring home Beverly Hills Chihuahua
I feel like watching something artsy

And don't forget my milk!

Backstage at the Original Production of Hamlet

I just...I don't know...you know?

That ending...

Woof

I mean, does EVERYBODY have to die?

EVERYBODY?

Well, it doesn't bother me
I'm Horatio

I mean, it sort of bothers me
That I don't get as many lines as Laertes
When I'm clearly a better character
But, whatever, I'm not the author

I'd have to be drunk wayyy more often
To be the author

I like the name change for Ophelia though
When we were calling her 'Expunga'

Although I liked it better when she moved to Switzerland
Instead of going crazy
And drowning herself

How do you drown yourself anyway?

Don't you just instinctively come up?
Like, your body fights to live, doesn't it?

I tried to drown a bag of kittens once
And they all kept popping out of the bag
And swimming back to shore

They were like super kittens

I finally just gave up
And left them in the pond swimming

They're probably still there

Oh hey, Richard!  How are you?

...Did you see him in Henry?

Ugh...that was...ugh...

That play needed shorter acts and longer intermissions

By the end of it
I was ready to Ophelia myself

That still moved faster than this play though
I'll tell you that much

Are we only on the Gravedigger?

Are you kidding me?

I could have bled thirty patients by now

Oh yes, in my spare time
I dabble in medicine
It's sort of a hobby of mine

Great job out there Robert!

Could he milk that Ghost scene any more?

It's iambic pentameter
Not an iambic marathon

We should just cut the whole ghost thing
I mean, it's not like it's important

That whole scene could be some guy saying to Hamlet--

'Hey, I think your uncle killed your father'

Bang, twenty minutes off the play

You know what?

I could say it

I'm in that first scene anyway

Then we could add this whole layer to Horatio
About him playing both sides
And sleeping with Ophelia when Hamlet's not around
And maybe at the end
We find out that he goes to France
And goes on a series of adventures
That could be documented in a future play

...Just a suggestion

At this point, anything helps

I hope you're looking for another play to jump into, Simon
Because this play's going to close
Before we get to the bows

The theater is cruel, Simon

It's a cruel, cruel place

Geena Davis and Sigourney Weaver and Their Oscar Observations

"Geena, have you seen Inception?"
"I was in 'Inception.'"
"You were?"
"Yes.  I played the lead."
"No, dear, I think that was Leonardo DiCaprio."
"That was just an editing trick."
"Are you sure?"
"Sigourney, I think I would know if I was in Inception or not."
"Then can you explain it to me?"
"Yes.  It was about caterpillars."
"I don't remember there being any caterpillars."
"I see someone wasn't paying attention."

. . . . .

"Sigourney, who do you think should win Best Actress?"
"Me."
"But you weren't in anything this year."
"What's your point?"
"You have to do something in order to win."
"I don't see the logic in that."
"But you didn't do anything."
"I did many things this year.  All of them admirable."
"But you didn't make any films."
"Yes, I did!  I made that film with Jamie Lee Curtis!"
"Oh well, darling, that's nothing to be rewarded for."
"Why I--"
"If anything, I think you should be punished for it."
"I would be insulted if I'd actually seen the movie, but the trailer looked just awful, even with me in it."
"Does Jamie Lee Curtis have incriminating photos of you or something like that?"
"Well, yes, but that isn't why I did the movie."
"You poor thing."

. . . . .

"Geena, have you ever made love to James Franco?"
"Many, many times."
"Really?"
"Have you?"
"Oh, of course.  I made love to him just yesterday."
"Did he try reading to you from that awful book of short stories he wrote?"
"Oh God, no.  Every time he takes it out, I pretend to fall asleep."
"I do the same thing whenever he tries making me watch the episodes of General Hospital he was on."
"Did he make you watch Date Night?"
"...Well..."
"It's okay."
"I...I didn't want to..."
"Geena, he made me watch it too."
"Oh God, I thought I was the only one."
"We will carry this secret together.  Take my hand."
"You're wearing mittens."
"I was speaking metaphorically."
"I wish you would stop doing."

. . . . .

"Sigourney, at what age did you win your Oscar?"
"I haven't won an Oscar, Geena."
"I was fourteen."
"You were absolutely not fourteen."
"I was fourteen, and my father was there to see me win it.  It bothered him because he had never won one, and he still holds it against me."
"I believe you're thinking of Tatum O'Neal, Geena."
"Nobody thought Paper Moon was going to be a hit, but my little fourteen-year-old self knew differently."
"I don't think she was fourteen when she won."
"Later my father would hit on me at Sonny Bono's funeral."
"I think we should stop there."
"All the leaves are brown...leaves are brown..."
"I'm going to say I need to use the ladies room when I really I'm just going to walk around the block until you're done."

. . . . .

"Sigourney, how was the ladies room?"
"There was too much snow in it."
"Yes, I'll have to have the butler look into that."
"You have a butler?"
"No, that's just what I call my husband."
"Who is your husband?"
"Christian Bale."
"Ah, he has a temper."
"He does indeed.  Just last week he killed everyone else in the Best Supporting Actor category."
"Oh, did he kill Geoffrey Rush?"
"He did."
"Well, that's too bad.  I like him."
"You're thinking of Dustin Hoffman."
"You know what?  I am."
"He also killed Robert Palmer."
"The 80's icon?"
"Yes."
"What was he nominated for?"
"Nothing.  Christian just felt like killing him."
"What a shame."
"He's not easy to love, but he's excellent at getting stains out of carpeting.  He really has to be, you know, what with all the murdering."
"I would imagine."
"Mmmm, yes."

. . . . .

"Are you sure you were in Inception?"
"I was in all ten of the Best Picture nominees:  Beetlejuice, Bullworth, Beauty and the Beast, Earth Girls Are Easy, Easy Rider, Don't Be a Menace, Dennis the Menace, Stuart Little, Little Shop of Horrors, Punch Drunk Love, and Homeless at Harvard: The Liz Murray Story."
"That's one movie too many."
"Oh...well then...take our Easy Rider.  It wasn't my best performance anyway."
"You had quite a year, Geena."
"Oh yes, it was a very good year."

The Rollercoast Proposal

Carrie, I know you love rollercoasters
And I love you
And so--

My shoes?

One second, honey

Sir, why do you need me to take off my shoes?

Are you not allowed to wear shoes on rollercoasters anymore?

It does what?

It sucks them off your feet?

Uh...okay...well...I may have made a  mistake then
You see, I just wanted a sweet sort of rollercoaster
So that I could...um...ask my girlfriend...uh...

Too late?

What do you mean too late?

Well, can't you unbuckle--

Okay, never mind

I'm sure we'll be fine

Anyway, Carrie, what I was saying was--

Why are we moving backwards?

Shouldn't we start by moving forwards?

First backwards, then forwards?

Are they TRYING to make us vomit?

No, I didn't look at the name of the rollercoaster, I just got in line because--

It's called what?

The Vomit Train from Hell?

That sounds just awful

Uh, well, all right
I better make this fast then

Carrie, you mean so much to me

Every day I wake up next to you and I think--

OH MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

No, no, sweetie
That was because--
I'm sorry, I--
I meant to say--

AHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU  SON-OF-A-BAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Oh God...Oh God...Oh God...

Uh, honey
I need you to know
That if I were to die right now
I would be so happy
Knowing that you were here next to--

OH MY GOD!  THERE ARE NO TRACKS!  THERE ARE NO MORE TRACKS!
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!  OH MY GOD I CAN'T DIE!
I HATE MY LIFE TOO MUCH TO DIE RIGHT NOW!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ugh...ugh...no more...no more...

Carrie, listen--will you--will you--

AHHHH!
TELL THEM TO STOP THIS THING!
I'M NOT KIDDING!

I'M NOT KIDDDDDDDDDINNNNNNNG!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

. . . . .

You know what?

I think we should see other people

They've Got Gold

They've got gold in the house
I can see it, Peter
I can see the gold

If you come up--

Wellllllll, if you just come up to the--

Yes, Peter, I realize that

But when we didn't get the flatscreen what did I say?

And when we didn't add on the sunroom
What did I say?

And when we saw them walking down the street
With their IPhones on leashes
All different color leashes
And the IPhones walking along
Using that new 'Your IPhone Can Walk Now' app

What did I say?

That we needed to be conscious of our place
In this neighborhood

That we need to set an example
That we need to examine what we're saying
About ourselves

And now they've got gold, Peter
And that means we're never catching up

We're done, Peter
We're just done

They have a giant wall of gold in their living room
And it's giving their skin a beautiful golden hue to it
That only important people have

And we don't have that hue, Peter
And despite my experimentations
With different self-tanning solutions
I can't come up with the right coloring

They'll end up inviting the neighbors over
So that they can have just a touch of hue
But not the perfect tech
But still more than we have, Peter

And we won't be invited
Because they know
That once upon a time
We were important

And they won't want to risk
Letting us feel that feeling again
Lest we finally stop dilly dallying
And consume as we used to

I'm sick of the organic food, Peter
I'm sick of shutting off lights whenever I leave a room
I detest our compost heap
I miss my old carbon footprint!

And in our living room
Where our wall of gold should be
The wall we EARNED
There is NOTHING
But pictures of ourselves
For us to look at

And they are HIDEOUS

We look awful in those pictures, Peter

Mirrors?

Those are mirrors?

Well, all the more reason for them to come down

After all
Why would you ever need
To look at yourself?

Betsy Ross on Modern America

Well, first and foremost
I have to tell you
That I love your pastry

You have really mastered
The art of the cinnamon bun

If I weren't dead
And could still consume
Food products
I would just love
Living in your time now

Oh, and don't let people tell you
How horrible it is

I had a cousin die from the mumps

The mumps!

Do you people still have the mumps?

Trust me

How things are now are fine
Just fine

Oh, there are things I don't approve of--

Sweatshops
Dollar stores
Walmart

Nobody has any respect for quality
When it comes to goods

Oh yes, your pastry is better
But your shirts fall apart
After ten or fifteen years

What good does that do you?

The flag?

You want my thoughts on the flag

Oh I see how it is

Ask the dead lady patriot about the flag
And you're all ears
But as soon as she starts criticizing big business
Somebody needs to shut her up

Well, let me tell you something
I don't give a Tory's tickler
About the flag

And why should I?

You people haven't updated it at all!

Why you must be on your fifteen or sixteenth colony by now
And it still looks exactly the same

What is the point is saluting something
That was meant to represent a society
That doesn't even exist anymore?

And pledging your allegiance to it?

Most of you don't even understand half that pledge
Why, I don't even understand half that pledge
And I slept with the man who wrote it

Oh, wait a minute
I'm thinking of Francis Scott Key

Never mind

The point is, you all need to stop worrying
What I would think
Of how you live

Wondering what a woman who's been dead for over a hundred years
Would think about how you're living now
Is not only a waste of time
But chances are, you wouldn't like the answer anyway
So why bother asking?

What would the people who wrote the Constitution think about how you treat the Constitution now?

Well, I play poker with them every Tuesday
And when I happened to mention that I would be speaking to all of you
They were eager to give their opinion
On Modern America

And their opinion was--

Why did you give the blacks and the women the vote and why aren't you exiling all those gay people?  And for the love of God, please bring back the old-time corset.

THOSE are the people whose principles you strive to keep intact

America may be a house
But it is not a house that belongs to me
Or to the people who were alive when I was alive

Yes, we may have built it
But you're not meant to feel any sort of loyalty
To the person who lived in the house before you

You don't stop yourself from adding on rooms
Or painting walls
Or renovating
Just because the person who was there before you
May not have liked it

It's your house now, so you go ahead and do as you like

And that's what needs to happen to America

You all need to start living in your house
And not in the past

But aside from that, I think you're all doing just lovely

Although, I would make one more small suggestion

Remember to teach your children how to sew

It's a very handy skill

The Matador's First Date

I...uh...so what did...my...

What did Bill tell you it is that I...do?

Risk aversion?

Is that...even a thing?

I don't--that just doesn't sound like a...thing

I mean, I get it--kind of--I think--he might have been...joking.

I do, um, avert risk, I guess.

Who doesn't, right?

I mean, unless you're...

No, I guess everybody pretty much averts risk

Avoids it, averts it, is that?

Never mind

I, um, I...

I'm a matador

You know, like, bulls and...like bulls?

A bull...fighter, but, we don't--

It's matador.

I'm a...matador.

So...

Yeah

It's a good job, I mean, there's no...benefits, but...

The money's...you know

If you're a good one

If you do it...well

Which I do, I mean, I'm good at my job

I was in Spain, I mean, I was doing it in Spain for awhile
Had a house there, and--yeah

So that was pretty cool

I started doing it a few years ago

I lost my job as a high school English teacher
And that just seemed like the logical next step

I was sort of familiar with the whole profession

I read a lot of Hemingway as a teenager
So maybe that's where the idea came from

Maybe it burrowed down into my...psyche, or something

But, yeah, I do like it

Sometimes, it's a little--

I mean, not everybody goes crazy over it

You get the occasional fetishists, who are, like, fans

And I try not to date them

I did date a lot of them at first
When I first started
Because it was, yeah
But now I've cut back, you know, to...

Nothing

At all, ever

As far as...fans

Because, just, crazy, you know?

But then it was sort of like, pendulum swings opposite direction too far kinda thing
Because I went out with, like, three vegans
And I thought the last one was going to stab me right at the table with the salad fork
Which, is why, I asked that you get the soup

You know, just in case

But, you seem to be, taking it...well...so...

So that's, uh, a thrill haha

Yeah

It's weird to do something that becomes who you are

Like, you know, a doctor isn't an occupation
It's who you are
You're a doctor

You don't doctor
You are a doctor

Same thing with lawyers

When I was a teacher
I could go home
I could put it away
The teacher
I could stop teaching

For months at a time, you know, in summer
Except for that year I did summer school, I guess

Maybe the good teachers don't put it away
Maybe that's their trick
But I...

I used to put it away

But I don't put what I do now away

What I do now is who I am

I'm a matador

And I like that

I like that what I do reflects who I am
Or, at least, I've become what I do
And I think that's important

I think it's important for your identity
To mirror your actions
And our jobs, you know
Our jobs are our actions

Whether we like it or not
What we do is who we are
And if it's not, then it should be
And if we don't want it to be
Then we should do something else, you know?

So yeah, I avert risk
But also, I mean
A lot of the time
I look at it right in the eyes
And I say, 'C'mon motherfucker, bring it'

And arenas full of people cheer for me
And I wear a ridiculous outfit
And my sport is not really a sport
And it's kind of barbaric
And yet there is a oneness
Between myself and an animal
And a large crowd of people

And I'm a dancer and an artist and a savage and God
All rolled up in one

And I'm...a matador

You know?

Yeah

I think--yeah.

So...

What do you do?