Hey! Hi there, so good to meet you--oh, and thank you so much for being so welcoming to me and my family. We weren't sure if this new church was going to end up meaning as much to us as our last one did, but I think we're really going to like it here.
So, uh, quick question, a little bit awkward, but, uh--
What, uh, what time is the, uh, you know...Saturday service?
No, no, I don't mean when do they have services on Saturday
I mean the, uh, Saturday service?
...Oh, do they not call it that here?
Gosh, you know, you never know from church to church
What the, uh, terminology is, am I right?
Hahaha
Basically, uh, me and my family were wondering
When you have the service for people whose lives are a little more on the, uh...
...Hectic side
You know what I mean?
Well, at our old church, Father Thomas did the Saturday service
It was on Thursday nights
Father Thomas, man, he was one quick talker
That guy could have you in and out of mass in half an hour or less
We used to call it the Catholic Express
Not like Father Dan--oh my God, Father Dan
He did Sundays, of course
And--Eesh, I mean, you better clear your schedule if Father Dan's doing mass
Because you ain't going anywhere
The sermon alone was like a Michael Bay movie
By the time you figured out what the hell was going on
Three hours had passed
And one of your kids is passed out in the aisle
As a rule, you never go to a Sunday service at any church
That's when they really love to stretch it out
And, you know, really milk it as much as possible
When I was a kid, we used to go to the Saturday service
Because that was more like the Reader's Digest version
Holy this, holy that, peace be with you, and away you go
So when I got older and started going to a new church
I decided to find that place's Saturday service
And that's how we wound up going to church on a Thursday night
Oh sure, it's a weeknight, the kids had school the next day, and sometimes they forget to give out communion
But it beats getting up early on a Sunday morning, am I right?
Now that we're here at this church
I'm just wondering who your Father Thomas is
So we can check out how he likes to party
You get what I'm saying?
And hey, listen, if you ever need to skip a week and want somebody to throw your envelope in the collection plate just so you, you know, don't get marked absent
You just let me know
It's all about people helping people, right?
That's what church is all about
Thursday, January 1, 2015
About Our Engagement
Hello Everyone!
First off, I want to thank you all sooooooo much for all the well wishes David and I have received since David proposed to me on Saturday afternoon.
If you notice, in the photos, you don't see me accepting David's proposal. Mostly I'm just staring at him with one wide eye while my other eye adds up all the cameras that are on us at that moment. Needless to say, the proposal, though welcome in spirit, was a bit of surprise and, well, a letdown in execution.
Now, I don't want to give any of you the wrong idea. I love David very much, and I want to marry him more than anything in the world. Those of you who have known the two of us for years know that I've dropped hints on more than one occasion to David about wanting him to propose with little-to-no success, even after friend-after-friend got engaged, then married, then had children, and here I was, like a little old lady in a rocking chair, just waiting to die with nothing on my fingers but liver spots.
Frankly, I'd just about given up on this lovely man o' mine popping the question, and then there we are on a Saturday afternoon at my sister's son's third birthday party when who should get down on one knee but David.
At first, I thought he was just going to tie the shoelaces of one of the many, many children that were running around screaming and flinging Cheeze-It's at each other. It would never have occurred to me that David would find that particular moment suitable for a proposal of all things.
Forget the rather hectic environment, and the fact that it's rather rude to use a party for someone else--even when that someone else is a three-year-old--to forward your own agenda. Let's talk about some of the more, shall we say, subtle problems with David's ill-conceived-though-well-intentioned faux pas.
For one thing, Linda, the last of my single girlfriends, had just gotten engaged two days before. Then the next day, my gay best friend Oliver got engaged. Then, later that night, my cousin Sandra got engaged. And finally, the morning of the party, two different high school friends posted photos on Facebook announcing their engagement.
That means my engagement would have been the sixth--and presumably last--engagement in a matter of days. Not to mention the fact that Linda got engaged in Italy, Sandra's fiance proposed at Manhattan's finest rooftop restaurant, both of my high school friends were proposed to on the beach, and Oliver's boyfriend--clearly needing to outdo all of them--parachuted out of a plane that was skywriting 'Will you marry me?' Those gays and their showmanship, am I right?
Now, I am nothing but thrilled for all of those wonderful people, but as you can imagine, I didn't see myself being the weak link in that chain of joy and happiness. All those wonderful proposals, and here was David, asking me to share my life with him while standing next to a clown named Scooter.
I also have very little interest in being thrown into a group simply because of time proximity. I don't feel like I should have to share the attention that an isolated engagement would bring, and instead, be forced to share all those good wishes and congratulatory messages the way a lottery winner might have to share their cash prize.
Honestly, can you blame me? After all, there are things one doesn't mind sharing, and there are things one does mind sharing: Attention, money, toothbrushes--all things that one should try to keep to themselves.
On top of David not realizing that I wouldn't want to have my big moment and all its glory divvied up like the stale pizza that was sitting on my sister's table at the birthday party, I certainly would not have announced our engagement on Facebook on a Saturday afternoon, when studies have shown that virtually nobody is online. As I'm sure many of you noticed, or maybe you didn't, because if you had, more of you would have responded--the news of our engagement only got 112 Likes.
112.
I mentioned this to David and he said that was quote--'Just wonderful.'
Friends, I love David dearly, but let it never be said that I believe I'm marrying the pointiest rod on the weather vane.
'David, darling,' I said, '112 is nothing. I get 112 Likes for sharing a photo of a kitten dressed up like Vladimir Putin. You honestly think that I'm going to let my engagement announcement bottom out at 112?'
I told him that he should have proposed privately, at a more romantic locale, and then we should have waited to post anything about it until Tuesday morning around 11am, when we'd be certain to get maximum social media exposure.
But a Saturday afternoon?
Friends and family, if a tree gets engaged in a forest, is it even worth posting about?
A Saturday afternoon is the forest of social media, and I, friends, I was that tree.
So, after much discussion with David, who I love, more than anything, we've decided to rescind our engagement for the time being, and re-engage at a later date, after all the hubbub about the other engagements has passed, and to better take advantage of technology's potential where wishing others well is concerned.
You're all still free to Like the first engagement announcement and comment, of course, but just be aware that there will be another one, and you will be expected to Like and comment on that one as well. The only reason some of you didn't receive nasty messages from me this weekend was because I assume you didn't see the first announcement, and so I'm letting you off the hook, but be assured, that will not happen the second time around.
Than you all so much for your kind words and the kind words I'm sure you'll be saying in the future once we correct this little snafu.
Oh, and as for the ring--Don't worry.
David and I are going shopping right now.
First off, I want to thank you all sooooooo much for all the well wishes David and I have received since David proposed to me on Saturday afternoon.
If you notice, in the photos, you don't see me accepting David's proposal. Mostly I'm just staring at him with one wide eye while my other eye adds up all the cameras that are on us at that moment. Needless to say, the proposal, though welcome in spirit, was a bit of surprise and, well, a letdown in execution.
Now, I don't want to give any of you the wrong idea. I love David very much, and I want to marry him more than anything in the world. Those of you who have known the two of us for years know that I've dropped hints on more than one occasion to David about wanting him to propose with little-to-no success, even after friend-after-friend got engaged, then married, then had children, and here I was, like a little old lady in a rocking chair, just waiting to die with nothing on my fingers but liver spots.
Frankly, I'd just about given up on this lovely man o' mine popping the question, and then there we are on a Saturday afternoon at my sister's son's third birthday party when who should get down on one knee but David.
At first, I thought he was just going to tie the shoelaces of one of the many, many children that were running around screaming and flinging Cheeze-It's at each other. It would never have occurred to me that David would find that particular moment suitable for a proposal of all things.
Forget the rather hectic environment, and the fact that it's rather rude to use a party for someone else--even when that someone else is a three-year-old--to forward your own agenda. Let's talk about some of the more, shall we say, subtle problems with David's ill-conceived-though-well-intentioned faux pas.
For one thing, Linda, the last of my single girlfriends, had just gotten engaged two days before. Then the next day, my gay best friend Oliver got engaged. Then, later that night, my cousin Sandra got engaged. And finally, the morning of the party, two different high school friends posted photos on Facebook announcing their engagement.
That means my engagement would have been the sixth--and presumably last--engagement in a matter of days. Not to mention the fact that Linda got engaged in Italy, Sandra's fiance proposed at Manhattan's finest rooftop restaurant, both of my high school friends were proposed to on the beach, and Oliver's boyfriend--clearly needing to outdo all of them--parachuted out of a plane that was skywriting 'Will you marry me?' Those gays and their showmanship, am I right?
Now, I am nothing but thrilled for all of those wonderful people, but as you can imagine, I didn't see myself being the weak link in that chain of joy and happiness. All those wonderful proposals, and here was David, asking me to share my life with him while standing next to a clown named Scooter.
I also have very little interest in being thrown into a group simply because of time proximity. I don't feel like I should have to share the attention that an isolated engagement would bring, and instead, be forced to share all those good wishes and congratulatory messages the way a lottery winner might have to share their cash prize.
Honestly, can you blame me? After all, there are things one doesn't mind sharing, and there are things one does mind sharing: Attention, money, toothbrushes--all things that one should try to keep to themselves.
On top of David not realizing that I wouldn't want to have my big moment and all its glory divvied up like the stale pizza that was sitting on my sister's table at the birthday party, I certainly would not have announced our engagement on Facebook on a Saturday afternoon, when studies have shown that virtually nobody is online. As I'm sure many of you noticed, or maybe you didn't, because if you had, more of you would have responded--the news of our engagement only got 112 Likes.
112.
I mentioned this to David and he said that was quote--'Just wonderful.'
Friends, I love David dearly, but let it never be said that I believe I'm marrying the pointiest rod on the weather vane.
'David, darling,' I said, '112 is nothing. I get 112 Likes for sharing a photo of a kitten dressed up like Vladimir Putin. You honestly think that I'm going to let my engagement announcement bottom out at 112?'
I told him that he should have proposed privately, at a more romantic locale, and then we should have waited to post anything about it until Tuesday morning around 11am, when we'd be certain to get maximum social media exposure.
But a Saturday afternoon?
Friends and family, if a tree gets engaged in a forest, is it even worth posting about?
A Saturday afternoon is the forest of social media, and I, friends, I was that tree.
So, after much discussion with David, who I love, more than anything, we've decided to rescind our engagement for the time being, and re-engage at a later date, after all the hubbub about the other engagements has passed, and to better take advantage of technology's potential where wishing others well is concerned.
You're all still free to Like the first engagement announcement and comment, of course, but just be aware that there will be another one, and you will be expected to Like and comment on that one as well. The only reason some of you didn't receive nasty messages from me this weekend was because I assume you didn't see the first announcement, and so I'm letting you off the hook, but be assured, that will not happen the second time around.
Than you all so much for your kind words and the kind words I'm sure you'll be saying in the future once we correct this little snafu.
Oh, and as for the ring--Don't worry.
David and I are going shopping right now.
The Seducer
(An interrogation room with a table and two chairs. SIMON is in one of the chairs. LIAM is sitting in the other chair.)
SIMON: Sorry, I couldn't find a tape recorder.
LIAM: Do you have one on your phone?
SIMON: I shouldn't really use my phone.
LIAM: Oh.
SIMON: It just doesn't seem--
LIAM: Okay.
SIMON: (Over-lapping.) --Professional.
LIAM: Right. Okay.
SIMON: I can just--(Motions to the notepad in front of him and a pen as if to say 'Write down what you say' even though he doesn't pick up the pen.)--I mean, it won't be that much.
LIAM: It might be.
SIMON: It might be?
LIAM: I mean--you don't know, right?
SIMON: Uh...I have...an idea?
LIAM: I don't think you do.
(A beat.)
SIMON: ...Okay.
LIAM: I know it seems simple, because you just want to know about my power.
SIMON: We don't call it, uh, 'power.'
LIAM: When you say 'we'--
SIMON: The agency. Everyone here at--the agency. We don't call it 'power.' Marvel recently purchased the term, so we're not allowed to use it. We call it 'enhanced ability.' You have an 'enhanced ability' or an EA.
LIAM: Okay.
SIMON: So your enhanced ability is--
LIAM: People want to have sex with me.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Uh...
LIAM: I mean--I can make people want to have sex with me.
SIMON: Well...that's not, uh...
LIAM: No, it's not like--I mean, I know I'm attractive--
SIMON: This--
LIAM: But I can actually, like, make a decision, to, uh, uh--
SIMON: You're saying you can make someone, uh--
LIAM: Lust!--after me, I mean.
SIMON: Lust after you?
LIAM: Yes.
SIMON: That's not really the sort of, um, enhanced abilities that we're, uh, looking for.
LIAM: To fight the aliens, you mean?
SIMON: We can't really call them, uh, aliens. They're--
LIAM: They're not?
SIMON: No, they are, but Fox owns the rights to the term 'aliens' so we're calling them 'outer enemies' or OE's.
LIAM: Okay, so you're looking for people with AE's to fight the OE's?
SIMON: Correct. But I'm not sure seducing people is going to, uh, help--with that.
LIAM: I disagree.
SIMON: We don't want to have sex with the OE's, Mr., uh--
LIAM: Liam. Just call me Liam.
SIMON: Liam--we needs to fight these things. Not seduce them.
LIAM: You don't think seduction could be a useful form of combat?
SIMON: I don't know what sort of, uh, activities you're interested in, but where I'm from--No.
LIAM: Where are you from?
SIMON: I'm--uh, I'm not even sure you can, uh, do what it is you say you can do.
LIAM: Really?
SIMON: Really. But if you'd like me to go get a female agent so you could--
LIAM: It doesn't need to be a woman.
(A beat.)
SIMON: All right, well--
LIAM: It doesn't even need to be a human. I was at the zoo the other day and I stared too long at a panda. Before I knew it, she was trying to climb over the barrier. It was very scary. I don't always know my own strength.
SIMON: That's fascinating--and awful, but still not helpful.
LIAM: The female panda attacked everybody who got between me and her. You don't think that could be helpful?
SIMON: I don't--
LIAM: Slap yourself.
SIMON: What?
LIAM: You don't realize it, but I've actually been seducing you this entire time.
SIMON: No, you haven't.
LIAM: Yes, I have.
SIMON: No, you haven't.
LIAM: Slap yourself.
(SIMON slaps himself. A beat.)
SIMON: What the--
LIAM: Tell me your biggest fear.
SIMON: Spiders.
(A beat.)
I hate spiders.
LIAM: Thank you for telling me that.
SIMON: How did you--?
LIAM: I seduced you.
SIMON: Oh my God.
LIAM: It wasn't even that hard.
SIMON: Oh my GOD.
LIAM: You don't, uh, like women, right?
SIMON: JESUS.
LIAM: That might have been why it was so easy.
SIMON: Undo it.
LIAM: What?
SIMON: What you did. Undo it.
LIAM: I can't.
SIMON: What do you mean you can't?
LIAM: I can't I'm sorry. It's sort of my, uh, flaw? I guess? I can't un-seduce somebody once I've, you know, seduced them.
SIMON: But--
LIAM: Once you're seduce, you're seduced.
SIMON: I'm a government agent. I'm Level 9. I can't be smitten with somebody with an AE. It's a conflict of interest.
LIAM: You're not recording this, right?
SIMON: I--
LIAM: Is the room bugged?
SIMON: No, we don't bug the rooms with--No.
LIAM: So nobody knows about--this?
SIMON: Well...No.
LIAM: There you go. Look, uh--Agent--
SIMON: Simon.
LIAM: Is Simon your first name or last name?
SIMON: It's--I'm Simon.
LIAM: Simon, okay. Simon--look, I'm a good guy. I'm one of the good guys, and I want to help. I want to, you know, help the cause.
SIMON: Okay.
LIAM: So let me. Let me help.
SIMON: I...I'll put in my recommendation.
(A beat.)
LIAM: And then?
SIMON: And then it gets reviewed and--they'll call you in a week.
LIAM: Great. GREAT! I want to...I want to be useful, you know? I don't want to just have this thing that gets me laid. I want to believe there's some--bigger purpose, you know? That can actually make a difference.
(A beat.)
SIMON: But I don't want you to go.
LIAM: What?
SIMON: I mean, a minute ago, I wouldn't have cared, but now--
LIAM: Wait--
SIMON: I...I can't let you go. You could be killed.
LIAM: Simon--
SIMON: I'm in love with you, Liam. I can't let you go. I can't let you fight.
LIAM: I'm telling you to let me do this.
SIMON: Well, ironically, now that I'm in love with you, allowing you to get killed is the one thing I won't do for you.
LIAM: But you'd let me lead a meaningless life?
SIMON: Is it really meaningless when it can be filled with so much love?
(SIMON moves towards LIAM. LIAM jumps up and moves away from him.)
LIAM: I'll go over your head. You've got to have a superior, right?
SIMON: You could do that, but if I write on my form that you don't have any enhanced abilities, then nobody else will believe anything you say.
LIAM: Then I'll show them.
SIMON: Then you'll be right back where you started, right?
LIAM: Oh.
SIMON: Nobody who you use your power on is going to let you go to war with these OE's, Liam.
LIAM: But if I make it out of the war alive--
SIMON: Nobody's making it out of the war alive.
(A beat.)
That's not public knowledge. Please keep that between us.
LIAM: So...everyone you find who's...like me--the people you're recruiting--you're basically sending them off to die?
SIMON: We don't, uh...we don't really have a choice.
LIAM: Jesus.
SIMON: That's why I can't let you go. I need you to stay here. With me.
LIAM: I don't love you, Simon.
SIMON: Don't say that.
LIAM: I don't.
SIMON: So you like girls?
LIAM: I don't like anyone. I don't love anyone. That's the second flaw. I can make anybody love me, but I can't love anybody. I don't know if it's meant to be the hole in my armor or the armor itself. I can't feel love. For anyone.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Well that's...
(A moment.)
Then you should go.
LIAM: Please, don't just send me away. I can--
SIMON: No. I mean--Go. Like--go and I'll write up the appropriate forms and in a week, you'll...Just go.
(A beat.)
LIAM: Thank you.
(LIAM turns to go.)
SIMON: Does it even--I mean, uh--does it even fade, like, a little bit, or--
LIAM: I don't...Not that I'm aware of.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Thank you for your...anticipated service.
(LIAM nods and exits. SIMON picks up his pencil, stares at the blank paper, and thinks about what to write.)
SIMON: Sorry, I couldn't find a tape recorder.
LIAM: Do you have one on your phone?
SIMON: I shouldn't really use my phone.
LIAM: Oh.
SIMON: It just doesn't seem--
LIAM: Okay.
SIMON: (Over-lapping.) --Professional.
LIAM: Right. Okay.
SIMON: I can just--(Motions to the notepad in front of him and a pen as if to say 'Write down what you say' even though he doesn't pick up the pen.)--I mean, it won't be that much.
LIAM: It might be.
SIMON: It might be?
LIAM: I mean--you don't know, right?
SIMON: Uh...I have...an idea?
LIAM: I don't think you do.
(A beat.)
SIMON: ...Okay.
LIAM: I know it seems simple, because you just want to know about my power.
SIMON: We don't call it, uh, 'power.'
LIAM: When you say 'we'--
SIMON: The agency. Everyone here at--the agency. We don't call it 'power.' Marvel recently purchased the term, so we're not allowed to use it. We call it 'enhanced ability.' You have an 'enhanced ability' or an EA.
LIAM: Okay.
SIMON: So your enhanced ability is--
LIAM: People want to have sex with me.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Uh...
LIAM: I mean--I can make people want to have sex with me.
SIMON: Well...that's not, uh...
LIAM: No, it's not like--I mean, I know I'm attractive--
SIMON: This--
LIAM: But I can actually, like, make a decision, to, uh, uh--
SIMON: You're saying you can make someone, uh--
LIAM: Lust!--after me, I mean.
SIMON: Lust after you?
LIAM: Yes.
SIMON: That's not really the sort of, um, enhanced abilities that we're, uh, looking for.
LIAM: To fight the aliens, you mean?
SIMON: We can't really call them, uh, aliens. They're--
LIAM: They're not?
SIMON: No, they are, but Fox owns the rights to the term 'aliens' so we're calling them 'outer enemies' or OE's.
LIAM: Okay, so you're looking for people with AE's to fight the OE's?
SIMON: Correct. But I'm not sure seducing people is going to, uh, help--with that.
LIAM: I disagree.
SIMON: We don't want to have sex with the OE's, Mr., uh--
LIAM: Liam. Just call me Liam.
SIMON: Liam--we needs to fight these things. Not seduce them.
LIAM: You don't think seduction could be a useful form of combat?
SIMON: I don't know what sort of, uh, activities you're interested in, but where I'm from--No.
LIAM: Where are you from?
SIMON: I'm--uh, I'm not even sure you can, uh, do what it is you say you can do.
LIAM: Really?
SIMON: Really. But if you'd like me to go get a female agent so you could--
LIAM: It doesn't need to be a woman.
(A beat.)
SIMON: All right, well--
LIAM: It doesn't even need to be a human. I was at the zoo the other day and I stared too long at a panda. Before I knew it, she was trying to climb over the barrier. It was very scary. I don't always know my own strength.
SIMON: That's fascinating--and awful, but still not helpful.
LIAM: The female panda attacked everybody who got between me and her. You don't think that could be helpful?
SIMON: I don't--
LIAM: Slap yourself.
SIMON: What?
LIAM: You don't realize it, but I've actually been seducing you this entire time.
SIMON: No, you haven't.
LIAM: Yes, I have.
SIMON: No, you haven't.
LIAM: Slap yourself.
(SIMON slaps himself. A beat.)
SIMON: What the--
LIAM: Tell me your biggest fear.
SIMON: Spiders.
(A beat.)
I hate spiders.
LIAM: Thank you for telling me that.
SIMON: How did you--?
LIAM: I seduced you.
SIMON: Oh my God.
LIAM: It wasn't even that hard.
SIMON: Oh my GOD.
LIAM: You don't, uh, like women, right?
SIMON: JESUS.
LIAM: That might have been why it was so easy.
SIMON: Undo it.
LIAM: What?
SIMON: What you did. Undo it.
LIAM: I can't.
SIMON: What do you mean you can't?
LIAM: I can't I'm sorry. It's sort of my, uh, flaw? I guess? I can't un-seduce somebody once I've, you know, seduced them.
SIMON: But--
LIAM: Once you're seduce, you're seduced.
SIMON: I'm a government agent. I'm Level 9. I can't be smitten with somebody with an AE. It's a conflict of interest.
LIAM: You're not recording this, right?
SIMON: I--
LIAM: Is the room bugged?
SIMON: No, we don't bug the rooms with--No.
LIAM: So nobody knows about--this?
SIMON: Well...No.
LIAM: There you go. Look, uh--Agent--
SIMON: Simon.
LIAM: Is Simon your first name or last name?
SIMON: It's--I'm Simon.
LIAM: Simon, okay. Simon--look, I'm a good guy. I'm one of the good guys, and I want to help. I want to, you know, help the cause.
SIMON: Okay.
LIAM: So let me. Let me help.
SIMON: I...I'll put in my recommendation.
(A beat.)
LIAM: And then?
SIMON: And then it gets reviewed and--they'll call you in a week.
LIAM: Great. GREAT! I want to...I want to be useful, you know? I don't want to just have this thing that gets me laid. I want to believe there's some--bigger purpose, you know? That can actually make a difference.
(A beat.)
SIMON: But I don't want you to go.
LIAM: What?
SIMON: I mean, a minute ago, I wouldn't have cared, but now--
LIAM: Wait--
SIMON: I...I can't let you go. You could be killed.
LIAM: Simon--
SIMON: I'm in love with you, Liam. I can't let you go. I can't let you fight.
LIAM: I'm telling you to let me do this.
SIMON: Well, ironically, now that I'm in love with you, allowing you to get killed is the one thing I won't do for you.
LIAM: But you'd let me lead a meaningless life?
SIMON: Is it really meaningless when it can be filled with so much love?
(SIMON moves towards LIAM. LIAM jumps up and moves away from him.)
LIAM: I'll go over your head. You've got to have a superior, right?
SIMON: You could do that, but if I write on my form that you don't have any enhanced abilities, then nobody else will believe anything you say.
LIAM: Then I'll show them.
SIMON: Then you'll be right back where you started, right?
LIAM: Oh.
SIMON: Nobody who you use your power on is going to let you go to war with these OE's, Liam.
LIAM: But if I make it out of the war alive--
SIMON: Nobody's making it out of the war alive.
(A beat.)
That's not public knowledge. Please keep that between us.
LIAM: So...everyone you find who's...like me--the people you're recruiting--you're basically sending them off to die?
SIMON: We don't, uh...we don't really have a choice.
LIAM: Jesus.
SIMON: That's why I can't let you go. I need you to stay here. With me.
LIAM: I don't love you, Simon.
SIMON: Don't say that.
LIAM: I don't.
SIMON: So you like girls?
LIAM: I don't like anyone. I don't love anyone. That's the second flaw. I can make anybody love me, but I can't love anybody. I don't know if it's meant to be the hole in my armor or the armor itself. I can't feel love. For anyone.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Well that's...
(A moment.)
Then you should go.
LIAM: Please, don't just send me away. I can--
SIMON: No. I mean--Go. Like--go and I'll write up the appropriate forms and in a week, you'll...Just go.
(A beat.)
LIAM: Thank you.
(LIAM turns to go.)
SIMON: Does it even--I mean, uh--does it even fade, like, a little bit, or--
LIAM: I don't...Not that I'm aware of.
(A beat.)
SIMON: Thank you for your...anticipated service.
(LIAM nods and exits. SIMON picks up his pencil, stares at the blank paper, and thinks about what to write.)
Bravado
Josiah will tell off the customer
He will tell the customer
That he doesn't get paid enough
To deal with rude people
With rude women
Who clearly are not having sex with their husbands
And that is why
They are
So rude
Josiah will stop looking at the shoes
On the woman's feet
The woman's fat feet
That cannot possibly fit
Into these teeny, tiny shoes
And!--even if they could
The heel on the shoe would break
As soon as the woman stood up in them
And tried to walk around
Then, no doubt, the woman would blame
The shoddy workmanship of the shoes
Or the store for selling such shoddy shoes
Or maybe even Josiah for being a bad shoe store employee
For selling shoddy shoes to sophisticated women
Such as herself
Josiah thought of the Cinderella story
The real Cinderella story
The Grimm original
Where the evil stepsisters have their feet cut up and mangled
By their mother, the evil stepmother,
In an effort to get their feet into the glass slipper
So they could marry the prince
Josiah wonders if this woman would cut up her feet
To get into a shoe
That would promise her wealth and happiness forever
If not love
Clearly it's important to this woman
That this particular shoe fits
Josiah has offered to get her the shoe in a larger size
Even though it's doubtful that a larger size would help
The largest size would probably still be too small
The fact of the matter is that this woman's feet are bigger
Than any other pair of feet that Josiah has ever seen
Since being an employee of Bravado Shoes
A struggle is ensuing
Between the woman and the shoe
Josiah was the enemy
But now the woman has decided that Josiah is merely an obstacle
In a journey that will end with her foot
In this shoe
She's pushing
She's thrusting
She's wiggling
The woman's face is red
She's starting to sweat
But she will not
Pull out
Her foot
Josiah finds that against his initial wishes
He is now rooting for the woman
What choice does he have?
He can't root for the shoe, after all
It's an object
And even though the woman is unpleasant
And rude
And has already sworn twice at Josiah
And the second bit of profanity was race-related
Josiah is still a living organism
As if the Unpleasant Woman
And the shoe is not
The shoe doesn't care about the Unpleasant Woman
Or Josiah
And so he finds himself helping the woman
Knowing full well there simply isn't enough room in the shoe
For the foot of the Unpleasant Woman
He takes on the role of the Evil Stepmother
Putting some oomph behind the shoe
While the Unpleasant Woman
Moans and pants and grunts
Grunts in a way that is much more than unpleasant
That is guttural, primal--a grunt that comes from the basest part of her person
Josiah wonders if there is a knife in the back
He wonders if he could cut this woman's foot up
If she would let him
If he could convince her that it's for the best
That it'll make her happier
Better--a better person
If she can just get her foot in this shoe
And stand up in it
And walk out of that store
Feeling like a new, much more pleasant woman
Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman join together
Setting aside their unspoken differences
To wage war against this shoe
And there is a point
A real, almost tangible point
When the shoe
This object
This thing
Becomes...alive
It knows it's being challenged
By this boy it sees everyday
While hanging on the wall
Knowing full well no woman
Will ever have a foot small enough
To fit in it
And this Unpleasant Woman
With enough hubris to think
She can bend this shoe to her own whims and desires
Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman fight
And the Shoe fights back
This only goes on for a minute or so
But in the grand scheme of the Universe
It is a momentous thing
It is a defining struggle in the history of all that is
And all that will ever be
When this inanimate article of clothing
Came into being
Simply so it could challenge
Two mere humans
Who thought they could change
What this thing was
A unwearably small shoe
Into a bigger, comfortable shoe
But then...
The foot goes in
Perhaps Josiah gives a little more oomph
Perhaps the Unpleasant Woman pushes just a little bit harder
Perhaps the Shoe gives up the fight because ultimately it shouldn't be fighting anyway
But either way
The foot
Goes
In
And Josiah sits back
Falls back, actually
Out of breath
And beyond thrilled
Ecstatic
In ecstasy
Euphoric
Hallelujah!
And the Unpleasant Woman looks down at her foot
At the foot now firmly planted in the shoe
That is now, once again
Just a shoe
And she looks at Josiah
With a blank expression
And then back at the shoe
And then back at him
And she says--
'Do you have it black?'
And Josiah closes his eyes
And birds appear
Birds and birds and birds
They fly into the store
Smashing through the glass
And head right for the Unpleasant Woman
And her two beady little eyes
The birds peck them out
Peck, peck, peck
And as they do
Josiah looks around
At the shoes on the shelves
On display
All along the walls
Just like the shoe on the Unpleasant Woman's foot was
Before Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman
Took it down
And declared war on it
And Josiah sees the shoes
All the shoes, every one
He actually sees them
Grow smaller, and smaller
And smaller
He will tell the customer
That he doesn't get paid enough
To deal with rude people
With rude women
Who clearly are not having sex with their husbands
And that is why
They are
So rude
Josiah will stop looking at the shoes
On the woman's feet
The woman's fat feet
That cannot possibly fit
Into these teeny, tiny shoes
And!--even if they could
The heel on the shoe would break
As soon as the woman stood up in them
And tried to walk around
Then, no doubt, the woman would blame
The shoddy workmanship of the shoes
Or the store for selling such shoddy shoes
Or maybe even Josiah for being a bad shoe store employee
For selling shoddy shoes to sophisticated women
Such as herself
Josiah thought of the Cinderella story
The real Cinderella story
The Grimm original
Where the evil stepsisters have their feet cut up and mangled
By their mother, the evil stepmother,
In an effort to get their feet into the glass slipper
So they could marry the prince
Josiah wonders if this woman would cut up her feet
To get into a shoe
That would promise her wealth and happiness forever
If not love
Clearly it's important to this woman
That this particular shoe fits
Josiah has offered to get her the shoe in a larger size
Even though it's doubtful that a larger size would help
The largest size would probably still be too small
The fact of the matter is that this woman's feet are bigger
Than any other pair of feet that Josiah has ever seen
Since being an employee of Bravado Shoes
A struggle is ensuing
Between the woman and the shoe
Josiah was the enemy
But now the woman has decided that Josiah is merely an obstacle
In a journey that will end with her foot
In this shoe
She's pushing
She's thrusting
She's wiggling
The woman's face is red
She's starting to sweat
But she will not
Pull out
Her foot
Josiah finds that against his initial wishes
He is now rooting for the woman
What choice does he have?
He can't root for the shoe, after all
It's an object
And even though the woman is unpleasant
And rude
And has already sworn twice at Josiah
And the second bit of profanity was race-related
Josiah is still a living organism
As if the Unpleasant Woman
And the shoe is not
The shoe doesn't care about the Unpleasant Woman
Or Josiah
And so he finds himself helping the woman
Knowing full well there simply isn't enough room in the shoe
For the foot of the Unpleasant Woman
He takes on the role of the Evil Stepmother
Putting some oomph behind the shoe
While the Unpleasant Woman
Moans and pants and grunts
Grunts in a way that is much more than unpleasant
That is guttural, primal--a grunt that comes from the basest part of her person
Josiah wonders if there is a knife in the back
He wonders if he could cut this woman's foot up
If she would let him
If he could convince her that it's for the best
That it'll make her happier
Better--a better person
If she can just get her foot in this shoe
And stand up in it
And walk out of that store
Feeling like a new, much more pleasant woman
Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman join together
Setting aside their unspoken differences
To wage war against this shoe
And there is a point
A real, almost tangible point
When the shoe
This object
This thing
Becomes...alive
It knows it's being challenged
By this boy it sees everyday
While hanging on the wall
Knowing full well no woman
Will ever have a foot small enough
To fit in it
And this Unpleasant Woman
With enough hubris to think
She can bend this shoe to her own whims and desires
Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman fight
And the Shoe fights back
This only goes on for a minute or so
But in the grand scheme of the Universe
It is a momentous thing
It is a defining struggle in the history of all that is
And all that will ever be
When this inanimate article of clothing
Came into being
Simply so it could challenge
Two mere humans
Who thought they could change
What this thing was
A unwearably small shoe
Into a bigger, comfortable shoe
But then...
The foot goes in
Perhaps Josiah gives a little more oomph
Perhaps the Unpleasant Woman pushes just a little bit harder
Perhaps the Shoe gives up the fight because ultimately it shouldn't be fighting anyway
But either way
The foot
Goes
In
And Josiah sits back
Falls back, actually
Out of breath
And beyond thrilled
Ecstatic
In ecstasy
Euphoric
Hallelujah!
And the Unpleasant Woman looks down at her foot
At the foot now firmly planted in the shoe
That is now, once again
Just a shoe
And she looks at Josiah
With a blank expression
And then back at the shoe
And then back at him
And she says--
'Do you have it black?'
And Josiah closes his eyes
And birds appear
Birds and birds and birds
They fly into the store
Smashing through the glass
And head right for the Unpleasant Woman
And her two beady little eyes
The birds peck them out
Peck, peck, peck
And as they do
Josiah looks around
At the shoes on the shelves
On display
All along the walls
Just like the shoe on the Unpleasant Woman's foot was
Before Josiah and the Unpleasant Woman
Took it down
And declared war on it
And Josiah sees the shoes
All the shoes, every one
He actually sees them
Grow smaller, and smaller
And smaller
All This Love and Nowhere to Put It
This is the problem with pants
With no pockets
Shirts and coats and all kinds of clothes
And nothing to do
But wear them
Not good for anything else
So here I am with all this love
And nowhere to put it
In other fields I'm deficient
Time and money
Trust and moxie
Taste and melancholy
But love?
Love I got plenty of
I was born with it
The doctor who delivered me
Took one long at my little self
And fell in love with the nurse
Standing next to him
He gave me to my mother
And the first thing she did was say 'Love'
The doctor said--
'You're naming her Love?'
And my mother said--
'Love'
It's all she could say
My mother died when I was three
And the last thing she said to me
Was 'Love'
How beautiful to be able to say your child's name
And how you feel
And what you've got
And all you've got
And what you're taking with you
All with one word
The first man I ever loved was my brother
It should have been my Daddy
But he was like how I am now
People throwing love at him
And nowhere to put it
That was 'cause of my mother
'Cause after she died
He lost all his pockets
See, she was his pocket
The place where he kept himself
And when she died
The pocket got sewn up
And nobody could get in
Not even his little girl
Or the son who had his name
My brother's name was Will
And just like I had love
He had will
He had a strong mind
About what he wanted
And how he was going to get it
He became my pocket
When my mother left
And my father couldn't look at me
Will went to college
And became a lawyer
And then one day he went to a nice restaurant
With nice tablecloths
And silverware so nice it didn't smudge
And he ate something that didn't sit well with him
An allergy he never knew he had kicked in
And he kicked himself away from the fancy table
With the nice tablecloth
And the spotless silverware
And he landed on the ground
Clutching his throat
And he never
Got
Up
...He was my pocket
I loved men after him
But when I did
I saw the love slip off them
I saw it hit their hearts
And land on the ground
The men I went after
Were like my father
Loving them was like feeding a skeleton
You see it go in
And you see it fall down
It got so I wanted to stop loving altogether
But I couldn't
My mother named me Love
And love was what I had
All I had
All I had left
And so now here I am
All this love
And nowhere to put it
Guess I gotta learn to keep it in me
To be my own pocket
To find a place in myself
Where the love can go
But whereas people tell you love is light and airy
The truth is, love can be the heaviest thing you have
It's something that only gets lighter
When you give it away
It makes you tempted to give it away
To people who don't deserve it
Who don't want it
Who just want to beat it up
And then give it right back to you...
...So for now I gotta find a pair of pants
Pants with pockets
Give myself a place to put all this love
Someplace where I know
It'll be safe
With no pockets
Shirts and coats and all kinds of clothes
And nothing to do
But wear them
Not good for anything else
So here I am with all this love
And nowhere to put it
In other fields I'm deficient
Time and money
Trust and moxie
Taste and melancholy
But love?
Love I got plenty of
I was born with it
The doctor who delivered me
Took one long at my little self
And fell in love with the nurse
Standing next to him
He gave me to my mother
And the first thing she did was say 'Love'
The doctor said--
'You're naming her Love?'
And my mother said--
'Love'
It's all she could say
My mother died when I was three
And the last thing she said to me
Was 'Love'
How beautiful to be able to say your child's name
And how you feel
And what you've got
And all you've got
And what you're taking with you
All with one word
The first man I ever loved was my brother
It should have been my Daddy
But he was like how I am now
People throwing love at him
And nowhere to put it
That was 'cause of my mother
'Cause after she died
He lost all his pockets
See, she was his pocket
The place where he kept himself
And when she died
The pocket got sewn up
And nobody could get in
Not even his little girl
Or the son who had his name
My brother's name was Will
And just like I had love
He had will
He had a strong mind
About what he wanted
And how he was going to get it
He became my pocket
When my mother left
And my father couldn't look at me
Will went to college
And became a lawyer
And then one day he went to a nice restaurant
With nice tablecloths
And silverware so nice it didn't smudge
And he ate something that didn't sit well with him
An allergy he never knew he had kicked in
And he kicked himself away from the fancy table
With the nice tablecloth
And the spotless silverware
And he landed on the ground
Clutching his throat
And he never
Got
Up
...He was my pocket
I loved men after him
But when I did
I saw the love slip off them
I saw it hit their hearts
And land on the ground
The men I went after
Were like my father
Loving them was like feeding a skeleton
You see it go in
And you see it fall down
It got so I wanted to stop loving altogether
But I couldn't
My mother named me Love
And love was what I had
All I had
All I had left
And so now here I am
All this love
And nowhere to put it
Guess I gotta learn to keep it in me
To be my own pocket
To find a place in myself
Where the love can go
But whereas people tell you love is light and airy
The truth is, love can be the heaviest thing you have
It's something that only gets lighter
When you give it away
It makes you tempted to give it away
To people who don't deserve it
Who don't want it
Who just want to beat it up
And then give it right back to you...
...So for now I gotta find a pair of pants
Pants with pockets
Give myself a place to put all this love
Someplace where I know
It'll be safe
Monday, December 22, 2014
Maybe Because It's Christmas
I'm still addicted to screwing things up
I've kicked all the other habits
But that one hangs around
So I'm looking at my phone
Your number
That picture I have of you
Smirking
How does a smirk look so damn good on someone?
So I'm going to call you
And I don't know why
Maybe 'cause it's Christmas
Maybe because I'm an idiot
Maybe because the last time we talked--
Where we left it, I--
I'm not a good person
I mean, I sometimes do nice things, but overall--
Bad, so--
So I'm looking at my phone
Like it's a box I'm going to open
A box with either a snake in it
Or, you know, forgiveness
That's how you know forgiveness is so precious
Because you have to reach your hand in to grab it
Not knowing if you're going to get bitten instead
You have no idea where I am
But right now, I'm at a train station
One or two people next to me
Everybody going somewhere and me just--
Just wondering what's next
And I have this image in my head
Of you sitting in front of a tree
With people around you
Not like the people around me
Happy people
People with presents
And smiles
And godawful sweaters
And I'm outside looking in
While the snow comes down
Poor me, right?
Poor, poor me
All alone on Christmas
...So I'm going to dial your number
And I'm going to get voicemail
Because you're at work
And I know that
And that's why I'm calling now
Instead of actually growing a set
And calling you when I know you'll answer
So I'm going to call you
And I'm going to wish you a Merry Christmas
And I am not going to ask for forgiveness
Because your voicemail can't forgive me
And even if it could, I'm not sure that's what this should be about
I feel like...
Like I should just say that if you're going to do something for me
What you should do is...
Have a wonderful Christmas
With all those people
In those awful sweaters
And just know that all I want this year
Is to know you're doing okay
I'm a bad person
But you, you're--
You're the star on the tree, you know?
Maybe this'll be the year I finally get my shit together
And make myself somebody worth forgiving
Maybe next year my phone'll ring
And it'll be you calling me
Saying 'Come home, you idiot.
I miss you.'
All kinds of weird shit could happen
That's what makes it Christmas, right?
Kids get presents
And adults get second chances
So I'm looking at my phone
Staring at that smirk
Thinking about Santa
And saying to myself--
Maybe you called out sick to work today
To get some last minute shopping done
And maybe the snake won't bite
And maybe this year
I can be the guy
Standing next to you
Under the tree
I've kicked all the other habits
But that one hangs around
So I'm looking at my phone
Your number
That picture I have of you
Smirking
How does a smirk look so damn good on someone?
So I'm going to call you
And I don't know why
Maybe 'cause it's Christmas
Maybe because I'm an idiot
Maybe because the last time we talked--
Where we left it, I--
I'm not a good person
I mean, I sometimes do nice things, but overall--
Bad, so--
So I'm looking at my phone
Like it's a box I'm going to open
A box with either a snake in it
Or, you know, forgiveness
That's how you know forgiveness is so precious
Because you have to reach your hand in to grab it
Not knowing if you're going to get bitten instead
You have no idea where I am
But right now, I'm at a train station
One or two people next to me
Everybody going somewhere and me just--
Just wondering what's next
And I have this image in my head
Of you sitting in front of a tree
With people around you
Not like the people around me
Happy people
People with presents
And smiles
And godawful sweaters
And I'm outside looking in
While the snow comes down
Poor me, right?
Poor, poor me
All alone on Christmas
...So I'm going to dial your number
And I'm going to get voicemail
Because you're at work
And I know that
And that's why I'm calling now
Instead of actually growing a set
And calling you when I know you'll answer
So I'm going to call you
And I'm going to wish you a Merry Christmas
And I am not going to ask for forgiveness
Because your voicemail can't forgive me
And even if it could, I'm not sure that's what this should be about
I feel like...
Like I should just say that if you're going to do something for me
What you should do is...
Have a wonderful Christmas
With all those people
In those awful sweaters
And just know that all I want this year
Is to know you're doing okay
I'm a bad person
But you, you're--
You're the star on the tree, you know?
Maybe this'll be the year I finally get my shit together
And make myself somebody worth forgiving
Maybe next year my phone'll ring
And it'll be you calling me
Saying 'Come home, you idiot.
I miss you.'
All kinds of weird shit could happen
That's what makes it Christmas, right?
Kids get presents
And adults get second chances
So I'm looking at my phone
Staring at that smirk
Thinking about Santa
And saying to myself--
Maybe you called out sick to work today
To get some last minute shopping done
And maybe the snake won't bite
And maybe this year
I can be the guy
Standing next to you
Under the tree
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
This Will Be Our Freshman Year
This will be our freshman year
When we go in the wrong classroom
And meet people for the first time
Delighted and frustrated
At how little we know
About everything
We will throw ourselves into
mistakes
Wrap our arms around the necks of
them
Kiss them on both cheeks
And declare ourselves to them
‘Why hello there!
We are the Freshman
We make Mistakes’
We look forward to trying things
Anything’s and everything’s
Traveling to places we shouldn’t go
Peering into places that are
off-limits
Trying to jump the line
So we can see what it’s like
To be older, wiser, further along
Arriving late only to have someone
say
Well that’s okay
You’re freshmen
We will carry too many books
Not knowing how to condense
How to organize and re-organize
Select, edit, delegate
Appoint, accommodate, balance
Juggle, jiggle, multi-task
We don’t want to though
We want it all
All the books
All the notebooks
The paper, the pencils
The journals we’ll never write it
The organizers we’ll never use
The calendars filled with boxes
With absolutely nothing in them
Surrounding us
Giant piles on our desks
With us wondering if this will keep
out
Or scary away
The people who would pile on
Even more
Paper is a funny thing
On paper our lives look like one
thing
And in reality they are—
Something else entirely
We will kiss anyone
Without regard
To whether or not
We should be kissing them
Descriptions and qualifiers
That should result in determinations
About who and who not to love
Will be cast aside
In favor of
--Spontaneity
After all
It’s just a kiss
This will be the year we act like
people out of poetry
Out of song lyrics
Out of short stories written by
people
Who were freshmen once
And would love to be freshmen again
We will not let this time slip by
We will not fail to be in our
moments
Fully realized
Non-abbreviated
Stretching ourselves too thin
To cover and collect
All the things
We might forget
We will take on too much
We will attend every event
Every birthday, every
just-for-the-heck-of-it gathering
And get-together
We will lose touch with no one
We will be the best friends
The best sons and daughters
The best students
The extra-curricular extraordinaires
The mold-breaking models
The perfect people
We will be perfect
We will high five and parade around
And flaunt and brandish and flourish
Showcase, display, broadcast, expose
too much
Feel—too much
Cry at will
Lose all limits
Laugh at everything
Loud laughter
That shakes our entire bodies
And annoys everyone around us
Who look and say—
Ugh, freshmen
And then…
One night…
We will stay up too late
Flying by deadlines
Not committing
Not sure which way we’re going
Not trusting
The certainty we were so certain of
One or two of us will drop
Off
Out
Of sight
We’ll lose a few
Along the way
And remember—
Oh yes
This is, like other things,
A journey
And some simply will not
Make it
Four years from now
We will see ourselves differently
The people we are now
Being judged by
The people we will become
Why did I do that, say that, wear
that
Talk that way, use that word, eat so
much
Tell stupid jokes, stay up so late
Not
Get
Started
Sooner
Why was I friends with him, her,
them
Those other people
Who were just like me
But that’s ahead of us
That’s not today
Today, you see
Is a starting day
We’ll keep the regret
Four years
At bay
Today I met you
And shook your hand
And felt good knowing
That this will be
Our freshman year
For even fourteen years past
fourteen
You can start something
You can start out
You can begin
This is who I am now
Who knows who I’ll become?
When you’re younger you just want to
know what’s going to happen
How it’s going to end
But when you’re older you want to
know that it isn’t over yet
That you still have a chance
To start over
To begin again
And say—
Who knows?
This might be
My freshman year
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