My Destiny as a playwright is in flux

So an old friend of mine told me back in July ’07 that he had been working on a number of literary-type projects, which did not surprise me in the least. I always joke with him that inbetween drinking heavily, deconstructing Proust, arguing about the best routes into and out of Luzerne County, PA, and quoting Dane Cook constantly, he is always performing in some play or writing short stories and working on his couple of novels. Plus, he still manages to have an active life that completely decimates mine when you compare us two. For example, he hosts more than a few parties a year, attends regular city council meetings, donates time as a spotter at the rock climbing wall at the gym, makes theme baskets for silent church auctions, and hosts poetry slams on Tuesdays. THEN, this fellow still tries to work in some fun during his downtime, which includes road trips to Amish Country, taking tours at the Natural History Museum, and following RATT on tour. Busy guy!

ANYWAY, one of his projects included submitting a couple ten-minute plays to a festival contest being held at some rinky-dink operation in Delaware. The theme for year? SEX. Goodness gracious, SEX. In TEN MINUTES. Ignoring the obvious joke about sex lasting around ten minutes (“HUURRR!!”), I became intrigued and demanded some details. I wanted to get in on the action, as I usually find myself latching onto the fun and interesting things my friends do anyway. I had a mere 4 days to craft together a slam-banging ten-minute romp for the stage to raise some money for some supposedly edgy theater company.

So I hunkered down in my office to really brainstorm and find the next hot idea, and I spent minutes literally just tapping my pen and thinking. Humming different sit-com theme songs does not help this process, by the way. So I thought about cool things people like to talk about, experience, or be entertained by in life, and I considered how great it would be to smash them together into a ten minute play that had SEX as the main subject matter. It wasn’t long before I picked the cream of the crop and I feverishly jotted down a few lines that changed my life forever.

She’s a Ghost.
He’s a spy.
They have sex.

The Ghost/Spy Sex play was born!

Written as a five page Word document featuring only three characters, my play was called “Secrets.” And boy oh boy, it was amazing and nearly flawless in every way. A young couple reveal their own hidden truths to each other as they grow ever closer, and they also bang each other in a quick blackout on stage. He’s a spy who goes on cool missions and blows things up, and his roommate is also a spy and his good friend. She is a ghost who can manipulate herself to become in phase with reality and telepathically make you believe you are seeing a real person. And for three months in their ever-blossoming committed relationship, neither knew about the other’s secret. These new discoveries shock them and fill them with doubt. But the revelations only lead to strengthening their feelings for one another. On stage, the main spy character recounts the conversation he had with his girlfriend to his friend while seamlessly jumping right back into the dialogue with her. It was like watching flashbacks as they originally occurred while explaining what happened in the flashbacks. It’s like how they they do things on “How I Met Your Mother,” at least, I think.

Anyway, these Delaware hacks didn’t even pick it to be one of the top 6 plays to be performed at the benefit! COME ON! Ghost Spy Ballin’! How edgy can you get? I guess only a director with some balls would have taken on the challenge of my masterpiece, so of course no inbred ghoul from Eastern DE would have been man enough and dare to step up and really give the audience a show they would never forget. Too bad the plays were not being staged in Madison, WI. Those Madison theater folks are CA-FREAKIN’-RAZY! They have no fear. They have no restraint. Delaware theater? A bunch of bed-wetting little girls.

So now I have to see if I can transform this 10-minute play into a full One Act, and then finish my followup epic about the woman who goes to get her labia pierced and the girl who performs the procedure turns out to be her biological daughter who she gave up for adoption 20 years ago. It’s called “What My Daughter Saw Twice.” MIND. BLOWING. THEATER.

I should finish these new plays up and really give the Chicago community a few performances to really talk about. They can’t ride the Blue Man Group forever. That’s seriously it around here; there is no real theater of consequence to speak of. Get with it, Chicago!!

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