R.I.P. Harvey Pekar [12 Jul 2010|04:09pm]

"Who's the Third Shoe?" [30 May 2010|01:55am] R.I.P. (before Dennis) 4 comments|post comment

R.I.P. Dennis Hopper [30 May 2010|01:53am]

"App. 5 days, 12 hours" [20 Apr 2010|03:24pm] Dear Journal, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand fail. I had one. That's fine. This was my first legitimate attempt to quit. No one ever succeeds their first time. blah, blah, blah, excuses, excuses. I DID fail to follow one of the directions in the book and that may have done me in. The direction said to KEEP the book as a reference, but I didn't. I lent it out to someone else, and every time I thought about smoking I wished I had the book nearby to read again. One of the guys who read the book said he had to read it three times. Well, fuck it. I'll read it again. And if that doesn't work...HYPNOSIS. I've never heard of a case of that failing. So, first try--five and a half days. I will try again. And then again. Then again. Until I kick it. I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED.   Oh, by the way, thank you everyone for telling me I smell nice. Colleen even texted me to tell me I smelled nice. My fellow MFAs have taken that specific direction very seriously and tell me every day how nice I smell. Everyone seems to get a kick out of saying "you smell nice". What will I tell them now? Well, no more lies. I'll say, "thank you, but to be honest with you I had a cigarette yesterday. But you're encouragement is always appreciated." post comment

"App. 4 days, 13 hours" [19 Apr 2010|03:15pm] Dear Journal, It has been approximately four days and 13 hours since I had my last cigarette. I got a free pass yesterday because I was so hungover that I didn't want a cigarette at all. They usually make my hangovers worse. Finally, a benefit to a hangover! The night before I was so drunk I walked home from a bar because I couldn't find my car (which I shouldn't have been driving anyway) but as far as I know, I didn't smoke. It really, really helps that NO ONE around me smokes. Anyway, I guess the little monster is still dying. And the nintendo is still helping me kill it. I really don't think I've "kicked" anything yet. I mean, the withdrawal pangs are manageable and are still supposed to last another two weeks or so but I still feel the psychological, the NEED, aka "the big monster" or whatever the fuck. Anyway. Yeah. The withdrawal has given my writing...less the touch it once had. Something. post comment

"App. 65 Hours" [17 Apr 2010|06:41pm] Dear Journal, It has been approximately 65 Hours since I smoked my last cigarette. The book says you can't have one. Not ONE. If you have one, you're fucked. You shouldn't WANT one, the book says. You're free, it says, you should enjoy your freedom and not "mope" about having one. Lying is another thing you're giving up, that's what the book says. I could have smoked one and be lying about it.  I could have smoked one and lie to my friends about it when I see them tonight. But I'm not actually lying; I've stopped that too, I guess. I have not had a cigarette in 65 hours. Die little monster, die! Fuck you little monster! The little monster's been acting very strangely the past day. I think the little monster is pissed. I still fear the little monster. I almost gave in... Last night I was SOOOOO close to giving in. But then I had a brilliant idea. I went out and bought an OLD MOTHERFUCKING NINTENDO 64 ALONG WITH THE FUCKING WRESTLING GAME I USED TO PLAY NONSTOP IN COLLEGE. I didn't leave my ROOM for seven hours. That beautiful move helped me conquer another night. Of course, once rehearsals for the Summer Rep starts I will have to leave my room. And tonight I have to leave my room to celebrate a classmates birthday (fingers crossed--I can do this). But I think I've discovered counterprogramming to the "boredom" motivation behind smoking. See you soon...? 1 comment|post comment

"App. 22 Hours" [15 Apr 2010|11:34pm] Dear Journal, It has been approximately 22 Hours since I had my very last cigarette in the entire world. Parts of this day (particularly toward the end) have been a little more difficult than Mr. Carr led me to believe, but I was able to announce to my friends--the other grad students--that I have quit, and I told them what Mr. Carr said to the "non-smokers" in his book. Mainly I told them what Mr. Carr said about how they should tell me every day how nicely I smell and how much more good-looking I am. I also told them the part about how they can bring up the smoking thing any time, because just because I am not talking about it, it doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it. In fact, I WILL BE fucking thinking about it and it would be great if my friends could continue to praise me and my bravery and so forth. I told them all that. I also told them what Mr. Carr wrote about how sometimes ex-smokers will get really angry as a ploy to get his friends to say "jeez, maybe you should go ahead and have a cigarette" and so he (me--the ex-smoker) could go ahead and do that thinking he has permission, but that they should instead say "my, if that's what it's like for you when you're smoking, I'm glad you're quitting; how brave of you." and so forth. I think they understood. Despite the difficulties--Even though I'm not actually "giving up" anything and any feeling of deprivation is a result of brainwashing--I did find one benefit not mentioned in the book. The feeling of nicotine withdrawal--I think you can get a little high from it. It's an unfamiliar, jarring feeling that your body goes through. The book describes it as the "little monster" inside of you slowly dying over a period of three weeks. I want to get high off of the little monster's death. I think that will get me through. I keep saying "fuck you, little monster" and "die, little monster" every time I feel a pang of withdrawal like the book says. But maybe I can enjoy everything more by getting high off of the monster's dead rotting corpse. But who knows? It's only been twenty-two hours. 1 comment|post comment

[15 Apr 2010|06:29pm] I am now a non-smoker. Thanks, Allen Carr. I will never have a cigarette again. Ever never ever. I have been thoroughly brainwashed. I hope. post comment

"That Girl We Love" [10 Apr 2010|01:28am] Real quick. I kept telling everyone here that my birthday was not a big deal. But I said that this year it wa for all the wrong reasons. The reasons being three. The three were: 1. 3-0 2. No more smoking 3. Well...the elephant in the room as far as the date is concerned. Really, the reason why my birthday has more significance to me than it ever did before and also the reason why I have no desire to celebrate it. Miss you. 1 comment|post comment

R.I.P. Peter Graves [15 Mar 2010|01:06am] "You ever seen a grown man naked?"

"Fuck You, Irina Krupnik (You Vain, Ugly Woman)" [14 Mar 2010|02:53pm] Apparently, in the film Couples Retreat (with Swingers chums Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau), Favreau’s character masturbates to a picture of a swimsuit model while his wife is out of the room (or in the next room, or whatever is most comical). Now, the swimsuit model from the picture—Russian hottie-turned-makeup artist Irina Krupnik—is suing NBC Universal, the makers of the film, over the use of her image, as indicated here in the Daily News Article:   "The image of an older married man pleasuring himself to the picture of someone who was closer to the age of a child is disgusting," said lawyer Thomas Mullaney, who is representing Krupnik in the $10 million suit. "It was a swimsuit ad, not pornography." Krupnik was 21 when she donned a bikini for a February 2001 modeling shoot in the Bahamas, then signed a release allowing commercial use of the image through stock photo agencies. Krupnik is super-duper upset that the photo of her in the swimsuit when she was a 21-year old swimsuit model could be used for masturbation purposes, particularly by an older, unattractive man, as is indicated here:   Krupnik says she had no idea her picture would be used as an X-rated prop for the "purposely unattractive male" played by Favreau in the Vince Vaughn vehicle. "She was shocked; she was mad as hell," Mullaney said. "If you're a good-looking young woman, you don't want anyone leering at you or fondling you," [take that, ugly chicks] the lawyer added. "If someone did in Central Park what they showed in Couples Retreat, they would be thrown in jail." [based on this last statement, Krupnik’s lawyer is also suing every film ever made AND calling for the arrest of every man, woman and child in the United States, although the article makes no mention of it]   Let me just say right now FUCK YOU Irina Krupnik (and also fuck you Irina Krupnik’s lawyer, I guess.) I would never defend what is probably a terrible, terrible romantic comedy but this just grinds my gears and HOW DARE YOU, MADAM. HOW MOTHER FUCKING DARE YOU. Jon Favreau is not old. And he is not unattractive (“purposely” or otherwise you strange-word-using-Ruskie). I take this very personally because not only am I approaching my thirtieth birthday but I have been told that I have a Jon Favreau look (like Seth Rogen complains about) and I do not consider myself OLD, UNATTRACTIVE MASTURBATING GUY. Here you can compare:   You’re lawsuit is frivolous and is an affront to normal-looking people. And as far as terrible movies go, I really don’t care how terrible the movie was. If you were suing BEN AFFLECK himself I would totally take Affleck’s side and I CAN’T FUCKING STAND Ben Affleck (and his wife is WAY hotter than you, that hot-talented-wife-having-but-no-talent-himself-just-like-Ryan-Phillipe-before-his-divorce-motherfucker). FUCK YOU YOU VAIN, VAIN WOMAN.   If I ever make a film, and I never wanted to but maybe I will now out of spite, it will feature now deceased baseball player Don Massi masturbating to your picture. And he isn’t such a good-looking dude.   But that will be the whole movie (we’ll make him look OLDER, too. You know what? You’re older than me, you old bag) And it will win lots of awards because film lovers everywhere will want to spite you and your vain, frivolous lawsuit you inwardly ugly, ugly woman. (Also, it’s never been done before, and it may fit the award-trend in the future. You never know.) Maybe I’m just venting because I’m turning thirty. 1 comment|post comment

R.I.P. Corey Haim [10 Mar 2010|02:21pm]

R.I.P. Andrew Koenig [25 Feb 2010|04:52pm]

R.I.P. J.D. Salinger [28 Jan 2010|05:41pm]

"Tickling Catastrophe" [28 Jan 2010|12:16am] I have been learning to speak with an upper-class British accent for a restoration-era comedy that we’re about to do. I was confident that I could already do this, because, as I’ve told my instructors, I learn by “mimicry” and feel like watching every episode of the original “The Prisoner” and several films featuring Ian McKellan over the winter break was enough for me to speak any text with a flawless accent. I was more or less correct, only neglecting fun little things like pronouncing the verb “frequent” with the accent on the second syllable (“won’t you fri-KWENT my card games, pray?”), pronouncing “family” with three syllables, “ceremony” like “SERE-minny”, “almost” like “AWLmost”, and the A’s in words like “reprimand”, “disaster”, “France”, “blasted”, and “graph” like the O in “gone”.  I decided to take my character a step further and do this hideous thing with my teeth. I discovered late last year that I could not only do this thing with my teeth but also maintain it with an accent for the course of the entire play, and thought it might be funny to do so. It looks like this: Well that’s the best-focused picture I can take (maybe I could do better, but I would have to get up), but you get the idea. I do that while I talk. It looks more "British" and less "mentally challenged" than the picture above would indicate. It terrifies everyone every else involved with the show but hopefully the audience will be amused by it. Wow, my nose looks enormous in that picture. You know one of my classmates told me the other day that she’s seen my particular nose under the “Create Your Own Character” function on Nintendo Wii and I’m the only person she’s seen that has that specific nose. I don’t know if it’s enough to make me go out and buy a Wii, though. I wouldn’t get anything done if I had one. I played my brother’s Wii over the break. I also watched a bunch of movies. I returned to San Diego with the intention of breaking up with the girl I’d been seeing here. After I did, I saw “Up in the Air” and became so sad and lonely that I wanted to get back together again (we did and then broke up again last weekend). It was a good film, but I still think “Zombieland” is the best I’ve seen in a while. Of course, I’m so sad and ridiculous lately that I’ve decided to read every play in Shakespeare’s canon and have begun composing my own Shakespeare quotation dictionary. I thought maybe I could publish it one day with silly commentary or something (I’ll probably just end up cutting and pasting all thousand pages or whatever it ends up being onto livejournal or something, but I like to say “publish” to myself so I feel like I’m not doing it for no reason, which I almost certainly am). I’ve only recently started adding commentary. Before that it was just quotes. But here’s a sample of when I decided to start adding commentary, from the ‘L’ section of my little ridiculous project:   _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________   LAST WORDS                           A Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquished. Now my spirit is going; I can no more. A&C 4.15 (Antony)   What should I stay? A&C 5.2 (Cleopatra)   O, yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt. HAMLET 5.2 (Claudius)   The rest is silence. HAMLET 5.2 (Hamlet)                           No, Percy, thou art dust And food for— 1HENRY 1V 5.4 (Hotspur)   But bear me to that chamber; there I’ll lie; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. 2HENRY IV 4.5 (Henry IV)   Et tu, Brute?—Then fall, Caesar. JULIUS CAESAR 3.1 (Caesar)   Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that killed thee. JULIUS CAESAR 5.3 (Cassius)   Caesar, now be still: I killed not thee with half so good a will. JULIUS CAESAR 5.5 (Brutus)   Do you see this? Look on her: look, her lips, Look there, look there! KING LEAR 5.3 (Lear)   Lay on, Macduff; And damned be him that first cries, ‘Hold, enough!’ MACBETH 5.8 (Macbeth)   Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word. OTHELLO 5.2 (Iago) Iago and Aaron (of Titus Andronicus) are the only two characters included in this section that neither die onstage nor are reported dead during the action of the play. However, since Iago is doomed to die and states plainly that he’s done talking until he does, his final words are recorded here. Aaron is doomed to die too (they are also both murderous sociopaths, natch) but unlike Iago it is doubtful he is done talking. See note on Aaron.   I kissed thee ere I killed thee: no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. OTHELLO 5.2 (Othello)   Mount, mount, my soul! Thy seat is up on high, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die. RICHARD II 5.5 (Richard II)   A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse! RIII 5.6 (Richard)               A plague o’ both your houses, They have made worms’ meat of me. I have it, and soundly too. Your houses! R&J 3.1 (Mercutio)                                       O true apothecary, Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. R&J 5.3 (Romeo)                           Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger. This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die. R&J 5.3 (Juliet)   If one good deed in all my life I did I do repent it from my very soul. TITUS 5.1 (Aaron) Unlike Iago (see note on Iago), Aaron doesn’t take a vow of silence once his crimes are discovered and fate sealed (actually his crimes aren’t so much “discovered”—he can hardly wait to tell everyone about them), but rather must be gagged and repeatedly told to shut his damn mouth until he’s finally led off to be put “breast-deep” in the ground and starved to death. Presumably he will continue talking, but his executioners hope that it will be more “beg for food” and less “and let me tell you about the evil stuff I did last week…” Either way, these are the last words he utters onstage and suitably sinister ones for Shakespeare’s most unrepentant (indeed, vehemently anti-repentant) villain.   ‘Tis true, ‘tis true, witness my knife’s sharp point. TITUS 5.3 (Titus)   LAST WORDS (Commentary on)   O, but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony. Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. RICHARD II 2.1 (Gaunt) ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Don’t mock me! I’m in a strange city. And I’m surrounded by strange new friends who aren’t addicted to Vice like I am. Stuff like this keeps me from going crazy. Oh, that reminds me! That insane Chekhov thing I wrote and posted here…Well, I revised it, wrote another several pages of it, and then gave it to one of my classmates. We decided that we should all read it together (everyone playing themselves) at a dinner party before the winter break. It was kind of surreal. Everyone seemed highly amused by it (although no doubt they look at me a little more sideways than they did before). It reminded me of when Sleaze and me wrote that senior show at UT. Except, you know, more Chekhov.  I can’t possibly catch up on two months or however long it’s been—I don’t have the energy. I guess I’ll just have to pick up the phone and call my loved ones eventually. Or at least contact them on the internet. I haven’t really been in touch with anyone for a long time. Except Conor came to San Diego and stayed with me last week. That was a nightmare. Not so much because of him, just the particular point in my journey he chose to visit me was very stressful. Perhaps I’ll tell you about it sometime. I’m not even sure who I’m talking to, I doubt anyone will stumble across this for at least a month if not longer, but I just want to set something down because it’s been too long. 4 comments|post comment

R.I.P. Howard Zinn [27 Jan 2010|10:17pm]

R.I.P. Brittany Murphy [20 Dec 2009|04:59pm]

"Fraction" [19 Nov 2009|01:14am] Well, shit, it’s like Thursday now, but I was going to say it was an eventful weekend. The show opened on Saturday, and it seemed like everyone I knew who was going to come to the show came on opening night. I had fourteen people (or so) that I knew come to the show on Saturday night, including my parents, Helen and her boyfriend (I assume) Josh, Kristin Chiles +4 (including her boyfriend, Katie Cornett, and two others I didn’t know), Hassan, my friend Kate from here in San Diego with her boyfriend, and finally my roommate Scott. You may or may not know any of these people but it was incredibly stressful to have that many people come to one show and have to keep them all entertained, particularly since most of them had never met the others before. As if that weren’t enough, the dog, all of a sudden, started acting crazy right before the show. Here’s the thing about that dog: the dog that I wrote about a while back, who freaked out in front of people, was nixed before rehearsals even officially started. That dog was replaced by another dog, Henry, who belonged to one of the actresses in my year. She LURVES her dog, and she thought he would be perfect for the show, because he’s oh so precious and wonderful and well-behaved and so forth. Well, Henry hates me (I knew this before he was hired but they hired him anyway), and spent every rehearsal trying to get as far away from me as possible (he reminded me of Devon’s cats), sometimes even willing to choke himself on the end of his leash in order to do so. The actress blamed me, naturally, saying something like “well, he’s afraid of people who stomp around and talk with a booming voice.” I responded with something like “well, we can certainly replace the dog quicker than we can—I don’t know—change my fucking nature.” So, the director fired that dog as well. Then, another actress announced that her father owned a dog that was—get this—fourteen years old, DEAF, almost 100% BLIND, and heavily medicated. I met this dog, who was little more than a doorstop and named Fraction, and declared him perfect. The director also met the dog and realized she didn’t even need a leash to stay in one place on the stage, and hired her straight away. The actress’s father was infinitely more proud of his dog than he was of his daughter, who was in fact playing the lead. So this dog, Fraction, is—in dog years—older than anyone I’ve ever met, and takes Benadryl. Every other day, though, she takes Prednisone, a powerful steroid that makes her crazy and actually bark occasionally. You see, I had only heard this dog bark ONCE the entire time I had known her until the opening night of the show. The opening night of the show was a “Prednisone Day”, and her master was in the audience seeing the show, and that was when I heard her bark at least FIFTY TIMES. I kept telling the guy they brought in to watch her to hold her or take her outside (I had learned these things), but the dog wasn’t having any of it. I guess the good thing was that I was so worried about what the hell this suddenly crazy dog might do onstage than about all of the people I knew out in the audience. This dog would not stop barking while she was backstage, particularly when there was some “serious” type scene going on onstage. When it came time to bring her out, I was terrified. The above picture is being used a whole bunch in the publicity for the show. Actually, in the press section on the globe website the caption for this picture reads: “(l. to r.) Fraction as Crab and Drew Hutcheson as Launce” LIKE YOU HAVE TO CLARIFY WHICH ONE IS WHICH. And apparently “Drew Hutcheson” is my fucking stage name now. Anyway, it turns out that Fraction behaves like a perfect lady in front of a paying audience. After I brought her out and set her down on opening night, she did everything she did during rehearsal (which was mostly sit there and be really old). After we were done, we got exit applause. Bless that dog. I’ve never gotten exit applause before. As soon as we got backstage and the “serious” scenes began again, of course she resumed barking her little fucking head off. Then I brought her out again in the second act and, once again, dainty little debutante. Backstage after that—frac! Frac! Frac! (Her bark sounds like her nickname). Finally, because the guy who was watching her had given up on trying to hold her, I picked her up and held her in a chair for the twenty minutes before the curtain call, and she fell asleep in my arms. The next day, during the Sunday matinee, she finally did bark onstage. Now, I had long planned an ad-lib in case she ever did this (actually two ad-libs in case she ever did it twice—but if she did it three times I was screwed). Basically whenever the dog is with me onstage I’m doing some big monologue about the dog and pointing at her and so forth. So Fraction actually barked in the middle of my monologue and I immediately pointed at her and commanded “Nay, let me tell it.” It got a big laugh. In fact, it’s the only reason I was mentioned in the only review that I can currently find of the show (hooray for gays and lesbians!): Andrew Hutcheson’s Launce, keeper of the dog (a lovable ancient Lhasa poo) is supposed to be slower of wit, but proved quick on the draw with a great ad-lib when the dog barked. My mom decided to come to the show again on Sunday evening, after my dad opted out of seeing it twice. Alexis and Bina came to the show that night. Once again, that dog got me exit applause. The guy who plays Speed, another one of the goofy characters, said in the dressing room after the show “hey, did any of you guys see that girl in the front row who looks like a blonde Jennifer Aniston?” And I was like, “yeah, that’s my friend Alexis.” I had never thought that before, but I asked her afterwards and apparently she gets that all the time. Somebody asked for Bina’s e-mail after I told them she works at Paramount. Ah, bless my LA friends, and pray that I never have to live there. The dog’s master is once again backstage this week and all is right with the world. And this really old dog, you know, gets her moment in the sun before she dies, um, because, that’s what makes life, um, never mind. I was trying to wrap this whole thing up with some sort of lesson involving the dog, but who gives a shit. 2 comments|post comment

"Pack a Parasol" [03 Nov 2009|12:47am] I checked the weather to see if I needed to bring a jacket to school tomorrow and I saw this. I saw this...ridiculousness. 10-Day Forecast for San Diego, CA (92110)   Weather for your life   Weather Related to... Aches & Pains Air Quality & Pollution Allergies & Pollen Boat & Beach Cold & Flu Fitness & Exercise Flights & Business Travel Golf Weather Health Home Improvement Interstate Driving Forecast Lawn & Garden Outdoor Recreation Pets Schoolday Weather Ski Conditions Skin Protection Sporting Events Vacation & Travel Guide Wedding Planner [ English | Metric ] Printable Forecast Forecast Conditions High °F Low °F Precip. Chance High Temperatures Low Temperatures Precipitation Wind Speed   Tue Nov 3   Sunny 75° 56°   0%   Wed Nov 4   Sunny   71° 58°   0%   Thu Nov 5   Partly Cloudy   68° 58°   10%   Fri Nov 6   Partly Cloudy   68° 59°   10%   Sat Nov 7   Partly Cloudy   66° 56°   0%   Sun Nov 8   Partly Cloudy   66° 55°   10%   Mon Nov 9   Mostly Sunny   70° 54°   0%   Tue Nov 10   Sunny   68° 54°   0%   Wed Nov 11   Sunny   68° 57°   0%   Last Updated Nov 03, 12:44 AM PT Printable Forecast   Details Video Text Averages   NEW: Larger Radar Maps & No Ads       1 comment|post comment

"My Lingering Strands of Sanity Evaporate" [25 Oct 2009|09:08pm] I've been reading Chekhov non-stop for the past three weeks. So, I decided to write an account of my Friday night as if Chekhov had written it. What follows is an incomplete first act. ACT I (ALEXANDER ALEXOV STEFANOV, ABREYAVNA SAVORINA, and JORVAN ILYICH MACHADAMIAN sit at a booth in a pub) STEFANOV: Yes, yes. Why do we always come here? I don’t really like this place. So, so… ABREYAVNA: Katrine and Andrei Andreyich will be late. Oh, how I worry when people say that they will be arriving late. I worry that they will not come at all. STEFANOV: Three dollars for a beer! Outrageous…it will not do. I am not a rich man. I could have been, but I have chosen a life of education. ABREYAVNA: This table will serve well for us. Oh, but what if too many come? Or too few? If too many of our friends arrive, some will not be able to sit down. If too few of our friends arrive, then people will think we are selfish to have a table that has more room than we require. Why could we not all arrive at once? STEFANOV: My books have been my currency! Learning is the most important aspect of living. If I had been a mechanic, or perhaps a plumber, I would have looked back at my life in my old age and thought how empty and useless it all was. ABREYAVNA (to STEFANOV): You are intolerable today, Alexander Alexov. How you upset me! (to MACHADAMIAN) And you are so quiet, Jorvan Ilyich…   MACHADAMIAN: Yes? (confusedly) Oh, yes, sweet Abrina, my little dove. I suppose I am lost in thought. (sings softly) “The coachmen neglects the horses, and the bear comes along and eats them…” ABREYAVNA: I do hope the others come along soon. Was that the door? I think that was the door just now. STEFANOV: That could be anyone. Other people come into this bar, you know. (GREYSKI DESTOV-JESUS, BREEZHNA NATALYA and BROOKANA NOVANOVA enter) DESTOV-JESUS: A booth! How fantastic! I do love booths. I told Broona before we arrived that I would so love to sit at a booth. STEFANOV: Have you brought along the Colonel, Brookana Novanova? BROOKANA NOVANOVA: He should be arriving shortly. With Moira Rimana. BREEZHNA: I don’t care much for this place, I must tell you. They made me tie up my dog outside. ABREYAVNA: How horrible! What if he is struck by a bicycle? BREEZHNA: That wouldn’t faze him. He’s as strong as steel. DESTOV-JESUS (feeling the table): Remarkable! BREEZHNA: But he dearly loves to eat the peanuts on the floor. MACHADAMIAN: I wonder if I have the money for a beer today. STEFANOV: You have a beer in front of you, Jorvan Ilyich. MACHADAMIAN (responding to his name): Yes? (confusedly) I suppose it wouldn’t be impossible. Perhaps when I go home I shall look it up… STEFANOV: I had no money in my purse for a beer today. But then, I had no money in my purse for a beer yesterday, either. I never have money, but I don’t need it. What I have is of much more value. I have many more valuable things. DESTOV-JESUS: I shall buy you a beer, Alexander Alexov! STEFANOV: You may do as you wish. DESTOV-JESUS: You are in the booth, Alexander Alexov, do you see? But I am in a chair! Part of the table is for the booth, and this part is for the chairs! The table accommodates both! BROOKANA NOVANOVA (to DESTOV-JESUS): You haven’t the money to buy Alexander Alexov a drink, Greyski. ABREYAVNA: I’m sure Moira Rimana will pick up the tab for us all. But where is she? Why must she take so long to arrive when she knows it infuriates me so? (MOIRA RIMANA and COLONEL CHRISTO DURKOYONO enter) STEFANOV: She appears to have heard her cue. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: And with the Colonel, as well. Perhaps things will liven up now. MACHADAMIAN (sings softly): “Don’t cry, little coachman, the bear has eaten your horses…” MOIRA:  Sweet, tender Abrina, and you’ve brought so many dear friends! MACHADAMIAN (musingly): “My little dove…” MOIRA: I do hope no one has paid for anything! I would love to treat you all. It would bring me so much joy! And dearest Breezhna, I knew you would be here too—I saw your little dog tied up outside. BREEZHNA: As small as he is, he is as strong as an ox. DESTOV-JESUS: Colonel! Sit down! You may sit in a booth or a chair! Or both, if you like! STEFANOV: He cannot sit in both. CHRISTO: Yes, I believe I would like to sit down. How tiring this day has been. To sit down and settle my bones at the end of a long day is what I require most in the world. I used to think that military service would be all I needed to be a strong, happy man. Now all I want is to sit down. How strange it all is, to want one thing but then to want another, seemingly contradictory thing. But what can I do? I cannot change who I am right now. I should like nothing better than to sit. MOIRA: Then sit, by all means, Christo. (to WAITRESS) Please bring another round of beers. I have a tab at the bar. Moira Rimana. Finish up your beers, friends! I have ordered another round. CHRISTO: When I was a young man—and I am not old, by any means—but when I was a Corporal, I felt that a life of military training and discipline would serve to make me the man that I would be when I am the age that I am. And I believed that the man that I would be when I was as I am now would be happy…and strong. Now I am as I am now and I find the man that I am wants to sit down more than anything else. The Corporal that I was couldn’t have imagined such a thing. It’s funny, don’t you think? And yet I can’t help being who I am. I would like to sit down and have a beer. MOIRA: I have ordered you a beer, Christo. It should be coming soon! BROOKANA NOVANOVA: But you still have not sat down, Colonel, for a man that wants it so badly. DESTOV-JESUS: You may have my seat, Colonel! I’m thinking of moving to another. Wherever I sit, I get a different view of things around the table! Splendid! CHRISTO: But then, this day has been particularly tiring, after all… (KATERINE DUVA-WEEPNA and ANDREI ANDREYICH enter) MOIRA: Katya! And Andrei Andreyich! But this is wonderful! You must go to the bartender and order two more beers on my tab! BROOKANA NOVANOVA: You mustn’t keep buying everyone’s beers, Moira Rimana, you haven’t the money for it. ABREYAVNA: But if she does not, who shall pay? Surely I cannot buy myself beers! They’ll throw me out in the street! STEFANOV: She may buy me beers, or she may not. I have no need of beers or the money to buy them. MOIRA: I know I should not, but what can I do? I’m terrible with money. I just want you all to be happy, the way things have always been! If that means giving everything I have, then why not? You all are thirsty, and you must have beer. Whatever I have with me to help me belongs to you! I would’ve given my entire purse to the homeless man outside if Druski Hutchenbach hadn’t stopped me. BROOKNA NOVANOVA: You came with the Baron as well? But where is he? BREEZHNA: There is a homeless man outside with my dog? ANDREI ANDREYICH: The Baron is speaking with the homeless man. Perhaps he is talking some sense into him. ABREYAVNA: But if Druski Hutchenbach is here as well there aren’t enough seats. I knew this would happen. Did I not I tell you this would happen before everyone arrived, Alexander Alexov? STEFANOV: Hm? Well, maybe I shall go. Or at least go and use the restroom. Then there will be enough seats at least until I return. You mustn’t be so out of sorts, Abrina. MACHADAMIAN (contemplatively): “…my silent joy” MOIRA: Jorvan Ilyich! I hadn’t noticed you sitting there. You had better finish your beer before the waitress comes with another round. MACHADAMIAN: Yes? (lost in thought) Yes, perhaps that’s true. I suppose it is best that I be going. There are a few things that require my attention. To pass the time…Abrina, my little dove. And to all the rest. STEFANOV: I’ll walk out with you, Jorvan Ilyich. But only as far as the restroom. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: There you are now, Colonel, there are plenty of seats to choose from. STEFANOV: You mustn’t take mine! I am only going to the restroom. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Of course not, but the Colonel may take Jorvan Ilyich’s chair. DESTOV-JESUS: No, let me have his chair and he shall take my seat in the booth! How wonderful! STEFANOV: Let us walk, Jorvan Ilyich. MACHADAMIAN (sings softly): “But how shall the coachman ride, with his horses all eaten up…” (STEFANOV and MACHADAMIAN exit) CHRISTO: It is true I am tired on my feet after today…only but to sit down would bring me the greatest joy. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Then you should sit, for God’s sake. KATERINE (to Andrei Andreyich): What did you mean before? ANDREI ANDREYICH: When? KATERINE: What did you mean before, when you said “talk some sense into the homeless man”? BREEZHNA: How frightful! Out there with my dog? Of course, he’s as tough as nails. ANDREI ANDREYICH: I meant what I said. Rarely do I say other than what I mean. In fact, I never do that. MOIRA: How strange that the beers haven’t arrived! I suppose they’ll be along shortly. Poor dear, the waitress, probably been running around all night…I shall have to tip her extra, poor dear, poor dear…oh, and Colonel, you should sit, Greyski has moved from his seat again… DESTOV-JESUS: Yet each seat is more exciting than the last! How beautiful and easily understood it all is! CHRISTO: Yes, so strange that nothing should bring me greater joy. But the young Corporal I was would’ve laughed at the prospect…then again, I am not so very old, not very old at all… BREEZHNA: No, you are not old. Your hair is not even gray yet. In dog years, my little Heinrich is much older than you. But how strong he is! And solid. Like a brick with legs and a tail. KATERINE: Andrei Andreyich, how can you say such things about the homeless! Do you think they choose to be that way? They haven’t had the privileged upbringing that we’ve had! ANDREI ANDREYICH: That you’ve had, perhaps. I got where I am through hard work. You have cared for nothing but lack of work and being waited on like all privileged youth. Your father is an ambassador. Mine was an apprentice to the manager of a comic book store. He died before he could run the store himself. But before he died he taught me that by working seventeen hours a day you could be as rich as a Senator. So could anyone. All it takes is hard work. KATERINE: I adore you so, Andrei Andreyich. Why must we be so different? It is so cruel, so cruel… (KATERINE sobs) BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Oh, how tiresome you are, Andrei Andreyich! You talk and talk of hard work so much it seems your hardest work goes into these speeches. ABREYAVNA (sobbing): How can I work? I haven’t learned any skills! MOIRA: Please stop that, sweet Abrina, you know how pain saddens me! (MOIRA begins to sob as well. The WAITRESS arrives. MOIRA abruptly stops) MOIRA: How wonderful! Our beers are here. Everyone clear your hands and let her set them down! (She pulls out some cash) Here’s a little extra for you, poor dear. I’ll tip you more on the card. Come now, everyone, drink up, drink up—but wait, did she bring enough? Has everyone gotten one? CHRISTO: Ah, yes, just what would hit the spot… (CHRISTO takes the beer and pours it over his head) ANDREI ANDREYICH: Well, now we have one less. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Colonel! What is the matter with you! MOIRA: He wanted it so badly, the poor dear. (to WAITRESS) Please fetch some napkins. What a long day you must have had, Colonel. CHRISTO: Yes, it was a tiring day on this day in particular. And so cold, too…I can feel it now… ANDREI ANDREYICH: It’s cold because you have poured your beer on yourself, you fool. MOIRA: I’m having the waitress fetch some napkins. Please do sit down, Colonel. BROOKANA NOVANOVA: He shouldn’t sit down now. He’s all wet. ABREYAVNA (sobbing): But he can’t simply stand there! People will see! BROOKANA NOVANA: He’s been standing this long; he may as well stand a while longer. (DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH and STEFANOV enter, followed by the WAITRESS with napkins) DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: The Colonel’s hair is all wet. ANDREI ANDREYICH: He has poured his beer over his head, Baron. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: Oh-tch-tch-tch. Such a waste. ABREYAVNA: And now that the two of you are here there aren’t enough beers for everyone! MOIRA: I shall order more, Abrina, only don’t be sad. STEFANOV: Jorvan Ilyich has left but his beer is still there, untouched. And now he has a second. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: I shall drink them both. MOIRA: There now, you see, Abrina? All is well. BREEZHNA: Did you see my dog outside, Baron? DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: Indeed. He was tied to a parking meter. BREEZHNA: Or rather the parking meter was tied to him. He is as sturdy as a stone. ANDREI ANDREYICH: Why were you wasting your time with that homeless man, Druski Hutchenbach? DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: He stank of Vodka. I wanted to know if he had any more—or at the least, where he had gotten it. STEFANOV: What do you have against that homeless man, Andrei Andreyich? He came from the same humble beginnings that you did. ANDREI ANDREYICH: Yes, but see where he is and where I am, Alexander Alexov. You have proven my point before our argument has even begun! KATERINE: Why do I adore nothing as I do you? STEFANOV: Were we to have an argument? BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Not in my presence—not tonight. (to DESTOV-JESUS) Please call us a cab, Greyski. DESTOV-JESUS: A taxi? But of course—how wonderful! I believe I shall sit in the front! (DESTOV-JESUS rushes out) ABREYAVNA: Surely you’re not leaving so soon, Broona? What a terrible night this has turned out to be! CHRISTO: And yet the day was longer than most. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH (to WAITRESS): Two more, please. (the WAITRESS, who has just finished drying off CHRISTO, goes out) MOIRA (yelling after): Put those on my tab! STEFANOV: But you’ve not finished the two beers you have, Baron. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: One never knows how long a waitress may take, Alexander Alexov. It is best to manage one’s time wisely. MOIRA: There now, Colonel, doesn’t it feel good to be all dry again? CHRISTO: I feel much as I did before… BROOKANA NOVANA: Before you were wet, you mean? STEFANOV: That’s logical. You are no longer wet. MOIRA: I often wish that things had been as they were before. I think that’s why I feel the Colonel and I have so much in common. ANDREI ANDREYICH: And yet change is part of life, Moira Rimana. No, not only a part of life, but essential to it. And how much more exciting it is! Can’t you see that? Industry! In two hundred years, three hundred years, we will have no need to even go to bars. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: Not go, you say? Absurd. ANDREI ANDREYICH: Social networking will be done from the comfort of our own home. But it will not be easy. It will take hard work. STEFANOV: We are so much the same, Andrei Andreyich, and yet we are even much more the different. You say in two hundred years we will have no need for bars? I say I have no need for bars in the present. And if you had received a formal education, you wouldn’t have need for them, either. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: I can drink from the home, if that is how it is to be in two hundred years. ANDREI ANDREYICH: So by your reasoning all the homeless man needs is a formal education, Alexander Alexov? STEFANOV: I suppose. But I was not defending the homeless man, Andrei Andreyich. I was merely objecting to the objections that you have to his being homeless. Unfortunately for him, there is no hope for his element—the uneducated. Whereas for myself…my grandfather was smart, my father was smarter, and now I am smartest. ANDREI ANDREYICH: Yes, yes, and in two hundred years your descendents will be even more smartest! Don’t you see? We’re of the same mind. In two hundred years the homeless element will be weeded out and only those with the drive will press forward. Hard work! The accumulation of wealth! My grandfather was homeless, but he worked hard and became a sanitation worker! My father was an apprentice to a comic book store manager! BROOKANA NOVANOVA: Curse your wretched father! I’ve told you I will not sit here for this! CHRISTO: Oh, my, that’s strange… (CHRISTO collapses to the floor) BREEVHNA: The Colonel’s collapsed! MOIRA: Oh, no, Colonel! He wanted nothing more but to sit down, you see! ABREYAVNA (sobbing): What a scene we are making—all of us! STEFANOV: He doesn’t appear to have lost consciousness. Stand back. I am a doctor and a lawyer. (DESTOV-JESUS re-enters) DESTOV-JESUS: The taxi’s arrived! I believe I may now like to sit in the back. (He looks down) The Colonel is on the floor. And with a perfectly good booth! How sexually aroused I’ve become! BROOKANA NOVANOVA: All the more reason for us to go. (DESTOV-JESUS and BROOKANA NOVANOVA exit) MOIRA: Colonel, speak to me! Do you have the strength to stand? There are plenty of chairs to sit in. CHRISTO: I had thought sitting would’ve been preferable to lying down. (He sits up) Ah, yes, that will do. STEFANOV: You can’t sit on the floor. They’ll throw you out. ABREYAVNA: They’ll throw us all out! MOIRA: Don’t start in, Abrina, you know how fragile I can become! (MOIRA begins sobbing; WAITRESS arrives with two more beers; MOIRA stops abruptly) MOIRA: Ah, more beer’s arrived! Wonderful! Colonel, a beer is what you need! WAITRESS: That man can’t have any. And he has to get off the floor. DRUSKI HUTCHENBACH: Those are both mine, anyhow. MOIRA: Come now, Colonel, do you hear? You must get off the floor! ABREYAVNA: Get off the floor, Colonel! You’ll ruin us! STEFANOV (to MOIRA): How could you allow him to have so much to drink in the first place?  ANDREI ANDREYICH: The Colonel hasn’t had a drop tonight, apart from what he poured on his head. 4 comments|post comment

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