Pain vs. pleasure.

Synopsis: GENE, a stage actor works on her one-woman show during the quarantine in the hope that one day soon she will return to the stage.

At rise: Gene sits rigidly by a table with a lit candle, she focuses on the candle for a beat, raises her hand slowly and runs it over the flame.

(Dramatically) “Pain vs. pleasure! That is the jest. For I picked one, and the other one followed…” (deflates, put hand on face) WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?? (flops to the side, shoulders quiver with emotion) How many times do I have to do this. I don’t believe in this anymore!!! Pain, pleasure, what do they matter! (blows out the candle, looks at the dissipating smoke) People’s never going to see this. The magic is gone. They will be too numb. What does theater matter if no one is there to teach the kids, or take care of the elderly? So many people have died. In Italy, my beautiful Italy. (A beat.) I can still smell the sea air, the baked goods, the wine, the people. I can see so many kind and content faces, old and young. And just like that, Covid came, and …. (breaths, looks away) What does this all mean?! Why do good people have to suffer like this? (covers face with both hands) I wish I could do something. But I’m here, just, chasing my dream, with Covid chasing me.

(Looks into the distance, recalling) “Do you know how we got here?” Our artistic director used to ask us, and I will never forget my answer, “because we are afraid, afraid of ourselves, afraid of losing ourselves, afraid of knowing ourselves, afraid of experiencing life, afraid of that, that, power that governs us. Our collective humanity.” Well, that’s what I would have said if he’d asked me, but what he said was, “money, money defines us, money builds us up, money tears us down, and we are paying for it.” Where is he now? Is he safe? We all got his meaning. The small local theater was struggling. No one came to see us, because no one could understand what his plays were about. So we lost the theater, and I haven’t been keeping in touch with the group, oh God, please be safe (say a little prayer).

I came to the US following my calling, it’s not about the money, never about the money. I wanted to learn, I wanted to teach. And I did learn, (nods) about the biz, and let me tell you, you would want to see my show, “Pain vs. Pleasure”, it has everything! There are layers of meanings, non-meanings, thoughtless tragedies, and I will be cordial, NO, I will be sexy and innocent, I will be wise and warm, if you get me just right, I will be cold and calculating.

I want it. (Hand reaches) the POWER! (Shakes head) the power to manipulate, the power to explain, the power to open those eyes and finally see. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? See? It’s not about the money! It’s never about money. (Wavers) But I need money now, how do I live if I don’t perform? Don’t they know we live to perform? Where are we if we are not on the stage? Where can I wash my pain and share my pleasure?

(A beat.)
(Straightens back, composes self, calmly relits the candle) “Pain vs. pleasure! That is the jest. For I picked one, the other one followed. There can be no question as to what comes next, it’s not for me to decide, but for you to experience.” Yes. The show must go on because people need it to go on. We don’t do it to have money, or fame. We do it to save our souls, and yours, too. Actors are essential workers, because they are the stitches that hold the communities together. They are the ones that invite people in and share their stories. And they don’t have to be professional actors, they can be educators, lawyers, or the garbage person, as long as they care, as long as they are willing to share. (Signs, a beat) I’m privileged to be an actor, in this time, in this place, and I will gladly do my part. I will teach, I will perform, I will do whatever I need to do, go wherever I need to go. It is my show. (Blows out the candle).

Interrogate the sunset.


I interrogate the sunset as if it holds the secret, or at least the answer, only if I know the question.

The last ray has exited, then another, and another. How many chances do I get?

Maybe I’m missing the point? God, I hope I’m missing the point. Don’t let me cheapen you. Don’t let me envelope you. Don’t let me even getting close.

I’d rather be lost than stumble upon your lair by chance.

I love your dark figures, retreating footsteps, thieving squirrels and exotic death. Life for a song, a muse. Maybe it’s that easy. How do I treasure you then? Wrapping my ribcage around your fragile universe? Is that my role?

Take it. Take it! It’s all too precious.

Buzz.

I get seasick watching them branches
Holding me sway from the mobile games
The thought of organic snacks
The temptation of a soda pop
The family life over the fence
Or the traffic not far yet faint
let’s pretend they’re gentle waves
The unsolicited phone call from 1800
If you don’t know how to rest
just look up and enjoy the noise

Sex.

Self pitying tears
are there any other kind?
Undulating flesh
stimulates the mind.
There’s only one
“yeh yeh yeh”
so why bothering pretend.

The worst is also the best.
The enemy, truest friend.
The pleasures of divine,
forbidden & reviled.
Any time, it may come,
make it easy,
true to yourself.

No one can ever have
what you already have.
Life is a grab bag,
you take what you can get.
Chaos & chance.
Love may find you
or it’s a stab in the back.
“Do what you love anyway”,
here lies the choice.

Morning paper – May 24.

Let myself be but a conduit, one of many that iterate on what happened before, realizing that though I’m unique, I’m not more than the next. It’s my choice to let it flow through me and onward or stand aside and watch. And it’s OK that I can never do anything perfectly, as long as I’m true to myself and not letting ill intent pollute either my soul or my deeds, only then will I live without guilt, but with lightness.

My jam.

Y’all professionals while I self select.
Nowhere near that level, call it a personal defect.
I learned not to seek permission when I spot a crack.
Just letting myself in, all nerves, with pride in check.
Young faces & sure footings, those are never my jam.
Tossing & turning & stealthy as heck.
There’re places I wanna be, numbly tumbling, looking ahead.
Everyone’s tired of the apology, “I’m old & clumsy”,
“I had missed all the exit signs”…
So now you have to deal with me…
What’s that? You don’t care?
I make you look good? Oh, that’s just fine!
It’s hard to laugh, being a clown, eyes on the prize,
balancing falls, taking it all in, like a child, effortless.
Why does anyone do anything? Choose a tent and meet your friends.
Don’t berate yourself, in the beginning, the middle nor the end.
Be a flower, a bug, who knows when the time is ripe.
I’d like to live with you, with you attached.
I just like to live with it, you know? With my life enlarged.