Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Voluminous

A quart is so close to a liter,
Why don't we make them the same?
Conversions would be so much neater,
And we could get rid of one name!

Monday, March 27, 2017

Jones on Sweat

The Chicago Tribune has its theater critic, Chris Jones, reporting from New York on current offerings.

'"Sweat" is inarguably a schematic socialist drama — and hardly the first to play at Broadway prices to mostly upper-middle-class urbanites — that clearly decided in advance what it wanted to say about the state of the nation.'

I guess that I'm a member
Of the upper middle class
But if this play comes near me
I'm giving it a pass.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

English of All Things

The English language is a big collision
Of French and German all mixed up pell-mell.
So purists often view it with derision
But for some reason it has spread quite well.
It started on an island. The Atlantic
Surrounds the place and seemed to hem them in.
But then they took to ships. They seemed quite frantic,
And spread their babble everywhere they'd been.
So here we are today and this strange language
Will "get you by" in lands the world round.
Its spelling is a curse, its grammar anguish,
But everywhere you go, it can be found.
I feel some sympathy for those who spurn it,
But lots of babies seem to like to learn it.

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Interrogations

Something I realized only yesterday:

These two ten-minute plays of mine - the ones I have coming up in festivals in May and June - have something conspicuous in common: each centers on an interrogation.

The methods of interrogation are actually quite opposite. The genres are deeply dissimilar - realistic police procedural vs. science fiction comedy. The themes of the two festivals are not related: "empathy" vs. "graduation party".

But somehow my under-brain wanted to write about interrogation, apparently. I have no idea why, offhand. I mean, it's a topic I'm interested in, but I don't recall any conscious fascination with it lately.

I let my writing gift me with a puzzle.
Better, I feel, than putting on a muzzle.
The Muse, to be seduced, must be obeyed.
Without her aid, the play does not get made.

Two Ten-Minute Play Festivals

I'm very happy to announce that I've got plays in two upcoming ten-minute play festivals.



The Empathy Festival, from Talif Productions, runs Tuesdays during May, here in Chicago. Facebook page here. Tickets will go on sale here. My play is contemporary, and based on a real incident. My version involves two female cops, engaged in a very tense discussion about a cold murder case. It's called "Fellow Officers". The theme of this festival is, indeed, empathy, and my story illustrates the way empathy can be used as a tool during an interrogation.



The Heartland 10-Minute Play Festival runs weekends during June, 2 hours from Chicago in Normal, Illinois. It's an annual festival, and this year's theme was "Graduation Party". My play is set in my comical science fiction future, when intelligent cats are roaming outer space, and is called "Space Cat Graduation".

I really like the 10-minute play form, which I think is sort of a new form, or sort of a newly popular form perhaps. When I say new, I mean maybe in the last 20 years. At least, a lot of ordinary people my age have never even heard of it. Anyway, the effect is kind of like a extra short story.

You string 8 or so of them together to make an evening's entertainment. Usually that's 8 of them by 8 different authors. And that's the overarching "10 minute play festival" format.

It's an evening of short stories
Through divergent territoties.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Translation

Enlightened but impoverished gentleman: woke broke bloke.

Tokyo to Chicago

Flying over Anchorage at night
Staring at a land piled high with snow
I saw the city's streetlights burning bright
And felt the urge to visit them below
To learn what sort of hardy souls reside
In coldness that I'd rather not abide.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Where the Day Starts

He thought the International Date Line
Was a phone number he could dial to call
To ask some foreign women out to dine.
But sad to say, that wasn't it at all.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

In Hong Kong Harbour

The helicopter, like a dragonfly
Buzzes above the water, black against the sky.
It races past our boat, we raise our heads
To watch this great contraption chop the air to shreds.