Although it did take a little longer, I liked the length of "The Piano Lesson," because I felt like I really got to learn more about the characters. I was thinking about what how in plays one of the problems is giving each character their own style of talking, or something that makes them a little different without overplaying it. I think Wilson did that really well because at some points I was able to read it without looking at the names, and I still knew who was talking. I feel like this is one I'd like to see in a theatre, though, rather than read. Especially towards the end - Berniece's song would probably be an amazing climaxing point, but I don't get the same effect when I'm reading it. Through the whole play I thought it was going to be Boy Willie playing the piano and feeling the spirits of his family and realizing he couldn't sell it.
I also liked the longer speeches that sometimes had more meaning than just what was going on in the play. Doaker's monologue on page 1195, just sounds like an old man rambling, but there's actually something else there.
"They got so many trains out there they have a hard time keeping them from running into each other. Got trains going every whichaway. Got people on all of them. Somebody going where somebody just left. If everybody stay in one place I believe this would be a better world. Now what I done learned after twent-seven years of railroading is this...if the train stays on the track...it's going to get where it's going. It might not be where you going. If it ain't then all you got to do is sit and wait cause the train's coming back to get you . The train don't never stop. It'll come back every time."
And then Boy Willie cuts him off to ask what he's cooking - I just thought that was really a good way to show both of their characters without having to say, "Doaker is a very thoughtful kind of person, and Boy Willie is much more in the present and doesn't want to hear about anything in-depth."
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Philadelphia and The Janitor
I read "The Philadelphia" first, and was quite entertained. It reminded me of a sort of Ray Bradbury-esque scenario but played off with humor rather than fear, or whatever it is he uses. I liked it because it was such a real-life kind of scenario - just a bad day - that turns into a science-fictiony sort of Twilight Zone episode. I also really liked Al, just for his one-liners. When he said, "You are a temptress," I laughed out loud. I thought she was just annoyed with him for hitting on her and was trying to get him to leave the restaurant, and he was handling it beautifully. I didn't realize until later it was because he was in a Los Angeles.
Then as I tried to get into "The Janitor," it was really difficult for me. I think because it was just one huge paragraph of text, I lost interest relatively quickly. It took a few reads for me to get the whole way through without spacing out. Which, as it turns out, I'm glad I did because I actually thought it was really heartbreaking and beautiful and inspiring at the same time. I love that he's obviously had a hard time with life in general but he's still able to give this speech to the youth that things are going to be, at the very least, okay.
"We are all victims of the sweetness of youth and the time of its flight," is a line I loved. It's so eloquent even though in the directions it says, "His speech is delivered with the literacy of a janitor."
I guess reading them side by side made me think of how best to present whatever it is I'm going to say with my play. A silly conversation didn't give the same impact as someone reflecting over life in general, but at the same time, I almost missed the best parts because it just seemed like a block of text. It would probably have had more impact on me had it been read aloud, which is another thing to think about.
Then as I tried to get into "The Janitor," it was really difficult for me. I think because it was just one huge paragraph of text, I lost interest relatively quickly. It took a few reads for me to get the whole way through without spacing out. Which, as it turns out, I'm glad I did because I actually thought it was really heartbreaking and beautiful and inspiring at the same time. I love that he's obviously had a hard time with life in general but he's still able to give this speech to the youth that things are going to be, at the very least, okay.
"We are all victims of the sweetness of youth and the time of its flight," is a line I loved. It's so eloquent even though in the directions it says, "His speech is delivered with the literacy of a janitor."
I guess reading them side by side made me think of how best to present whatever it is I'm going to say with my play. A silly conversation didn't give the same impact as someone reflecting over life in general, but at the same time, I almost missed the best parts because it just seemed like a block of text. It would probably have had more impact on me had it been read aloud, which is another thing to think about.
Eavesdropping Assignment
Favorite (un-used) Quotes:
· “And every day my step-dad pours the cereal and he puts it in Pete’s bowl. And Pete just gets soooo happy and I just don’t know. I just feel so lost in the morning and Pete is just so happy!”
· “We went hiking and then we went to dinner, and then we spent the week together. And then he goes back home and – hm? Oh, yes. They’re still together.”
Characters:
Kamar: A large man with dreadlocks.
Maisy: A girl with dreadlocks snuggled up to Kamar.
Ellen: A woman in a suit who arrives late to meet Kamar and Maisy for coffee with a folder of papers.
Ellen: Kamar, how’s your neck?
Kamar: Better.
Maisy: Except for this morning.
Kamar: Well, yeah. Except for this morning. The doctor’s being overcautious and saying it’ll never get better.
Ellen: Never?
Maisy: Well, the sensitivity. He can’t feel temperatures on the right side of his body.
Kamar: (Chuckling) If I hold a cold beer in my left hand it feels hot in the right.
Ellen: So you can feel – it’s just opposite?
Kamar: (shrugs) I just have to drink left handed!
Ellen: So you wanted to talk about the surgery?
Maisy: It’s so expensive. All we have between us is a car worth $500. That’s all we have. But the doctor’s really helpful. He said the surgery is do-able. Sometimes I just don’t know what’s happening. There was a surgeon who wanted to help for cheaper but they fired him.
Ellen: So that’s what you want to talk about?
Kamar: Actually. (Pausing) Actually, we wanted to go to Australia. Could we talk about a time share?
Ellen: You want to borrow money from me for a time share?
Maisy: Well, we just thought if there isn’t anything we can do, we’d just spend our time there.
Kamar: My remaining time.
Maisy: You have as much time as anyone else, Kamar!
Kamar: Well, my remaining left-handed time.
Maisy: (Rolling eyes) It’s still the same amount of time.
Ellen: (Incredulous) So you’re asking for money for a time share? Instead of a surgery? A surgery that would give you feeling in half of your body?
Kamar: The surgery would be a LOT more expensive than a time share.
Maisy: And we thought that way, you could enjoy the time share too!
Kamar: Yeah you could just put in a little more…
Ellen: You have to pay me back. You know that, right?
Kamar: Well I mean we could just split the time share. Maybe they’d even have some cheap surgeons in Australia.
Ellen: Which would mean I am paying for a time share for you two, for myself, and for a surgery for you?
Maisy: Babe, we don’t want any cheap surgeons operating on your neck. Remember, that other one got fired?
Ellen: Not to mention the fact that I am paying for a time share for you two, for myself, and a surgery for you. This is insane! I came in here prepared to give you enough for a necessary surgery. Now I don’t think I’ll give either of you a cent.
Maisy: Ell, you have to! I can’t have the future father of my children having no sensitivity! How will he know if little Laleeka has a fever?
Ellen: (Gathering her things) He’ll have to use his left hand, apparently.
Maisy: You’d trust your nieces and nephews to a man with no sensitivity?
Ellen: (snorts)
Kamar: (looking uneasy) Mais, how do we know if we’re even having kids? I mean, we’re overpopulated here enough as it is. Not to mention the fact that any kids that may or may not be in our future probably won’t even have AIR to breathe.
Ellen: There, Maisy, see, that’s a man with no sensitivity.
· “And every day my step-dad pours the cereal and he puts it in Pete’s bowl. And Pete just gets soooo happy and I just don’t know. I just feel so lost in the morning and Pete is just so happy!”
· “We went hiking and then we went to dinner, and then we spent the week together. And then he goes back home and – hm? Oh, yes. They’re still together.”
Characters:
Kamar: A large man with dreadlocks.
Maisy: A girl with dreadlocks snuggled up to Kamar.
Ellen: A woman in a suit who arrives late to meet Kamar and Maisy for coffee with a folder of papers.
Ellen: Kamar, how’s your neck?
Kamar: Better.
Maisy: Except for this morning.
Kamar: Well, yeah. Except for this morning. The doctor’s being overcautious and saying it’ll never get better.
Ellen: Never?
Maisy: Well, the sensitivity. He can’t feel temperatures on the right side of his body.
Kamar: (Chuckling) If I hold a cold beer in my left hand it feels hot in the right.
Ellen: So you can feel – it’s just opposite?
Kamar: (shrugs) I just have to drink left handed!
Ellen: So you wanted to talk about the surgery?
Maisy: It’s so expensive. All we have between us is a car worth $500. That’s all we have. But the doctor’s really helpful. He said the surgery is do-able. Sometimes I just don’t know what’s happening. There was a surgeon who wanted to help for cheaper but they fired him.
Ellen: So that’s what you want to talk about?
Kamar: Actually. (Pausing) Actually, we wanted to go to Australia. Could we talk about a time share?
Ellen: You want to borrow money from me for a time share?
Maisy: Well, we just thought if there isn’t anything we can do, we’d just spend our time there.
Kamar: My remaining time.
Maisy: You have as much time as anyone else, Kamar!
Kamar: Well, my remaining left-handed time.
Maisy: (Rolling eyes) It’s still the same amount of time.
Ellen: (Incredulous) So you’re asking for money for a time share? Instead of a surgery? A surgery that would give you feeling in half of your body?
Kamar: The surgery would be a LOT more expensive than a time share.
Maisy: And we thought that way, you could enjoy the time share too!
Kamar: Yeah you could just put in a little more…
Ellen: You have to pay me back. You know that, right?
Kamar: Well I mean we could just split the time share. Maybe they’d even have some cheap surgeons in Australia.
Ellen: Which would mean I am paying for a time share for you two, for myself, and for a surgery for you?
Maisy: Babe, we don’t want any cheap surgeons operating on your neck. Remember, that other one got fired?
Ellen: Not to mention the fact that I am paying for a time share for you two, for myself, and a surgery for you. This is insane! I came in here prepared to give you enough for a necessary surgery. Now I don’t think I’ll give either of you a cent.
Maisy: Ell, you have to! I can’t have the future father of my children having no sensitivity! How will he know if little Laleeka has a fever?
Ellen: (Gathering her things) He’ll have to use his left hand, apparently.
Maisy: You’d trust your nieces and nephews to a man with no sensitivity?
Ellen: (snorts)
Kamar: (looking uneasy) Mais, how do we know if we’re even having kids? I mean, we’re overpopulated here enough as it is. Not to mention the fact that any kids that may or may not be in our future probably won’t even have AIR to breathe.
Ellen: There, Maisy, see, that’s a man with no sensitivity.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
An introduction to an introduction to creative writing
I'm not a morbid person. Really, I'm not. But as Margarita thinks about her possible (and at this point, likely) demise at the bottom of the sea, it reminded me of a short story I wrote in seventh grade. I can talk about this now because as a well-adjusted sophomore in college I see that I was a very melodramatic seventh grader and I wouldn't actually ever die at the bottom of the pool (I'm a fairly good swimmer).
Though I can't find it now, I remember writing about how the narrator in this particular piece was looking up from the bottom of the pool at the peaceful and almost surreal world above the water. And how it looked that way even though, in "her" experience, it wasn't that way at all. Then I went on to say how the girl just decided to stay down there, where everything looked perfect. It was pretty stupid. The point is that I think water has something powerful about it, something that makes a difference in this play because she could be doing anything - running a marathon, or learning to do something really "American," but she's swimming in the ocean. Water has the power to transform you, and I think that's what her whole family is looking for. Especially her father. By proving that she (and he, vicariously) can do this really great thing, even though it's hard, he can show that he'll make it in America - another really great, hard thing. He's pushing her so much because he's pushing himself, but his goal isn't as tangible. It's only when his daughter seems to be dead that he realizes you can't have success just because you want it more than anything - even if it's for someone else.
I go off on tangents a lot - I'm sorry if this is exactly what you're not looking for. I'm trying to avoid summarizing the plot and I think I've gone too far in the opposite direction. I may revise this in the morning.
The other thing this play has me wondering is how am I going to write a play? Last semester for my Women's Lit class final, I had to write a 15-20 page piece that had something to do with something we'd read. I tried first by writing a play, but I realized my problem is that I base most of my writing on description, and I'm light on conversation - and that's because every conversation I write sounds fake and forced. But when I have to write one for this class, it's going to be mostly conversation. I love the authenticity of the spanish in this piece - and everything sounds natural. When I write I love to set scenes and let the rest kind of be interpreted. But this is exactly the opposite. If someone were to ever act out my one-act (not that I'm expecting this. Hypothetically.) they would be in charge of the setting and the body language and though I could give some prodding here and there as to who was entering and when to raise their voice, I'm mostly responsible for the conversation. I'll probably have an entire play based on soliloquies and monologues. Is that allowed? (Also, did you see how seamlessly I inserted vocabulary words?)
Okay, now I'm definitely going to update this in the morning, but I'll leave this up for all of you Intro to Creative Writing people to get an idea of my personality. It's off topic and a little off kilter. As you can tell.
Though I can't find it now, I remember writing about how the narrator in this particular piece was looking up from the bottom of the pool at the peaceful and almost surreal world above the water. And how it looked that way even though, in "her" experience, it wasn't that way at all. Then I went on to say how the girl just decided to stay down there, where everything looked perfect. It was pretty stupid. The point is that I think water has something powerful about it, something that makes a difference in this play because she could be doing anything - running a marathon, or learning to do something really "American," but she's swimming in the ocean. Water has the power to transform you, and I think that's what her whole family is looking for. Especially her father. By proving that she (and he, vicariously) can do this really great thing, even though it's hard, he can show that he'll make it in America - another really great, hard thing. He's pushing her so much because he's pushing himself, but his goal isn't as tangible. It's only when his daughter seems to be dead that he realizes you can't have success just because you want it more than anything - even if it's for someone else.
I go off on tangents a lot - I'm sorry if this is exactly what you're not looking for. I'm trying to avoid summarizing the plot and I think I've gone too far in the opposite direction. I may revise this in the morning.
The other thing this play has me wondering is how am I going to write a play? Last semester for my Women's Lit class final, I had to write a 15-20 page piece that had something to do with something we'd read. I tried first by writing a play, but I realized my problem is that I base most of my writing on description, and I'm light on conversation - and that's because every conversation I write sounds fake and forced. But when I have to write one for this class, it's going to be mostly conversation. I love the authenticity of the spanish in this piece - and everything sounds natural. When I write I love to set scenes and let the rest kind of be interpreted. But this is exactly the opposite. If someone were to ever act out my one-act (not that I'm expecting this. Hypothetically.) they would be in charge of the setting and the body language and though I could give some prodding here and there as to who was entering and when to raise their voice, I'm mostly responsible for the conversation. I'll probably have an entire play based on soliloquies and monologues. Is that allowed? (Also, did you see how seamlessly I inserted vocabulary words?)
Okay, now I'm definitely going to update this in the morning, but I'll leave this up for all of you Intro to Creative Writing people to get an idea of my personality. It's off topic and a little off kilter. As you can tell.
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