Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Playwright Portrait, Adam Rapp, Excerpt from Red Light Winter


The Playwright Adam Rapp 2006
pswb©2011


Red Light Winter


From Matt to Chrisitna
You like walked out of your dress. And then you helped me take my clothes off. And then you took my hand and led me to the bed. It was…Well, it was more than the sex, way more than that. You were like kind. And it helped me. It helped me so much, Christina. In ways that I’d need like the twelve thousand semi-tones of dolphin language to articulate. And I’m sure that with all the guys or johns or clients or whatever you call your rotisserie of men that most of the time it’s just a series of these like fast, pound-of-flesh experiences for you, but that’s not what happened for me. It wasn’t this like anecdote that American guys go over there to collect. They eat a few space cakes and fuck a window whore and get a tattoo of like a dagger or a yin-yang sign or a fucking stallion getting struck by lightning. That’s not what it was about for me. It was way bigger than that. And it was way bigger than a play or a paperback novel or like some precious cultural artifact or whatever. It was bigger than anything I could ever fucking write about.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Playwright Portrait, Sarah Treem, Excerpt from A Feminine Ending


The Playwright Sarah Treem 2007
pswb©2011

A Feminine Ending

amanda:
"It is known, by the few that know enough to care and care enough to know, that any piece of music has one of two beginnings. They are gendered. A masculine piece begins with an emphasis or “stress” on the first beat. A feminine piece begins with the “stress” on the second beat. Or sometimes, the third. This is a feminine beginning."

Monday, March 7, 2011

Playwright Portrait, Sarah Ruhl, Excerpt from Eurydice





The Playwright Sarah Ruhl, 2007
copyright Peter Bellamy


EURYDICE


She puts the letter on the ground.
She dips herself in the River.
A small metallic sound of forgetfulness—ping.
The sound of water.
She lies down next to her father, as though asleep.
The sound of an elavator—ding.
Orpheus appears in the elevator.
He sees Eurydice.
He is happy.
The elevator starts raining on Orpheus. He forgets.
He steps out of the elevator.
He sees the letter on the ground.
He picks it up.
He scrutinizes it.
He can’t read it.
He stands on it.
He closes his eyes.
The sound of water.
Then silence.
THE END