My Stoppard-Esque Play. Also, I Finished Saturday's Post.

So go and read it. I commented, I replied, I finished things up. Sorry about slacking...I know it kind of is hypocritical of me to demand comments and then not follow through with my side of the bargain. I'll do better, I promise.

So, as I promised in the last post (if you read it), I went to go see a bunch of scenes from Tom Stoppard plays, and was inspired by this Stoppard deluge to write my own Stoppard-esque scene for a play. I like it a lot, and I'm bringing it into class tomorrow. Maybe if it's good enough, I can act it out some week in the future with Mallory. Who knows?

Here it is. I haven't titled it, but the main idea is that there are two roommates, Joe and Kevin. (Credit to Mallory and my other classmate Nathan for the names. Everyone knows how badly I stink at names.) Joe is trying to subtly hint to Nathan that he wants the room to himself for a while to bring a girl in, while Nathan is amusedly repelling him at every turn.
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Scene: A dorm room at a university. The room is standard dorm-room fare; two beds, desks and chairs, posters of sports teams and movies up on the walls, bookshelves, an empty pizza box on the floor, etc. Kevin is seated at the desk, typing on his computer. He’s wearing a Bills T-shirt, jeans, a digital watch, brown shoes, and a black bandanna. His desk is next to a closet, with a closed door.

There is a rattling sound, such as keys fumbling to get into a lock, from offstage to the left. This continues for five or ten seconds. Kevin does not react. Eventually, an unlocking sound is heard. Enter Joe from stage left through the door. He’s wearing a gray polo shirt, black slacks, black loafers, and a brown belt. Seems hesitant.

Joe: Hey, man.

Kevin: (looks up) Oh, hi, Joe.

Joe: Why was the door locked?

Kevin: Does not a man have a right to his privacy? I simply can’t concentrate when every simpleton with no superior occupation can come barging in and disrupting my hard-earned concentration.

Joe: What? I...whatever. Hey, uh, I got something to ask you.

Kevin: Shoot.

Joe: Are you in here...for any particular reason?

Kevin: Say what?

Joe: I mean, is there any reason in particular that you have to be here?

Kevin: Where?

Joe: Uh...the room?

Kevin: Ah. Next time, be more specific.

Joe: What?

Kevin: I thought you were taking a more metaphorical route. Asking me my life’s purpose. Why am I here on God’s green earth, that sort of thing. A bit heavy for casual conversation, but I figured I’d play along.

Joe: I don’t...never mind. What I’m trying to say is-

Kevin: No, you’ve touched upon a very valid point here, Joe. Why are any of us here, hmm? Why exist? Why the quintessential “to be”? Is there a reason, behind the selfish fulfillment of our own small and mortal desires?

Joe: Did you just come back from philosophy class?

Kevin: No, that’s Wednesdays. Anyway. What’s up? Why am I in the room, you ask?

Joe: I guess.

Kevin: I was just doing some homework.

Joe: Is there any way you can, uh, do it somewhere else?

Kevin: Why?

Joe: Well, I’m just wondering.

Kevin: A curious thing to wonder, in the absence of a stated reason.

Joe: I was just wondering, you know, if there’s any reason you have to be here, I mean, specifically here. In the room.

Kevin: It’s my room, isn’t it? Don’t I have a right to be here?

Joe: Sure, but it’s my room too.

Kevin: And I’m not abridging your right to stay. Feel free to linger as long as you please. I’ll even go the extra mile and suppress all my questions about your reasons for being one place or another, on account of I’m feeling generous today.

Joe: What? You’re not making any sense.

Kevin: Really? I understand everything I’m saying.

Joe: Sometimes, you’re the only one who understands what you’re saying.

Kevin: Are you telling me that communication should be a two-way street?

Joe: I guess.

Kevin: You and all the others. You’re all the same. Why can’t conversation become the art of self-indulgence, like so many other art forms have?

Joe: Look, all I’m asking is if I can have the room for a little while.

Kevin: Don’t you already?

Joe: I mean to myself.

Kevin: Really? Then where will I sleep, hmm? Where will all my things go?

Joe: I just mean for a couple of hours, man.

Kevin: I suspected as much. I know you’re not the sort of person to up and evict your roommate for the low crime of speaking in circles, but a man must always err on the side of caution.

Joe: Well...can I?

Kevin: Have the room to yourself for a couple of hours?

Joe: Yeah.

Kevin: Well, I don’t know. I was doing something, you know.

Joe: Can’t you do it somewhere else? Like the study room?

Kevin: The study room? That disheveled den of obfuscation? Between the over-caffeinated crammers struggling to push a semester’s worth of information into their brains in three hours and the couples who view the place as a safe haven for the most blatant public displays of affection imaginable, I’d hardly get a word written.

Joe: Can you go to someone else’s room?

Kevin: Yes, but then I fear I’d have to have this exact same conversation, only with the roles reversed, and you know how I hate seeing my true self reflected, even if only in an exchange of words.

Joe: What?

Kevin: Besides, nobody else is on the floor. They’re all at the concert downtown. All their doors are locked fast.

Joe: Oh. Really?

Kevin: I’m afraid so. The siren songs of the local garage bands have worked their hypnotic magic, and the floor is vacant.

Joe: Dang.

Kevin: Thus is this potential avenue of egress closed.

Joe: For God’s sake, man, I just want the room to myself for a little while.

Kevin: Why?

Joe: Uh, well-

Kevin: You need to accomplish something that cannot be interrupted by the prying eyes of bystanders? Something so secretive and intimate that not even I, your roommate, am privileged enough to witness?

Joe: Sort of-

Kevin: Are you going to masturbate?

Joe: What?! No!

Kevin: Oh, so you’re going for more of a hands-off approach?

Joe: What the hell-

Kevin: No, never mind. Forget I said anything.

Joe: What are you talking about?

Kevin: Delete those last two statements from the record. Inform your mental stenographer.

Joe: You’re not making any sense.

Kevin: Well, you’re repeating yourself.

Joe: Agh. Talking to you is like...playing tennis against a wall.

Kevin: Really?

Joe: I can’t make any goddamn headway. No matter what I say, you throw it back in my face.

Kevin: An interesting simile.

Joe: Just shut up and listen to me for like five seconds, will ya??

Kevin: This should be good.

Joe: I need the room because I want to spend some time alone with...a friend of mine.

Kevin: A friend?

Joe: Yeah.

Kevin: What kind of friend demands this level of privacy?

Joe: A...good friend.

Kevin: Well. A good friend, you say. Gosh, has my curiosity been sated. You have a way of piercing the veil of confusion and vagueness with your one-word descriptions, do you know that?

Joe: Look, you asshole, I want to bring a girl in. All right? I want to bring a goddamn girl in, so you need to get the hell out. That plain enough for you? No more tricks? No more word games? I didn’t want to have to spell it out, you know, but you just won’t shut the hell up sometimes.

Kevin: ...That’s what this was all about?

Joe: Yes!

Kevin: You wanted to bring in...a girl?

Joe: Yes!!

Kevin: No.

Joe: ...What??

Kevin: Sorry.

Joe: Are you serious?

Kevin: Can’t help you there.

Joe: And why the hell not?

Kevin wordlessly reaches over and pounds on the closet door two or three times. It opens partway. A girl, clad only in underwear, partially emerges from the closet.

Girl: Kevin? Is he gone ye-omigod! (darts back into closet, slams door)

Joe: Oh.

Kevin: Right.

Joe: Uhh...

Kevin: Get it?

Joe: Um...I’ll just, uh...figure something else out...I guess.

Kevin: You do that.

Joe: Uh...bye. (leaves)

Kevin remains silent for a time, then pounds on the closet door again. It opens a crack.

Girl: Is he really gone this time?

Kevin: Yes.

Girl slowly walks out, eyes darting around for a glimpse of Joe. When she sees he is indeed not there, she relaxes.

Girl: You torment him too much sometimes, you know.

Kevin: Well, it’s for his own good.

(lights descend)
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I like it. Hopefully my teacher will, as well. When I emailed him to ask if I should undertake such a project, his reply was "Two words: HELL YES!" As I have said before, he is very neat.

The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is just the funniest and stupidest thing I've seen in a while. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dj1V_qHC8c It's the Burly Brawl from The Matrix: Reloaded, done in LEGO form. Animation is terrible, but it's pretty amusing.

REPLIES.

Note: When I was finishing up Saturday's post, I replied extensively, then realized I was replying to Saturday's comments. So I cut them with Ctrl-X and thought I would paste them into this post with Ctrl-V. I forgot about this when I copy-pasted the play I wrote, thus losing those comments, so now I must re-write them. Damn everything.

Mom: I know, I know. And are those really the only three words? Maybe the only three common words...I'm sure some obscure scientific words don't rhyme with anything. I sent the box. Ren Fair should be fun. I'm looking forward to seeing Grandma, Grandpa, and Linda. As for special meals?

- Hamburgers (especially Omaha Steakhouse burgers, + a few turkey burgers to mix things up)
- Tacos (lots of them, with extra meat)
- Fish (salmon or tilapia, swordfish if possible)
- Spaghetti (with garlic bread made from that French bread, very good)
- Grilled cheese sandwiches (with Muenster)

Those are good suggestions. As for vegetables, spinach seems to be working for me. Just the leaves, though, not cooked and especially not canned. Maybe a little garlic to put on it, I've heard that's worth considering. And yes, I hope to get in decent shape for skiing.

Jake: You did what now?

Steve: It's not about cravings, it's about convenience. I'm hungry at the Reitz Union, and there is a Wendy's like four feet away. I'll probably never cut fast food or junk completely out of my diet, or eat as well as you, but some effort is still good. Are you seriously touting the health benefits of beer?? Of course I'll never smoke. I tried one of Michelle's cigarettes (just to see what it was like, not because I had an interest in starting) and it tasted terrible. I had a smoky taste in my mouth for like an hour. And it made me cough everywhere. No sir, I don't like it. Good to see you've gotten off milk. Nineteen days.

Dad: I've only been running every other day. Even so, I feel like it's getting easier and not harder. My legs are hurting a bit, but I can generally ignore that, for the most part. It's the wind that's giving me trouble, and even then, not much. Marc tells me that without good running shoes, though, I may develop shin splints, and that is a seriously bad thing. So I may buy a pair. Could I convince a fellow runner to help me out in that regard, wink wink?

The end. (On time? Complete?!? My word.)