Wednesday, September 07, 2005

1713

A playwright workshop in New Haven.

DURANG: "For god's sake don't be a drag"
May or may not mean dress everyone in drag.

FO: What ho!

T-SHIRT: "Enough with the scientology already."

SCHECHTER: The distance from Sam's social experiments
To Gilligan's Island, I'm no numismatist
But I think we all knew from Spalding's paws
How big a dog he would grow to be.

SHEPARD: Patti, this is Jessica. Jessica, Patti.

MAPPLETHORPE: A flower is a game,
Silver gelatin is a room
Where everyone talks but not to anyone in particular.

SMITH: The poets can't possibly understand
How much power they have so I'll take it.

LANGE: Sam baby, can we go get dinner now?

COURTENAY: So I said, for a larf,
What are your turn ons? And she said:

CHRISTIE: "Penetration"

TURGENEV: The trick is to be at home
Among the imaginably wealthy, and also
For there to be no gossip magazines yet.

DURANG: And yet we imagine ourselves
In a conflict-free world where we stay young
Not just unwrinkly and full heads of hair
But sleep doesn't come into it, or petsitting.

WEAVER: Darling I didn't imagine
Being the bitch who fries space bugs.

O'HARA: Something terribly important is going on
Involving being a surly fuckoff with a sure hand
And that is our modern idea of purity,
Consistent aggression we scan for tenderness.

KOCH: That's not what it's like at all.

DURANG: There has to be a woman standing
Near the center of the stage, unreadable.

WEAVER, SMITH, LANGE (at once): I used to know how to do that.

MAPPLETHORPE: Unreadability only gets you so far.

FO: Oh do you think so.