Thursday, June 30, 2005
Nerve by Adam Szymkowicz Directed by Jennifer Blevins Starring Allie O'Connor and Michael Fritz Passion, puppets and cheap beer help two lonely and socially-awkward people find love on a first date. Thurs, Fri & Sat 7pm Adults $15; Students and Seniors $12 July 7, 8, 9, 14, 15, 16 Call for times for other performances after July 16 TO PURCHASE TICKETS IN ADVANCE: www.TheaterMania.com OR call 212 352-3101 13th Street Repertory Company (new plays for the American theatre) 50 West 13th St, NYC, NY 10011 (212) 675-6677 www.13thStreetRep.org www.adamszymkowicz.com
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
She's only been in Seattle for a few hours and already I can't eat and various non-living objects in the office have begun speaking to me. I just finished a fight with a three ring binder. "Are you Ok, Adam?" One of my co-workers asks me. I tell her I'm fine. Then the tape despenser mocks her. No one seems to notice. K, I'm going crazy here literally. HAve fun and all but be back soon, K?
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
Everything's a lie. I'm not even who you think I am. I don't really dress this way. I'm not really the age you think I am. And my toenails are painted but they aren't the color you think they are. You can't understand anything I'm trying to say to you. And it's probably my fault. And it's quite possible I was a) abducted by aliens b) molested c) molested by aliens. (Not that I remember these things, mind you. Not vividly anyway) That's probably my fault too. And it's quite possible that I may be a) a midget b) a genius c) an idiot d) autistic e) obsessive-compulsive f) falling apart g) severely flawed--like the kind of flawed that won't fly and must be recalled so that no one gets sued. And yet, I dare you to sue me. Because all of it is a lie.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
I should be writing a play, should be tap tapping at the keys in creation of something big or at least big enough like the play that's untitled and won't come out. I should be trying to forge this world that refuses to be completely visible instead of going back to kiss bloggie over and over with the tips of my finger. Feed me, bloggie says. Feed me. And I do. But fast am I losing all my blood.
In pursuit of flight, she purchased in the thrift shop a pair of well-worn roller skates. They were size three, no key required, lace up electric-blue with tazer-purple wheels. They matched perfectly her pink-ridged skirt, her favorite red t-shirt, her pom-pom hat. As she tied on the skates, she felt an immense sense that she was starting a venture that would lead to distinction, awards, and greatness. This sense only increased as she got to her wheeled feet and started down the sloping asphalt driveway. She skated tentatively at first. Then faster and faster, sometimes in loops or close circles. Then in a particularly tight turn, she lost her balance and fell, her hands taking the asphalt brunt of it. But the stinging didn't stop her from getting up again. Or from falling again after a few more minutes of asphalt-zooming. She fell and fell and fell and fell and fell. She gradually realized she was not going to be in the driveway-skating Olympics. Not this year anyway. www.adamszymkowicz.com
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Let me tell you about my job. My desk floats on an island of paper. I sit at my computer and type up missives, emails, manifestos, notes to be sent by carrier pigeon. The island of paper grows each day. My boss comes, huffing with the weight, and drops stacks of white papers into my inbox. They pour over the sides and the volcano of pulp erupts onto the floor. I am falling behind in my filing. My other boss comes, huffing with another stack. "I need these photocopied," she says. I don't look up. I say "I'm in the middle of a manifesto. Can it wait?" She says, "How's the filing coming?" "Great," I say. She grins thinly and walks away. I resent having to do work at my job. www.adamszymkowicz.com
Monday, June 20, 2005
Friday, June 17, 2005
OLGA. Father died just a year ago, on this very day -- the fifth of May, your name-day, Irina. It was very cold, snow was falling. I felt as though I should not live through it; you lay fainting as though you were dead. But now a year has passed and we can think of it calmly; you are already in a white dress, your face is radiant. [The clock strikes twelve.] The clock was striking then too [a pause]. I remember the band playing and the firing at the cemetery as they carried the coffin. Though he was a general in command of a brigade, yet there weren't many people there. It was raining, though. Heavy rain and snow. IRINA. Why recall it! [BARON TUZENBAKH, CHEBUTYKIN and SOLYONY appear near the table in the dining-room, beyond the columns.] OLGA. It is warm today, we can have the windows open, but the birches are not in leaf yet. Father was given his brigade and came here with us from Moscow eleven years ago and I remember distinctly that in Moscow at this time, at the beginning of May, everything was already in flower; it was warm, and everything was bathed in sunshine. It's eleven years ago, and yet I remember it all as though we had left it yesterday. Oh, dear! I woke up this morning, I saw a blaze of sunshine. I saw the spring, and joy stirred in my heart. I had a passionate longing to be back at home again! CHEBUTYKIN. The devil it is!
I got an email this morning about sneaker chocolate. (apparently the world's first.) I would show you but according to the email "these exclusive images are highly confidential and are only for your viewing pleasure." (read as my viewing pleasure) I read Noah Haidle's Mr. Marmalade this morning in American Theatre magazine. (pretty great) Larry and I saw Doubt last night (truly great, but left me a little cold) K didn't believe me when I told her Heidi was still in our apt this morning. Why would I lie about that? I felt like Big Bird trying to convince everyone Snuffalufagous was real. I hope I didn't offend Heidi too much when I told her she was like Snuffalufagous. She did leave soon after.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
I like to snap chopsticks in half. I like a good beef burrito, a mediocre bottle of red wine. I like the acidic shivering taste in my mouth when I think of something sour. I like to not explain things.
The dashing young man in the bowtie and chaps was a dashing madman with mercury in his veins--a haberdasher of the perennial sort. He kept a collection of hats, all personally made for his collection of Strawberry Shortcake figurines that he displayed on his shelf above the couch where his mother died. They say she died of misery. They say she died of dysentery. They say she died in denial about a crime the dashing young madman may or may not have committed. A crime of passion. A crime against nature. A crime that knocks the bile to the back of the throats of the neighbors and close acquaintances of this dashing madman's mother. A mother who never learned to knit or sew or cook anything that wasn't mashed potatoes. A mother who learned her habits from House and Garden Magazine and Mademoiselle and Good Housekeeping and Popular Mechanics. They told her how to be a proper woman, a paragon of womanliness, a woman who never pats on the head or compliments or cajoles but minds her manners and never spits and always says maybe at the ends of sentences, maybe. Maybe too when the dashing madman floods the house by plugging the drains and letting the well run its cold waters through the halls, then he wishes for those mother-made mashed potatoes, a recipe gleaned from the pages of Popular Mechanics. And before he drowns himself by handcuffing himself to the hot water heater in the basement, he unsuccessfully tries to canoe on the fast river running down the stairs from the kitchen and bathroom. Those were the rooms that remind him most of mother and the rooms he was least welcome in.
I finally broke down and spent 100 bucks on the cheapest possible ipod--the shuffle. So I figured I'd set it up w/ K's computer--it runs on the most up to date operating system in the house. and so I put a bunch of my cds in and put the programs on but when I plugged the ipod in, it wouldn't work. Then I discovered I needed at least OS X 10.3.4, whatever that is. But it's not available anywhere and tiger's another 120 bucks. 120 bucks to get the 100 dollar ipod to work! I can't even afford the ipod. But it's so little and light and beautiful and I spent all that time putting music in that I was eager to listen to on my hour-each-way-daily-commute. now all my plans are dashed. woe is me.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Monday, June 13, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Perhaps you've noticed that I haven't figured out how to upload pictures. Oh, um, I mean my stylistic choice is to not use pictures. So you'll have to imagine them or take the links to the sites that have the pictures. Like my site. Have you been to a phonovox show yet? Why not? What are you waiting for. All this week baby. Support Carroll Gardens or New Orleans or Hell's Kitchen or where you come from. I bet one of those guys is from where you come from. Support him for the love of God! Hope to see you there. K and I are going to the forest or the beach Sunday. Hope to see you there too. In the news, some people are asexual. I wish I were. I would be so productive. Or would I just think about something unproductive other than sex. Would I replace that obsession with soemthing like my little pony? Or would I spend all that extra time thinking about Alf? The NY times tells me Skin stuff will keep you young forever if you live in Canada or France or aren't afraid to break the law. Also in the news, Janice Rogers Brown is crazy. Appartently also, there is a movement to keep our kids from knowing about gay people. But not asexuals. Or Catholic priests. In other news, Bush continues evil practices while Jesus is in his heart. How can so many people suffer when we know he listens to Jesus. Jesus, maybe you have to speak up a bit. Get him to stop torturing those wacky Iraqis. Say something about Darfur if you could, too please. Thanks, Jesus. You're the best.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
It's not too late to see Film Noir in Toronto or Save in Michigan this weekend. Then 4th of July weekend, Nerve will open (most likely) at 13ths street rep in NYC. As it stands now it will run 3 weeks, be off two weeks and then run three more weeks. Then in Aug, make your way to Edinburgh to see my short play America at War (probably). And in Sept, Save will go up again in Arizona. See you there.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Rehearsals have officially begun. I am cautiously optimistic about this show. It could be very very good. I did a bit of a rewrite on the cutting part which is bound to help. After rehearsals I attended the first Buller-led outing to the Gowanus Yacht Club. Kyle showed us his impressive shotgunning techniques and Michael showed some impressive drawings. Everything interesting happened before I arrived. I sometimes feel that way about theatre as well. The golden age when it was possible to make a living as a playwright is long gone. But exciting things are still happening. They are just often pushed farther and farther away from broadway and off broadway and everything on or off broadway has become prohibitively expensive. Ry and I will try to get affordable rush tix to shockheaded peter tonight.
Monday, June 06, 2005
ELLIOT (Pointing to her forearm.) That’s a nice scar you got there. SUSAN Thanks. ELLIOT How’d you get that? SUSAN Tricycle accident. ELLIOT Not recently, I hope. SUSAN (Suddenly intense) I think you’re the one who’s never really had a good kiss. A good kiss is like a knife. The best kiss I ever had hurt more than anything. It couldn’t help it. A really good kiss can’t help but hurt you ‘cause you give part of yourself away. Make yourself vulnerable to it. A kiss, a real kiss severs nerves and cuts through you and that’s an injury you’ll never recover from.
Yesterday I sat on a bench on Central Park West near 69th street for almost two hours watching people and listening to a cd over and over, realizing how much I love New York sometimes. I saw a pregnant woman walking down the sidewalk alone pushing an empty stroller. A Presbyterian Hospital's ambulance stopped at a light. A uniformed woman in the passenger seat was putting on lip gloss in the side mirror.
Friday, June 03, 2005
There are reasons to write things down --there are open doors with holy landings and flaps of land that jut out where you don’t expect them. When we stand in line and try to move forward, we find we are stuck in the mud, and we know some stand like giants and some fall like villagers and some thrash about when you haul them from the water. They are unhappy as we are and they have a mind to claw the earth in prayer when they think they have come to a house to sing really. It is perhaps the thought of transgressing all they know and love or it is likely thoughts of swimming in open water but it is conquerable and fast and brings the blood to their tawdry faces. You try to look down of course because you know too many people can see the ground on which you stand and can tell you in fact you will never ever learn to swim. Not here anyway. Child of the mud. Sorry bout that. Just had to let it out. If you don't sometimes let such things out, you will explode. Of course, I didn't have to publish it on the internet for all to see but I have a nagging suspicion that no one reads this blog in any case. On Fridays I am told, I will be let out at 1--let out to frolick in the city as I wish, to spend that extra 4 hours in silent meditation or prayer or vandalization or swallowing chopped up pieces of piano or however else I choose. www.adamszymkowicz.com
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Earlier today I was all "I'm through with playwriting. It's a waste of time. I don't know what I'm doing. It's too much work. I'm not getting anywhere. This play will be horrible and never be produced anywhere else like everything else I've ever written that I send everywhere but to no avail...because it's not good enough." I think I'm almost done with that. Nope hold on. I'm not good at anything. This is stupid. I'm going to be an office assistant for the rest of my life. Ok. I'm done now. Whew. What a wonderful choice this whole playwriting thing is constantly turning out to be. Maybe I should write a novel. course that would take years and perhaps that requires some other skill, wouldn't you think? some sort of novelist skill. blah. time to start a cult. Who wants to join? There will be punch.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Tonight we are beginning what I hope will be a fruitful casting process. Not too hard, right? A two-person play with young non-equity actors who are available for 3 months and are willing to work 3 hours a week for the company? Yeh, should be no problem. Wish me luck. VA is beautiful this time of year. May I recommend the Shenandoah National Park for all your hiking needs? And may I recommend Charlottesville as the cutest college town/quaint city. Brick and marble found in old Jefferson-designed buildings. And nobody does malls like c-town. And while I'm in the recommending mood, may I recommend this article about how love is like addiction. (scientifically) which brings me back to my play Nerve. (shameless plug) Did I mention I'm casting my two-person date play Nerve which I hope shows such an addiction. This is the same play which will be read this sunday at Kitchen Dog in Dallas. Might you want to produce it in your city as well? www.adamszymkowicz.com