APRIL'S ENTANGLED FOOLS

I keep changing the title of my latest play. I find this fitting, since reality keeps shifting in the play itself. It began life as "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal", morphed into "Mathurine", and is currently titled "April's Fool"- but I am considering going with "Entanglement". We shall see.

Whatever the title, it is going to be part of the Rough Writers new play fest down at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs. I am very excited. There is nothing like hearing your play out loud to figure out what works, what needs tweaking, and what needs to go. The festival runs April 18-28, and will consist of readings of several new works- all inspired in one way or another by art works that will be on display at the FAC.  I actually used two art works- a charcoal sketch and a porcelain axe. I am so excited to be part of this festival, for many reasons. First and foremost- I like having my stuff read out loud in front of people. It's my drug of choice. Second, I love the work they do at FAC, and know they will kick it in the ass. Third, my instincts- those voices that whisper to me from some distant star- tell me this is going to be a pivotal experience in my life. Groovy.

The play keeps evolving- tightening up and expanding at the same time. It has taken on a life of it's own. It walks the night. I keep trusting my instincts and leaping, hoping the net will appear. So far, so good.

Here is a little taste, from Act One. At an April Fool's costume party, Ahab has just found out that Moira, the girl he loves/obsesses over, is getting married to Jay- whom Ahab alternately calls Jaypes and/or Dickhead.  A mysterious woman named Norn enters. They are both dressed as jesters.
 

AHAB

Nice outfit. Who’re you supposed to be?

NORN

Mathurine.

AHAB

Who the hell is Mathurine?

NORN

Real life jestress to three kings of France.

AHAB

Jestress?

NORN

Lady jester.

AHAB

I see.

NORN

She was a hero. Saved a kings life once. And you?

AHAB

Oh. I’m Hop-Frog. Another jester. Not from real life, though. From Poe.
You know, Edgar Allen Poe?

NORN

I do.

AHAB

Hop Frog was a fool. And in love with the beautiful Trippetta. Sadly, Hop Frog worked for this king who was a total dickhead. The king had been especially cruel to the beautiful Tripetta. Among other things, he threw a glass of wine in her face and then smacked her. Pow! Right in the kisser. So Hop-Frog decided to teach him a lesson. The king threw a costume party. Hop-Frog suggested King Dickhead and several of his fellow dickheads dress up like orangutans, and have Hop-Frog lead them around in chains like he was their keeper or something. And King Dickhead thought that was a great idea! So the night of the party, the King and his buddies put on their orangutan costumes, and then Hop-Frog tied them up.

NORN

Why did they let him tie them up?

AHAB

Because they’re stupid. Haven’t you ever noticed how the rich and powerful are, for the most part, morons?

NORN

I find stupidity does not confine itself to the ruling class.

AHAB

Yeah. Well, anyway, there they were, dressed up like monkeys-

NORN

Orangutans.

AHAB

Orangutans. And then, in front of all the party guests, Hop-Frog lit King Dickhead and his asshole buddies on fire. Burned them to a crisp. And Hop-Frog and Tripetta lived happily ever after. The end.

NORN

That’s a sad story.

AHAB

Just goes to show, you should never wear a costume that you have to explain.

It's a weird little tale, and keeps getting weirder. I have no idea what will happen next. At the moment, I think I'm going to end it with a mad tea party. But what do I know?

IGNATIUS' CAT

It is an amazing thing to be alive. I find the universe full of wonder, mystery, adventure, and joy. Yes, there is ample supply of boredom, anxiety, and sorrow- but I am fairly certain that those are part of the equation that need not be the rulers of our personal galaxies. I remember once, riding in a taxi home to Brooklyn shortly after learning that my mother had been given less than two years to live because her body was full of cancer, I was looking out the window at the moon as we crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, pleading with whatever gods were out there to make what was happening not be happening. I had been having variations of this scenario for weeks. But on this particular night, out of the blue, this thought hit me like a bolt of lightening- a bolt that was full of positive energy and some kind of peace. The bolt, which entered my soul like a downloaded computer program, told me that the only thing to do to combat death was to live. To seize the moments we are given, to listen to all the music of the world, to hear all the laughter and get to the point where your own laughter is part of the mix. To listen to children who have important things to tell you, to notice how beautiful the moonlight is as it passes through the clouds. To realize that we are indeed all connected, all part of the bigger picture, all part of the mind of God. Mom still was dying, and all the horrible things out there in the world were still happening- pain, desolation, cruelty, madness. The list is endless, I suppose. But what am I to do? Give up, lay down, and weep? I think not. I have never been able to do so, and I hope I never will. One never knows, maybe some day this life will wear me down to the nub and I'll give in to despair.

So far, that just hasn't happened.

I bring this up because of late I am working on a new play, and it's drawn me to quantum physics, fate, and perception. And the more I work on this latest project, the more I am convinced that Bertrand Russell was right when he said the universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

Maybe I'm a fool, inclined to what some call magical thinking- you know, in denial; not facing reality; chasing rainbows and unicorns. If that's the case, no doubt I'll read this someday in the future, and think "Ah, what a fool I was!". Or worse, I'll have been killed in some horrific manner, and someone else will read this and think "What a moron! Too bad he didn't see what was coming!" Well, if I am doomed to some nasty fate, I prefer to gather my rosebuds while I may- the bad times will come when they come.

But I digress. The main thing I want to mention today is a moment, a quirk, a suggestion made to me that put all the pieces of a puzzle together.

As I mentioned, I'm writing a new play, working title "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal". It began as an entry in the Rough Writers program at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center- but has taken a life of it's own, and will have a long life. Anyhow, at the same time, I've been wanting to write a play that somehow addresses the theory of Entanglement, which I learned about while watching Ancient Aliens- a television show about UFOs and history that I enjoy. I dig all that paranormal stuff- Bigfoot, ghosts, the Loch Ness Monster, etc. But what would you expect from a magical thinker? Anyhow, Entanglement, as I understand it via this tv show, is something Einstein espoused, saying that if two objects are joined at an atomic level, and then separated, they still are connected. They still affect one other. To me, this sounded like a great metaphor for human relationships. Now, in the new play, I have a scene involving a hot dog cart which is a blatant reference to the classic book A Confederacy of Dunces. This play is a weird, serio-comic story that touches on the idea of String Theory and multi-verses. All told via four New Yorkers who are each kind of lost and crazy. So I send this new scene with the hot dog cart to my brother, and he writes me back, mentioning how in Confederacy of Dunces, the anti-hero Ignatius J. Reilly kept a cat in his hot dog cart.

And this, of course, makes me think of Schrodingers Cat. This is the part that gets freaky, even for someone like me who bounces from tangent to tangent like a happy kid in a room full of trampolines. Schrodinger was this guy who posed a question in response to Einstein's writing on Entanglement. He basically said that, according to Einstein and quantum physics, if a cat was in a box, and had a 50-50 chance of being alive or dead due to this complex device, until someone opened the box and observed the cat, it would be both alive and dead at the same time. This sounds a little odd- but then again, two things that are diametrically opposed existing at the same time isn't really all that weird, is it?

So I thought, cool, I'll put a cat in the hot dog cart in my play, and have some clever dialogue on the nature of the universe, or multi-verse. And then I looked up some info on Schrodinger, and it turns out he actually came up with the term Entanglement. And maybe that means nothing to you- but to me, it was like a sign, like that bolt of lightening that hit me in the cab, saying all is well, you are on the right path, and you need to keep on trucking with the dooh dah man.