DOIN’ DAMAGE
______________________________
An Episodic One-Act
Richard Morell
217 4th Street #1
Troy, NY 12180
(518) 441-2876
our_morale@yahoo.com
CAST OF CHARACTERS
LYNN Mid-40s. A good partner, non-artistic but mostly supportive of BARRE, but a tad fearful and controlling.
BARRE Mid-40s. Shut-down artist with a dayjob. Constantly thinks of suicide.
DAVE Mid-60s. BARRE’S guide from another dimension. An old guy in a fishing hat, not really talkative.
ANDRYNS Neotribal fellow, early 20s. Both cynical and naïve. Earnestly hopeful.
CHANTAL-CORVA A classic curmudgeon crone in her late 40s, early 50s.
VARIOUS OTHER FIGURES
The action takes place in the present, in and around LYNN & BARRE’S house, with forays into the woods.
NOTE ABOUT CASTING: Gender isn’t all that relevant. Whoever reads best for the parts, that’s what’s meant to be.
SCENE ONE:
SETTING AND AT RISE: LYNN & BARRE’S backyard. It is a vigorous spring day. LYNN, mid-40s and quite practical and methodical, stands near the doorway to the house, while BARRE, late 40s, a blocked artist who subsists through the day-to-day (a shell), mopes up a ladder.
LYNN: You are going to drive me crazy.
BARRE: I told you that I—
LYNN: I don’t want to hear any more of this!
BARRE: But I—
LYNN: No. No! It’s –this is not the time.
BARRE: That’s not what you said this morning.
LYNN: Well, I know. But I didn’t know what was really going on then.
BARRE: What was going on – what are you talking about?
LYNN: You’re in avoidance. I know how this goes.
BARRE: Oh, really.
LYNN: I know what you really need to be doing. And you know, I’ve been blind. I have been selfish. I want to have you do the fix=it jobs, and the housekeeping…
BARRE: So why are you getting in my face? That’s what I’m doing right now, trying to fix the drain on the shed.
LYNN: It’ll just have to wait.
BARRE: Huh? Not two hours ago you said it was an eyesore. “The Levines keep grousin’ about when are you going to fix that monster up.”
LYNN: I do not sound like that. Doesn’t matter. You’re not doing you job.
BARRE: Well, who is it that’s stopping me, Lynn?
LYNN: A ha! You do have a resentment.
(Confused, BARRE peers at LYNN, questioning sanity)
You’re confused now?
BARRE: I just want to climb up this ladder and reattach –
LYNN: And run away from your journal!
BARRE (taken aback): Oh!
LYNN: Yes! Oh. You’ve been getting more and more difficult, harder to reach, you know.
BARRE: Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? There are all those things that need to get done, the tiling of the front hall, the swale between us and the Levines, this –
LYNN: Like your short story collection? And your stalled play projects? What of those? Barre, I’m sorry I’ve been so much of a nag. All the things I ask are important for you own good. Still, I’m keeping you from you, from your work.
BARRE: What’s all this really about? You want something from me.
LYNN: I want something for you, hon. Not from you. I’ve noticed you’ve not said anything about your writing for weeks.
BARRE: You noticed, huh?
LYNN: It’s come across in little gestures, little picky things. Little annoyances and angers that have been popping up more frequently. Like forgetting the birthday card.
BARRE: That was just a senior moment. And Thorn got over it fine.
LYNN: And the bathroom installation? What about that? We discussed the colors, the style of vanity and everything.
BARRE: I was getting what you wanted. You said that you wanted a cream colored –
LYNN: No, Kelly Levine wanted a cream colored vanity, for her own bathroom. I thought I was explicit about the rose colored one. How you could screw that up . . . Well, no matter.
BARRE: Work’s been stressful.
LYNN: Barre, something’s building in you. The pressures, the quiet emotions – it’s hard to be around. I don’t know what to say to you. It hit me this morning during our tiff that I’m part of it. And you’re using me to run away from your work.
BARRE: That’s crazy. Selfish, Lynn.
LYNN: So when was the last time you showed up to it?
BARRE: Three days ago.
LYNN: Ha! You can do better than that.
BARRE: I thought of it 3 days ago.
LYNN: You’re thinking about “The Boy Near the Falls” all the time. Don’t tell me you only thought about it 3 days ago.
BARRE: What brought this on? What was so different about today’s disagreement?
LYNN: Felt phoned in. Felt like you’ve given up. Didn’t have any of the juice of some of our other ones from a few months ago. You’ve been slowly – I’ve been worried, Barre.
BARRE: This is all – You really –
LYNN: The job’s grinding you down with all this work and no help. The Neighborhood Association takes more and more of your time, and then there’s your sister with her incessant needs. I pile it on too.
BARRE: You need things done. You’re always complaining that I don’t pull my weight, that I don’t –
LYNN: That you don’t clean up after yourself. Well, you don’t, it’s true, and I try to help. Don’t mean to judge, though I guess I’ve done so. Still, when you’ve got clutter outside, something’s clogging you up inside. And I got it today. It was a complete accident –
BARRE: What accident?
LYNN: I didn’t mean to open up one of your files – but why did you name it Lynnwood?
BARRE: What? Files? Oh, Lynnwood, oh…
LYNN: You want to check out. You want to hurt yourself. I can see it in your eyes.
BARRE: Fuckin’ A!
LYNN: What was that supposed to do to me, Barre? Lynnwood. Lynn would, what?
BARRE: You shouldn’t have read it. I shouldn’t have saved – well, …
LYNN: You know I don’t go into your private directories. You wanted to be found.
BARRE: I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel so out of place. I shapeshift so well, I can fit in, but I get so caught up in the cuntnoise. It’s not me. I didn’t sign up for this. When I went to G School – misguided youngster I was – I just – well, I wanted it so badly. I’ve let myself be swindled into being a debt slave. I just – it wears on me. I’ve been at this vEmpire crap for so long. I keep trying to kill this dream, kill this artist child that mewls and pesters and pulls at me. It just . . . So I have this pressure. And these responsibilities. And the house and the Nabe . . . So. Something’s got to give. I don’t write. Something’s got to give. Something’s got to give. I don’t write. I’m a zombie. I don’t do my . . .
LYNN: Your work. Your joy. Your sacred obligation.
BARRE: Fine way to make me feel better. No one wants to hear what I have to say.
LYNN: So you reject yourself before anyone else will. Which takes its toll, too, and it keeps going and going.
BARRE: I’d be better off dead.
LYNN: No, Barre. You kill yourself, people would never forgive you. Are you beyond caring about that/
BARRE: I’m getting there. So. Is this.
[LYNN: (unspoken, unvoiced, only in the pause: – “Is this?”)]
BARRE: An intervention?
LYNN: What do you mean?
BARRE: I mean where someone comes in and escorts me to a happy place.
LYNN: Do you want that?
BARRE (sputters): p-p — k-k— ub – [gasp]
LYNN: Barre! Don’t scare me like this!
BARRE: Didn’t you think this through?
LYNN: Think what through?
BARRE: What the hell? I’ve gotta get – GAAAAAH!
(BARRE runs off.)
LYNN: Barre? Barre, where are you going?
(LYNN follows BARRE off.)
Barre, talk to me! What are you planning? Barre? Where – don’t run away from me! Barre! Barre!
(Sound of a car starting up and driving away. LYNN returns, frantic, cellphone in hand.)
Hello, Jackie? Barre’s acting weird now. I think I really screwed this up. You know what we spoke of earlier – right, you were right. I thought I could – Barre just left. Where to, I – thanks. Please Jackie. Please get to – I don’t’ to think that . Barre could possibly – thanks, Jackie.
(Clicks it shut.)
What in Jesus’ name have I done?
SCENE TWO:
AT RISE: On the beach by a lake, BARRE sits with his multiversic guide DAVE, who appears as an older guy dressed for a fishing trip.
BARRE: I bet everyone knows but they don’t want to know. Coworkers, neighbors. Friends. People in the congregation. Desperation can be smelled, you know. Sensed. They sense it but not necessarily on me. They don’t think it’s me, because I seem so calm. They don’t know where it comes from, and they don’t want to know. They can conveniently forget they sense this when I’m around. Pretend. I don’t have a violent streak, but do they really know? I don’t think I’d go postal at the office, or pull a Virginia Tech at the Nabe Association. I don’t know what’s going on with me. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.
(DAVE casts a reel. Sees where it leads, reels it back in.)
Oh, I hate that I don’t want to hurt someone else. That I would rather hurt myself. How screwed up is that? I was all ready to chop . . . But I guess Lynn felt something. Maybe something had changed. Maybe I tipped my hand. How did I save a file like that? Lynnwood. I called it Lynnwood. Lynn would. Heh. Lynn. Would. What?
(DAVE casts a reel. Sees where it leads, reels it back in.)
Well, Lynn can’t help me with what’s going on. It hurts to be me right now. Artist as Job. Like Mr. God’s devotion, I feel unwanted in this world, wanted for all the wrong reasons. Job didn’t have to have a job. Maybe I should start pronouncing that word the Biblical fashion. Working a Job. Take this Job and shove it. Heh heh. A g.d. Job’s got me. By the short-hairs. I feel so . . . Desperate.
(DAVE casts a reel.)
DAVE: Had enough yet?
BARRE: Yes. For a long while.
DAVE: Killing yourself’s kind of extreme.
BARRE: I don’t think I have any choices that aren’t extreme. I certainly can’t go on this way. I just . . . won’t.
DAVE: No one says you have to. Of course, no one says you have to keep on living either.
BARRE: I’m at the jumping off point.
DAVE: Yep. Sounds like that at least. Ope!
(He catches something. Starts to reel the line in with a struggle.)
BARRE: Looks like you caught something there. Dave, I just don’t know anymore. No one to turn to either. And this late date.
(DAVE reels in… a boot.)
Oh, that’s disappointing.
DAVE: Not at all. Things that get fished out of the river are always treasures.
BARRE: Charitable.
DAVE: Mysteries. This boot has a history. What do you suppose that is, now?
BARRE: It’s a Timberland. One of those nice workboots, not too worn, not too new. Probably some drunk electrical lineman or construction worker, passed out and a buddy decided to play a joke, throw it in the river.
DAVE: Just because? Huh. Could be that the fellow didn’t mean to lose his boot. Wind or a kid knocked it into the water and it floated away before he knew what happened.
BARRE: This is all speculation.
DAVE: Isn’t that what you do though? When you sit at the desk and write?
BARRE: Some. With the triple crisis, I –
DAVE: You know what you have to do. Triple crisis or no.
BARRE: I still can’t go on the way I’ve been going. Maybe I should look into a medical procedure.
DAVE: Heh! Lobotomy’s just a living death. You’ll be a goodfernuthin’ zombie you do that.
BARRE: Maybe some people want to be a zombie.
DAVE: Sure they do. Ones who don’t know any better. Barre, you’re a canary in this here coalmine called civilization. It’s killing you, sure. But – here’s the thing. You can fly away. You’re not in a cage. You’re not a captive, there just to be monitored as a harbinger of potential doom.
BARRE: I’ve already croaked and died.
DAVE: Oh, come on, man! Look I’m talking to across from the other side of things, aren’t I? There’s more to the mystery of this time than you know.
(DAVE studies the boot. Reaches into it. Frowns. Pulls out a little vial, a note inside it.)
Heh. Well, don’t that beat all.
BARRE: A message in a bottle. This is freaksome strange, Spock.
DAVE: I’ve seen weirder. Why don’t you open this up and read it?
BARRE: You fished it out.
DAVE: I think it’s for you.
BARRE: You afraid of it?
DAVE: Are you? Well, I can throw it back—
BARRE: Uh –
DAVE: All right.
BARRE: Oh, give it to me already.
(DAVE hands the vial to BARRE, who unfurls it.)
“Strength is knowing when to fall apart.”
DAVE: Huh? Say that again.
BARRE: Strength is knowing when to fall apart.
DAVE: Well, then. Guess I ought to have tossed that into the drink. Isn’t that the most useless thing -?
BARRE: I think … ON some level, it’s just what I needed to hear. I’m not supposed to be strong when I need to fall down and weep like a baby. I want to just go into the woods and cry and cry ntil I’m all cried out.
DAVE: So what’s stopping you?
BARRE: What in my life encourages me to step towards sanity? The same person in the madness looks like the craziest to everyone else.
DAVE: Ain’t that the truth. So you feel a need to stay insane then Barre?
BARRE: I don’t know how to dive into the unknown.
DAVE: Well, what the hell is killing yourself if not the ultimate dive into oblivion? Son, if you only have extreme choices as you say, go towards the one that gives you the most life.
BARRE: But I’m scared.
DAVE: Think I give a damn?
BARRE: Yeah, since when has that happened? Sorry.
DAVE: Mind your manners, now. It’s about showing up. This is one of those odd instances my friend, where you have to vanish the scene in order to show up to yourself.
BARRE: Can I really just … walk away?
DAVE: Take a longer view. What do you really have? Your house? Owned by the bank. They grace you with the illusion that you’re a properly propertied gentleman. You get the privilege of paying the mortgage. Your sick-care is paid for in part by the Job that would most contribute to your even having to partake of said sick-care. Your reputation in the workaday world doesn’t go any further than the doors of the 6th floor of the building that houses your workplace. Except of course for the HR office on the 7th floor, and there you might as well be anonymous for all the good it does.
BARRE: There’s Lynn, who cares about me.
DAVE: More than you know. But even there, Barre, there’s no transparency. You can’t break through another’s denial. Lynn’s got the blanket up around the ears. Can’t shove it off without killing your love.
BARRE: Well, I’m mad at Lynn anyway. Could have used an honest-to-God intervention.
DAVE: Eh. This has been as much about his/her awareness as it is yours. Kiddo, it’s the oddest of times, except for what comes tomorrow. You watch others from a distance whose circumstances are quite the contrast to yours, yet you fail to realize whether its Thailand or Iraq, Haiti or New Orleans, California or Manhattan that you’ve got the same need. To end this madness. Those places have folks are up against it. Yours is too, if not as pointedly. Your pain is as real, though. Connected to theirs. In fact, it’s at root the same as theirs. You, we are all one.
BARRE: Oh, I have a cushy life. “I have a lot to be grateful for.”
DAVE: And you don’t value all the crap-chkes in the slightest.
BARRE: No. Gosh. Do I have what it takes to make the decision? To really just walk away?
DAVE: You’ve got to serve your best and brightest possible self, Barre. I’ve known you all this time, and I’ve given you some guidance on major decisions –
BARRE: Like marrying Lynn for example. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten.
DAVE: This is just a question of surrender. That’s all.
(BARRE looks at the message. Eats it.)
There you go! Digest that puppy.
BARRE: A bit literal. But that’s the kid in me.
DAVE: Save your life, my friend. Save that kid. Wants that life force and will just drink it all in.
(DAVE grins broadly at BARRE, who shrugs his shoulders with a small smile, turns to leave. DAVE puts the boot on his hand, and “kicks” BARRE’s behind with it.)
That’s it! Kick start that fall into grace!
BARRE: Old man!
(BARRE exits.)
DAVE: That’s the way, sure is, sure is.
SCENE THREE
In their Kitchen. LYNN sits at the table, BARRE stands apart, back to LYNN.
LYNN: You have to go back.
BARRE: No.
LYNN: Listen to reason.
BARRE: Reason? Might as well jump off the building then. There’s more to life than reason.
LYNN: This is suicide too.
BARRE: I’m not so sure.
LYNN: Well, maybe I am. Did you ever think of that? Huh? Did you ever think of me?
BARRE: I can’t go back. Stick a fork in me.
LYNN: Stick a knife in you.
BARRE: I wouldn’t fight you—this shitty world.
LYNN: They say people shouldn’t make decisions when they’re depressed.
BARRE: Try telling that to the nation, then. Maybe we can stop the madness with a general strike.
LYNN: This isn’t like you.
BARRE: You don’t know what I’m like.
LYNN: I certainly thought I did. I should have you committed.
BARRE: You don’t have the courage. You were headed there before, but you didn’t plan it out. I even perked up at the thought. At last I’ll get some help. At last someone sees what’s going on. Quite boneheaded of you, to confront me without a plan.
LYNN: I didn’t realize how far gone – and I was trying to help you!
BARRE: Were you now?
LYNN: I’m on your side, you know.
BARRE: You’re on the side of the comfortable life. The comfortable lie.
LYNN: Oh, so I’m a liar, huh? When have I lied to you?
BARRE: Not to me, baby. The Comfortable Lie is osmosis. All this, this vapor, this toxic fume-age—it’s all a lie. The Black Iron Prison.
LYNN: All what?
BARRE: Whatcha got? Jobs, career, status. Bank accounts. Social Security. Healthcare – or strike that! Sick-care. Drugs. Booze. Sugar. Air Conditioning.
LYNN: I don’t –
BARRE: Countries, gasoline, highways. Jets. Jetsetting. Top 40. The Oscars, Miss America, the Gap, Coca-fuckin’-cola, the Mormons, Vampires — oh, that’s redundant, sorry — Hollywood. Television, cancer, cigarettes, fundamentalism, Glamour magazine, GQ, elections, the military—
LYNN: It’s just a list. Nothing you can do about any of it.
BARRE: Yes, that’s right. Let’s put it all up for bid, with the toxic debts, and may the lowest bidder collect all the booty, all the plastic, all the poor excuses for souls that we civilized folk have squandered. Shall I keep going? Or have I made myself clear.
LYNN: You get something out of all this too. Think you’re better than, better than –
BARRE: Who? Better? Than who? You? That’s certainly not true. Better than this cuntnoise certainly. Death to the necronomy, long live the necronomy.
LYNN: You have to make allowances –
BARRE: Yeah? I’d rather die. Don’t forget, I’m willing to back that up.
LYNN: I can’t win.
BARRE: That’s the point, that’s the problem. I can’t win either. It’s set up for lose-lose bigger-lose biggest. Unless you walk away. That’s the pathway.
LYNN: What did I do to deserve this? Can you tell me?
BARRE: You keep doing that. You keep making this about you, what you did, how you can control this. You, you, you. There’s no thought of anything but your fear, the big Fuck Everything and Retrench.
LYNN: Yes, I am afraid. You’re scaring me.
BARRE: That can’t be avoided. It’s all coming apart at the seams anyway. I’m sure I won’t have a job come May. April even.
LYNN: Well, can’t you at least wait that long?
BARRE: Has to be now. And I have to accept whatever you choose to do.
LYNN: So, you’re just going to up and quit that job? Where the boss loves you-
BARRE: That’s totally not true. Ange loves that I do all this work, that I lose myself in it and don’t piss anyone off, all the while seething and thinking how I’d love to make a DIY guillotine and chopping off my own head.
LYNN: I don’t know what to say to any of this.
BARRE: OK. Here’s what you do. You have good friends. Shelly, Mavor, Tris. You reach out tot them, get support.
LYNN: Oh, you think I can talk to any of them, now? Do you?
BARRE: Well, there’s your brother and sister, I suppose.
LYNN: They’ll come and hunt you down for leaving a great job.
BARRE: Any way you look at it, hon, the job is GONE. The question is about what you will want to do afterwards. Honey, I’m at peace with this decision.
LYNN: What about retirement – Social Security –
BARRE: Bargaining now, are you? Denial, then anger. Good sign.
LYNN: Don’t you be my therapist. That’s just arrogance.
BARRE: You’re right. My apologies. I’m just acknowledging the transition.
LYNN: This is not like that. You’re being willful.
BARRE: 50 years old’s a good time for willful.
LYNN: The economy will crush us to pulp.
BARRE: It’s going off the rails, if you haven’t noticed, Lynn. You won’t listen to me –
LYNN: I see no evidence of that.
BARRE: We need to steel ourselves. It’s not going to be comfortable after awhile.
LYNN: So we’re going to be cave people again? In skins and with clubs?
BARRE: No. That’s probably 100 years out.
LYNN: You’re laughing at me. Great. You’re laughing at me.
BARRE: Trying to ride the waves with you, Lynn. Ease up! Have some fun.
LYNN: You’re causing my life to fall apart – our lives to fall part, and you tell me to have fun? The living end, that’s what you are.
BARRE: If this is how you do it, that’s fine too. But do you see here? How this is different than other fights we’ve had?
LYNN: It’s not any different.
BARRE: Sure about that? OK. Whatever. You’re. In con.
Troll.
LYNN: If I was in control, you’d be going back to work tomorrow.
BARRE: OK, except for that, you’re in control.
LYNN: Crazy. This is crazy, you’re crazy.
BARRE: Sure. Whatever you say.
LYNN: I didn’t want you to agree with me about that.
BARRE: It’s hard to know crazy from sane. This day and age, it’s not self-evident.
LYNN: Of course you don’t think you’re crazy. That’s how crazy you are.
BARRE: A discord exists between the consensus trance and my views. Whichever part you ally with, the other will appear totally nuts. So, that’s where it is, Lynn. I’ve made my choice. I’m not going back.
LYNN: This is a midlife crisis.
BARRE: Accident of timing is all. I know you can pretend until the chickens disappear. Then the geese, the ducks, even the pigeons. But eventually once all the birds are gone, there’s nothing left but your own viewpoint.
LYNN: I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.
BARRE: Give it time. I’ve got to give you time to adjust. In the meantime, I’ve arranged to stay with Willow and SunBear.
LYNN: Brother Sun and Sister Moony-toons? Yeah, they’ll have you over. Sure, stay as long as you like.
BARRE: I’ve got to leave you with your feelings. Can’t help you much there, but we will have a lot to talk about.
LYNN: Barre?
(BARRE stands near LYNN.)
BARRE: Yes?
(LYNN slaps him, hard.)
LYNN: You fucker. You’re fuckin’ me up!
(BARRE nods head, turns and leaves.)
So help me God. So help me. God!
“PHONE CALL BREAK”
IN DARKNESS. Phone rings 4 times.
BARRE’S VOICE (singing): “It’s the End of the World as we Know It.
It’s the End of the World as we Know It.
It’s the End of the World as we Know It.
And I fee fine…” Hope you do to as TSHTF! It’s your doom. Leave a message.
(BEEP, followed by silence.)
ANGE’S VOICE: Um … Barre, it’s Ange, I – well, your greeting leaves me at a loss. I – don’t know what to say. And your email to me and C. J. caught us off guard. We – we’re concerned about you. We wish you’d reconsider. But I fear you – well . . . Huh. I guess we’ll have to make other arrangements. Sure picked a fine time, asshole.
(CLICK. Phone rings 4x. Same routine.)
PRAY-PRAY’S VOICE: Um . . . Whoa. Do I have the right number? Barre? This here’s Pray-Pray, and I didn’t see you at the HOA last night. Uh, this is pretty serious – if you – are you all right there? Um . . . listen, we’ve heard some talk – did you really up and quit your job? I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep you on as Social Chair. Oh, well. Better find somethin’ soon, bub . . . Or . . . well.
(CLICK. Phone rings 4x. Same routine.)
WOMAN’S VOICE: Hello, Barre? Lynn? This is Vivian. Where’s my son? What’s all this I hear, you quit your job? Lord almighty son, what are you thinking? Did you win the lottery? Land something better? You sure better have, otherwise . . . Call your mother. I’m worried.
(CLICK. Phone rings 4x. Same routine.)
MAN’S VOICE: What an – interesting and provocative voicemail message. I take it I’ve reached Barry Rinaldi – or is it Barré Rinaldi? I’m Jake Frakes, assistant to Michael Traynor at Banden-Hopes Agency. I’m calling regarding the strange script you sent us. It’s . . . Well, it’s got some of us talking – and not all of it’s favorable, mind you. It’s not so much for Mr. Traynor that I’ve been asked to call you, but because some of us have a few questions for you – informally, you know. It seems you might be a kindred spirit? We can be reached at 310-310-3100 extension 3131. Again, please call,, Mr. or Ms. Rinaldi. We should talk. Seriously. Goodbye.
SCENE FIVE
Outside a tent in the woods. LYNN sits in a lawn chair while BARRE sets a nearby picnic table for a meal.
BARRE: Yeah, I had a nice chat with some people. They wished me luck.
LYNN: So it didn’t pan out.
BARRE: No, not in the least. People are worried everywhere. In comparison to some places, we don’t have it half bad up here in the Northeast.
LYNN: Says someone living in a tent on someone else’s land.
BARRE: There is that.
LYNN: What sort of grub do you have for a civilized person, O Bear of the Woods?
BARRE: Can you smell it? Cooking on that fire?
LYNN: It smells fine. What is it? Squirrel? Chipmunk? Vole?
BARRE: Actually, elk. No, I didn’t bag it myself. Stop your out-buggin’ eyes.
LYNN (They are): They’re not buggin’! You don’t hunt. Or do you now?
BARRE: Actually, I’ve caught rabbits, a turkey buzzard, a porcupine—but I set her free. To difficult to deal with for the return. I could have once had an otter, but they’re just too sacred for me for some reason. Bad karma.
LYNN: Listen to you. I’d think beggars can’t be choosers.
BARRE: It may come to that.
LYNN: So if you didn’t bag it, where’d the elk meat come from?
BARRE: Fellow thought it was a moose. Told me he was ecstatic, until he really looked at the animal and realized his mistake.
LYNN: I wouldn’t know the difference being citified, but a hunter? Didn’t he know the difference?
BARRE: I didn’t say anything, just commiserated with him. Looked like Mr. Magoo. Anyway, he sold it to me for a small sum.
LYNN: Got anything left?
BARRE: Oh, I’m not at liberty to divulge that information. Things have changed.
LYNN: Tell me about it. Barre, I can’t see how you can go on like this. But you chucked us all and made the choice. Oh, here we go. I know what that wince means.
BARRE: And I meant for you to see it.
LYNN: Fine. Anyway, I’ve met someone.
BARRE: Well. That’s a relief.
LYNN: A relief? A RELIEF!?? What, did you never love me?
BARRE: Of course, Lynn, I still do. But I’m changing. We’re separate now, at least for the time being. So tell me about this person.
LYNN: Chikembe is a stockbroker with Plowman Graves D.K.
BARRE: D.K.? What’s that.
LYNN: “Inc.” in Tieganese, I guess.
BARRE: Chikembe? African?
LYNN: Mm. We seem to be on the same wavelength.
BARRE: I hope Chikembe makes you happy. I think the steaks are about done. And I’ve got some Mountain Mushrooms – don’t worry, not poisonous. I’ve had good training. And a salad of wild greens, with nuts and berries. Also corn, grown over in a neighbor’s patch. The Duncans, I’ll introduce you sometime.
LYNN: Great. How do you keep this elk meat?
BARRE: Oh, we all help each other out up here. There’s a place for you if you want. Always. But I understand.
LYNN: Sounds like a cult.
BARRE: Oh, Lynn… You shouldn’t speak about cult into you realize what cults you yourself are part of. We all go our own way, but we recognize we can’t go it alone. Not survivalists or Revelations Ravers. Or a commune. The mere sprouting of a community, that’s what’s happening here. Personalities coming together, and working it out. Rough edges, quirks, you know.
LYNN: You are not the same person. Who am I talking to?
BARRE: I have you to thank. I’m grateful at your botched intervention. Saved me from jumping off the workplace building.
LYNN: And opened up the path for a living death.
BARRE: This is transitional. Just the advance guard of folks who want another way. Still, to your place now. A stockbroker! Mostly good, I’d say. But …
LYNN: Don’t. My friends are already telling me to run the other way. Afraid for pitchforks and torches. Even Chikembe has said as much. Gallows humor, I guess.
BARRE: Gallows? Hmm. Why gallows exactly?
LYNN: I don’t know. The steaks smell . . . different.
BARRE: It is a different aroma, isn’t it? And sorry, elk’s gamey. Critters who live in the bosom of God usually are.
LYNN: They almost done?
BARRE: A few more minutes. So.
LYNN: So.
(They contemplate the silence.)
I don’t understand how people snap like this.
BARRE: Snap, huh. Hmm.
LYNN: Yes, snap. What’s behind it? Because you can’t get anyone to take your work seriously? Though maybe you don’t either since I never saw you try and put it up yourself. Though I guess that would be –
BARRE: My ambitions have had to change, Lynn. I don’t claim to know when it started. Except that I came to realize I bought into a scam. The Lucky Artist MegaSweepstakes Con Game.™ All I ever had to show for it was a diploma and tens of thousand dollars of debt-servitude.
LYNN: I thought your therapy addressed that.
BARRE: It did. I have. And I walked away from it finally. When I had the strength.
LYNN: That why you ditched the cell? So you could duck the calls?
BARRE: No, not particularly. Aside from you and Mom, and a couple of other folks, I don’t want to hear from most people.
LYNN: Because now I’m the one getting those calls if you must know.
BARRE: And what do you tell them?
LYNN: What am I supposed to say? I mutter something, whatever I feel like.
BARRE: Good.
LYNN: Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied.
BARRE: Isn’t it a glorious day?
LYNN: Clouds threatening rain? Glorious indeed.
BARRE: Smell the ozone.
LYNN: Barre, you’re breaking my heart. You’ve descended into destitution. How could you let this happen? This – this is no life.
BARRE: Lynnza, I can’t express it to you. We’re trying to speak across a chasm of perspective. I know where you are – was there for a really long time, just another inmate-guard in the Black Iron Prison. And I just couldn’t continue. I can’t talk to you in your sleep anymore.
LYNN: I will not indulge you with your Matrix speak. Admit it, Barre. Matrix!
BARRE: Factors, Lynn. Just factors. Little dots. Get connected by people like me. I seek it out. I look insane to people like you, yes. You want to keep things just so. But the whole ball of twine’s unraveling, and you and your African stockbroker and me and everyone else is going to be thrown this way and that –
LYNN: I’m so glad you avoid the Revelations Ranters, Jeremiah.
BARRE: Touché. I’m no Jeremiah, nor a Cassandra. Just a lowly grasshopper in between the fragile butterfly and the dung beetle.
LYNN: Insects, now! Insects, Barre?
BARRE: Language, Lynn. Poetry, the ineffable. We don’t even know one one-hundredth of our power. And it’s time we reconnect with it. You put it off. Makes sense, I suppose. For the moment. Until it doesn’t.
LYNN: You should know the County Sheriff’s going to come a callin’ for you.
BARRE: Whatever.
LYNN: I’m talking jail, and you say “whatever?” Jail doesn’t scare you?
BARRE: 3 Hots and a Cot? I hear jail has some of the nicest people.
LYNN: You never watched Oz I can tell.
BARRE: Oh, there are the crazies, of course. You figure out who they are quick enough. But I can’t tell you how many folks I’ve met who got through it with some wisdom to spare. Sure, it’s not great — your time’s not your own, lousy living conditions and all. But there are worse things. Like being a stockbroker. Or, my god, dating one!
LYNN: Ha. Ha. Ha.
BARRE: So, County Sheriff may come for tea. He’s got a place. I’ll fix her up some grub same as you.
LYNN: I will never get this . . . person here, as long as I live.
BARRE: Think the steaks are ready.
LYNN: Fine. Let’s see what this elk business is all about.
BARRE: Yep. Eating elk. Next best thing to joining the Elks.
LYNN: I care not to pursue where that might lead.
SCENE SIX:
IN DARKNESS, an image of a Galaxy appears to hover on the back wall
STAR GODDESS (voiceover): Burbling up from the bottomless depths, I send messages. Constantly birthing, constantly creating. Yes, I destroy too. Sometimes I don’t care about how valuable an individual or even an entire species is to a system. I’m the great force, underlying all creation, all destruction. I am God, as surely as I created the universe at the beginning, and I am in all things, of all things. All things are of me, in me. All things are me. Much change occurs on the third planet from a start called “the Sun” by many on that orb. The easy joy of the planet herself – she can give generously, she takes away as is her desire, her need. An abundance exists for those with wisdom enough to behold it. Heaven is not a place in the future, after the death has taken hold. It is no vapor dream for beyond one’s mortal coil. It is the life fully embraced and lived to its fullest.
Lights rise. ANDRYNS, a young man dressed part Target, part neo-indigenous, stands on a platform with CORVA-CRONE, an older strangely dressed woman. She plays a drum, while he strums a guitar. 2 screen stage left and right. The Duo play their instruments and sing:
ANDRYNS/CORVA-CRONE
THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE
The man coulda known what hit him,
back in those early fateful days
at the beginning of the millennium
before sparks started up the blaze.
And the woman working in cubicle
Keeping nosed locked into screen
who ignored the tremors, the prickle
who got lost in betwixt, between
See the waves do crash
See the first that bash
See the banksters flee
The glee MZB
as they shoot their guns
at their chosen ones
that means you and I
would get cast aside.
Children of stressed out boomers
gave good witness to all the flaws
of the culture of abscessed tumors
locked in strangely iron laws
They did choose to put their energies
into joy, play and nature’s grace
and deprived the vEmpire their surges
quickened thuggerment’s death race.
Yes, they tried to force
plans with no remorse
inculcating fear
into those so dear,
backfire biggest time
red-handed their crimes
did incinerate
the most reprobate.
(As they sing this song, once or twice, we see over on the screen, a title card “LYNN & CHIKEMBE, A HOME MOVIE” appears. What follows is the screenplay of the film.
IN A PARK
LYNN & CHIKEMBE, a handsome, well-dressed professional African fellow, walk down a tree-lined lane. Romantic.
THEY pass out of frame, and the camera pans down the walk where a fire can be seen in the near distance.
AT AN OUTDOOR MALL
They eat ice cream as they window shop. The camera abruptly stops filming right when TWO PICKET SIGNS come into view – “Down with MALLCO MANAGEMENT” and “FAIR PAY, FAIR PLAY, FAIR SAY!”
IN A NEW HOUSE
They move in. MOVERS take in all sorts of objects and boxes from their various lives into the house. Lynn waves hello and takes in a lamp.
Two Movers move in a couch. Chikembe guides them, but one of the movers loses his handling. The couch slides toward the camera, which loses the image and careens wildly elsewhere.
Footage of grass up close. Then of grass getting a distance. Then we see a ruined neighborhood, just for a quick moment: boarded up buildings and ruins. Armed SECURITY OFFICERS with submachine-guns.
CHIKEMBE’s smiling face. A little wild, perhaps angry.
ON AN AIRFIELD
Lynn and Chikembe stand and wave, outside a small jet with a smiling captain. They board.
The plane takes off as missiles shoot up behind the plane.
(On the stage right screen, the following series of images plays, rendered as if they were scenes from a storybook Passion of Christ.)
BARRE warms hands over a barrel near a HOMELESS COUPLE.
GENERIC WHITE PROFESSIONAL points at spot as BARRE holds a mop.
TWO COPS with flashlights, BARRE inside a Cutaway Pipe.
SUBURBAN TATTOO PEOPLE OF WAL-MART point in unison behind BARREE who proudly struts away from them.
BARRE sitting peacefully under a tree, a medicine wheel set up around the scene.
BARRE staring wide-eyed at a bear on hind legs.
BARRE and the BEAR snuggled together by the tree.
BARRE and a tribe of Neotribals, post national folk. Home at last.
SCENE SEVEN:
A clearing in a forest. BARRE helps ANDRYNS with a straw bale wall.
ANDRYNS: I don’t think they’re thinking it through though.
BARRE: No, they’re not. The towers do suck, granted. But we need them still.
ANDRYNS: They do hurt the wilderness, it’s true. You can see the radiation’s effects. Heck sometimes I think I can even see the radiation itself! But we can’t act rashly because—
BARRE: I know, Andryns, I know. I’m with you.
ANDRYNS: Are you?
BARRE: I have to listen to both sides and give impartial impressions. People have begun to trust me, against better judgment.
ANDRYNS: I know that’s true. People trusting you. And the better judgment too.
BARRE: The crow clan has strong feelings. They can’t be dismissed. Feelings have power, and need to work with the whole system. But we must allow for all voices.
ANDRYNS: Sometimes I wish you’d just banish them.
BARRE: Like I have that sort of power! Ha! Wouldn’t want it anyways. We need all sorts of people, and you need to look at how you handle conflict, young fellow. You’re not the boss of anyone, and neither am I.
ANDRYNS: Yes, boss.
BARRE: Hey!
(LYNN sneaks into the scene, a bit bedraggled, delirious with terror. Sees the two Neotribals and cowers in shrubbery out of their sight. BARRE cocks his head thoughtfully.)
ANDRYNS: Whose house is going here?
BARRE: Dora and Trapper, I think.
ANDRYNS: Dora and Trapper. Ah, the old geezers.
BARRE: Old geezers? They’re both 35! What does that make me?
ANDRYNS: Ancient regime.
BARRE: Hmph. So, how is the training with Chantal-Corva going?
ANDRYNS: I don’t know how all this is going to work. This ESP thing. I think – Oh. Are you – ? Huh.
(ANDRYNS frowns, BARRE grins)
I didn’t know I could do that.
(ANDRYNS turns and looks at the shrubbery. BARRE nods the head.)
Should I?
(BARRE shakes head, “no.” Walks near to the shrubbery.)
BARRE: Lynn? I know you’re there. I’ve been waiting for you.
(LYNN sobs from shrubbery.)
SCENE EIGHT:
A little bit later. CHANTAL-CORVA, a bitter, salty crone, late 40s/early 50s, puts together a decoction from various pouches on her person. BARRE holds LYNN close. They sit on battered lawn furniture.
CHANTAL-CORVA: This one’s been through a lot.
BARRE: Lynn, my Lynn… Shh…
CHANTAL-CORVA: Throw him/her back, I say.
BARRE: Chantal-Corva, mind your own business. You don’t know what this one is capable of.
CHANTAL-CORVA: One of the discredited ones. Can smell it. Anyone can tell.
BARRE: #1 guided the path, Chan.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Oh, you think you’re that – Oh. Well, I guess you – Er …
BARRE: Some of us have to walk the distended path, Chan. Lynn believed things ought to be easy street, just like everyone else.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Yeah, look where that got us.
BARRE: We are still open to folks. We’re no closed shop yet. Heck, we took you and your nest in, don’t forget.
CHANTAL-CORVA: And it’s the bane of the Corvus tribe’s existence.
BARRE: Well, it’s for as long as we all agree upon it. Schism is built into the system we’ve created. Some of you may stay, others will go, and some of us may even go with those who choose to move on.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Change is the Goddess.
BARRE: Sure. You bet.
(She brings the decoction over to LYNN and BARRE.)
Smells splendid.
CHANTAL-CORVA: It will gag the throat. Needs to go down quick.
BARRE: Leave it here. I’ll see it gets consumed.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Hope you know what you’re doing.
(CHANTAL-CORVA exits.)
BARRE: I’m sure I do. Lynn, oh Lynn. How I’ve missed you.
(BARRE rocks LYNN, who clutches onto her/him in his/her delirium.)
(Lights go black. Lights rise and LYNN and BARRE spoon.)
SCENE NINE:
Same as before, only morning. LYNN and BARRE sit up. The decoction has been drunk, and the cup lays on its side on the ground.
BARRE: Ready to take in food?
(LYNN nods. BARRE goes off, returns with a plate of beans and bread which LYNN devours.)
Well, Crow Clan hits another bullseye.
LYNN: I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you.
BARRE: You can do both if you like.
LYNN: I bet you made all this happen.
BARRE: Just added my energy into the puppy pile. The energy was there, but it needed to be directed by some adults. Though I can hardly take all the credit, for there were many mages involved in this working.
LYNN: What makes you think you’re so adult?
BARRE: I’m still here ain’t I?
LYNN: Not saying much.
BARRE: I would disagree with that. You’re a miracle though.
LYNN: I just got by through my wits and luck.
BARRE: Those Tiger Beaters almost did you in though.
LYNN: If it weren’t for that pipe falling, I’d be – Hey! How did you know – ?
BARRE: Same way I know about the mysterious light that guided you and Chikembe out of the Deutsche Bank-Novartis Southgate Mall debacle. I sent it to you.
LYNN: That was – Chikembe said –
BARRE: That it was an odd phosphorus effect. Yes, well I had to use what was available. That’s how these things work, you know.
LYNN: What are you saying? Bare, don’t scare me.
BARRE: Just that there’s more beauty to this heaven than it has seemed. Leaving the vampire life behind was the best thing I ever did. And the scariest. But it had to happen so that I could find who I really am. And lead others to their own gifts. When they’re open to them. I wonder when or if you will come around.
LYNN: Oh, there is NO way I’m staying here!
BARRE: Great. Tell me your plans then. You made it here, and then – where to? Paris? Phuket? Or maybe the clear waters off Madagascar.
LYNN: Don’t you make fun of me.
BARRE: Lynn, at some point you’re gong to have to move past the attachment to the way things were. That’s all done, all gone. All behind us.
LYNN: Don’t you tell me what to do. It’s going to come back. You’ll be the fool then.
BARRE: The dollar is done. The currency system is bust. The geopolitical –
LYNN: That’s you! Always the naysayer.
BARRE: Want more?
LYNN: All you have is beans?
BARRE: You need to eat light for now. When was the last time you had a meal? No response, eh? Well. You should have a goodly amount of water too. Get your strength. For wherever you plan on going next. For now, we give you shelter.
LYNN: I’ll take some more beans then. Broth?
BARRE: We’ve got some stock simmering even as we speak. And a little bit of apple juice, though not much. And not right away.
LYNN: It’s not like I have the flu.
BARRE: We don’t want you to get sick. Besides we watch our portions carefully. Not because we’re food poor, but because it’s better for us to do so.
LYNN: Where are you going?
BARRE: You need to spend a little time alone with your thoughts, dear. Well, at least I need you to. Word to the wise, watch and observe the doings here. Don’t be quick to judge. There’s lots like high school, but it’s the other stuff you need to ponder. There’s more going on here than meets the eye.
LYNN: I told you not to tell me what to do!
BARRE: Oh, Lynn.
(Leaves.)
LYNN: Thinks s/he’s the boss of me!
SCENE TEN:
A fire pit. LYNN sits with CHANTAL-CORVA who tends the fire.
CHANTAL-CORVA: So, Barre and you were a couple.
LYNN: That’s the rumor.
CHANTAL-CORVA: He says he brought you here.
LYNN: He’s full of it.
(CHANTAL-CORVA scowls, strikes LYNN with her walking stick.)
Ow! What’d you do that for?
CHANTAL-CORVA: We do not speak ill of our elders here. And Barre is powerful. I believe him, that he protected you. Why, for Goddess sake, is beyond me.
LYNN: Fine. Be that way.
CHANTAL-CORVA: You are still attached to the Path of Trials and Vampirism.
LYNN: Oh, please. Stop with the mystico-primitive crapola already.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Listen, hon. It’s a hard journey from where we were. In our Crow Clan, we long ago took the road of the homeless warrior. We waited for the days when all of it would fall apart, which was as inevitable as the sun coming up from our estimation. The sooner you understand that not only is that Path of Destruction not coming back but that it’s a good thing, the better off you will be. Though I don’t see any hope of such possibility entering into being.
LYNN: The experts have assured us that –
CHANTAL-CORVA(derisively laughing): Experts! Did you say “experts?” Bwahaha! No such thing! Well-paid yes men, charlatans each one and dreaming they can coddle us sleeping giants while some enterprising prisoners get their mass inoculations ready to pacify the rest of us or push us into early graves. Your so called experts—guards in the distribution camp.
LYNN: Great. I get to sit at the fire with a loony conspiracy theorist.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Go ahead, friend. Go to that place. Barre won’t rip away your denial because he loves you. But I have no such reticence. If you are going to remain here for any length of time, you will need to learn our ground rules. That is why I’m here. To instruct you whether you like it or not.
LYNN: Fine. I’m not asking for special treatment. I don’t intend on staying.
CHANTAL-CORVA: I look forward to your departure. In any case, the #1 rule is life on life’s terms. Which means you toughen up, whether you like it or not.
(ANDRYNS and SHIMMER-FIRE, an older gent (played perhaps by the same actor playing DAVE) enter carrying two buckets of potatoes apiece.)
Thank you Shimmer-Fire and Andryns.
LYNN: That’s a lot of potatoes.
ANDRYNS: Eight more of these are coming.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Yes, these beauties are but the first.
(SHIMMER-FIRE hands LYNN a peeler.)
SHIMMER-FIRE: For you, m’dear.
LYNN: Oh, this is the last straw!
SCENE ELEVEN:
A clearing a little before nigthtfall. LYNN, BARRE, ANDRYNS and CHANTAL-CORVA sit in fire-light.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Don’t forget to breathe. Meeting a guide can be a surprising experience.
ANDRYNS: When I first started this, I thought I was a fool. For them this comes naturally.
BARRE: This sort of thing has been a bone of contention between Lynn and me. Lynn thinks I’m crazy.
LYNN: Thinks?
CHANTAL-CORVA: Shh! I demand quiet.
BARRE: Chantal, remember our agreement.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Just who is leading this working?
ANDRYNS: There’s no one way to do this. Maybe for you, but we –
CHANTAL-CORVA: Well, if this is going to be anarchic chatter based, then I’ll just go off on my own.
(CHANTAL-CORVA exits. BARRE and ANDRYNS let their eyes lose focus while LYNN sits there uncomfortable in the ensuing silence. Fidgets. Sounds of the forest at night.)
LYNN: This is going to drive me crazy.
BARRE: Lynn, pick out a sound. Any sound and stay with it.
(LYNN scowls and starts to listen. Is about to speak when there is a loud pecking of a woodpecker. LYNN looks around. ANDRYNS and BARRE remain unfocused. LYNN eventually spots a woodpecker somewhere over the audience. Sits thoughtfully and watches. It makes more drilling sounds. The lights dim on BARRE and ANDRYNS, highlighting LYNN.)
LYNN: It’s like a jackhammer. Gee. How original, Lynn. Cute little birdie though. Looks only a little bit like the cartoon. Woody. Guess he’s a certain kind. Or maybe it’s a female. Woodeen. Ha-ha-heh-HA-ha! Ha-ha-heh-HA-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaah! Hmm. The trees smell fragrant. But I’m still pissed off. Barre, bane of my existence. Says I was protected. Big laugh that. Almost died three or four times. Protected, sheesh! It is quiet here. Peaceful. Give me the hustle-bustle of New York or Los Angeles or even Buffalo! A city. Huh. Well, given how complicated it all seems today, maybe not. Huh. Woodpecker what do you think?
(DAVE, or rather, “HUSTON,” sidles in, wearing a different fishing hat and whistling “Sentimental Journey.” He holds two fishing reels)
Um, I …
DAVE/HUSTON
Hey there, kiddo. Whaddayasay?
LYNN: I – whoa. Um. Are you uh, Dave then?
HUSTON: Call me Huston there, Lynn. Pard’ner!
LYNN: You’re like the guide Barre said –
HUSTON: Different fellow, cool cat. I’m Huston.
LYNN: I had a great-uncle named Huston. You’re not him are you?
HUSTON: If we had some kind of relationship, you’d know. Don’t you think?
LYNN: I’ve heard stories. You’re contrary like Uncle Huston was.
HUSTON: Hey, what you choose to do is all right; just I don’t want you to categorize me. Later, you do what you want. Just get to know me first.
LYNN: I wasn’t sure what to expect. Andrys’s guide turns out to be Henry David Thoreau.
HUSTON: Oh, a famous guy huh? Nope. Not me. It’s more likely you’d get an everyday mystic like myself. One if you saw walk past you on the street, you’d just think I was another old geezer. Consider yourself blessed.
LYNN: I didn’t think it mattered if someone was famous.
HUSTON: Oh, it doesn’t. But it can interfere with direct connection. Same as if I was a distant relation. For now, I’m just Huston. I like to sit by a lake and fish.
(HUSTON hands LYNN a fishing reel. HUSTON casts the reel as LYNN “takes in the lake.”)
Beautiful day for fishing, don’t you think?
(LYNN casts the reel, sits and contemplates this quiet experience.)
This is how the messages come. In the calm. Just relax, Lynn.
(LYNN nods head. A light streams down from above for 20-30 seconds. Then the stage dims but doesn’t completely go black. Fractals appear, along with nautilus shells, and other Mandelbrot/golden mean images. Lights return to normal, and BARRE, LYNN and ANDRYNS are back in their positions. BARRE and ANDRYNS are awake and aware, while LYNN wakens from trance.)
BARRE: Andryns, I think we’ve had success.
ANDRYNS: Can’t wait to hear all about it – if you want to say anything that is. But you don’t have to.
SCENE TWELVE:
CHANTAL-CORVA, BARRE, LYNN and ANDRYNS sit in a circle, making a thatched roof.
CHANTAL-CORVA: I’m not sure there’s anything I’d like to salvage. Except for parts of course.
ANDRYNS: Business there, though. Always being able to retool and reconfigure is a skill and a passion.
BARRE: There’s absolutely nothing you’ll miss, O mighty Crone?
CHANTAL-CORVA: I do miss supermarkets. Kind of. Only the convenience, but it wasn’t something that could exist forever, was it? Give me a pony and a unicorn, already!
LYNN: Oh, that’s so unfair!
ANDRYNS: I don’t miss them so much. Though strawberries and pineapples in January – I did kind of like that. Also some music that we don’t have access to anymore.
CHANTAL-CORVA: But we can make our own music. Create our own sound. And we can create a natural supermarket like our way-back ancestors did once several hundred generations ago.
ANDRYNS: Who knows what we’ll make happen here. How will it be different in Colorado or Florida in twenty years.
BARRE: It’ll be closer to our own region. I will miss some of the cosmopolitan aspects. The lights on Broadway, the glitz of Rodeo Drive. But they don’t have to go away, at least completely.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Bite your tongue, Elder Barre. If we want the good life, the really good life, it ALL has to change.
BARRE: No argument from me. I’m saying what I’ll miss, not that I’ll be disconsolate.
LYNN: I don’t know if I can have this conversation. I liked it the way it was.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Oh, really? I could never have guessed.
BARRE: Crony’s cynicism aside, Lynn, you got a lot of what’s now passed into the history books, and without so much as a how-do-you-do.
ANDRYNS: If there will even be history books. How will history classes work these days?
LYNN: I did get a lot. I liked democracy. And Hollywood movies, as well as indies. And Broadway too, and the Olympics. College. Cruises. There were lots of things I liked.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Pah! Democracy. That was such a lie. Dumb-ocracy more like it, liberty for the greed-heads.
LYNN: I liked modern architecture. Frank Lloyd Wright. Interior design.
ANDRYNS: We can still have interior design in our yurts! Heck, we can make patterns in this roof we’re making now!
CHANTAL-CORVA: If you look carefully, you’ll see one I’m doing.
LYNN: Yurts! That’s not who I am. It made my heart sad to see homes I thought were beautiful just rot over time. Surprised how fast all those McMansions fell into disrepair, but that’s not what I speak of.
ANDRYNS: Those prefab crab-boxes falling apart’s no surprise. Ticky-tacky construction and rushed together development. Stoopid. It’s hard to watch things you like go away, though. Die. Never to come back. Saturday morning kids programs. Power tools. Poof!
LYNN: And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? Goodbye to highways and gated communities, sure. Digital clocks blinking. Cellphones.
BARRE: You’re describing a heaven there, Lynnie.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Amen!
LYNN: Well, I don’t call this heaven. I see how things are changing. And I’m adjusting myself to it, but I don’t have to like it.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Just so long as you don’t make it difficult for the rest of us, sweetheart. Wehrever the trances may take you, it is helping. I can see that, and that person makes him/herself more inviting to the emergent situation.
BARRE: Chantal-Corva, Lynn knows, s/he knows.
LYNN: Yes, yes, yes. But this Lynn is also still here, and as far as I can tell I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. So “Greta Garbo, and Monroe. Dietrich and DiMaggio. Marlon Brando, Jimmy Dean. On the cover of movie screen.”
(CHANTAL-CORVA sticks out her tongue, and cackles quietly to herself.)
BARRE: Grow up! Lynn, you have a place here. You will set it yourself. You are needed.
ANDRYNS: Hey, I saw a shooting star.
LYNN: Me too. Was that – ?
BARRE: A sign.
(CHANTAL-CORVA scowls.)
SCENE THIRTEEN:
Late morning in the forest. LYNN sits at an easel painting. ANDRYNS enters, carrying a bag of miscellaneous hardware, sees LYNN, stops and watches for a moment. Nods, satisfied, curious. Goes off. CHANTAL-CORVA enters, sees LYNN at the easel, oblivious to others’ presence. LYNN happens to look up, sees CHANTAL-CORVA. Frostiness. CHANTAL-CORVA breaks the moment, searching for . . .
CHANTAL-CORVA: Truffles. . . . I know you’re lurking.
LYNN: They’re in a different field, you know.
CHANTAL-CORVA: I know what I know.
LYNN: That could be a song. You’re just curious about what I’m making here.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Wall tiles, perhaps?
LYNN: Look at it, if you dare.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Dare! Hah! I have better things to do.
LYNN: Suit yourself.
(BARRE enters, wearing a carpentry belt. Strides over to LYNN, looks at the painting.)
BARRE: Goodness!
LYNN: Oh! Barre, you startled me.
BARRE: I’m sorry, Lynn. That’s quite – is this something you remember?
LYNN: I don’t know. More the way I imagine it, if the radio reports are correct.
BARRE: The level of detail. Those eyes, those looks of pain.
LYNN
(resigned)
Yes.
BARRE: What brought this on?
LYNN: It’s been coming. I didn’t want to face the reality, and it’s still overwhelming. Who can see whether our little arrangement here in the mountains will survive? Yet this is the first time I’ve really been able to feel a part of a community. As disgruntled as we all are, as prickly and obstreperous, myself included. Yet we’re still a part of, aren’t we?
(CHANTAL-CORVA’s about to say–)
Over some people’s loud objections.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Just saying! For the record.
LYNN: And then that news report – news being really “olds.” 4 months ago. Wow.
BARRE: News now travels at an early 19th century pace.
LYNN: Guess this ain’t the stone age, but it’s no technotopia either. Not that that was ever possible. Regrettably.
BARRE: Life on life’s terms. Our species. Gets to grow up for what it’s worth.
(SHIMMER FIRE and an excited ANDRYNS enter carrying lumber. ANDRYNS points SHIMMER FIRE to LYNN’s work)
ANDRYNS: See? What’d I tell you?
SHIMMER FIRE: That’s – is that the fall of New York then?
BARRE: I thought it was Washington.
LYNN: Actually, it’s no specific city. Washington, New York. Paris, even if you notice a couple of details here and there. As well as out of the way places like Provo and Rochester.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Minnesota or New York?
SHIMMER FIRE: Vermont!
LYNN: Whichever one you want. It’s the larger field. Look over here.
BARRE: Marilyn Monroe?
ANDRYNS: Who dat? Just kidding. He was that goth guy right?
SHIMMER FIRE: Somehow I don’t think he’s funning us.
(CHANTAL-CORVA strikes her own head, shakes it, snorts.)
ANDRYNS: That Princess Di?
LYNN: Yes. And that’s Bill Wilson, founder of AA. Here is Ernest Hemingway, and of course Oprah. And Pope John Paul the First, the unknown saint.
BARRE: What is this then, Lynn?
LYNN: The Fall of Our Culture. All blown up, all melting away. All going wildly into a darkest night.
(Now curious, CHANTAL-CORVA strides over and looks at LYNN’s work. Shock. After a moment she starts crying, then wailing.)
Oh, my.
SHIMMER FIRE: Well, this is most unexpected. Honey, are you all right?
BARRE: Lynn, it’s like Tchelitchew.
CHANTAL-CORVA: Exactly. Who’s Tchelitchew?
BARRE: Hold on. I’ll get my old MOMA book. I saved it for some weird reason unbeknownst to me.
(Exits.)
LYNN: I see what you’re saying, Barre.
CHANTAL-CORVA: This is a masterwork. Why you? No matter. It’s not up to me to judge. This is Goddess’ will.
LYNN: I’m positive you’re right about that. I certainly wouldn’t do this unless I was driven.
(BARRE enters with a battered MOMA catalogue. Pages to the index and then forward. Finds the page.)
BARRE: There. See?
ANDRYNS: Whoa, trippy!
SHIMMER FIRE: Makes me think of some bad trips I went on in the Haight. Back in the day.
ANDRYNS: How 2008!
BARRE: More like 1938.
ANDRYNS: That one baby’s shrieking. And the little girl – is she climbing a tree?
CHANTAL-CORVA: Looks like she’s falling into an abyss.
LYNN: Adjust your eyes a little. Take it all in.
CHANTAL-CORVA: That’s a face!
(ANDRYNS and SHIMMER FIRE gasp.)
LYNN: You know, if I just –
(LYNN makes a few brush strokes and CHANTAL-CORVA falls to her knees.)
ANDRYNS: Oh . . . Gawd!
BARRE: Well well well. Looks like you’ve come a long way, Lynn.
LYNN: All the good it does me.
CHANTAL-CORVA: You are much wiser than you ever knew.
LYNN: OK, now give me some space, everyone.
BARRE: Lynn’s not used to people turning on a dime. Not even him/herself.
(CHANTAL-CORVA starts to exit toward the direction where ANDYRNS and SHIMMER FIRE entered.)
CHANTAL-CORVA (declamatory): Come all ye Corvus clan, and Orsus Clan. All ye clans, hark! We have a Master Work emerging here. Come one, come all. See The Fall of the West!
(Exits)
LYNN: I think –
BARRE: Yes?
LYNN: I’m done being sad.
(BARRE nods. Lights dim as the image of “Cache-Cache” by Pavel Tchelitchew appears on the two screens from the interlude.)
END OF PLAY
