I've been thinking about change alot today, changing my mind, changing my feelings, changing Standing Room Only. I found myself asking questions, questions about my goals artistcally and emotionally, questions about was this writing Worth the Time and questions about where I want to take Standing Room Only, including just giving it up.

Instead I decided this was an opportunity to push myself, find a way to Kick It Up a Notch. I've decided what I wanted to do next was post the script of one of my Plays.

The play I'm going to post is called The Goddess and is the third of three full-length plays I've written. I wrote my first play Oz ten years ago and it was staged at the York Theater at the Citicorp Building in New York City.

When I started Oz, I'd never written a play. I actually wrote it then bought several books about Playwrighting to see if I'd "done it right". The First Reader was a friend who was in the B'Way Production of Tommy and to our amazement, he loved it and arranged my First Reading with members of Tommy as the cast.

After the reading, I rewrote Oz and eventually gave it to a Director Friend to read and promptly forgot about it. Two months later, he calls to say the Creative Director at the York was a friend he'd passed my script to and they were interested.

I was incredibly lucky and the play was a success. In the seven years since, I've completed two other plays. The most recent, The Goddess, I wrote and completed last year.

As for posting here, I've been toying with how to present The Goddess. Plays are, like movies, dependant on chronology and are written to possess a specific period of time. You sit down to watch a play or movie and except for extreme circumstances, expect to reach the conclusion in a few hours. However, like books, theater is also timeless. When you read a book, you immerse yourself and inhabit an internal world and plays are dependent on that same "suspension of belief".

I'm giving my loyal SRO readers the benefit of a doubt and let you work out the logistics of how you read. I'm posting by scene, a scene a day from the Opening to the end of Act One and maybe take an "Intermission" before Act Two and Curtain. I'll post Scene One here and just post a graphic with New Scenes, linking to the PlayPage in chronological order. That way if you Hate The Goddess but want to look for Naked Pictures, you can just Skip It. Make any sense? It will.

For some reason this is a Big Deal for me. Earlier today I'd felt so Ick about the whole "Blogosphere" and instead of succumbing to my natural Urge to Withdraw, I've decided to take the Opposite Route and post something Very Dear. Writing a play is like giving birth and because I'm committed to my self-expression more than Numbers, starting Monday I'm going to show you my Third Child, The Goddess.

9:00:45 PM    sro home /

"My childhood was bleak.", the poetic opening line of Mame Dennis's fictional autobiography in Auntie Mame. And so, "My blogging day was bleak.". Bleak in that weathered, blustery Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights kind of way, not that Fab Jil Sanders kind of way. I wandered the lonely moors of writing, looking for some signs of intelligent life.

I looked for my traveling companions, my "comrades", my Fraternity Brothers and Sisters of Gotta Writa Blog.

"Hail to thee of the GWB,

Our fingers click to you!

Our words have gone to Ol' Salon,

And pine for something New!"

Ah... Good Times.

Alas, no Kowpie, no Hoback, noone to sit with at the dark bar, smoking a Dunhill while stirring the ice in our Crisp Gin 'n Tonics.

"Remember when...?"

"Aye, Hugh, I do. Indeed I do."

Finally, Scotty passes by on his swift ten-speed, metal basket bulging with Important Papers and Urgent Memos, his shrill bell scaring away the waddling geese. Bringing, my heavy heart hopes, Good News!

Alas, nothing. Not one fucking little thing. Nada. Nunya. Nilch.

Ok, he was Number One on your List of Salon Blog Reasons to Run Like The Wind.

But I was hoping to make him change! I did it, well, cause I care!

Care, shmare. This is another fine mess you've gotten us in.

I'm now standing on the clift overlooking the tempest Atlantic beating it's mighty waves of inspiration against the cold, unfeeling shores. Nice coat, btw. Very sort of Gaultier, knee length, nice black wool. I look rather dashing, if I say so myself.

Dashing but sad. Angry yet pensive. Tortured yet strangely aware of the distant misty horizon.

4:51:14 PM    sro home /

Hey 1930's Black Cartoon Woman.

Hey Baby.

Thanks for coming by SRO.

Well sounded like you could use a hand after all the shit hit the fan.

Heh heh. Yeah, pretty wild stuff.

I hear that.

I was talking yesterday about name-calling. Anything to add?

Child, please. You know what they wanted me to do? They were having me play Snow White. Snow White! Honey, do I look "Snow White" to you? Shit.

Well...

Exactly. I told those Mutha-fuckas "uh-uh". I ain't having no Snow White shit where I get to be the Film Nigga and you get to make all the money. Talking about "We'll make you a star" and shit. Star my ass. They still made me come in the back door with all the Little Bunny Cartoons. Miss Snow White just waltzed right in the front door, all Grand and shit like she was the Queen of Siam.

Sounds like it got you pretty pissed.

Damn straight. Those Mutha-Fuckas treated me like I was some two-dollar Ho.

It sucks when people stereotype.

You telling me? Honey, my Momma told me one thing, "God don't like ugly." Ugly is as Ugly does and I was not having it.

You look alot more fun than the Other Snow White.

Sure ain't hard. That bitch was like Sweet Tea, all sugar and no flavor.

I like the Evil Queen in that movie.

She weren't much better. Telling me to go get her some coffee. Get your own damn coffee, Woman! Do I look like your Maid?

Well, uh, all in the past now! Heh heh.

Child, when you been treated like that, it ain't never in the past. Everytime I see that bitch I wanna slap her to next week.

You think that's what I shoulda done?

Hell no! "God bless the child that's got his own."

Billy Holliday.

And you know Miss Holiday was called names.

True.

Child, you got your own. You've got friends here too. Didn't you get lots of those E-Mails saying how people were behind you?

Yeah, I did actually.

Hello. You gonna be just fine Honey.

Well thanks for the support.

Queen of Pomp. Shit. I'd rather be Queen of Anything than some Lame-Asssed Mutha-Fucka sitting around moaning all day. I'd have knocked some sense into that bitch.

Uh, ok.

Cocksucka, my ass.

Uh, well, maybe I should let you go.

Ok Baby. You be strong now. You do your thing and to hell with those Sons-a-Bitches.

Ok.

I'll see you soon.

Bye Miss 1930's Black Cartoon Woman.

Bye Baby. I love ya.

Love you too.

10:21:00 AM    sro home /

12:04:28 AM    sro home /