Lines

 
 

For all those keeping count, this list that I started here last year has now got more lines through it. Not as many lines as I would like but the lines and me will always have a fractious relationship.

Fractious.

I am so freaking smart.

List One

Short plays that need minor rewrite/tweaks.

       Sugar

       Normal is the Enemy now called The Enemy

       Ordinary Tuesday

       Night declared Day

       Darkness Cut

       Ignorance

       Breath

       Sophie in the Water

List Two

Short Plays that need another complete draft

        Love

        Lost and Found

        No Fish, No Father now called Couch

        For the Defence – Butterfly Evans

        Cut the Lime outline for new draft done.

        Morning Millicent

List Three

Short Plays that need to be written or rewritten completely

        New Coffee Shop Play

        People, Places, Things

        Dead Man Speaks half re-written

        Marcus & Sally Play

        In the Blood

        Sauce

        Breakfast with Others

Things I've heard "bosses" say to "secretaries"

• I don't know my life, ask my secretary.
• Really? Today? … Hey Secretary, why didn't you tell me it's my son's birthday.
• Hey Secretary, can you call my wife, she likes speaking to you.
• My secretary is stuck on a train so I have no idea where I am supposed to be right now … In court? Really? Crap.
• My secretary is having a baby … I know. How much maternity leave are we giving out these days? Really? Crap.
• Hey Secretary can you call my mistress, she likes speaking to you.
• Hey Secretary … oh, you know … Don't you?
• Hey Secretary. I just came to your desk. You weren't there. Please don't ever not be there.
  

Stalker Girl

It is fast becoming apparent to me that I am becoming obsessed with my trip to New York. Like stalker obsessed and really there should be a program, with steps, for people like me.

Evidence:

1. I cannot stop thinking about New York. I cannot stop thinking about myself in New York. I can see myself walking down the streets. I don't even know what the streets look like but there I am. Weird.
2. I have snorted every website that mentions New York and now it all runs through my veins. I know more about New York than anyone. Go on. Test me.
3. The only way I can sleep is if I think about New York.
4. I am being organised (which never happens) in order to get to New York and have the experience I want.
5. I am not nice to be around at the moment. This is mainly because I am not in New York.
6. I like saying, thinking, writing the words New York. I like it to the point of obsession.
   
   11 sleeps to go.
   
   

A Public Announcement

Things not to do on a crowded train:

1. Fart. Obviously. Or, in some case, not obviously, which is why I'm pointing it out. Squeeze people. Squeeze. Don't ask me to explain what to squeeze. Call your mother if confused.
2. Lean your great hulking body against the rail that is there for us all to hold. a) you're selfish, let's just admit it. b) you are damn right I am going to push you out of the way. See a) to reason why.
3. Backpacks. Chances are you are not going on a wilderness trek on a Wednesday morning. If you are, then you have multiple issues that I don't think I have time to deal with. If you are not going on a wilderness trek then please resist the urge to bring onto a crowded train a backpack that would fit a reasonably sized refugee family. You do not need all that stuff to get through one day at work. You're at work. Do some work. Keep your work at work. And I know, as we all know, that's not work in your Himalayan expedition with a quick trek to the Antarctic backpack.
4. Do not break up with your boyfriend on the train. You would think this is obvious but oh no, and I am talking to you Partygirl2134 with your impossibly straight hair and six layers of makeup. Do not conduct the private business of your relationship on the train. Do not tell your boyfriend who is desperately trying to sink into the crowd that he has a small dick. Do not tell him that you called him 5 times last night and all you got was his stupid Southpark voice message. Don’t tell him that Southpark is stupid, because it's not. Don't tell him to shut up when he tries to answer your questions. Don't tell him that if you had a gun, you would shoot him. That makes us all nervous. Don’t tell him he was an incredibly bad fuck and his brother is way better in bed than he is. That makes us all laugh and does terrible things to your boyfriend's self esteem. Don't do any of this, and if you have to do it, then don't do it on the bloody train. What the fuck is wrong with you?
5. Children. Do not bring children in oversized prams onto a train at peak hour. Call me whatever names you want, you know it's wrong. Think your life through a bit more.
6. Do not see this as an opportunity to hook up. I know I am pressed up against you, I know that in any other situation this would look like I could be naked in thirteen seconds flat and show you all my 'skills'. But that is not this situation. I'm going to my job. I hate my job. There is nothing that will get me naked at this point.

Right. Are we all sorted? Good. I'll see you all tomorrow morning.

Jobs

So, the suck has returned. Because sometimes it all gets just that little bit too much, and you start to think you're never going to make it, and you're not half as funny as you think you are, and you suck at trivia nights even though you have a fancy degree, and you're quite ugly compared to everyone else because you realise you never look good in the mirror in the elevator and it's hard not to look good in a tiny moving space, it's really really hard, and you have nothing interesting to say but you're a writer so you better have something interesting to say and every time you tell your father that you have a play on the first question he asks "And how much does that pay?" and 'they' still haven't listed that as a reasonable excuse for patricide and you're starting to feel old, like old old, and tired and you still haven't got anything interesting to say and you want to buy stuff but you know it's just stuff and so you look at the people that have stuff and don't know it's just stuff and you're jealous.

I blame this on jobs. I hate jobs. Sorry? Oh, you didn't hear me. I said, I HATE JOBS! Yeah, I know you do to. Or perhaps you don't. Perhaps you accept jobs as the way of the world and just get on with it. You own stuff too, don't you? Thought so.

Eight hours (and that's without the travel which is a specific and particularly evil form of torture that we will leave to another day) of sitting, sitting, sitting. That's all I really do. I sit. Occasionally someone I work for and I seem to work for a lot of people will come by or more usually send me an email and say can you do this? And I just do it because that's what jobs are. Doing shit for other people. I hate that bit too.

There's lots of things I hate. I hate it when they come near me and I hate it when they are a ten second walk away from me and choose to send me an email. I hate it when they put cheers at the bottom of an email that explains how the rest of my day is going to be screwed in 12,000 different ways. Cheers this, I say. I hate it when I say No Problem and it's really a huge fucking problem. I hate it when I hand over the work and they say thanks and I say You're welcome. They're not, I don't know why I keep fooling them into thinking they are.

Oh. Yes I do. Because they freaking pay me. That's right. I keep forgetting the small point that I'm not sitting, sitting, sitting out of the goodness of my heart but really because I'm being paid to do it. That lightens the load somewhat.

Carry on job soldiers.

Playwrights talk

In case you haven't found them yet, American playwright Adam Szymkowicz is doing a series of interviews with playwrights. They're fascinating and useful and I'm glad there are people like Adam out there that take the time to do this. I hope he can find endless playwrights and this becomes a life long project.

Anyway, go read about them here

Take that suck

Just when you thought that the suck refused to give up its stranglehold on my life, good news broke through and declared victory.

A little play of mine is on in Chicago. I know. Like, Chicago. This rocks my world.

A tiny amount of good news but we will take good new wherever we find it.