Episode 3.07, Dance of Desire
-----------------------------
PRELUDE: En una noche oscura. “On a dark night.” 3 AM. The soul’s
midnight. Digital clocking. 3:00. Clouds envelop full moon and
enclose reflecting light. “Here we go round the prickly pear, prickly
pear, prickly pear. ….” Joan’s bedchamber. Prickly plant from
Botanica Arcadia on nightstand. Window open. Cool breeze blows
through inner room. All her senses suspended. Interior castle.
Perfect equilibrium. Flow. Inside. Outside. Saturate permeable
boundaries. Skin of the house. Breathe. Stilled. Estando ya la casa
sosegada. “And the house being now at rest.” …
Sleep sweet sister Joan. Beloved warrior. Perchance to dream. Such
stuff we are made on. Taper inflames obscure night. Delve deep. Wake
to worlds diverse and wide. There, little lambs dance and abide.
Despite infernal designs. They do abide, strong and upright. In
Rachel’s arms maternal.
These transcendent forces do take a local habitation in mind and
place. Reside among terminable forms with bicameral voices. And hold
Arcadia in hand’s palm. Yet the play’s the thing, or rather the dance
and fling, thence do implore Terpsichore, and so begin:
**Part 1**\ : Locate Joan’s dream world and ambiance: Dim patterns of
light afford little sight. Ballroom, with high ceiling, quite absent
chairs or tables. Wall sconces with candles disperse limited
illumination. And Joan’s there, walking slowly, looking ‘round,
seeing no one. She pans the room’s large size. It invokes feeling
thoroughly alone. Vast open space, yet enclosed. Nothing. Nada.….
Well, not quite. There are pictures on the walls, barely seen because
of distances in the room; the lighting’s low. The ballroom’s more a
gallery of images, forms, and paintings. Artwork lines the space.
‘Woman in flames’ (‘Anima Sola’) and Goya (‘Saturn devouring one of
his children.’) paintings are prominent.
Joan’s adorned elegantly, arrayed in all her glory, decked in finery
of floor-length ensemble, gathered at the waist, with sequins.
(Impressions float by: Strange armour? Senior prom dress? Graduation
day? Or … wedding day gown?) She’s all dressed up, but without a
beau, sin un amado (without a beloved). She’s got the place to go
rather than no place at all, but …. where are the props? …. It’s all
too much, and yet, vibrant. Teeming anticipation fills the space,
saturating thought. Prelude to what?
Joan looks ‘round the ballroom again, giving closer observation to
the paintings and details. Hardly seeing, she wanders towards the
images.
The beginning notes of a song (Leonard Cohen’s ‘Joan of Arc’)
reverberate. Joan stops before one painting, and visually glides her
sight from that location to others in the hall.
She moves closer to absorb that of ‘the solitary soul,’\ \ `Anima
Sola <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Lonelysoul-1.jpg>`__\ \ .
It appears as a ‘woman in flames’ who is chained in her longing,
yearning to rise out.
The opening lyrics from Cohen’s song drone:
“Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
As she came riding through the dark;
No moon to keep her armour bright,
No man to get her through this smoky night.”
Joan is consumed in rapt attention to Anima Sola.
The ballroom/gallery is filled with these icons of contemplation:
Icon of\ `San Juan de la
Cruz <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/SaintJohnoftheCross.jpg>`__\ ;
Icon of\ `Sacred heart of
Jesus <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/SacredHeartofJesus.jpg>`__\ ,
heart encircled by thorns;
Leonard Cohen’s ‘\ \ `Death of a Ladies
Man <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/DeathofaLadiesMan.jpg>`__\ \ ’
album cover as portrait;
Vincent Van Gogh’s painting, ‘\ \ `Starry
Night <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/VincentVanGogh-StarryNight.jpg>`__\ ';
\ `Yogi Patanjali’s
statue <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/YogiPatanjalisstatue.jpg>`__\ ;
\ `Nataraja’s
statue <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/NatarajasstatuedancingposeofLordShi.jpg>`__\ ,
dancing pose of Lord Shiva;
Mevlevi, '\ `Whirling
Dervishes <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/MevleviWhirlingDervishesimage.jpg>`__\ \ ’;
Portrait of\ `Baal Shem
Tov <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/BaalShemTov.jpg>`__\ (Rabbi
Yisrael ben Eliezer, (Besht);
\ `Icons <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/IconofMansural-Hallaj2.jpg>`__\ of\ `Mansur
al-Hallaj <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/IconofMansural-Hallaj.jpg>`__\ ;
\ `Caryatid <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Caryatidsculpture.jpg>`__\ sculpture;
Auguste Rodin’s sculpture, '\ `Fallen
Caryatid <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/RodinsCaryatidCarryingaStone.jpg>`__\ carrying
her stone’;
\ `Ester (‘Etty’)
Hillesum <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/EsterEttyHillesum.gif>`__\ photograph;
Portrait of\ `Simone
Weil <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/SimoneWeil.jpg>`__\ ;
Photograph of\ `Gandhi’s
cremation <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Gandhiscremation.jpg>`__\ ;/span>
Photograph of\ `Black
Elk <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/BlackElk.jpg>`__\ ;
\ `Ghost Dance
jacket <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/IndianCostume.jpg>`__\ ;
Photograph of\ `Malcolm
X <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/MalcolmXinprayer.gif>`__\ in
prayer at mosque;
\ `Wilfred Owen portrait with ‘Greater
Love’ <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/WilfredOwen-GreaterLove.jpg>`__\ inscribed
beside;
Picasso’s painting,
‘\ \ `Guernica <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/PicassospaintingGuernica.jpg>`__\ \ ’;
Photograph portrait of\ `Ida B
Wells <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/IdaBWells.jpg>`__\ ;
Adam’s sculpture,
‘\ \ `Ascension <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Ascension2.jpg>`__\ \ ’;
Willem de Kooning’s painting, ‘\ \ `Woman
V <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/WillemdeKooningspaintingWomanV.jpg>`__\ \ ’
Helen’s\ `painting <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Helen5.jpg>`__\ from
her trauma;
Jan Van Eyck’s painting, ‘\ \ `The Wedding of Giovanna and Giovanni
Arnolfini <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/JanVanEyckspaintingTheWeddingofGiov.jpg>`__\ \ ’;
Giovanni Bellini’s painting, ‘\ \ `St. Francis in
Ecstasy <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/GiovanniBellinispaintingStFrancisin.jpg>`__\ \ ’;
Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel section painting of\ `St. Catherine of
Alexandria <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/StCatherineofAlexandria.jpg>`__\ ,
with the Catherine wheel;
Goya’s painting, ‘\ \ `Saturn devouring one of his
children <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/GoyaspaintingSaturndevouringoneofhi.jpg>`__\ \ ’.
With Joan’s unrest rising to fever pitch at sight of this, her
unsureness unsettles the surfaces.
And as those first lines of the song end, Cute-boy-god (CBG), with
gentle hand, taps Joan on the shoulder from behind. Joan turns
around, a pleased glance reveals relief in recognizing him. She’s
feeling not so alone. He’s ‘dressed to the nines’. In a tux.
He engages Joan to dance. She gestures not-knowing-how. He encourages
her anyway, beckoning … ‘Follow my lead. Join the flow.’ Joan’s heart
starts to poun, her breathing becomes rapid, her lungs drawing deep
breaths. He smiles comfort, gesturing ‘Go with me … Just breathe.’
Joan’s awkward initially, but starts to get it. Before long, they
seem to be gliding on air all about the room. Footfalls land silently
upon hardwood floors that have a layer of ash-like dust upon them.
And they flow together, breezily, dreamily, filling the space with
the delicate design of their inscape. It’s delightful… all-consuming
… ecstatic immanence… as they trip the light fantastic.
As he swings low the sweet maid, the music envelops them, the
ballroom, all their being and movement, playing off their meanings.
And more of the images lining the room come into view. (The following
lyrics from Cohen’s ‘\ \ `Joan of
Arc <http://dc35.4shared.com/download/68951304/f6020608/Leonard_Cohen_-_Joan_Of_Arc.mp3>`__\ \ ’
are heard as Joan and Cute-boy-god glide along ….
‘She said, "I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite."
La lala La lala La lala La lala La lala (CBG twirls Joan)
La lala La lala La lala La lala La la la Lala la la la ….
‘"And who are you?" she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke.
"Why, I'm fire," he replied,
“And I love your solitude, and I love your pride.”
La lala La lala La lala La lala La lala (Joan is whirled by CBG)
La lala La lala La lala La lala La la la Lala la la la …
”Then fire, make your body cold,
I'm going to give you mine to hold,
And saying this she climbed inside
to be his one, to be his only bride.”
“And deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and high above the wedding guests
he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.
La lala La lala La lala La lala La lala (Joan is whirled by CBG)
La lala La lala La lala La lala La la la Lala la la la …
“and then she clearly understood
if he was fire, oh, then, she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
but must it come so cruel, must it be so bright?”
La lala La lala La lala La lala La lala (CBG twirls Joan)
La lala La lala La lala La lala La la la Lala la la la …
At end, they’ve soared to a different place. Re-located. In a church.
In the alcove is a statue of Michael the archangel, his foot on
Satan. CBG looks deeply into Joan’s eyes …. A lingering gaze…
Something rises from Joan’s core, her heart of hearts … The dance
wakens a longing. She swells with excitement and distress, and tries
to breathe, but can barely catch her breath. And … And …. Joan’s
alarm clock flares out like a fire truck blaring its horn, striking
her to wakefulness.
**Part 2**\ : …. Startled into the cold current of the world’s flow,
Joan rises from her bed early in the morning. It’s still dark …She
quickly completes her morning routine and is about to leave when she
moves to close her window. She sticks her head out. And then, leaning
her elbows on the sill, she looks up at the night sky and sees the
constellation Orion, dominating the kingdoms of stars. Her gaze
slowly descends to the ground. In her backyard, she notices the
Grecian urn, purchased this summer. Its form, that of a woman’s head,
life-size, caryatid-like, and hollowed out for flowers or ashes, is
now turned over, with a crack running down the length of its
hairline… The lavender that surrounded it, trampled…She recalls
gathering it, and drying it during the summer… for her hair, and to
scent the room. The crushed lavender, its essence, that filled the
urn … now spilled out… and strewn over the backyard. Its odor wafting
up and above the house ‘til it seems to pervade it. A light drizzle
has just begun to fall upon the ground, dampening it some. Joan muses
over this, dropping it out of her mind for another day when she
finally closes the window behind her. She goes to pick up her
headphones, and is about to drop them back on the chair, but instead
slips them around her neck. (“\ \ `Existentialism on prom
night <http://dc35.4shared.com/download/68967627/393dd2d7/Straylight_Run_-_Existentialism_on__Prom_Night.mp3>`__\ ,”
by Straylight Run plays out of the headphones, louder and louder
until it surrounds the room. She carries the tune into the following
sequence.)
\ **Part 3**\ : (Joan stops in the kitchen … Helen’s there).
Helen: Honey, what are you doing up so early? I thought you need more
sleep, not less.
Joan: (making a smart remark): Walking in my sleep. (closes her eyes
and starts to traipse zombie-like, then whirls as in the dream, but
abruptly stops, startled into inkling its meaning …it’s all so
disturbing.) I told you. I’ve been getting up early for a secret
rendezvous… with God, er… angels … you know, at St. Michael’s.
(Joan’s again joking. But Helen’s a little confused. And Joan’s
alarming herself as she reminds herself again unawares of images from
her dream.) Ah! Ugh! (frustrated)
Helen: Oh yeah, I forget these things as soon as you say them… (on
second thought) Sometimes. …Not up early this week to see you leave.
But I need to know these things…
Joan: Mom! (whining)… Every little detail… 17 almost 18. Let’s see.
(irritated and rattling off a list from her mind, almost ready to
stomp her foot for emphasis)…Age of independence. Age of majority.
Voting. Selective service. Join the army. Forming my own? (this last
said almost as a question; she’s going a little too far so she tries
to come back) No longer innocent! …. Do I have to put it in writing
for you?… (wondering aloud) And what else? …Gone to college in a
year. (and now getting to the point) So, how ‘bout some privacy? Hey,
livin’ in my own private Idaho, here! (Another song has come out of
the headphones around Joan’s neck: B-52s, '\ `Own Private
Idaho <http://dc35.4shared.com/download/68968134/e403b4ff/B-52_-_Private_Idaho.mp3>`__\ ,’
but she can barely hear it.)
Helen: (feeling it’s all moving too fast and not following Joan’s
last remark, but hearing ‘privacy’, Helen is about to say something
when Joan interrupts)
Joan: Oh yeah, I forgot: I listen to the music you didn’t listen to
when you were young because it was way ahead of you. So that’s how
far behind I am. Pathetic. Please don’t remind me.
Helen: (disappointed in Joan’s unkind remark) Thanks. (Helen recovers
enough to say something) Oh yeah, the privacy thing. Would you get me
some while you’re there?
Joan: (tired of where the conversation has gone, now going back) What
are you up so early for?
Helen: Making breakfast for your father … Something new (pleased with
herself)… scrambled eggs with salsa. Caliente…. (now giving her
reason) He has a meeting with the Citizens’ Watchdog Committee on
crime in Arcadia. (Joan moves towards the skillet to get a taste.)
They want a more aggressive approach with the drug dealers, vagrants,
street level criminals in the neighborhoods. And you know how he
doesn’t like being told how to do his job…
Joan: With Ryan Hunter….? (worried and losing interest in the
scrambled eggs that she picked up and dabbed with the salsa, but she
samples anyways)
Helen: I suppose… (Joan tried to keep her distress to herself,
unsuccessfully. Helen noticed it.)
Joan: (picking up the newspaper and pointing to the headlines of a
story) Does he have to deal with them about this?
Helen: He hopes not. It’s a mess. All that money and drugs missing
from the police department. And who knows what else.
(Will walks in, wondering if he missed something as both Helen and
Joan clam up, not wanting to start Will’s morning off with bad police
news.)
Joan: (to her dad in an attempt at redirection) Ola.
(Will decides to ignore his premonition, smiles at Joan, and, notices
the eggs, and gives Helen a kiss, a more extended one than normal.)
Joan: (grossed out, grimacing through the entire sequence that
follows, thinks it uncouth …) Eyew. Eyew. Eyew! (with gradual
increase in volume and emphasis that caricatures her response)
Helen: What’s this (referring to the extended kiss)?
Will: (speaking softly) I had a dream. Missed you when I woke up.
Helen: Well (overwhelmed by the extended kiss, but tries to come out
of it). Que es? (Spanish, ‘what is it?’ not quite the right Spanish
for her question, but Helen’s not fluent, and it’s early morning. She
meant ‘what was it?’)
Will: I don’t remember…. but it was hot (Looking at the salsa, and
realizing that Helen spoke Spanish, Will is set off into the
following passionate sequence. He starts speaking Spanish himself,
with a wild look.) Querida Mia (Will kisses Helen’s arm like Gomez
did Morticia’s in ADDAMS Family. He tries to get her to dance as they
would; she resists. There’s a mix of suggestion, resistance, and
comic passion.)
Helen: Will! (Not in the mood)
Will: (disappointed look, but still hoping) …. Yada?
Helen: Nada!
(Kevin rolls in behind Luke, who walks into the kitchen. Noticing the
end of the attempted dance by Will, Luke picks up a mophead near the
counter and throws it over his head, looking like Cousin Itt from
Addams Family.)
Joan: Too much ADDAMS family. I’m outta here.
Kevin: (missing what had happened) What’s with her? (They all look
quizzical and go in random directions that appear choreographed into
a fractal-like dance, ordered but not consciously or in obvious form.
It’s a jazz-inflected dance troupe performance, accidentally done by
the 4 Girardis, that plays off Will and Helen’s failed Morticia-Gomez
skit. But this one is coordinated unawares by family Girardi, having
learned one another’s rhythms and moves accordingly.)
**Part 4**\ : (It’s still dark outside as Joan walks up to the bus
stop. The moon is bright in the sky. Joan runs into Adam, who has an
Arcadia Herald newspaper in his arms, and they start talking while
standing there. The words mostly come slow and with difficulty.)
Joan: What are you doing up so early? …(then qualifies it, not
wanting to sound intrusive, but fails) ‘Round here?
Adam: Getting a ‘moon tan.’ (thinking it might sound funny and light,
but his heart’s not in it, so he shifts to where he’s really at) Just
thinking. (feeling uncertain and hopeless.)
Joan: Yeah …(ignoring the moon comment, and guessing) School’s here.
The end…. Our last year. Then…. On our own.
Adam: I know. (not enthusiastic.)
Joan: Why the ‘long dog’ face?
Adam: I don’t know what’s ahead….I want what we had before. I miss
you. (being honest)
Joan: Me too. …. Miss you, that is, not me. (trying to be clear, but
sounding funny)
Adam: What we had…
Joan: Can’t be taken from us. (Joan finishes his sentence.)
Adam: I know. But I want you back, J…. (Wanting to say ‘Jane’, he
can’t bear having to say ‘Joan’.)
Joan: I want to be back. (A moment of hope glimmers for Adam, but he
resists and is glad he didn’t show it after he hears Joan’s next
remark.) But it can’t happen. (Then she tries to be hopeful for Adam,
not herself.) For now.
Adam: Yes, I know. (returning to his sadness)
Joan: Adam. (trying to be helpful) Just breathe. (She takes a deep
breath and demonstrates. Then she takes another kind of breath, this
time through her nostrils expanding her lower abdomen, and exhaling
through her mouth pursed.) Everything …we (thinking, but unsure, so
she just guesses) need? .. is in the present moment…..I think.
(hoping she got it right)
Adam: (he smiles, wanting to connect even if he doesn’t understand
most of what she says, he softly agrees, though it’s more a question)
Right.
Joan: (seeing the bus pulling up) Gotta go.
Adam: Me too. (though it’s not really so.)
Joan: (The bus arrives and Joan is about to step up. She turns,
looking back towards him) Hey. (feeling how much she really cares for
Adam.) Take care.
Adam: (Adam moves to give Joan a hug.)
Joan: (resisting Adam’s overture, quickly suppressing his effort) Not
yet. (She turns away and gets on the bus.)
Adam: Bye, Joan. (Her name comes out more like a plaintive plea. As
he ‘trembles with tenderness, lips that would kiss mouth unformed
prayers to broken’… ness. And he watches her bus ride off west with
the moon.)
**Part 5**\ : Joan walks down the street, past storefronts, a few
that are boarded up, and comes upon St. Michael’s Episcopal Church.
Outside the building is a statue of St. Michael crushing the serpent.
Joan enters with some anxiety and anticipation. She wonders what goes
on here. She walks down into the basement.
There’s another emblem of\ `St.
Michael <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/StMichaelbyRaphael.jpg>`__\ ,
a painting, on the wall.
6:25 on the clock. A Gathering session. Yoga class in the church
basement. The group looks more varied than is typical for Joan’s
social group – a wide range of ages and people of African, Latina/o
(Hispanic), Middle Eastern and Asian descent. There are about 15 to
20 people. Joan has her own mat in the bag she’s carrying. She gets
it out, and lays out a spot; she removes her shoes. Things haven’t
yet started, but will momentarily.
She starts her warm-up in the reclining position, lying on her back,
supine, comfortably, with her arms at her side, doing breathing
techniques to relax and prepare her concentration and attention.
After awhile, she moves to ‘happy baby’ posture. While lying on her
back still, she brings knees to her chest, widening her legs,
gripping knees with her hands to assist gradually the widening….
Breathing and concentrating for awhile…stretching muscles easily….
and then fully extending her legs into the air, holding the arches of
her feet with her hands turned in, not putting too much pressure on
the extension, and stretching her hamstrings. Joan’s deliberative and
conscious of her body already, while she’s breathing. A thought
crosses by: Happy yet? And she lets go of it, coming back to … in…
She then sits up with her trunk quite straight, her legs as far apart
as possible, folding left leg against her right thigh and bends at
the waist, her head to kneecap. It’s the preparatory exercise for the
perfect posture (lotus); she follows with the right leg. She’s
feeling loose, and her body is warming to movement, flexibility
fanning out.
As Joan begins feeling her body’s extension and presence
simultaneously, the yoga instructor enters, greets everyone with
‘Ola,’ and a slight bow as she brings her palms, hands, and fingers
together in perfect symmetry. She is a lovely, fair Latina woman,
strikingly attractive. Lithe, lissome, and comely. One could be
absorbed in her appearance if the focus was on her, but it isn’t. She
pulls out of her bag “the bell of mindfulness,” setting it nearby,
and rings it, to bring all to attention. Waiting ‘til all become
mindful, wakeful.
She moves directly to modeling further warm-up postures. Standing up,
Joan matches them. The yoga instructor begins in the mountain-solid
posture, the basic standing pose, with lower back slightly tucked in,
rounded. Finding the center of gravity for the body in relation to
the earth, its location in the space-time continuum. The mind focuses
on a distant still point, in perfect poise, a massive rock, or
pebble. One could repose here or sway for eternity or as long as the
mountains stand. Breathing-mantra … in … out … mountain…
solid…..drawing oxygen into the expanded diaphragm, the lower
abdomen. Silence reigns. All sense of sound suspended. Remaining.
Abiding. Being.
Then the move to Deep Obeisance…While standing aright, bend at waist
and place palms on the floor outward near feet. Not yet reaching the
ground, a breath release drops the trunk further to the floor.
Deepening drawn down. And another breath release. Further. It
stretches hamstring muscles beyond length; so very few complete the
full extension, but the effort directs the mind and the body. And
practice improves quality and experience quickly.
Before long, a return to “ standing-mountain” relieves the tension
and allows an easier return to the breathing-mantra and the now very
remote point. All to deliver the mind from thought - overrated,
over-identified, aspect of self. Too much thinking…Stop…. Breathe ..
in… out … delivering non-self from too many thought-ings. Deep
relaxation. Oxygenating… special delivery to all parts of the body.
Rebirth. Rejuvenating… Now…. And now. …. And now…. Now-ing…….
Joan goes through an additional set of poses: Warrior pose. Down-dog.
Up-dog. Child’s pose for relief and repose.
Slowly, thoughts and mind lose their puffiness, inflation, expansion,
sliding down into the heart, where they reside as affordants to
action, feeling.
Yoga instructor: (ending the morning’s session with deep relaxation…
‘corpse position’… preparing the last letting-go of self and
non-self, joining That, which is This, all linked in communion until
dissolution… in pain and sorrow that become inextricably and
simultaneously pleasure and joy, yin and yang experienced in the
moment, … latent and salient)
Joan: (As Joan lies on her back, fully extended, concentrating on her
breath, observing its rhythms of mind and absence, something’s
happening… withdrawal of the senses….she’s starting to become fully
conscious… awake….disturbingly awake…..seeing the world anew,….
Noticing how it’s refreshingly askew… but aright for the first
time…Is this what ‘looking deeply’ means?….. Let go even of this
clarity…. She can’t bear that thought as it passes….back-ing to her
breath-ing…..She’s feeling a whole ‘nother part of her ……. be-ing
……em-body-ing.)
(And …her thinking interrupts flow… faltering at returning to breath…
Finally she looks around, mutters, can’t keep it to herself any
longer) Wow, this is like …. floating on waves of ... or swimming in
clouds of … where am I? (nowhere… u-topia)
Yoga instructor: (slowly returning to the world in front of the eyes,
she rings “the bell of mindfulness” once more, and she speaks softly
after its resonance has faded out) Shantih. Shalom. Salaam. (and
taking a final breath, the prana spreads throughout her body and
being; she keeps it with her as she comes and goes through the day,
dwelling in the rippling center of things that dissipates and
gathers.)
(As each person seems to have returned to ordinary time with her, and
standing on their own, she speaks up.) …Pax Finis…Anyone who wants to
stick around for more ….understanding, questions, do so… (Most people
leave…Joan joins a group of 4 people. They all sit on the
floor)…(instructing) Yoga is a tree with 6 branches. Each branch a
path. Hatha yoga is all about …. Breathing. …Postures…. Deep
relaxation… Meditation….and (leaving it open-ended)…All methods to
yoking … holding the mind in its place ….a discipline of the body
…..also a discipline of the spirit …. Practice at home…. Breathing
from the abdomen. Inhale, filling the stomach. Exhale through the
mouth, pursed. ….a technique. It’s for you to profit from, in your
own way. (now developing the theme with more depth) In Vipassana …
observing breath’s the primary method… insight ….or mindfulness
meditation … to see clearly .. or ..to look deeply .. from .. the
place where the heart dwells …thought arises out of the heart…. an
ancient idea… not far from bhakti yoga, the branch of love.
(taking a breath and moving on to another topic) Another branch is
karma yoga. Gandhi practiced it. Action. Experiments with truth. All
yogas are kin, from the same Teacher. (now sounding cute) Sorta
kissin’ cousins.
(Lastly, pulling from her bag some gifts, she passes out a long
thread-like rope with 108 beads, a japa mala) The sutras passed down
and then finally written down by Patanjali are … threads of a japa
mala on which the words of direction, aphorisms, are strung like
beads. These can be helpful guides for recollection. …. reminiscence
… remembrance… to return to the present … like the bell of
mindfulness. Enough then for today. (Joan slips the string of beads
into her pocket.)
…(Yoga instructor finishes and goes over to pick up her stuff to
leave. Everyone’s finally gone, but Joan’s still on the floor
lingering, thinking again.)
Yoga instructor: (going over to Joan and starts talking) Joan, how’d
you come up with this before I gave the assignment?
Joan: What? (unsure whether it’s god)
Yoga instructor: I was going to tell you to visit a church. And here
you are already.
Joan: (realizing it’s god) So, no assignment. Good deal. I have a lot
on the front burner.
Yoga-instructor-god: Nah, it just gives me the chance to go to the
next card (pulls out a card, and pulls up a chair to sit in, next to
Joan). Learn to dance…
Joan: (uncomfortable, remembering the dream) Sure. (displeased, but
trying not to show it.)
Yoga-instructor-god: Oh you already got that one too (making Joan
curious about her dream)… Well, take it anyway, ‘cause … I teach
dance too … (Yoga-instructor-god’s pleased with her cleverness) Am I
a party-spirit, fun or what? (Joan gets a bit irritated because
Yoga-instructor-god’s enjoying herself, wiggling her body about the
chair, playing her feet like notes on a beat, and Joan’s still
preoccupied with herself and impatient) … This is the location where
I teach (gives her the card; Joan notices on the card: ‘Oracles: any
time, contact directly’; faith healing; trumping all other cards…call
1800-028-2827 ext 9494; there’s also an icon of a giraffe on it)….
Okay, now get thee to the Academy, where they have class of a
different sort …you’ll be late …. You have plenty of assignments
coming this year…. (Joan frowns knowing how much schoolwork senior
year is. She rises peeved and preoccupied, stomping her foot,
readying to leave.)
(Joan gets doubly distressed by an odd occurrence: she notices Ryan
leaving the basement of the church. How did she miss him? She turns
to talk to Yoga-instructor-god, but she’s exiting the basement with a
wave. Joan now hurries too. Coming out of the church basement, she
sees the sun barely rising, and a star fading at the horizon. In the
same direction, she observes Yoga-instructor-god hook up with Ryan
who was waiting outside the church. They start to walk together. Joan
would like to follow them but chooses to get to school on time. As
she hustles, she looks ahead, noticing an old movie theater, the
Rialto, that connects her to a memory of Adam. On one side of the
marquee, there’s “Citizen Kane”. On the other side of the marquee,
there’s ‘All the President’s Men’ … 2 weeks.)
**Part 6**\ : (Helen & Lily arrive at Café Noir coffee shop, which
has films playing in a separate room continuously. While they’re
getting their coffee, they notice a film currently running: “The
Nun’s Story” with Audrey Hepburn. Lily smiles to herself; she’s seen
it several times. It is barely seen in brief clips throughout Helen
and Lily’s conversation. They sit down at a table. Helen and Lily’s
conversation begins as a quick exchange before it slows down.)
Lily: So Helen, I gotta tell you, I’m falling deep into like with
Kevin. It’s starting to really simmer. (looking at the coffee) …
brew. (not liking the image)You know, a slow boil, here. (giving up)
Whatever.
Helen: (reacting with discomfort, but Lily goes right into…..)
Lily: I just thought I’d start out with true confessions because
today’s lesson is ….
(Recognizing Helen’s distressed and over-interested, Lily
reconsiders.) I’ll keep it to myself.
Helen: Huh? (quizzical look) Wait, wait. Is that some kind of convent
double speak? Deep into like? Gimme a break … (frustrated, not
disgusted)
Lily: (ignoring Helen’s remark) Blurting .. So …(returning to the
planned purpose) Today’s lesson is sex and drugs and rock and roll
…oh, and …God. Yeah, you know the Song of Songs. This incredible
erotic poem to God in the Bible. (Lily’s quick intense voice is
immediately recognized.)
(Then Lily mumbles to no one in particular) I wonder what the music
sounded like that goes with it …(Lily’s drifting for a second before
returning, which allows Helen to say something and not interrupt.)
Helen: Well, this is something they never told me in 12 years of
Catholic schooling. They were all about getting us to unroll our
skirts. You know, the ones we rolled up to show more leg.
Lily: Yeah. Right. (Lily’s looking not interested, not connecting to
Helen’s remarks because of its nostalgic reverb that’s a generational
distance between them.) Well, anyway …
(Lily spits the next lines out in rapid fire…) Yesterday. In church.
We did this youth group service … with a kid playing the bass riff
from Bob Marley’s EX-O-DUS. And the kids wrote their own praise
refrain with this one kid singing the verses from the Book of Daniel
. You know, where Rack, Shack and Benny are thrown into the fiery
furnace for refusing to bow before NebbyNezzer’s pantheon. …(Lily
gets tangential) Not unlike our own.. (has second thoughts)… Ok, I
won’t go there. (going back to point) .. So, they’re like … untouched
by these dancing flames …Wow! …. It was so cool. I mean. Really cool.
For them. And me too. …And while this kid’s wailing the words
unconsumed, I’m like transported. (she thinks twice.) Not into the
fire, not for me. (going back to the mood) Me and God. And a choir of
angels. In the heavenly court. We were rocking and rolling. (she’s
moving, swaying) It was …so HOT (pronounced with extension, ‘H ahhh
T!’) … Getting me all (Lily drags the ‘alllllll’ out) stirred up.
(Lily now makes some movements to illustrate. She gets up and moves
with flair. She jumps a couple times, including once in 180 degrees.
It seems exciting, tantalizing. Into the fire or out? Nah. It’s as
though she’s hearing the music all over again. People in the coffee
shop look at her like she’s strange, but then they start to move in
their chairs, almost like they’re caught up by her unbridled energy
and enthusiasm as well.)
(Finally Lily catches herself, takes a breath and comes back to
earth.) And I won’t even tell you what we did with the Lord of the
Dance!
Helen: (listening to this as patiently as possible, Helen’s about to
burst) Hold on. Hold on. You what! … What kind of church is talking
about sex without abstinence? To kids? Too x-rated for this
ex-catholic schoolgirl.
Lily: Helen, how do we not bring our bodies to worship? Our souls
into communion with the higher power? (Lily pauses, developing a much
slower repartee, letting the question sink in and hit Helen strongly
and preparing for the next words that have equal force) Sex does it.
Or at least points there…. Rock and roll gets it going (Lily suggests
her earlier movements with a gesture or two. Helen’s not getting it
so Lily ramps it up more. ‘Armageddon Surfer Girl’ song plays
counterpoint.)
Helen, the kids are alright. They just learn by trial and error. We
all do. Struggling with guilt and innocence. Nobody gets it right the
first time or the second or …. But the kids need to know God loves
their bodies,… their passions. The whole of them.
It’s there in the Song of Songs … The mystics know this. It inspired
San Juan de la Cruz to write these exquisite love poems of God.
(Lily’s excited, and starts to wonder if Helen thinks she’s lost it
or not. Lily goes on, even though Helen’s musing that Lily’s really
off her rocker.) … Helen, you’re a married woman. You know how it is.
Desire can’t be satisfied . Or can, only to rise again. (quoting
something) “Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.” Our
bodies, too. (going on) Rest, from hard work, desire’s exhaustion.
All in its place. …Oh, and what excitement! Finding their place,
their order in the soul, the universe…(Lily realizes she’s come back
from her rhapsodizing and suddenly tries to focus herself.) And their
ordering… that’s the disciplines of prayer…. You see, you know we
were going there. (Helen again displays a distressed reaction,
exasperated one more time by Lily’s flight, her jumps in meaning.
Lily hoped her refocusing wasn’t too abrupt, but she gets the
distinct idea that she’s left Helen in the dust, or ashes as it were.
Lily now puts it out there straight.) Helen, are you praying? (And
then Helen feels ever so clearly again that she loves Lily, considers
her a good friend, truly beloved of her. Lily doesn’t mince her
words; she’s direct, spiritual, mixing a faith and lived experience
in a vital way, but Helen is unable to let that feeling connect
herself to Lily and asks a question, rather than kissing her.)
Helen: I’m not yet Catholic again, so .. And …. how did we get from
sex to prayer? This makes no sense. (Helen’s staying safe even though
it would have seemed spent.)
Lily: (Lily shakes her head in frustration and looks down to the book
she had brought. It’s laying on the table and she’s about to read a
passage. Helen gets up and begins to walk out. The truth will take a
little longer to sink in. As Helen leaves, she hears distantly Lily’s
reading from The Song of Songs) “Set me as a seal on your heart, as a
seal on your arm. For strong as death is love. Relentless as the
nether world is desire. Its flames are blazing fire, a flame of
Adonai himself. Deep waters cannot quench love nor floods sweep it
away. Were one to offer all he owns to purchase love, he would be
roundly mocked.”
**Part 7**\ : At the Arcadia Police Department
Will: (to Carlisle as they stand outside near a conference room at
the Police Dept., with Will pointing) You’re coming into this with
me.
Carlisle: (chewing on a breakfast fajita as he’s walking) Ok.
(reluctant, but conceding )
Will: (in a lower voice to Carlisle) Here’s the deal… some time after
we get in there, you mention a case we have to follow up on,
(thinking) …I don’t know… you think of one… and that we have to
leave.. (getting to the point.) I don’t want to waste the whole
morning with some advisory group…
Carlisle: (shoving what’s left of the fajita into his mouth) Yeah.
(with mouth full). Sure, boss. (With that last word, Will starts to
feel the chasm that comes with chiefdom return.)
(Will walks into the conference room; Carlisle follows. Ryan Hunter,
president of the Citizens Watchdog Committee, is there with others
from the committee. As Will walks in with Carlisle and Ryan gets up
to shake hands, they all feel awkward because of the small conference
room, and look like they’re doing some kind of dance, rather than
just sitting down at their respective seats. Will finally sits down
as the others do, and he collects himself.)
Will: (to Ryan and the others) Detective Carlisle’s going to join us.
(Initially Ryan has his hand out to shake Carlisle’s hand. But
Carlisle is still gulping on the last bits of the fajita that he
shoved into his mouth. As Carlisle wipes his hand from the fajita on
his pants and then goes to shake Ryan’s hand, Ryan withdraws his
hand, finally put-off by Carlisle’s uncouth manner.) Mr. Hunter, good
to see you again. We need to stop dan- ….. (Will’s about to say
‘dance’ as suggested by what they were just doing, but stops himself
and says) … meeting like this. (Will was trying to be funny but it
falls flat, and he realizes that. Ryan concedes his effort at humor,
though the others don’t get it even remotely.)
(Will then looks to the rest of the advisory group) I’m the Chief of
Police, …again… Will Girardi. Pleased to meet you. (They nod.)
Ryan: (getting started quickly) Chief Girardi, we appreciate your
time and don’t want to keep you from your work. (Ryan is always on to
Will’s issues, which relieves him, but there’s still a lurking sense
of “dis-ease” for Will. He can’t put his finger on it, so he leaves
it be for another day.) Let me introduce the other members who
constitute the Citizens Watchdog Committee.
(Quick introductions ensue.)
Will: So … What can we do for you?
Ryan: We’re having a Safety Summit this week and want you to attend.
(on point) The councilman, district commander, local community
development rep will be there.(still on point) It’s in the Central
West End neighborhood. We need you there. (goes for the new twist)
Will: If you have them showing up, you don’t need me.
Ryan: Yes, we do. That’s the thing. (giving a list) The crime is out
of control. The drug dealing. Prostitution. Petty crime. Panhandling
… (and now the rationale) It’s a continual nuisance to the people
living there. (and now the bigger picture) This neighborhood has the
potential to be a premiere redeveloped renovated neighborhood in
Arcadia. (These last words are given special emphasis by Ryan. The
rest of the watchdog committee nod.) A mixed income neighborhood of
choice. (sounding like a slogan from somewhere)
Watchdog Committee member (African-American man): Chief Girardi. I
live there. And without the police we’re going to find ourselves
desperate (the plea playing on heartstrings). Here’s the invitation
we sent the entire neighborhood. (passes a flyer with information on
it to Will)
Will: (as he continues to attempt to resist) I’m the Chief of Police,
not a detective…. (waiting for acceptance from the group and getting
none)
Ryan: True, … but your presence sends a message.
Will: (quickly realizes he’s again Chief of Police and anyway, it’s
hopeless and relents) Okay. Okay. I’ll be glad to come. (providing
limits) But I can’t commit to any other meetings. We’re (gesturing to
Carlisle) occupied with all of Arcadia. (hoping Carlisle will get the
clue, but Carlisle’s got his head downward, ignoring Will as though
something else is on his mind. It’s humorous as Carlisle’s
frustrating Will’s previous plan to exit.) Well, gotta go. (Carlisle
perks up.)
Ryan: Before you go, Chief Girardi. (the oh-by-the-way strategy that
gets them every time) We need to know about this recent matter
covered in the Herald. (pulling out the newspaper from his leather
carrying bag, he reads) ‘Police Dept Loses Evidence.’ Please advise.
Will: I don’t know anything other than what you’ve read. (matter of
fact, but it’s a sore subject) We’ve lost $50,000. Confiscated from
several street level dealers. From in front of a dance club. Meth.
Some heroin from those cases … Well, … all the heroin, is missing.
It’s a mess.
Ryan: We agree. So …
Will: So we’re doing an internal investigation … It’s not for me to
interfere with …
Ryan: True. …. But we need information …
Will: (feeling hopeless immediately, but recovering) I can’t provide
information about an ongoing investigation...
Ryan: Certainly, … we know that… But we want the police reports,
timeline, all the details that are already out there. That’s our
(with emphasis) job, right? A citizens’ review.
Will: I’ll see what I can do … but no promises … (quickly getting up
and moving to the door, with Carlisle following)
Ryan: Thank you, Chief Girardi. We trust you’ll do your job to the
fullest, and demonstrate a talent for responsiveness to the citizens
of Arcadia.
Will: (nods goodbye) Mr. Hunter, citizenry (Odd term for Will, he
wonders for a moment where it came from. As Will walks out, he
realizes the answer and thinks about how he gets into these things,
that Ryan Hunter is becoming ‘a bug up his …’ or is it ‘a fly in his
…?’ It’s like this guy is some kind of ‘lord of the flies’ for Will
and he wants to stop the buzzing in his ears, like maybe take a swat
at it. Irritating the … out of him. With Will and Carlisle’s exit,
Ryan, still sitting, smiles and nods to the Committee, satisfied, as
if the outcome was just as he had predicted it to them.)
**Part 8**\ : It’s the first day of school with Joan and Grace
entering the school building, getting checked with a wand metal
detector by security guard. Joan whirls around as she is wand-ed.
Grace: Hey whirligirl. Looking for a partner? (Joan gets a look on
her face, like don’t get smart with me or bring up a painful subject
the first thing, but Grace wasn’t buggin’ at all)
Joan: (moving on) Can you believe we’re gonna have ID cards for
school and class!?
Grace: Our illustrious school board president and his cast of lackeys
… what kiss-ups!…couldn’t find some way to fill up their time this
summer. …. Where’s the teachers’ union when you need them?
Joan: My mom was all for it. (meaning the ID cards) But that’s where
she draws the line… Ryan Hunter has video cameras on the front burner
now too… for the hallways ... the parking lots. …the cafeteria… the
teachers’ lounges?… But that’s stepping over the line for her.
Grace: Gulag Arcadia. We’re gonna be the next public/private
partnership. America’s private gulag…file import by way of the demon
express. Just another brick in the wall… They’ve colonized our
bodies, now it’s our minds, Girardi. We gotta bust this regime before
they start stamping our foreheads with bar codes.
Price: (noticing and welcoming them) Young ladies, Welcome to your
final school year… Courtesy of Fortress Arcadia. (having overheard
Grace, he chuckles as he repeats the refrain) Finally real security
for the “school land.” God! We’re lucky to have someone leading our
schoolboard down the road to eternal…(seeming to leaving it
open-ended, but comes with a punch-line ) … Safety. Lights. Camera.
Action. (he illustrates like a director giving direction) When we get
those video cameras…ooh la la! We’ll zoom right in on our security
threats! (putting his hands together like a camera and riveting on
Grace’s head… he chuckles knowing it will get a rise out of Grace
which it does, with a glare.)
Helen: (walking up, hearing a bit of the conversation) There are way
too many kids roaming the halls that I don’t know. An ID card with
picture will immediately identify who belongs and who doesn’t ….and
where they should be.
Grace: Mrs. Girardi…. This will be my mission this year. Anonymity or
bust. Suspend me, condemn me, threaten me, but I won’t entrust my
identity to an emblem … You know who I am .. Card me if I’m going
into a bar, but into class, come on!
Helen: Well, many teachers don’t know you.
Grace: So if I introduce myself to every teacher … you’ll stop this
nonsense.
Helen: (in a hurry, waves bye) Maybe. You have a point.
Grace: (calling out so she can be heard) Hey, everyone, Grace Polk’s
the name… radical’s my game... Going to the root of the problem.
(checking back) Hey, if they don’t get it, well, …. I’ll just find
myself the local chapter of the Hasidim… or move to Brooklyn… follow
the tzaddik, quit school. Learning the way of the world is way
overrated. If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, Mohammed will
go to the mountain.(she smiles ‘cause she knows how much others at
the synagogue will jump out of their skin the next time she tries
those lines on them. She files it in her mental “jag cabinet.”)
Joan: Grace! (surprised she could somehow link all that and not lose
part of her brain to science)
**Part 9**\ : (Joan and Grace join up with the rest of Arcadia High’s
sub-defectives now maturing fully into defection, or is it
assimilation?…Luke, Glynis, Friedman, Adam, are coming down the
school hallway, before walking into Government class.)
Adam: (to the whole crew) I am so not stoked! I’m like outta here
already (shaking his head, suggesting his mind’s elsewhere). And we
still have a whole year. Doesn’t senioritis set in ….like January?
And it’s like ….September! How do I get my head back into all this ….
STUFF? (making a gesture, waving at the hallways, all of it.)
Friedman: Let’s set off a fire alarm to celebrate the opening of
school. (Everyone’s been ignoring Friedman, so now he’s seeking
attention, and he’s still not getting it.)
Glynis: (oblivious to Friedman’s remark initially, mostly
self-occupied) I spent 2 weeks at the Phoenix Music Institute. We
made a CD of the stuff we wrote. Just a band of misfits. (coming up
with an even better word) Or miscreants… playing dissonance… uh,
chaos (smiles as she connects music and physics) It was very cool.
(She says this last line sleekly to give weight and try to get others
interested.)
…..Yuh? (Friedman’s remark finally registering, then says to him)
Grow up! (She initiates slapping Friedman in the head, which they all
join in doing, in a ritualized, orchestrated form that’s over
familiar.)
Friedman: (He almost fights them off successfully, and then shakes
himself, as though unruffling his feathers, ashes, phoenix-like,
arising out of the flurry of slaps they throw his way.) The Friedman
will consummate his future this year. I will find the perfect maid
…maiden? (wonders aloud, then announcing to everyone) … Erotic
fantasies no more … Well (He has second thoughts but proceeds) .. The
goddess of my dreams … On a stone pedestal (waxing poetic, imagining
her on the pedestal) … above all else …. Give her a magic potion …
just in case (worried about his inadequacies)… (then, reflecting,
with a change of demeanor, almost sadness) and I almost had her in my
arms …(mumbling to himself) … Judith … (‘Love is the drug’ by Roxy
Music plays to the thought.)
Luke: (missing the Judith mention and irritated at Friedman) Get a
life …. What romantic drivel? We’re taking AP Calc this year.
Differential and Integral equations. Fundamental theorem here we
come. (Friedman shakes off his previous reverie and totally changes
his mood.)
Luke and Friedman: (together, simultaneously) The dance of highly
sensitive variables. (They high-five and do an in-tandem jump/kick
dance while circling, that looks like they’re really skipping the
light fandango)
Glynis: (Hearing Friedman’s mention of Judith, and taken aback
emotionally, she begins reflecting, oblivious to Friedman-Luke’s
truncated dance) Some romantics grieved a lost loved one their entire
life … unremitting … worshipping them as Aphrodite. (then wondering
aloud) Pallas Athena?
Joan: (listening to Glynis, but confused by the calculus excitement)
Really? Glynis. I didn’t know … (and trails off surprised at Glynis’
evoked sense of feeling.)
Grace: (looking at Luke, but catching Friedman too) Shut it down, the
high-octane surge, ‘boy-toys R us.’ (She really wants to put them in
their place.) Sex, desire, is the politics of the bedroom, and
subject to fetish, charm …. and loss of power. (Grace’s trying out
some new ideas she’s come across.) Just like Arcadia High, you
lap-dog teacher pets. (Now she’s trying to put it all together in one
perfect equation.) Freud plus Marx equals Marcuse. Or the Frankfurt
School. Or both. (slightly puzzled by the direction of her flight and
momentarily uncertain) Whatever. (recovering) Now that’s a calculus
for ya! (Grace is pleased with herself and chuckles, self-absorbed in
her own way.)
ALL: HUH! (Everyone’s irritated and dazed and confused as Grace makes
her last remark). What!
Grace: Don’t look at me. (satisfied that she made herself perfectly
clear)
Adam: (trying to change the subject, and speaking in a low voice tone
to Grace specifically) Grace, should I get a dog? You know, a
replacement for Joan? ‘Cause I’m lonely….(trailing off…)
Joan: (overhears Adam’s remark anyway) Ahhhh…(Joan lets out this
moaning-like sound of sweetness, a sigh of love) Adam …. (Realizing
her old love is there and not-there for Adam. Confused emotionally,
she just lets it hang out there revealed in the moment.)
Grace: (ignores Joan’s moaning, and replies to Adam loudly so that
everyone hears) Exactly, fetishee. (Adam gets this look on his face
like ‘don’t tell Grace about these confused needs for connection.’
Grace misses his look and goes back to her subject, winding up again,
and getting into a rant) …You guys only read what they assign. Or do
some bizarre calculations for the end of the world. (Grace is now on
her soapbox. The others are restless as she’s gotten into this, but
she waves off their interruption.) And live your life like some damn
assignment. That’s crap and you know it. Get an education, right!
Hmmph. Get a life! (sounding like someone she’s heard before) Drop
out or … at least! … give the ‘powers that be’ hell….. It wakes
others up … and you don’t lose your own head in the exchange. (Pulls
out a dish from her bag. Everyone’s wondering … where that came from.
She stops in her tracks… and everyone else stops too. She bends her
head over the plate, Juan Bautista-like.) Chop it off! … Because
that’s where we’re all going if we don’t do something different this
year than following this fascist organization (waving her hands at
security guard, hallway, and all of it).
All: (Everyone’s overwhelmed by Grace’s rant, stunned)
A Security guard, in uniform, from down the hallway has been walking
towards them since Grace got a little loud the first time. He’s
following them closer now that he’s heard more of Grace’s commotion.
No one other than Grace has noticed him. She’s thinking he’s going to
try and shut her down, but she’ll have none of it.
Grace: (looking at Luke) And you dog-boy, you’re on notice. Get with
the program or find another chihuahua. (she crouches down for a
moment and makes like a petite little thing). Un poquito.
Luke: (looking discouraged and at a loss)
Adam: (mostly ignoring Grace’s remark to Luke, but he flinches a bit
as it comes on so strong.)
Cha …. ah (Adam notices that he’s about to regress to a previous
expression of his from the past and starts to stutter) …Cha cha cha
(and does a hand movement ‘cha cha’ to try to save it, finally coming
up with …) Chuck! the whole college thing. I’m there. For the
revolution. (Adam sounds lackluster in his support even though the
right words are coming out of his mouth.) Che. Pancho. People unite.
Organize. …Hey Grace, do they need the ‘artiste’ (inflected form,
pronounced ‘arteest’)?
Grace: (unbelieving, and snide) Well, Yeah! (duh … like) Didn’t you
ever see\ `‘The Masses’ cover
art <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/TheMassescoverart.jpg>`__\ …
Art Young (e.g., Dec1913)
– something you’d all know … if you weren’t so self-absorbed…
(sounding disgusted) Blugh. ….. you know, loss of true love, now just
cry…. cry … cry … over spilt milk (alluding to Joan and Adam’s split)
… Oh, but go to college and join the corporate robbery of art, just
the same.
Joan: (finally at a loss to tolerate Grace any longer) Grace, what’s
gotten into you?
Grace: (ignoring Joan’s question, but eyeing her):
Adam: (going back to Grace’s cant about art and revolution): Where do
I sign up?….. (But actually not that interested, he comes back to his
real question, dwelling on it) And … should I get a dog? (it being
out there already anyway) I think I need a dog. What do you think,
huh, huh? (nagging, dog-like) (Then he gets an idea about bugging
Grace for payback.) Chihuahua, senorina?
Joan: (more sure than she really is) Adam, you don’t need a dog.
(Joan re-focuses herself to Grace’s rhapsodic bombast, trying to make
funny and nice) Hee, hee, ha, ha, no revolution without breakfast,
(pulls out a granola bar) and …. class warfare. Oops. (chuckles at
her double meaning, as they all come to their class-room and are
about to enter.)
Security-guard-god: (overhearing the conversation, now speaks to
Joan, but the others are in his sweep as well; he’s almost calling
out to them as they walk into class) Hey, Joan, … buds, I’m tempted
to fascism too (taps his club), but … how’s it go? Let a thousand
flowers promiscuously bloom until …. Armageddon or the New Jerusalem.
They’re all wide-eyed as they walk into government class.
Security-guard-god turns around and walks down the hallway with a
wave. And Joan notices Ryan walking down the hallway just behind
Security-guard-god….. Adam waves … and Ryan waves back…
**Part 10**\ : In government class
Teacher: (lecturing and walking through the classroom, droning) The
body politic is the term for describing the unity …and disunity, I
suppose … of the voters … the community as a whole … the citizenry ….
Individuals in their relationships to one another and their leaders.
Vox populi means the voice of the people…. It was sometimes believed
to be the voice of god. As though god and politics ….the polis …the
state… had any connections. …..But how does the many speak with one
voice? That’s a question with diverse answers … No wonder they wanted
some word from on high. Because none of the answers satisfy…
Consensus. Simple majority. Simple tyranny. (trying desperately for
some rise or humor, failing miserably, and going back to the drone)
…. Decisions, decisions…. Easy and complex …. Our democracy survives
population increases, confused meanings, including women and former
slaves in voting, and …. non…. (trailing off)
The students in class are almost completely devoid of interest. Some
are looking around; others have their heads down. Some are trying to
appear like they’re taking notes, but they aren’t. Not a good start
to the school year. Finally the teacher wakes from her lecturing
reverie and notices Grace writing something in large letters in a
notebook.
Teacher: (going to Grace’s desk) Please share your notes with the
class.
Grace: (Grace stands up, and makes a big show of her notebook for
everyone to see. In big red letters, taking up both pages of her
notebook, Grace has written something. She shows it to the class as
she says) If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution. (everyone busts
up or look quizzical)
Teacher: Explain yourself. (Teacher’s not amused.)
Grace: Emma Goldman had it right. You know, ‘Red Emma.’ (trying to
get a rise from her classmates, but no one knows who or what’s she’s
talking about.) Fall asleep. Anaesthetize our political wills with
governmental drivel so we ignore what’s happening in our world. And
just shop til we drop. (Ramones’ ‘Bop til you drop’ begins to play.)
Consumption, consumption. Stuff and more stuff. .. and ..Sanitize our
bodies. ‘Cause what else’s there to do? Oh …. take a cruise (looks at
Friedman). Retire to Florida. Cheat on an election. Have the Supreme
Court make the decision for you. Oh and die from old age. Or ….what?!
… Take personal responsibility for what happens … don’t foist it on
someone else to decide and do it for you.
Teacher: Please?
Alex: (African-American student sitting behind Joan, quickly jumping
in) Didn’t Thomas Jefferson say we needed a revolution every 20
years?
Another student: (trying to make like he knows something) Yeah, and
he wrote the Declaration of Independence.
Teacher: (quickly tries to direct the discussion, focusing on Alex’s
question) Yes. Not quite revolution. Actually, rebellion. Resistance
to government. It’s healthy. But not overthrow it. Reform. Improve
things, change them. Throw the bums out (teacher catches herself with
last remark thinking it a little too cavalier) The electorate makes
the changes in a democracy. A republic. You get to vote at age 18…
Grace: (interrupting) Voting’s a sham. Choosing between
puppet-meisters of the power elite. Gimme a break. They call the
shots; control the media. Reduce education to multiple choice. Govern
from on high. Oh yeah. .. and every 4 years they do a dog-and-pony
show in front of the cameras.
Teacher: Thank you, Grace, for that informative critique from the vox
populi. (trying to make connections somehow, some way. Now returning
to her agenda before class ends and speaking to all) Your assignment
is written on the board. Go to a community meeting. See the body
politic in action. Then, write your observations. Analyse it. As to
how the world works. How we govern ourselves. How a democracy
practices its principles. Res publica. Join the public conversation.
And make the decisions. It’s your future.
All: (irritated by the assignment and unbelieving)
Adam: (finally thinking aloud) Hey, I wonder if there are any
community meetings listed in the Herald. I’m gonna check with Ryan.
(then starts to wonder)
Joan: (responding to the assignment, ignoring Adam’s comment) What
now? Another assignment that makes no sense. Vox non sensus. Where do
they even have community meetings? Who comes up with this stuff?
Alex: (responding to Joan’s remark, sarcastic) What’s the problem,
little girl … big world just got a little bigger?
Joan: (irritated by the callous remark, but speaking up anyway,
rambling) What’s a community meeting? I’ve never been to a community
meeting. There’s no community. Just cars, houses, malls, stores, my
friends. You know, the world inside my head. Hey, livin’ in my own
private Arcadia, here. (pointing to her head)
Teacher: (overhearing Joan’s remarks, throws in a comment) You’re
riding off into a limited horizon. This’ll be good for you. Expand
connections, possibilities.
Alex: (ignoring the teacher, responding to Joan) Hey, it’s where you
live. And that ain’t in your head. … Or Idaho. (knowing the tune, and
twisting back at Joan) … Don’t you talk about this stuff in your
‘hood. Who lives on your street? Strangers? ….When somebody gets
trashed, don’t you all get together? The pool gets rebuilt. Or
repainted with a mural… (Joan is clueless and really uninterested,
looking bored stiff at such mundane stuff that’s somebody else’s
business, certainly not hers.)
Joan: (now trying desperately to connect): Like community service?
Alex: No. That’s what you get when you get arrested. I’m talking
about living on the street. And organizing a gang. Or organizing your
neighbors to take a gang on. A little alternative army. A punk
brigade. And sending out invitations to the police to watch you get
your ass kicked. (trying to be funny, but Joan’s really not getting
it)
Joan: (still confused, but hearing the army idea offering a glimmer
of sense)
Alex: (showing a more sensitive side and actually trying to be
helpful) Okay, okay, you’re not going to get it unless you show up at
one …. And I’m the guy who’s got one in his neighborhood next week.
Adam: (and the others nearby, including Grace, who have been
listening) Hey Alex, can I show up? (noticing the others listening)
Them too?
Alex: Yes, yes, yes. The whole army. Maybe we can make a gang out of
you. Nah, nah. Just don’t embarrass me. Keep me off front street …
it’ll be okay.
Adam: How ‘bout some coordinates on the space-time continuum?
Alex: (getting the message and answering) The basement of St.
Michael’s Church, Dilcue Street near Walnot. 7pm. And don’t come
early. Nothing starts on time.
Joan: Where? I go there for yoga class. It’s out of my way (somewhat
talking aloud to herself not realizing Alex’s not much interested) …
I’ve been looking for a different location …. this was the first one
I found, … I just tried it out and like it. But with school I figured
to stop.
Alex: (uninterested in Joan’s explanation) So you know where it’s at.
Good. 7pm. (He heads off.)
Joan: I’ll be there (realizing her schedule isn’t someone else’s and
feeling she’s gotta get this assignment over). (Everyone wanders out
of class and off.)
**Part 11**\ : It’s early evening, Kevin and Lily are on a date.
They’re about to enter a Labyrinth garden when they notice Luke,
Grace, Adam, Glynis and Friedman, walking down the side of the street
they’re on. On the other side of the street, a grizzled tall guy is
hawking a newspaper. He’s got a dog with him and a grocery cart
filled with stuff… and aluminum cans. A block down the street,
there’s a movie theater with a marquee; it’s called the RIALTO
ArtHouse. There are lots of other storefronts, too … A resale shop;
bagel shop; coffee shop; tire shop; bicycle shop.
Kevin: Hey, bro’? (gestures, wondering where they’re all headed)
Luke: Off to glue our eyeballs to Celluloid.
Grace: (Grace reacts to Luke’s slick statement; she gawks pleased.) I
like it. I like it. (bobbing up and down)
Luke: (Feeling that he wants to continue to impress Grace, Luke
rattles off the following lines swiftly) Actually, processing the
medium of film is a fairly complex (here Luke uses emphasis) and hot
transformation. Gibson demonstrated experimentally that the ecology
of perception, given from the surrounding patterns of light, a direct
pick up from the Ambient Array, undermined the Cartesian bifurcation
of nature and cogito. This .. wait .. Does that apply to film? What
did Bateson say in ‘Ecology of Mind’? (trying to remember) The mind’s
a plant, organic growth from compost, (quoting something) ‘a wild,
where weed and flower promiscuous shoot’. Okay, a system, but not a
computer or factory flow chart…
Friedman: (wincing at Luke’s tangent, and butting in, telling Kevin)
Enough already. I tried to convince them … Deep Throat …. so much the
perfect movie. Passion nonstop (notices Lily’s curious)… (Friedman
trying to score some points himself) Especially since Mark Felt’s
been outted. Or … maybe … a tango in Paris. (Friedman tries to tango,
but looks more like he’s twisting himself into a knot.)
Glynis: (speaking up for herself) I refused to be subjected to two
people itching themselves and one another for 2 hours. If it’s gonna
be concupiscence, I want Tristan and Yseult, channeled through
Einstein and his first cousin ….
Grace: (interrupting Glynis before she goes on) Glynis, you’re
getting’ weirder …by the day. You gotta stop reading the dictionary.
And Feynman’s lectures. (Deciding to add something for humor) And
playing your tuba at the same time. (Grace now starts to look at
Glynis, actually concerned even though she sounds sarcastic) Have you
been inhaling the wrong fumes?
Glynis: (takes a deep breath) Just breathing freedom from the
shackles of the body. It’s a knowledge of a different order. Once you
start reading Byron’s Don Juan (The Overture from Mozart’s Don
Giovanni starts to play), you’re whisked to Greece, Italy… . ah… Life
is short (wondering how she’ll ever take it all in)…Especially for
Byron and his coterie…..But art is eternal. (Friedman is absorbed in
all things Glynis for a second.)
Kevin: (realizing this crew doesn’t all know Lily, and interrupting
before they continue off the deep end) Lily, these are my brother’s
geeky friends. As you can see, … they don’t hide it. Glynis (she nods
and each does on cue). The Friedman. Grace. You know Adam.
Lily: By hearsay (thinking) ... or rather, hersay. (trying to sound
cute)
Adam: (ignoring Glynis’ earlier question about art as is everyone
else and avoiding Lily’s comment. He wants to get to the movie.) I’d
actually like to see the credits. We miss those. I’m walking out.
(Adam’s announcement is ignored as they all continue to talk.)
(The guy on the other side of the street trafficking in newspapers
crosses the street, and is recognized as Homeless-man-god. He’s got a
newspaper, ‘Personas sin Casa Grapevine’ (translated, ‘Homeless
Grapevine’). He has a badge that identifies him as a vendor for the
paper. He closes in enough to hear most of the conversation going on,
but clearly outside the circle of words. He starts to sell his
newspaper to passersby. The dog stays on the other side and sits
attentive on the sidewalk, unobtrusive and not bothering anyone,
keeping watch over the goings-on and the grocery cart full of stuff.)
Kevin: (Picking up the movie thread) Lily’s been trying to get me to
“All the President’s Men.” She thinks I could learn something. I
wouldn’t fall for it.
Grace: (to no one in particular, just dropping her comments like
pronouncements or oracles) All the king’s horses and the all the
king’s men couldn’t put humpty dumpty back together again.
Lily: (tired of all the earlier gibberish and now more so, she stomps
her foot and blurts out) What’s the flick already?
Friedman: Citizen Kane…. That’s the problem. I said we could pick it
up at the video store. Adam insists on the Rialto.
Adam: (forgetting how impatient he’s been to get to the movie) The
greatest movie ever made. Bar none. You gotta see it (stretches his
arms out to give the idea of watching a big screen) to get the
effect. (He starts to get animated) Working at the Herald will give
me a whole new take on it. Political cartoons, photos ‘amping’ a
story. (now thinking how he was lucky enough to be working at the
newspaper) Ryan’s excited about my ‘concepts’. He dropped by Layout.
I’ve been ‘jazz-ing’ some Ads. He’s been like an angel of light, (he
softens as realizes what he’s going to say next) since my fall from
heaven with Joan. (Adam realizes immediately he’s said more than he’s
comfortable with, he short-circuits himself.)
(Newspaper vendor’s ears prick up when he hears Adam mention working
at Arcadia Herald)
Grace: (still not really knowing what to do with Adam’s rumination of
his ruin with Joan, she moves on to the movie-thing and beyond) I’d
just as soon see Humpty Dumpty. Adam’s still into his artsy-fartsy
scene. But I’m gonna fix that. (Grace thinks about what Adam might
need, focusing on what she has in store for him) With the peoples’
art. (She returns to what she’d really be interested in, but she
can’t get anyone else on her wavelength.) American Splendor. Comic
books, hospital orderlies, burning rivers. Harvey Pekar, persona non
grata. Adam, we got a future.
Kevin: (Kevin ignores Grace’s strange remarks, but picks up on the
newspaper connection with Adam and Ryan Hunter. He notices newspaper
hawker through the circle of conversation as he speaks directly to
Adam, who’s become interested in what Kevin has to say.) Ryan’s one
curious and … strange guy. (pauses before he adds) We had lunch last
week. He actually (surprised) …was interested in what I thought. He
knows all these meaningless details. The exact number of reporters.
Their assignments. Our advertisers. Up to his eyeballs in every
aspect of the paper. He’s got …. like a ravenous mind. After I told
him I might go to ‘All the President’s Men,’ (expresses surprise
again) … he went off and saw it … gave me a detailed capsule. It was
like I didn’t even need to see for myself. He’s the fact-meister
himself. I wouldn’t want to go up against him in a court of law or
facts. … Well…. maybe, some day.
Adam: (throwing this in) Joan’s definitely pissed about what’s been
featured in the Herald …. all that money and drugs disappearing from
the police dept …. She’d like to bite Ryan’s ear off … No love lost
between them.
Lily: (Noticing that Joan’s nowhere in sight with her group of
friends, Lily speaks to Kevin) Where’s your sister?
Luke: (answering Lily’s question as Adam can’t resist following
intently) Sis is studying government. She’s all over her assignments
already… I can’t believe it . Reading The Declaration of
Independence, the Constitution, and commentary on the 14th amendment.
(Luke goes into automatic here, like once he starts thinking, he’s
got this whole string of information he can’t shut off until it comes
to the end of the string) Which was set up to provide equal
protection, due process. You know, all the rights of the
Constitution; Bill of Rights should apply to African-Americans, too,
but didn’t, ‘til after slavery. You know, an amendment just to make
sure. But in 1886, the Supreme Court gave corporations ‘personhood’
from it. Since then, like every case before the Supreme Court under
this Amendment ….brought by Corporations, demanding their rights…
giving them the power of the people, their own voice .. . So now
they’re people too. Well, not like any people I know, but … So I’m
wondering …. why not robots and clones too? Like what is a person,
anyway? Cogito? (then remembering something about Bateson)
Co-habitation of mind and place?
Grace: (irritated that she didn’t know this stuff and pleased/angry
with Luke’s information about corporations being persons, something
she didn’t know before): Whoa, Cor-po-ra: Persona “non a wanna.” I
shoulda stayed home (Grace would have actually liked doing this
assignment).
Adam: (Adam’s easily brought back to thinking of Joan, ignoring the
content, but not the fact that it’s Joan he’s talking about) Didn’t
she say she was headed off to some dance classes too? Tomorrow? She’s
not letting me in on her plans. I wanted to go. My feet were nixed.
They went a different direction.
(There’s a brief lull. Adam now responds to Grace’s comment and tries
to drop the question of Joan’s whereabouts … it’s too painful for him
to dwell on it) Grace, you pump the same corrosive slurry to fire
your engines. Mrs. G’s informed us that the Post post-industrial
artist works with ‘found junk’. The refuse of the world. What’s left
of our industrial wasteland. Its dead dinosaurs of rust … to make
beauty, truth. She’s convinced me that ‘we’re saved by beauty.’ Not
revolution, Grace. Well, (Adam’s not sure how ‘revolution’ fits in or
not) maybe … I don’t know. I like making stuff … returning the
smelted to impure mixtures …fissioning ..fashioning.. Welding ..
(thinking of something, trying to put his finger on it) yin and
yang…. Metallica ….transmogrification … Alchemical metamorphosis ..
Fusing the distant constellations … iron and .… (drifting off, but
then comes back to something important) But, what do people need?
Grace: That’s why you want a dog, right? Beauty and the beast!
Adam: (taken aback by Grace’s comment) No, that’s different.
(Newspaper vendor starts to listen in more closely)
Lily: (jumping in, ready to move on) We’re headed into the …. (Lily
motions in the direction of the Labyrinth)
Luke: (just now noticing the sign indicating such) Labyrinth. Very
cool. (rambling) Video games, layers upon layers of hypertext. Higher
slices of reality. Lara Croft. I’d like to try it.
Friedman: (to Luke) … Another day, ill spirit. (making his own
commentary) A complete rip-off of ‘Adventures of the Minotaur.’
Lily: (Lily doesn’t realize Friedman’s remark is about a video game.)
Nah, Chartres. (Now Lily tries to explain the Labyrinth.) Labyrinths
evoke another center to the universe. … (Lily starts to focus; she’s
quoting something she knows extremely well by heart, written thereon)
… “I fled him down the nights and down the days, I fled down the
arches of the years, I fled him down the labyrinthine ways of my own
mind and in the mist of tears I hid from him, and under running
laughter.”
Kevin: Wow!….(curious) Who were you running from?
Lily: God …. (and then pointing toward Kevin) … And you…
Adam: (unable to bear waiting any longer, and getting agitated about
Joan… Everyone has ignored Lily and Kevin’s exchange because they’re
ready to leave) Time to go. (Adam walks away, assuming everyone else
will follow.)
Grace: (to Lily and Kevin regarding the Labyrinth, as she starts to
move away) Good luck finding your way out … (Grace pauses for a
moment and then adds) or in.
Luke: (Luke’s been thinking about something while all this talk has
been going on. As the group starts to walk away, Luke begins
wondering aloud finally, including Lily and Kevin in his meaning.) Is
it god or the devil that’s in the details? I’ve heard it both ways.
(then he changes his direction, furrowing his brow, his curiosity is
limitless) What kind of labyrinth is this?
Grace: (shoots to Luke) Leave it alone, serpentine warrior. We’re
late.
(Homeless Guy/Newspaper Vendor can’t wait any longer and interrupts,
sweeping his gaze to everyone, except Adam, who’s left.)
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: ‘The Grapevine’. Get what no one
else is willing to print. Find your way out of the maze of news. Hey,
only a buck and it keeps me off the streets. Stories … from the
streets, on the streets. (Headlines says, ‘City enacts panhandling
law: It sucks’) (Arrested Development’s Mr. Wendall begins to play.)
Kevin: (intrigued) Hey, I’ll take one. (Grace, Glynis and Friedman
buy one too.)
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: (asking a general question) Where
you guys headed?
Grace: To the outhouse (not sure if she’s being funny, or just a slip
of the tongue, so she clarifies) …. ArtHouse. Rialto.
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: Know anyone who needs a dog…
(pointing across the street)?
Grace: Not yet. (Grace is ready to leave.) Adios, amigo. (She waves
as she leaves for the moviehouse; vendor waves back.)
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: (to Lily, Kevin) What’s this? (and
immediately adds) Can I join? (gestures as though he wants to come
along into the Labyrinth.)
Lily: (clarifies) Not a good time now…. (thinks twice) … No dogs
allowed.
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: True. (He walks off almost
immediately.)
Kevin: Where did that come from? … ‘I fled him’….? How’s that go?
(remembering Lily quoting from something.)
Lily: Reconciliation. It was an assigned penance. Pretty weak, huh? …
Read this poem… Hound of Heaven. Repent of my sins. It was the big
one. (It was THE Penance for Lily as her first confession after
giving up her previous life and entering the convent) Creative,
though.
And it stuck with me … dawgs .. well, hounds me to this day.. so
little, so small .… I still say it weekly. It’s the hound that Adam’s
looking for, but he doesn’t know it (pauses) … yet … (adding as an
afterthought) Grace … now she’s got a whole different klezmer tune to
‘tantsn’(Polish, ‘dance’) to. (now readying themselves to enter the
Labyrinth) Ok, back to our starting spot…
Kevin: Which is….?
Lily: (Realizing she’s been wanting, needing to say something to
Kevin about their relationship before they enter the Labyrinth and
then this other extended tangent occurred with Luke and his friends.
She’s now irritated, and lost her mood for it, but goes ahead
anyways.) If this …. (Lily searching for the right word) thing ….
(stops and pauses for each phrase) we got … is going to work. (losing
her patience) Okay, I’ll just say it straight, nonsense or not … I
don’t know if want my mystical union with God to go through you.
Kevin: (wondering what the heck she’s talking about) Lily, slow down
some?
Lily: (amused and distracted once more) Right. Fast Eddie, telling
the ex-nun to take it slow.
Kevin: You’re playing a whole different game here, but I’ll try.
(Kevin starts to have his own revelation as he says what’s in his
heart.) I want you. I want you …really (pausing, he can’t resist
telling the truth too and saying it without eloquence) … and it makes
me sick. Well, happy. (he’s losing his way already as he talks in
both directions at the same time. He even rolls his wheelchair in
different directions. Still he tries to say it out loud.) Well happy
and sick. (He realizes it sounds funny, so he tries again, sounding
sincere with something Helen once alluded to) Like some wounded stag.
Heartsore troubadour. (There’s a lyrical, sweet tone to his voice and
it’s directed to Lily. It’s a new way, other than charm and good
looks. He’s trying something new … well, not so new. Then he takes
off in his own direction) I want to catch a wind, exhilarated, and
ride like some eagle, … or bat out of.. .. no …with my legs no longer
dead, like …. (struggling to express his feelings) I’ve developed
wings. It almost makes me forget these … these lifeless stumps (raps
his dead legs). And I’m dancing a jig … well in my chair, that is.
Lily: Don’t get all mushy with me. I’m talking meat and potatoes,
here. Marriage, you know the whole 9 yards. Cake, ice cream, even a
dress. Well maybe not a dress, maybe a surfboard….
Kevin: We’ve been together like how long? (He pulls out a pencil that
like looks like a twig that he might have picked up after he
developed wings, and had flown off to see if he could find any trace
of a new life for himself. He puts it in his mouth as a peace
offering)
Lily: Right! We’ve traveled to the moon already, at least this
“Alice” has.
Kevin: Hey, you’re leaving me in outer space, alone here.
Lily: So… getting to feel what it was like for all those cheerleaders
you and Andy hooked up with.
Kevin: It’s ….
Lily: (cutting Kevin off) It’s called repentance, but that’s none of
my business. That’s you and your maker’s, and those who suffered as a
result. You know, making amends wherever possible, blah, blah…
(unable to let go of Kevin’s past exploits) What do you think you
were doing then?
Kevin: ‘Thinking’ … that’s a good one. … (going in a different
direction) Doesn’t the same go for you?
Lily: I had excuses. Even if they weren’t good ones. You didn’t
Kevin: Get off of it. You suffered so…..I’m just getting my just
dues. ‘fraid not. It ain’t fair to me; wasn’t fair to you. Who’s in
charge? (noticing a recruiting station across the street) Uncle Sam?
(wondering where that came from, no matter) Who’s responsible? No one
but you yourself.
Lily: ( tired of this jousting) We’re not ready for this (pointing to
the Labyrinth). I’m all for dead presidents. (looking down to the
movie theatre)
Kevin: What do you mean?
Lily: It’s prayer and healing, walking the Labyrinth. We’re not
ready.
(Silence now takes over between them. Lily grabs Kevin’s wheelchair
and starts to direct it down to the Rialto’s other flick. He takes
control of his chair from her and wheels himself alongside Lily.)
Just before Lily and Kevin move along, Alex (from school) is walking
with a group of friends and Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god tries
to get their attention to sell them a paper, but they don’t even
notice his gestures. Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god wanders into
the RIALTO ArtHouse, without paying. He leaves the dog outside with a
friend.)
**Part 12**\ : It’s in the deep hours of the night, with the stars
thrown starkly, diamond-like, against the celestial velour. The moon
is a cold orb, burning the dark. It’s pitch black in Joan’s bedroom,
though curtains flap occasionally from the cool breeze, ruffling
uneven shadows upon walls. They seem to dance in some kind of
orchestration of chaos… creating tones that are known only to the
breeze and the prevailing winds aloft. Sometimes barely illuminated
is a banner over Joan’s bed. She startles awake and upright to a low
sound, wings beating the darkness, kissing the night. A winged thing
in her bedroom? She scurries out of her bed, closing the bedroom door
behind her. She’s agitated into thought: what was that? She goes into
Kevin’s room and wakes him up.
Joan: (shaking Kevin) There’s something flying around my room… I have
no idea what ….a bat? … flapping wings (trying to communicate by
making the gesture like she’s some kind of bird, but it looks
thoroughly absurd and strange) …. I don’t want to wake anyone..
Kevin: Except me? (not amused, trying to rouse himself through a
clouded mind)
Joan: (she smiles guiltily, but needful) What should I do?
Kevin: Beats me. (still trying to wake himself up) …How’d it get in?
Joan: I don’t know… through my window?
Kevin: Your window’s open? (starting to come to consciousness,
displeased by Joan’s responsibility for his midnight perturbance)
Joan: Yeah. (almost feeling guilty again, sheepish)
Kevin: A definite no-no… you know the air conditioning’s on.
Joan: Hey, I close my door, close my vents so… no wasted energy…. And
there’s a cool breeze coming in.
Kevin: Can’t you live like the rest of us? You are such a doofus.
Joan: Kevin, I need to be connected to the outside world, … even in
my sleep…It puts me into a different state….
Kevin: (ignoring her explanation… becoming concerned) A bat?….Did you
get bit?
Joan: No. I don’t think so… I ‘d feel it, right?…
Kevin: Not necessarily…Turn on the light… (Joan turns on light, he
observes no marks.) Nothing….Your door’s closed?
Joan: (Joan nods, but needing to assure Kevin) I closed it when I
left.
Kevin: Go outside and turn the light on in the backyard… maybe it’ll
leave, attracted or distracted by the light.
(Joan leaves the room and goes downstairs. She steps out into the
dark night, hearing the rustling of the leaves from the Roses of
Sharon, its blossoms past bloom and littered, strewn, about the
ground like gems for the taking, but the leaves still whisper to her
nonetheless …She’s about to get some light on the backyard, but
almost immediately her olfactory sense is taken by surprise. She
drinks deep the sudden rush and is intoxicated by the pungent aroma
of concord grapes ripe on the vine. She’s fixed in the moment. All
her senses stimulated by her draught of its draft… She comes to… and
realizes she needs to focus. Her next movements set off the
motion-detector for the backyard outside light. She waits in patience
and finally catches sight of some winged messenger flying out of her
window… not seeing clearly what it was. She takes one last draught…
and then hurries back into the house and upstairs.)
Kevin: What took you so long?
Joan: (ignoring the question) I saw it fly the coop
Kevin: What’s with you? You look giddy. (irritated) Go and close your
window before it comes back. … Get a screen or something… and go to
bed. I’m tired.
Joan: (Coming back to her room, she starts to feel sick, weak in the
knees. Remembering Kevin’s admonition, she forces herself to the
window, and closes it. She falls onto her bed and lies unsettled. She
hears the wind and leaves rustling outside wanting in ‘til they fall
strangely silent. She speaks softly to the darkness in sounds
somnolent with no answer returned, and finally she washes up on the
shore of sleep.)
\ **Part 13**\ : (It’s the following week. Joan walks into Helen’s
art class. No students are there so they have one another’s complete
attention. Hanging on the wall is Picasso’s painting,
‘\ \ `Guernica <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/PicassospaintingGuernica.jpg>`__\ .’
Joan: Mom, I have to go out for an assignment next week. A community
meeting. Oh, and I have dance classes tonight again. I’m going to
miss dinner.
Helen: (disappointed) Again? You’ve been missing in action every
evening. In your room. Out for dance classes. And breakfast, too. I
never see you anymore. What’s happening to us?
Joan: I told you, “I could just die for this, to dance …. like no
one’s watching.” (Joan’s take-off from ‘Existentialism on prom
night’s’ “I could just die, to sing .. like no one’s listening”)
Helen: What?
Joan: Oh, just singing out loud …. a song in my head (pointing a
finger to her head). Can’t get it out.
Helen: Sweetheart, you gotta get a grip.
Joan: Too much work, too many assignments. Too much too much. I want
the kind of life I had before…. just a ki-..…. (before she spits it
all out, Helen reacts)
Helen: Oh, honey, it’s not that bad ….(not being as sure as she’d
like to be) Is it? (pausing and trying to be hopeful) You were such a
wonderful baby. Dada. Mama. Yaya. (Helen can’t resist telling the
truth) When you weren’t spitting up food, and screaming, and crawling
away where I couldn’t find you (Joan grimaces)… Well, you were …
(Helen decides to just drop the ‘wonderful-ness’ of it all, but she
can’t leave out this last one, which makes Joan wonder) Oh, yeah, …
and almost being drowned by your father….(hoping this childhood
incident would sound funny, but it falls flat)
Joan: Oh. (feeling really sick now, but she tries again) No, it’s not
bad. I’m really very happy…. I think. Therefore I am? Right? (Joan’s
really lost so she quizzes Helen) When does it let up, mom?
Helen: (Helen decides not to answer and make it worse for Joan. Joan
realizes the point of her mother’s silence and accepts the painful
truth)
Joan: You see how I’ve matured. (drawing up breath from her chest,
and putting out her chin, trying to put a good face on her trials.
But she fails and starts to cry.)
Helen: (Helen comforts Joan, hugging her)
Joan: (pushing her Mom away and trying to be honest) I’m an emotional
wreck. (Joan realizes it’s a painful image and tries to make it
better.) …Feeling the weight of all of Arcadia on the top of my head.
(Dramatizing her plight, Joan picks up an art book Helen has lying on
the table nearby and puts it on the top of her head. She tries
balancing it. But imagined as a huge slab of stone, her head
collapses from the weight with the book sliding off. Joan falls to
the floor, trying to catch the book before it hits the ground; she’s
successful. She holds the book between her head and shoulder as she
gets up from the floor, letting it fall back into Helen’s hands. Joan
looks disappointed at her failure at balance, but tries to be
reassuring.) I’m ok. Really. Thanks, Mom. (Joan walks out. Helen
opens the art book which shows ‘The Fallen Caryatid’ by Rodin.)
**Part 14**\ : (That evening, Grace and Luke walk into the Girardi
kitchen. Helen’s making cookies. Grace is carrying a coffee mug, out
of which she’s drinking some ‘joe.’ There’s a logo with a slogan on
the mug… Equal Exchange… Fairly Traded Gourmet Coffee.)
Luke: Hey Mom…You’re doing (light bulb going off) … I finally get it…
The perfect demonstration experiment (running his hands over the
cookie-cutters). Can I have these when you’re through?
Helen: Sure. (but uncertain why Luke’s interested in the materials of
the real, rather than just the thought-dreams of the virtual
universe.) To make cookies?
Luke: (thinking not, but reconsidering) Maybe…. (going on,
explaining) This inspired Gibson to re-shape… (thinking Grace)
revolutionize … (thinking mom) re-bake perception. He walked into
Eleanor’s kitchen, …(walking now like he’s balancing on a tight wire)
avoided her visual cliff, … and voila …. convection…. it’s not sense
data but affordances… invariants…against the ambient array… to
highlight the transitory flashes of the moment… He just needed to
show how it’s done.
Grace: Hey Mrs. Girardi (ignoring Luke’s reverie, and reaching for
the cookie Helen’s offered her)… I prefer to eat my experiments
(starts crunching, adding) in truth,… (stops crunching) or drink them
… (showing her the coffee mug) unlike moon-boy, the Pillsbury
doughboy himself, who’d like to think himself into reality….with his
half-baked experiments of the mind…(she finishes off the cookie.)
Luke: Exactly the opposite, my little mugwump. (trying to stand his
ground) This cookie’s got a whole different recipe and batch in mind
(sounding almost smug)….. Gibson knew that our senses are adapted to
the physical world, not like glue on our eyeballs, but more like
trees in soil, bats with their frequency/flight, (picking up a cookie
and putting it in his mouth and starting to crunch it; now talking
with his mouth full) cookie to mouth .. . it’s taste buds, (looking
at Grace) Bud! …(finishes the cookie and picks up another
contemplating it) Perception and reality are matched in some kind of
imperfect dance … which allows for communion but not dissolution of
one into the other …. Then change is what we attend to unless (now
dropping the cookie to the floor, where it crumbles, getting Helen’s
and Grace’s attention) …. Someone lights up the sky or … jumps off
the spectrum entirely…
Grace: (curious for a moment) Like off a bridge? ‘Cause I’m going to
throw you off one, …. for that cookie crumbling.
Luke: No … like a guru….or prophet. (Grace starts thinking Besht, but
is quickly led elsewhere by Helen’s next comment.)
Helen: (not following Luke, looking to Grace) You’re drinking coffee
now? (noticing her coffee mug) Fair trade? That’s all they’re selling
now at Café Noir.
Grace: Exactly. I’m serving the real revolution (giving Luke a side
glance), Mrs. Girardi.… Worker cooperatives… fair trade, not free
trade…. Giving CAFTA the …. (suggesting something profane but not
wanting to offend Mrs. Girardi) …. Coffee’s 2nd in volume of traded
commodities in the world…. I won’t tell you what comes first….. but
(dragging it out, ‘buuuut’) ……someone sold us down the Euphrates, and
the Mississippi, for it…So in a world of injustice, identity theft
and alienation.... the anarchist (sounding like she’s reciting some
kind of manifesto) … refusing every rejection of responsibility for
the present … takes personalist action… It’s the prophet’s stand…
Helen: Prophet? ….Or profit? (playing off Grace’s remark, but not
understanding what Grace has in mind at all)
Grace: Right on, Mrs. Girardi. (thinking Helen’s got it perfectly and
with humor, too) Sure… (making the earlier connection finally)
Jeremiah… railing against the temple and the powers that be, the
religious and political power brokers, that it was all coming down…
not one stone left upon another after old Nebuchadnezzar got through
with the Holy City… And what does Jeremiah then do? He goes off the
deep end, like crazy, and buys a plot of land right in the middle of
ground zero to be… Talk about location, location, location….How’s
that? (chuckling) Some kind of sense of humor, right? Hey, you know a
prophet who shouted the same message about 600 years later, no?
Helen: I never knew. (feeling like she’s missed something growing up;
she’s clueless, but afraid to let on.)
Grace: Me neither.
Helen: I need to ask Lily about the Prophets…. We haven’t covered
them yet. (hoping a little honesty will help.)
Grace: Well, I twisted Hebrew class to my own purposes, Mrs. G. …
questioning in the Talmudic tradition …reading the Prophets for a
profit (playing it back to Helen like it was played to her)… they
helped Rabbi Heschel into the civil rights movement… For me, they
raised more questions than gave answers … sorta trial and error…
learn as you go ….fanning the flames of individual and collective
responsibility for the state of the nation .. (starting to hear
another voice of resonance) vox prophetos… like Art Young, artiste
extraordinaire … So I’m making my own foray into the revolution… one
cup of joe-joe at a time…
Helen: Good for you, Grace. Maybe I should join this one… and not
miss out.
Grace: Yeah, it starts with employee-owned cooperatives, coffee being
the biggest market. We can go to Central America next summer and
visit one…. Alienation and injustice are the sources for prophetic
rant… and “hesed” …. I ‘m working on that last one…. The master of
the universe making your life miserable for seeing and speaking the
truth….. to the people in power.. it got Jeremiah imprisoned… death….
I can see the future, and it’s so bright I need sunglasses . ….and a
motorcycle to get there..…. (leaving this all open-ended, with no
final words or answers, they all start to munch cookies without an
end in sight.)
**Part 15**\ : (It’s early evening as Joan heads for dance class at
yoga-dance-instructor-god’s studio. It’s several blocks down from St.
Michael’s Church, on the second floor of a building that looks as
though its first floor’s boarded up. All the windows have plywood
over them, but they’re painted black and it gives the building a
funky look that surprises Joan. There’s a mural on the outside wall
of the building. It’s of a figure from a\ `Grecian
urn <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/GrecianFigure.jpg>`__\ that
merges with an image of\ `Whirling
Dervishes <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/MevleviWhirlingDervishesimage.jpg>`__\ .\ `Joan <http://Joan>`__\ walks
up the wooden steps and notices the railing’s weak. Outside the
door’s a table with brochures, business cards and notices. One
business card has: “Rahav’s Bed and Breakfast… close to downtown.”
There’s also a flyer for some kind of DanceFest event. Joan walks
through a door.
There are lots of people and stuff inside. Joan notices statues that
she thinks belong in the basement of St. Michael’s……a curious
figurine, (\ `Yogi Patanjali’s
statue <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/YogiPatanjalisstatue.jpg>`__\ )
a statue (\ `Nataraja’s
statue <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/NatarajasstatuedancingposeofLordShi.jpg>`__\ )
and there’s a papier mache of a giraffe, about 6 feet tall, mounted
on a cart with wheels, in the corner.)
(The dance class is filled with a dozen people, mostly several
couples, but a few single people as well. It’s an introductory class
to several styles of ballroom dancing. A collage of images show
Yoga-dance-instructor-god demonstrating the steps to do ‘salsa.’ And
the people there in varying degrees of success in approximating the
moves. Joan moves to the challenge and flow of her body to the
wiggles and waggles of the ‘salsa.’)
Yoga-dance-instructor-god: (to Joan) Hey, we’re going to learn to do
it together soon. ….Oh, ever tried to moving to the ‘Lord of the
Dance?’ (Joan nods to the first question and looks quizzical to the
latter.)
(At the end of the class, a large group of kids come in. They’re
mostly in Joan’s age range, though some are clearly much younger and
older. They greet yoga-dance-class-instructor, yelling out her name,
‘Rahav.’ They start doing hiphop, b-boying (breaking), popping. They
play a deluxe boom-box at top volume as they’re warming up.)
Joan: (to Rahav, talking over the volume) What’s this?
Rahav (Yoga-Dance-Instructor-God): My after-hours group. We’re
cooking up something special. (‘special’ enunciated as ‘spatial’)
Joan: Hmm…. different (trying to appreciate something she’s never
seen before).
Rahav: Yeah, well …. (trying to explain) we’ll be doing a performance
next weekend. HipHop DanceFest Arcadia. Here’s a flyer. It’s a
fundraiser for neighborhood programs. You should come. It’ll expand
your horizon.
Joan: Yeah, right. My horizon is endless, an open road that I’m
barreling down at about 669 million miles per hour.
Rahav: And we’re dancing together all the way? (Rahav grabs Joan by
the hand and starts pulling her into the rhythms that are coming from
the deluxe boom-box a la Prince, “Let’s Go Crazy.”
Joan wiggles and waggles a bit lindy-like hopping before dropping out
of the flow at the sight of Alex in the practice-group that’s just
arrived.)
Joan: (Leaving Rahav with her question, Joan lingers looking at the
flyer and then starts looking again at the dance troupe, watching
Alex as he’s surrounded by friends and other kids. Joan and Alex
catch one another’s gaze. Alex quickly looks back to what he was
doing, ignoring Joan. Joan’s curious about Alex’s life, yet she
quickly drops her interest, letting it linger somewhere in the back
of her mind.)
(A collage of visual images ensue … kids practicing dance moves…
(lotus-move; pile drive move)
Finally, Joan’s seen enough and wanders out of the dance studio and
heads home. Her mind filled with images she hadn’t fathomed. She
looks luminous against the night sky.)
\ **Part 16**\ : (Helen and Will are in their bedroom, getting ready
for bed. Willem de Kooning’s painting, ‘\ \ `Woman
V <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/WillemdeKooningspaintingWomanV.jpg>`__\ ,'
hangs on the wall.)
Helen: (mentioning something) Will, I have two free tickets to the
Arcadia Symphonic Orchestra. I want to go. (Helen quickly gets
excited by just mentioning it. She remembers when she first received
the tickets she thought this was a great opportunity for her to make
a new connection with Will. So she’s assertive about it.)
Will: Helen, it’s not my thing. (Will’s missing the vibe and
emphasizing his limits. He’s tired.)
Helen: Right, that’s why you’re gonna go. Trying new things. An
experiment. (Helen’s surprisingly hopeful about Will’s potential to
adapt and respond to her requests. Or are they demands? Now she turns
on the charm.) Please, Bubula.
Will: (Will’s excited and enthusiastic because Helen’s said the magic
charm word) Yes, yes, anything you want. (Will draws closer to Helen
and starts kissing her with exaggerated passion.)
Helen: (interrupting Will’s desire) Hold on, sweetie. (Helen goes off
to bathroom and brushes her teeth.)
Will: (collecting himself quickly and becoming curious who gave Helen
the tickets to a concert he didn’t want to attend) Helen, where’d
those tickets come from?
Helen: (talking between brushing her teeth and not realizing Will’s
investigating a crime against himself) Ryan Hunter, just elected
president of the school board, the guy with lots of connections.
(disturbed with his access and power)
Will: But didn’t he just get elected to the board? (Will’s ever the
detective, like he’s tracing a lead.)
Helen: Yes, and he’s taking charge quick. He has ….something… I can’t
put my finger on what it is… (wondering aloud) Some kind of drive.
(Helen’s frightened, but enthralled, by his powerful and prominent
emergence in Arcadia.) He’s making big things happen in Arcadia.
Will: But why did you take the tickets from him?
(Helen walks back and gets into bed. Lights are turned out..) Why
not? He probably thinks it buys influence… he’s getting nothing from
this perk…
Will: Helen, (unhappy and concerned) there’s no such thing as a free
lunch…. or a free ticket….
(Helen leaves it without a response. She walks out of the bathroom
and gets into bed. Lights are turned off. Hmm.)
**Part 17**\ : (Will is at the police station with Ryan Hunter,
getting ready to head to the community meeting that Hunter got him to
commit to. Daghlian walks by and Will introduces Hunter to Daghlian.)
Will: Detective Daghlian, you need to meet Ryan Hunter. He’s been
making his presence felt in Arcadia.
Daghlian: Sure, Chief. (Greeting Ryan) Mr. Hunter ….. (introducing
himself) Detective Daghlian.
Ryan Hunter: Detective, it’s good to meet you. Just trying to make
the rounds. Being the president of the Citizens’ Watchdog Committee
and now the school board brings responsibilities. Here’s my card.
(handing it Daghlian.)
Daghlian: (glancing at the card, Ryan Hunter) I’ve been gone for
awhile from Arcadia. I look forward to helping out the committee and
…. Would you like mine?
Ryan Hunter. (taking Daghlian’s card) I’m sure we’ll find ways for
you to make connections here again.
Will: (trying to direct the implications) We’re trying to be
responsive to community concerns on drug dealing, prostitution,
street level crimes down at Dilcue. You’ll be involved at some point.
(Daghlian nods, with a half-salute and walks away. Hunter and Will
leave as well.)
\ **Part 18**\ : (The following week at a community meeting in the
basement of St. Michael’s Church. Glynis, Friedman, Luke, Grace, and
Adam attend, taken by Joan. Joan and compatriots walk in together at
7pm. They notice Ryan’s up at a table with a district police
commander. Will’s there too. Others present: councilman, a
neighborhood organizer, and a local community development
representative. It’s a varied group. Some people are dressed in
suits. There are mothers with their children dressed informally. The
group is diverse, economically, ethnically, and age-wise. Citizens,
community members, of African descent, Hispanic descent, Middle
Eastern and Asian descent are in the room. There’s about 40 people at
the meeting.)
(Alex is already seated and notices Joan’s and her classmates’ entry;
he acknowledges their arrival with a hand-gesture, but remains
seated. They go and stand in the rear. Joan ‘eyes’ Ryan and gives her
father a look which is reciprocated by him. It’s ‘what are you doing
here?’ Joan and her army notice Denunzio and Bonnie sitting in the
audience with Lily. They’re all curious what goes or already bored.
Whatever.)
Tim, Community development representative: (moves to the podium and
starts talking) We have several things on tonight’s agenda. But first
I want to welcome everyone and our special guests. (He points without
giving their names.)
Tonight’s Safety Summit is really part of a bigger drive from the
city. There are big plans in the offing for this neighborhood. We’re
all familiar with the real estate mantra… Location, location,
location. Changes we have in mind will transform this place, this
land, into the premiere location in Arcadia. There’s been a lot of
redevelopment in this neighborhood and there’s a lot more coming.
You’ve seen the new housing and new shops, businesses. And there’s a
casino coming, a convention center, and more townhomes…. We hope. But
all that’s for another day, another discussion. Tonight’s focus is on
safety …. In our neighborhood. (pausing)…..Let me introduce Ryan
Hunter, president of the Citizens’ Watchdog Committee. He’s here
tonight to help the police do their job. (Will winces at this
suggestion)
Ryan: Thank you, Tim, I’m glad to be here. We all appreciate what the
police do for us in our neighborhoods. We’re simply an extra set of
eyes on the street. (Ryan says this to soften the previous remarks
about helping the police. He knows you don’t say such things about
the police; they don’t like it.) Like an extra video camera. Which we
don’t have. But….our committee has recommended… to beef up safety.
(Some people in audience look concerned.)
Alex: (interrupts with a hand-jive) You mean you’re going to watch me
strut up and down the street to Dave’s supermarket and whatever else
I want to do on my pavement. (He gets out of his chair while he’s
talking and does a brief strut.)
Ryan: (surprised by the disruption, but pleasant, unflappable; he
decides he can use the example) It’s for safety. And as long as
you’re not doing criminal activity, there’s no problem. (Ryan goes
back to his agenda.) But the issue is important. Thanks for bringing
it up. (pauses for emphasis ) We need to keep our streets safe first,
last and all the time. We need not just take a hard line, but the
hardest line. The Police need to know that we want that kind of
safety. No coddling. Because without that mandate, that mission,
they’ll be looking over their backs, wandering how much support they
have from us. Whether they’ll get slapped with some kind of
harassment or police brutality. (Ryan starts to rev up some.)
We’ve developed a serious problem with arson in this neighborhood.
The video cameras will help. We’ll find out who’s doing the
vandalism, who’s setting the new housing ablaze. ‘Cause that’s the
opposite message we want getting out to the public, the media, the
newspapers. We want to be a neighborhood of choice. We’re in
competition and need to win this battle.
(Ryan clarifies his committee’s direction) The Citizen’s Watchdog
Committee has expanded its understanding of its responsibilities.
Realizing safety is really part of an overall development plan for
Arcadia. And we’re starting with this neighborhood.
(Joan and her comrades have been listening to all this with little
comprehension. Grace winces at the cameras and the coming of the
fascist regime to the streets. She’s ready for a fight, but doesn’t
know where to jump in.)
(Ryan continues) I know many of you in the audience. We’ve talked.
You’ve shared your ideas with me. What you want. And I think I speak
for, am the voice of, the overwhelming majority of the people. All of
you. That we want safety … safe streets. And we need the police to do
their job with a free hand. Right, detective Girardi?
(Will nods, but not entirely sure of the message. Will’s somewhat
impressed, but also a little uncomfortable with Ryan’s hard-line
message. He’s feeling Ryan’s got it right: ‘you can’t pull your
punches,’ ‘coddle criminals’. Anyway, it’s not police business, but
community attitudes. The police are there to do their jobs, arrest
criminals or suspects, investigate, present the evidence, and let the
justice system determine the outcomes, the results.)
Alex’s mother (speaking up): My son here was picked up for no reason
by the police. (with attitude) Because of so-called …safety concerns.
I got a problem with that.
Ryan: I got a problem with it too.(showing he knows how to make use
of a challenging comment) That’s why we have a watchdog committee. If
he’s a suspect, then it’s fair. If he’s not, then he shouldn’t have
been picked up. Chief Girardi will help us with that. Thank you.
Alex’s mother: (wanting to reply, but can’t use the opportunity
before the next person chimes in)
Homeless guy: (speaking out, rambling) You know, we homeless, ….
persons not wanted anywhere…persona non grata and persona non a
wanna… provide plenty of eyes on the street …safety for free … and at
all hours of the day and night. It’s sorta like my job….Where’d you
all be without us? (seemingly ignored by the audience, thinking it’s
a strange idea, but… something seems to sit differently with everyone
for a moment)
Ryan: (jumping on it) Jobs are coming…. The casinos will provide
that….enough to earn a good living. (looking at the homeless guy) If
you want it. Work is good for the soul.
Homeless guy: (interrupting) No way will I work at a casino. … The
price is too high …I ain’t gonna sell my soul to the company or a
casino… for a job… I’ll starve first. (People in the audience look at
him and figure, “ What’d ya expect?” Ryan ignores this guy’s line of
reasoning, surmising where it’s coming from.)
Hunter: (redirecting) Hey, you don’t work you don’t eat. Unless
someone gives you a handout. That’s the problem. Don’t give a
panhandler money. It’s actually bad for him. He’ll drin…
A man in the audience: (jumping in, Ryan’s accidentally lit some kind
of fuse) It’s not that simple. My brother can’t get a job. No one
will hire him. He’s an ex-felon. They even tried to keep him from
voting.
A person dressed in a suit: (ignoring the comment, trying to go in a
different direction, emphasizing the positive) We live on the same
street. We have a wonderfully diverse community. The new housing and
restorations going on are bringing this place back to life. And my
lofted …
Hunter: (ignoring the second man’s comment, but conceding his
interruption) Sorry. ….(responding to the first question, because he
wants to shift the previous remarks) It’s hard work. No question.
Rejoining society, …the body politic. But that doesn’t mean it can’t
be done. Your brother needs help. People need to reach out to
him….But if he chooses… And I want to emphasize this: We have
choices. Always. And if he chooses to break the law, he needs to be
punished to the fullest extent of the LAW. You make your choices. You
pay the consequences. Get your due. It’s like any relationship. Tough
love. Tough in that, if you fail to hold up your side of it….choose
(with emphasis) not to work, ..you lose….(Homeless guy leaves, giving
up on the conversation for now. Ryan uses the opportunity to
emphasize the safety message one last time.) Thomas Hobbes believed
the state of society was wrestled from a wild free-for-all. A state
of nature. And… that only the strong arm of the law. Of power. Force.
Really fear….could secure safety and sanity for us all. It’s a social
contract. And like any contract, if it’s broken .. you sue… apprehend
… punish … It’s a jungle out there …. And we need a Leviathan to
control our world and manage it.
Really, we’ve gone on for awhile. So ….
(There’s a disruption in the room. Several police enter with women
they’ve picked up on the street, likely prostitutes. The women enter.
Joan notices the yoga-dance instructor is among them. She’s confused.
God or not? There’s a sad and distressed look on the
yoga-dance-instructor’s face.)
Councilman: (comes forward) We’ve had problems with prostitution on
Dilcue. We got people on it. These women were just picked up
‘soliciting.’ They’ll be processed and held. The police are doing
their job.
(There’s rumbling from the crowd, accompanied by a low hiss, from
several people at the meeting. A majority are angry at the
prostitution happening on their streets. Some are uncomfortable,
shifting nervously in the awkward situation. Someone speaks up after
the initial disruption, breaking the silence.)
Alex’s mother: You got no right bringing them in here. If they’re
going to jail, take them. You got no right.
Will: (Will’s not expecting this, but he’s ready to jump in, knowing
it’s not right either. But he hesitates a moment and Ryan steps into
the moment of Will’s hesitation.)
Ryan: Ma’am, we have every right to bring criminals to account for
their actions. … (shifting his attention) Thank you officers. You can
take them out. (The patrolmen look to the nodding commander and they
are rustled out. Joan watches closely and catches
yoga-dance-instructor-prostitute leave. They meet one another’s gaze.
There’s a connection of sadness, of distance, of wanting to help, at
a loss of what to do, frustration at what’s going on.)
(Will’s been observing this whole exchange between Ryan, the police,
and the women hauled in off the street. And he’s upset. He doesn’t
want to embarrass fellow police officers in public. He decides he’s
going to take this up with them, tell them not to get leveraged into
bringing suspects into a community meeting. He’s also going to take
it up with the district commander.)
Ryan: (trying to wrap things up) Thank you all. You’ve come out and
made yourself heard. We’ll be sure to have regular meetings ….Good
night ….
Adam: (walks up to Ryan at the front of the room near the podium and
says) Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here. (making a connection with
Ryan)
Ryan: Just doing my civic duty (trying to sound servant-like, but it
comes off cavalier) … Listen, Adam, I’m parched. Would you get me
some water? (and who becomes the servant?)
Adam: Sure… (furrows his brow, sensing something’s not quite
right…Still, he walks off to get Ryan some water. Ryan mills around
at the front, talking with people in the audience and the other
presenters. Will’s there.)
(With Adam off getting Ryan’s water, Joan’s comrades stand in the
back. Lily with her gang, Denunzio and Bonnie, walk up to Joan. It’s
uncomfortable for Joan as she has difficulty looking Bonnie in the
eye.)
Denunzio: (greets Joan) Hey Princess, got a cancer stick? (Bonnie’s
quietly distant.)
Joan: (just smiles and looks smug, ignoring his request)
Lily: Just wanted to say hi…. Hi. …We’re late for gettin’ outta here.
(motioning like she’s already leaving)
Joan: What just happened? (everyone’s clueless)
Lily: (Lily speaks up first) Beyond me. Just helping them (looking
over at Bonnie and Denunzio) get an assignment done by cutting
community service time.
Friedman: (noticing that Bonnie’s not wearing any shoes or socks)
What’s this? “Hobbitses?” (‘hobbit zez’ sounding like Gollum from
Lord of the Rings)
Bonnie: (gives him a look that could kill)
Lily: (coming to the rescue) Friedman. You’ll never get it. … The
earth is sacred ground. So… take off your …frickin’ shoes… go down
Moses…..burning bush… pan-located. A Lenape medicine man, prophet,
helped her see .. (unsure herself, but trusting it to be a vision or
something) …I don’t know what, but something…. So shut your trap. Or
I’ll shut it for you.
Friedman: (suitably subdued)
Lily: (anxious to leave) Later.
Others: Bye (Lily leaves with Denunzio and Bonnie.)
Glynis: (giving her assessment to Joan’s question of what just
happened at the meeting) It was awful.
Friedman: It’s how the world works. Maybe awful, but just desserts.
…But how the world looks…Ola … ooh la la…..
Grace: How do you tell the dancer from the dance? (Grace speaks
cryptically. She’s in some kind of other reality altogether for a
moment. But she quickly returns to a typical mood.) I’m gonna get
sick. Spout my coffee on that useless smuck of a citizen leading the
charge. Citizen Kane indeed. Let’s get outta here.
Joan: No. (resisting the movement to leave.) I have to understand ….
Alex: (walking by, saying something to dig at them and then take off)
Like your introduction to community meetings? Can’t wait to see your
write-up. (challenging Joan) So, who’s gonna tell it like it is?
(trying to goad something out of them, but giving up) Hey, I gotta
‘book.’ (Alex walks away. He’s not telling them he needs to walk his
mother home.)
(Joan catches up with Alex as he takes off; the others follow her
slowly)
Alex: (to Joan) I said I had business. Adios.
Alex’s mother: (walking up and hearing Alex) Alex. Are these friends
from school? Introduce me.
Alex: No. They’re not friends. (sounding rude) They just needed to
complete an assignment. (just the facts) Let’s go. (Alex can’t wait
to drop this encounter like a dead weight upon his spirit.)
Joan: No, we’re friends (wanting something more, but realizing she’s
overstated it). Well … acquaintances, ah, (not finding the right
word) … strangers? (gives up trying to know what to say and falls
back on the little she’s sure of) I need to understand. (Joan falls
back on what she knows.) I’m Joan Girardi. (Joan introduces herself
to Alex’s mom)
Alex: This is my mom, Mrs. Villa. (begrudging)
Joan: It’s nice to meet you. (Joan smiles and goes straight to her
purpose.) Can you tell us what happened?
Mrs. Villa: (smiles at Joan’s greeting, but answers her question
enigmatically) I’m sorry. No. But .. maybe some day. Good to meet you
Joan. (Mrs. Villa has a feeling about Joan, but doesn’t trust it.
She’s been burned before.)
(Alex and his mom leave.)
**Part 19**\ : (Next evening, Joan goes to the dance studio to see if
Rahav is there and discover what happened. While the building’s open,
the door to her studio is locked; no one’s there. She leaves the
studio. And as she enters the standing cloud of streetlife, she
becomes aware of something arising, moving her to ‘walking
meditation.’ She focuses on her breathing and lets her eyesight and
body embrace, absorb the neighborhood she wanders through. Her vision
and mind meld into the forms architectural, rigid, human and mobile
she sees. Vipassana. The ambient array of shops, buildings, people on
the street seep into her heart, gradually creating a wide opening.
She walks by a Hispanic Pentecostal Church, next to a teen nite club
with a Banner identifying it as ‘Speak in Tongues.’ There’s a health
clinic across the street from it. There’s a bicycle shop, a tire
shop, a bagel co-op, a coffeeshop, the Rialto, Villa y Zapata
restaurant, San Miguel Botanica, a thrift shop. In the Revolution
Books store, she sees some titles that register unconsciously, ‘Etty
Hillesum… Diaries’ with a photograph on the cover; “Simone Weil … The
Iliad: Poem of Force.’ Once a car stops, and calls through the open
window… ‘Psst.’ She’s startled out of her sentience, then ignores it
and keeps walking. When she finally completes her way through the
labyrinth of streets and people, it’s late. She looks up, recognizing
a constellation in the night sky. She’s now worried that time has
passed and she’s feeling not safe, like she’s taken a risk and is now
in a maze she can’t exit. She then sees Adam walking towards her and
breathes a sigh of relief.)
Joan: Hey. Que pasa? (trying to sound curious and cute, as though
she’s unworried)
Adam: On my way to meet Ryan. (Joan frowns, but hides it from Adam,
‘cause she doesn’t want to go there.)
Joan: It’s late. (instead of talking about Ryan)
Adam: Yeah, I’m restless. I need something. I don’t know what. (Joan
and Adam walk together down the street…and he continues) Something I
can hold on to.
Joan: (feeling pained at Adam’s last statement, she avoids the
subject and focuses on herself) I’m tired. Can’t wait for dreamland.
… But the hunter never sleeps (remembering the constellation Orion
she saw one early morning while it was still dark, and now looking
up, but not seeing it now). Whatever.
Adam: (interested in something else) Hey, I want you to see
something. (They stop in front of a storefront, with big glass
windows.) Look here. (The shop has a high ceiling. And Adam points to
a half wall-size mural that’s on one wall of the shop. The mural’s a
picture of two guys, the owners, standing side by side with arms
around one another’s shoulder. The mural’s cartoon-like because each
guy has one of their eyeballs popped out above their heads to dot the
first letter ‘i’ in the name of their shop,“ ike and ishmi’s Bagel
Co-op.” It’s quite striking, funny, and warm.) I stop here before
work. …Got to talkin’. …. They want me to touch up the mural. I’d do
it free. They said, ‘Nah.’ Art’s work. So is food. Each take
something from the pot. It’s good business. Cool, huh?
Joan: Yeah. (Joan’s happy for Adam and starting to feel a lot more
relaxed.)
(They continue walking and run into Mrs. Villa (Alex’s mom) coming
out of a law office, Goody’s Equity Law office, GELO, ( pronounced
‘jello’).)
Mrs. Villa: Joan Girardi. We meet again.
Joan: Yeah. Hi. (glad and starting to think…) Good to see you again
too. (needing to give introductions) Adam, this is Mrs. Villa, Alex’s
mom. Mrs. Villa, this is my ex-boyfriend Adam. (Adam ouches at the
mention of ‘ex.’ He thinks he really needs a dog now. Mrs. Villa and
Adam greet one another.)
Alex’s mom: Joan, good to see you out with your ex. I got an
ex-husband. We get along, too. Can’t live together though.
Joan: Well, yeah. It’s complicated.
Alex’s mom: Probably not. Another woman. (Adam feels foolish at how
she’s got it all mapped out so quickly.) It happens all the time. ….
‘Til the lesson’s learned. (ominous) painfully…..One big soap opera.
What? (trying to think of which one to name) General Hospital, right?
Joan: I guess.
Alex’s mom: Just like the Bible. Redux. From time immemorial. All
those men cavorting. David and Bathsheba. Women haggling. Sarah and
Hagar. And whoa, Jacob waiting for Rachel. That’s why I like good
queen Esther. But don’t get me started. (not able to quit quite yet)
God just can’t seem to get it to work out right sometimes. But I tell
him to keep trying. (Adam’s at a loss to follow this, but Joan’s not
cowed.)
Joan: Yeah, right. (but curious) You talk to god?
Alex’s mom: All the time. We got a regular conversation.
Joan: Me, too. (Joan can’t hold back, just jumping in. Adam’s
surprised by Joan’s forthright statement. But Joan quickly backs off
into silence, thinking she’s said too much.)
Alex’s mom: Well, that’s good. You just keep talking to him, honey.
He’ll or (correcting herself) She’ll lead you.
Adam: (a little uncomfortable, goes a different direction) Mrs.
Villa, where you headed?
Alex’s mom: Home. Waiting for Alex to come by. He picks me up after
work.
Adam: You’re a lawyer? (noticing she had exited the law office)
Alex’s mom: No. Legal assistant. But I’m working on it. (Pride rises
from her center of gravity.) It’s a long haul. Arcadia Community
college for my associates’. Satellite courses there for my
undergraduate degree. And now for my final sheepskin. (excited about
her future) Juris doctor.
Joan: (wanting to go back to the community meeting question) Mrs.
Villa, that community meeting. What happened? I didn’t get it.
Mrs. Villa: Don’t worry. You will, Joan. That was just a song and
dance. They’ve already decided what they’re gonna do. They were
processing us. (thinking about what she just said and amused) Due
process; that’s exactly right. Powers and principalities hiding
behind smoke and mirrors. Been there. Done that….Now substance that’s
a different number altogether.
Joan: That’s not right. (getting lost in the smoke, getting righteous
...)
Mrs. Villa: Yeah…. (Like what’s new?! But Mrs. Villa realizes she
needs to help Joan understand more.). But we get what we deserve.
(expanding Joan’s vision so she can see that it’s not so simple) We
don’t hold them to the fire. But I have hope no one gets burned on
this one. That old fiery furnace is heating up though. We’ll see. Got
a fundraiser, rally, to start. Show’em we got a different vision of
the neighborhood. We’re gonna be tried by fire on this one.
Joan: Sounds hot… (like the furnace doesn’t sound inviting, but
trying to sound hopeful about the fundraiser) And good! When?
Mrs. Villa: This weekend, Saturday night.
Joan: Can I help out? (initially eager ‘cause she’s looking for
something practical to do, rather than figure out what exactly is
going on; then starting to wonder if it’s the one Rahav mentioned to
her earlier).
Mrs. Villa: Rahav. She has the dance studio a couple blocks down. She
organized it. HipHop DanceFest Arcadia. Next Saturday. (thinking …)
Oh yeah. She’s in jail. Hold that…
Joan: Where I just was. (pointing in the direction of the dance
studio). She told me about it.
Mrs. Villa: (thinking Joan meant jail and not the dance studio) Jail?
Nah, I was there. Didn’t see you. (finally realizing that Joan meant
the dance studio) Oh… You meant the dance studio. She’ll be out soon.
Can’t hold her more than 72 hours. … strictly speaking. Though there
ain’t nothing strict about the law, except when they choose to be
strict…..
Joan: Is she okay?
Mrs. Villa: Oh yeah. Yeah. (reassuring) They’re just making her an
example. (going back to thinking how Joan’s been doing her own thing
and pleased) So, then you’re in the loop already. Networking. Good.
Adam: (Adam’s been listening to it all, but with little interest
until he hears Joan getting involved and now he’s wanting to get in
on it.) I got experience in set design. I could help with lighting.
(Mrs. Villa nods in agreement, picking up where Adam’s real interest
lies.)
Alex: Hey, mom (walking up and giving her a kiss).
(He nods, uninterested, in Adam’s and Joan’s direction.)
Alex’s Mom: Just talking to your friends, here.
Alex: Yeah. (not excited about his mom thinking they’re his friends,
but drops it, no point. They all notice a woman walking alone across
the street. As they walk on down the street, Mrs. Villa makes a
comment.)
Mrs. Villa: It ain’t the oldest profession. Thought it was. ‘Til the
preacher said ‘killing’ was (or murder). Got me to thinking.
Joan: What’s the difference? (wondering what she’s talking about, the
difference between murder and killing)
Alex’s mom: None for the victim. (she lets that sit out there for a
moment; then, sounding like she’s thought long and hard about what
she says next) But there is. If you’re judging innocence or guilt.
It’s not mine to judge. Not anyone’s.
Ryan: (walking up) Mrs. Villa. … Joan. Adam. (looking at Alex) Alex,
right?
Alex: (not liking that this guy thinks he knows him or something)
Adam: (Adam going right to it with Ryan) Hey. Startin’ to wonder.
Maybe it was Mercer Creek and not Noir.
Ryan: (speaking to Adam) Yeah, got held up. (smiling to Joan and Mrs.
Villa) Ladies, (looking to Alex, with emphasis, picking up his vibe)
Sir. I’m interrupting I see. So, just excuse us. We have a very
important meeting. (sounding secretive so as to set up his next funny
remark) Coffee, Citizen Kane, Ad-layouts. It’d put ya to sleep. But
we’ll talk all night. Or until they throw us out. (leaving) Later.
(and nods in their directions)
Adam: Joan, you’ll be okay? (solicitous of her safety and well being)
Joan: Sure. (reassuring Adam and looking with confidence towards Mrs.
Villa) Sure.
(As Adam and Ryan walk into the Café Noir, Ryan says to Adam,
something barely heard, “I got this guy nailed. Dead on. Judge, jury,
execution. All in one step. Too cool.” Playing in the film room of
Café Noir is Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing.”
Mrs. Villa: (talking to Joan as Alex wanders off a bit; none have
heard Ryan) That man. Something’s not right. Can’t put my finger on
it. But God’s got his on it. (quoting something) “Over again I feel
thy finger and find thee.” (She breathes a deep relief and
satisfaction as she feels a powerful presence wash over her being.
Joan notices it and feels drawn to it. Joan hugs Mrs. Villa, which
surprises Joan and upsets Alex who observes it.)
Mrs. Villa: Thanks, Joan. That was sweet. I felt it too.
Alex: (bent out of shape, and coming back towards them) Mom. Really.
Time to go. (He starts leaving.)
Alex’s mom: No, not until her bus comes. (holding her son off; just
then Joan’s bus pulls up and Mrs. Villa calls out some advice as she
goes) Joan, don’t give up on your sweetheart. (thinking she better
qualify it) Ex, that is. (Alex’s mom waves as they leave. Joan looks
in Mrs. Villa’s direction and waves back. Before she boards the bus,
she takes a brief look into Café Noir coffee shop where Ryan and Adam
are talking. She sees the movie playing. As her bus pulls away, Joan
falls deep into thought of this place, imbued with the ambient array
she’s thoroughly absorbed.)
\ **Part 20**\ : (It’s Saturday night. Adam is walking down the
street to the building where the evening’s event, HipHop DanceFest
Arcadia, is being held. He’s arriving early to help with the set. As
he nears its entrance, he runs into
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god.)
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: Hey, I’m trying to find a good
home for this dog that hangs with me… Interested? (pointing to the
dog across the street with grocery cart full of stuff)
Adam: Maybe. Why you getting rid of him?
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: I’m going to be moving on soon ….
I don’t think it’ll work out. … She’s a great animal… found her on
the streets…. Loyal and friendly… faith and true…. and a good
watchdog too…
Adam: I gotta think about this… How can I reach you?
Homeless-man-newspaper-vendor-god: On Dilcue any time…. Anywhere near
the Rialto…. Just flag me down.
Adam: Okay. (continues walking down the street and enters the
building.)
\ **Part 21**\ : (Same evening, Helen and Will are going to their
seats at Arcadia’s Music Hall to hear the Arcadia Symphonic
Orchestra. All of Arcadia’s movers and shakers are there. Will
notices them sitting still and waves to them with a quick flick of
the wrist, mostly out of obligation. Will thinks he’ll never live
this down back at the Precinct. As he takes his seat, Will remembers
to put his cellphone on vibrator to avoid a bad scene. Helen’s
thrilled with the music hall, the whole experience she’s expecting.
They take their seats and she starts to read the notes in the program
to Will. The program lists Beethoven’s 7th Symphony as the evening’s
featured piece.)
Helen: (to Will) Listen to this. Wagner (pronounced ‘Vahg-ner’)
called it: “The very a-poth (sounding out ‘apotheosis’, but gets
stuck and starts again) a-poth-e-o-sis (getting it) of the
dance.”(Helen’s intrigued. She pauses. Will hopes silence on her part
means she’s done trying to instruct him on something he doesn’t want
to know about. She frustrates his hope by jumping to another
comment.) “But Beethoven’s impossible to choreograph.”
Will: What’s ‘apoth ..’ (getting irritated) What’s that?’(hoping to
get Helen to quit by asking her a dumb question that lets her know
how uninformed he is.) Do I even want to know?
Helen: I don’t know. This writer thinks it’s better described ‘the
apotheosis of rhythm.’ (Helen says it more fluently this time and
thinks she might learn something so she’s eager to finish. She
rattles off more facts.) “Its premiere was a benefit concert for
wounded soldiers from the Napoleonic wars.” (Helen’s jumping around
in the program.) Oh, and “that Beethoven was ripe for the madhouse
after writing the bizarre grinding bass of the 2nd movement.”
Allegretto. “It builds enormous tension before the release in the
final climax.” Hmm. (then becoming effervescent) I’m so excited,
Will.
Will: (looking like he’s swallowed a bug) Me too, Helen. Me, too.
(saying it a second time, hoping he could convince himself. Not.)
**Part 22**\ : (HipHop DanceFest Arcadia happens at an old ethnic
community club building, which is a large 3-story structure, about 60
feet high. On the 3rd floor, there’s a ballroom, now called the
Beachland Ballroom where the event is held. Joan’s at the 2nd floor
entrance door helping out, sitting at a table. She’s wearing a hat,
a\ `fedora <http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a361/mshaffer2/Dance%20of%20Desire/Fedora.jpg>`__\ …
It’s a striking blow to her standard fashion…, looking so sharp or
thoroughly foolish. …She’s wearing a dark blazer with gray pinstripes
as well, so she looks like some Bogart character out of film noir,
but without the gangster persona. She’s been taking money for the
past hour. Mrs. Villa’s there with her, as well as another boy her
age, Michael. She’s seen Denunzio and Bonnie come in together, which
is quite a surprise and a distressing encounter, too. She greets them
half-heartedly and uncomfortably. They look askance at her without
words being exchanged. Lily follows shortly afterwards, saying she
was some kind of chaperone. But Joan wasn’t buying it… Lily wanted to
see the performance and probably couldn’t convince Kevin to come
along. Inaccessible?)
(Mrs. Villa tells Joan that the show will be starting in a minute or
two and she doesn’t want Joan to miss the opening number and says she
and Michael can handle the door…just come back later to relieve them.
Joan hurries up the flight of stairs into the main ballroom. She
checks the balcony near the entrance of the ballroom from where the
stage lighting’s orchestrated. The ceiling of the hall is lined with
different lighting schemes. She barely sees Adam moving about. He’s
completely absorbed in preparation for the opening performance.
Joan’s joined the moment, prelude to fullness, attentive with the
audience. But this ain’t no standard performance and this ain’t no
typical audience spectation. No innocent bystanders here.
Participatory performance art. But Joan doesn’t know that yet, so
without further a-do-ing: Let the terpsichorean shewing begin.)
Master of Ceremonies: (walking out, excited, feeling the energy)
People….HipHop DanceFest Arcadia…. Can it feel this good? Can you
inhale this experiment in truth? Messengers from Heaven arriving on
time… bringing dancing flames ... Are you ready?!!!!!! Bring it on.
…Bring. It. On. (He exits the stage.)
(THE SHOW:
AN-TI-CI-PA-TION. You can feel the ENERGY about to be unleashed.
Fusion imagining. Thick with electromagnetism. Stasis about to be
disestablished. And THEN. The Force of Performance. The muse of
solution. THUNDERBOLT. LIGHTNING. IT’S A-HAPPENING: Big monstrous
speakers and sound system blare music as background for the dancers
who prance onto the stage, wearing ghost-dance shirts and African
masks. Guitar crashing chords up and down. Titillated by high hat
a-tapping out the measure. ‘Ooh.’ ‘Ooh’ drawn out. The Cure’s hiphop
version of “\ \ `Purple
Haze <http://dc87.4shared.com/download/68998750/33e93c03/The_Cure_-_Purple_Haze.mpg>`__\ \ ”
explodes from the Sound cavities.
Jimi’s voice, alive and well. He’s calling from the grave, ‘Really
gotta say. I did my thing. It isn’t a dream.’ …. Ah, the VIBE.
KINESIS. And the beat being laid down and down and down. The bottom
formed. On the one. On the One….on the ONE.
The bass rocks the walls of the building. Strung out. Pounded upon:
BA BUM BUM
The visual-aural envelope of Sound sweeps the dust out of the
ballroom and all spirits.
A group of dancers take center stage, with synchronized moves.
A-rocking and a-waving, with their bodies a-swaying. They lilt and
lurch forward. Their entire amassed form pulsing. Draped with wings
of fire. Dressed for flight. Hands and arms rolling, and a-rolling.
Feet a-tapping, a-flying, dimpling waves of photons. Kinesthesia
a-flaring. Hand motions slice the aire, riding them towards the
heavens, fashioning shapes that reach out to…. almost touch the sky.
Then a hiphop to kiss it. Jump. Jump up. Jump. Jump up. Freeze. Drop.
Slip. Fall. Pop!
And the audience wakens radiant to conjoin the dancers, the music,
the place. Fusing.
All bodies, of the heavens and earth, start ta’ movin’, a-shakin.
And the drums, pounding out the BEAT, with a backbeat and quick
release. And then the BEAT ‘poets’ even higher….. A primal force
rising up from the floors. Inhaling the Room. Pervasion Equation.
EarthEkstacizing.
‘Purple Haze all in my brain….. actin’ funny .. ‘scuse me while I
kiss the sky…’
‘Don’t know if I’m coming up or down. Never happy or in misery …
whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me..’ AH!!!!!!…
And the bass guitar plucking 3 beats per measure: BA BOM BOM. With
the drums pounding the pause between repeats. And feet kicking the
air. A-hopping. A-hipping. The center among the circling dancers is
expanded. And one dancer starts B-BOYING. BREAKING. Spin. Spin.
Freeze. Jump. Drills head into hardwood floor. Opening up a direct
line into the heart of the earth. Fissuring. Indeed.
Bass guitar speeds… plucking 6 beats per measure.
The drums keep feeding off that rhythm: DA DOO DOO DOO DOO DO
Bass drum. Bass guitar. …BA BUM BUM rhymes the rim over and over and
over…..
Then BA BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BAAH!
Dancers soar, spin, as music does. Such Excess. TOV.
The whole house ta’ shiftin’. Volume like a driving wind, riding high
and diving low. Swirling. Rebuffing. EKSTASIS. And everyone in the
audience. Up and moving. A-wigglin’. A-shakin’. Swelled with primal
rhythms. Infectious beats. Primordial forces. Spasms in being.
Ebullience. Boiling up. The EARTH opens a deep fissure, excavating a
vast opening into its pulsating heart. The flow of fluid rock. Stones
split. The curtain’s torn from top to bottom. Gaia. Up, a lifeline.
The SKY kisses terra firma, and driving down deeper, licks the molten
core. All merged into ONE … Audience. Dancers. Music. Ballroom.
Apotheosis.
Can it get any better?)
(Joan’s joined at the hip to this lindyhop mosh popping.
Fandango-ing. Not knowing who she was, or where, or what. Enveloped
in bodies, surrounded in sound, permeated with rhythm. One vast ocean
of human life vibrating. Grinding with the Bass. She’s been through
an earthquake. And belched out of some kind of crypt. Spasmosis.
Blown away by the show, carried into another frame of the time-space
continuum. Transcendence translated. The ambient array embedded in
her brain synapses. She tries to breathe deeply. And look. ….She
realizes she’s got these happy feet that can’t stop movin.’ She’s
tries to control them, but they have a life of their own now. And
it’s affecting her hands and arms. They just keep ‘kinecting.’
Feeling totally weird and free, she thinks… it’s a dream … as she
merges into the stream… secret service, deeds, actions rippling
beneath the moonlit night. Yeah. Right. She’s a-mused, be-mused, how
things redound. Curiously sated. At the no-longer still and rhythmic
point of saturation. Osmosis.
With wings of fire, Joan goes back to the table to collect donations
and monies for the fest.)
**Part 23**\ : (With Joan back at the tables taking money, Joan
questions Mrs. Villa about something. She tries to be casual, but her
interest oversteps her effort at subtlety.)
Joan: Was that Alex at the center of that circling .. (grabbing for
the right word) hip….hop …scotch-ing? Whatever.
Mrs. Villa: (humored by Joan’s attempt to describe) Yes. And I don’t
know what to call it either.
Joan: How could you miss it?
Mrs. Villa: I didn’t
(Joan’s not following this, but before she can say anything, Grace
shows up with Friedman. A big surprise. There’s this buoyance to
Joan’s being and yet a cathartic and confident completion that Grace
is struck by.)
Grace: Girardi, what’s with you? Seen the light? (has that look) A
ghost dance? …The entire electromagnetic spectrum?
Joan: I’ve been trans- … something … washed over by ‘I don’t know
what’ … been to the mountaintop and can see something different …..
by Alex and his hiphop skippers. I don’t know I’ll ever be the same.
Grace: Whatever… close encounter of the third kind?…
Joan: No, direct encounter…
Grace: Weird and weirder…. Girardi.
Joan: Spirits and spirit-er. (finally coming back to earth) Grace.
Talk about weird? (pointing to Friedman). Napoleon Dynamite, without
the dancing shoes…
Grace: (missing the Friedman question… responding to what she thought
was her presence at the DanceFest) Girardi, you’d think I’d miss
something this real ….ars populist… This is where Rove and I are
headed… high performance art… not some classical bourgeois
dress-for-mass consumption purchase at the commodities market…like
the Music Hall, (pulling out her chained wallet)… I’m blowing the
whole wad (hands over a twenty dollar bill).. what’s left is for my
new caffeine habit….
Joan: Right!…(smiles) But you already missed the opening…(searching
for the right word, before she quits, she blurts out) … combustion…
alchemy…(moving on) Grace,…. This is my friend, Mrs. Villa… she
helped organize the show. (motions to the boy next to Mrs. Villa)
Michael.
Grace: (excited about what she’s going to see, sounds like she’s
almost singing) We’re having a party. Everybody’s dan…(interrupting
herself, looking to Mrs. Villa) I’ve seen you in action…
Joan: (going back to her curiosity about what’s Friedman doing with
Grace; Grace finally picks up the vibe)
Grace: Friedman … (wondering what answer to give… lands on the
facts)…. He’s here because I promised to feed him to the sharks from
one of his cruises otherwise… And there’s mucho opportunity for
vicarious participation…..in the Saturnalia …as long as he arrives
after the main course though….10 bucks… …(Grace puts her hand out,
forcing Friedman to pull out a ten dollar bill)
Friedman: (but holding the money in hand) Gracie, no filthy lucre
until I know we’re getting inside … I don’t want to miss the
inauguration. (explaining Luke’s absence) Cool hand Luke’s busy
making cookies….coming late ‘s better than not at all ….
Grace: He better make it.
Friedman: Told him …. Find the heavy and labored breathing …. Follow
the cooking smoke signals (He gives the money to Mrs. Villa who gives
him a handstamp.)
Grace: (finally getting to the fedora… noir-look, pointing) Girardi,
you’ve been bogart-ed.
Joan: I needed something different for tonight… The thrift shop has
all this outlandish stuff.. for a few bucks.. ..the coat and hat, 8
bucks… Half price on Thursdays.. What d’ya think?
Grace: I’m not the fashionista police….do your thing or the right
thing whichever comes first… I like it. (about to head off to the
show.)
Mrs. Villa: Enjoy the show.. . uh … the second course.
Grace: Bye…(they walk off.)
\ **Part 24**\ : (Rahav, Yoga-dance-instructor-prostitute-god,
arrives coming through the doors where HipHop DanceFest is being
held. She seems subdued… She pulls out $10. Mrs. Villa notices her
and starts to get out of her seat at the table. Rahav greets Joan and
Mrs. Villa and Michael.)
Rahav: I’m welcome? (Mrs. Villa, coming from behind the table, hugs
and kisses her; Joan’s surprised, but moved by the warmth and
uncertainty of the moment)
Mrs. Villa: (finally responding with words)… Yeah, right. That’s a
question.
Rahav: I don’t want to upset tonight’s show.
Mrs. Villa: Too bad…We’ll deal with it….. Oh, …when do you not
unleash coordinated chaos around here? …. jazz… miz.
Joan: (finally speaking to Rahav) We need to talk…
Rahav: I know. .. later, though. (Rahav walks up the steps slowly.)
\ **Part 25**\ : (The MC (master of ceremonies) takes the stage and
starts talking. He sounds inspirational. Grace and Friedman are in
the audience wondering when the show’s gonna get back on track.)
MC: (seems to be some kind of minister, but not identified as such)
OK. OK. Okay. Brother Jimi, like brother Malcolm said, making it
plain. (enunciating each word and with added emphasis) Making It
Plain! (engaging the audience as though he’s talking to each person
individually, as though they’re cradled in the crater of a volcano)
Thank you. Thank you! (putting his hand on their hearts, as he lays
his hand on his own) Say it’s so. (people nodding and saying ‘yeah,
yeah’)
I wanna thank everyone for coming out tonight to support this
community event. (a lot of energy is in the crowd, so they’re all
intently focused on the speaker) Your gifts make a difference here.
Laid at the table of plenty. Abundance multiplied…. Look around and
see.(sweeping his hands all around and coming to focus on the
dancers) A harvest indeed. Sukkot. Hey, hey, …Hey!….Tonight’s talent
has been supported and gathered by all of you. You’ve made this
…happen! (taking them higher and further) And we have more on the
horizon, the sun is rising tomorrow, indeed. But I’m talking about
your hearts. Not just your dollars. How they have gone out to one
another. (giving purpose) Sisters and brothers, we’re here to pass
the message on of brotherly and sisterly love for one another. Care.
We really are one body, one mind, one community. All from the same
mother. Earth. Gaia. Can you feel it? (the whole mass answers… “YES,”
bouncing and bopping with their answer) And we have lots of different
parts. Oh, DO WE HAVE DIFFERENT PARTS AND PATHS! (audience
participation… ‘yeah, yeah, we do’. It’s starting to be like a
call-and-response revival. ) 84 thousand, maybe more (everyone
wondering where that number came from; he moves on…)
Here’s where it’s hard…whatever path we take, our hands and feet can
lead us astray or they can lead us to do the work of the higher
power. Which road are you on? (raising his hands in the air to
illustrate two ways) The Way of love….. The Way of hate. And it’s a
battle, a tricky one. A Dance. Really. And here are the first steps
in that hiphop. (he illustrates with a drop and spin on his feet)
The one person we most hate, least love, is …..our sister, brother.
Yes, hear it. (rumbling in the crowd.. knowing it’s right, but
finding it hard) I know it’s a hard one.. But hear it plain… We can’t
be brought back to life, be safe, unless each one goes into \***\*
and carries our brother or sister out with us. Sometimes we awake in
our life’s journey and find that we’ve gone astray,…. are lost in a
dark wood. Or walking alone on the streets. Go walking out there on
Walnot or Dilcue and tell me it ain’t so… Lost. And someone comes and
gets us out. ….(trailing off…..)
**Part 26**\ : (Joan leaves the table again and goes up to the
ballroom. She notices Ryan in the audience and goes up to him, upset
that he’s here, but unable to hold herself from engaging him. She
hadn’t seen him come in.)
Joan: (going directly to the point) What’re you doing here?
Ryan: What? No greetings … just account for myself. (Ryan plays it
off well.)
Joan: I don’t fraternize with the enemy. (Joan just about snarls at
Ryan.)
Ryan: I’m coming out to support the community I serve. Make a big
donation to Rahav’s fundraiser. And this is what I get. (Ryan’s
playing the public servant way over the top.)
Joan: (Joan’s having none of it.) Yeah, like a slug that comes out in
the aftermath of a bloodbath.
Ryan: We’ll see who makes a bigger splash. (getting feisty, beginning
to show his true colors.)
Joan: (she makes like getting sick …)
Ryan: (Ryan shifts gears.) No love for your enemy? (taunting Joan)
Rewind Cain … and Adele? (twisting the ancient name of the victim;
now goes on to goading Joan) He’ll just love that. Just the thing for
the higher power to see multiplied by his children. (trying to get
her to lose it one way or another. Joan’s played into his game …
mimicking his moves.) I win. .. I lose. It’s all the same. You win
only by losing. (Enigmatic: Ryan reasons: with no believing or
trusting, there is only losing and/or dying. Joan doesn’t use her
trump card!) Welcome to the world. (trying to teach her a lesson)
Joan: Thanks? (doesn’t have a clue of what he’s saying) … for
nothing.
Ryan: So he/she/it hasn’t explained that one to you yet. (playing off
how little Joan really knows about god, now rambling some) Arcadia or
Green Town. It’s all the same. Dark Pandemonium. (Joan looks like
she’s hearing an unknown ancient language) Ask him about it. .... You
are so not ready for the hunting season! It’s my Night, Joan. Look
here. (shows his knuckles of both hands with the letters ‘l-o-v-e’
tattooed on the right one and letters ‘h-a-t-e’ tattooed on left.)
This is just for you. (He twists a smile. Then his hands wrestle with
one another as though ‘love’ and ‘hate’ are in a battle. When he
stops the mock battle, ‘love’ is apparently winning. He wipes off the
tattoos from his knuckles. Then Ryan appears to comment to himself on
the battle of the hands.) Well, for now. (conceding only a momentary
swing in the ongoing battle) We’ll see.
(now turning to Joan) And so we continue the posturing? (noticing how
overwhelmed Joan is) Joan, relax. Just breathe. (he chuckles, taking
a breath himself as Joan tries to recollect herself. Ryan can’t
resist commenting on Joan’s weaknesses that he can play off of, and
continues the hunt, the most dangerous game). But I like your pluck.
How is it? ….Have you ever seen a cat play with a caught mouse? An
owl feast on a rabbit? Look away, Joan, fast. Because it’s how things
work. Kill or be killed. A perfect universe. (going for the jugular)
Bloodthirsty.
Joan: (flustered, hoping to sound powerful, falling for his ploy) I
understand suffering.
Ryan: Oh, yeah. (He chuckles outloud.) I’ll keep that in mind. (Ryan
reflects to himself that Kevin might understand, “He has a chance of
getting it. The crux of Girardi truth. … Avoid that open wound, that
broken-ness. …But Joan,… she’s a kept princess.” … He figures his
line of attack… And amused, he starts playing with his prey.)
Psychological suffering … it’s the hardest (almost smirking)… “Shall
I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?” (quoting something
Joan doesn’t know, prompting her to feel more inadequate) Ah yes… A
new pair of shoes? You and Imelda! How many already in your closet?
It’s tough. Tell me about it. Need a therapist? (Ryan rattles these
off, needling her)… She/He’s just the perfect listener. (mocking)
Joan: (trying to find her bearings) NO! you don’t know me or my life
or family.
Ryan: (indefatigable, undeterred, with the assurance that scares the
living daylights out of Joan) That is true. … Not yet….We’ll see.(An
ominous gust blows through the hall from the opening of a doorway.)
(Just then, while talking to Joan, Ryan recognizes Rahav in the hall.
He decides to take action, but first pauses before continuing with a
casual tone.) Last piece of advice before I go… When he/she/it gives
you that stuff about greater love. Ask him to recite Wilfred Owen.
(Ryan now shifts gears) Excuse me. I need to take care of something.
(Dropping that persona, he walks quickly to the exit of the hall,
pulls out a card and his cellphone, and dials the number from it.
Joan can be seen through the doors and windows of the Hall as Ryan
makes his phone call.)
\ **Part 27**\ : (Ryan gets Daghlian on the phone at the police
station.)
Ryan: Detective, we need a unit down at the Beachland dance club.
Daghlian: (trying to sound cooperative, but a little put-off at
Ryan’s assertive direction) Mr. Hunter, I’ll give a patrol car a
heads-up.
Ryan: (being assertive and used to having power to effect things)
Detective, I don’t believe that will be sufficient. You’ll need
several cars. There’s soliciting, drug dealing, vandalism going on as
we speak.
Daglian: (trying to explain) Mr. Hunter, it’s a busy night. I’ll do
my best.
Ryan: (he’s having none of Daghlian’s explanations, and ups the ante)
Chief Girardi’s daughter’s here. I can’t guarantee her safety. I
suggest you get on it.
Daghlian: (frustrated, but now convinced he needs to act) Agreed, Mr.
Hunter. I’ll request the cars. (the call concludes.)
(From the police station, Daghlian immediately calls Will’s cell, and
gets his voicemail, leaving a message.)
Daghlian: Will, Daghlian. Call me ASAP.
(At the music hall, the call comes during the grinding bass of the
2nd movement, Allegretto, of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.) Will feels
his cell’s vibration, and wants to answer it, but he stops himself
and tries to listen to the music. Bum Bumbumbum Bum … His mind’s not
on it, but he can feel it anyway. He slips his cell out of his pocket
and notes that it’s from Daghlian.)
(At the police station, Daghlian, anxious, calls Will again.)
Daghlian: Will, Call me first. As soon as you get this. Now.
(Daghlian decides to tell Will just to show up at the location, even
though he has second thoughts about not telling Will that Joan’s
there, not wanting to worry him.) I’m headed to the Beachland, on
Dilcue Street. Come as soon as you get this.
(At the music hall, Will goes through the same sequence of
frustration. Really antsy. And he tries to smile towards Helen as she
becomes concerned about what is going on with Will. The audience is
in various stages of immobility, absorbed or nodding off; some
sitting still, some asleep, some dozing, some enthralled like Helen.
And one Will Girardi about to jump out of his pants.)
(From the police station, Daghlian calls in a sweep, a couple patrol
cars. He tells the units that he’ll meet them at the Beachland.)
**Part 28**\ : (Having gone over to Rahav near the end of Ryan’s
phone call to Daghlian, Joan starts a conversation.)
Joan: We need to talk… Now! (Joan makes it clear how pressing it is.
Rahav motions her up toward a doorway…toward which they walk. As they
walk, another number for the HipHop DanceFest is about to begin. Joan
is distracted and listens; Rahav does too.)
MC (master of ceremonies): (coming out on the stage and talking at
the same time) Brothers and sisters, we’ve got a special delivery for
you tonight. Our own Rahav has arranged, in all its glorious array, a
hiphop tribute to Beethoven, and his 7th symphony. (Rahav smiles)
Well, roll over Beethoven. And stand up. We’re not stickin’ to no
rhythm n’ blues tonight.
Joan: (hearing Rahav’s name, Joan turns to her for them to stay, but
Rahav waves her off.) No, we should.
Rahav: I’ve seen it in my mind’s eye perfectly. Like the worker,
demiurge, building a set, fashioning a bowl, grinding a tool, engine
part, to spec. I know the end of the story. (Joan sees Alex waiting
in the wings of the stage to perform this piece. She wants to see it,
but they’re already on their way. As the ecstatic notes of the
Allegretto resound, the grinding bass notes are laid down, they walk
through the doorway, up a set of steps to a small upper chamber above
the ballroom, with a single window; it’s like they’re at the apex of
a castle. The Allegretto can be heard muffled, throbbing, like a
heartbeat, up from the ballroom throughout their conversation.
(Joan wants to go immediately to what’s pressing her, but attends to
Rahav first.)
Joan: What happened? You were… in jail. (telling what she knows) Mrs.
Villa told me she visited. (hoping it will start to make sense if
they talk.)
Rahav: Yes. (Her words come weakly, so Joan starts to wonder how
Rahav is.)
Joan: Are you Ok? (worried, but also curious and disturbed by all
these events.)
Rahav: Time in jail? (thinking that’s Joan’s worry)
Joan: (nodding)
Rahav: 72 hours in the belly of the beast. Getting Out. Released from
3 days in the heart of the earth makes you appreciate the light.
Natural, that is. Its patterns. (looking at Joan as though she can
see the patterns in her) And new life. (sounding mysterious) They
usually let you out sooner. But you never know. 3 days this time. For
effect. They had to make a show for the public servants and the
people. All united in the prosecution of justice. All but one.
Joan: There were more.
Rahav: Yes, I know. I felt their hearts go out to us. But only one
spoke up. (adding an enigmatic comment) Better than the first time.
Joan: What first time? (Joan doesn’t let the curious comment slide
by)
Rahav: Not something to go into now. (There’s a silence, and Rahav
realizes what’s coming.)
Joan: Are you? (Joan can no longer hold off and decides to go
immediately to the still confusing point. She’s needing answers, but
can’t bear to say it. She thinks it’ll lead to understanding, but
worries it’ll get worse before it gets better.)
Rahav: (Understanding exactly Joan’s question, Rahav speaks directly
to Joan, face to face, being honest and to the point. She amplifies
the dance of empathy and honesty.) Yo soy. (Joan understands enough
Spanish to know its meaning.)
Joan: (Joan staggers back, stopped in her tracks, reels, and stumbles
briefly before slipping to the floor. The chamber becomes thoroughly
silent and darkened for Joan, though she doesn’t lose consciousness
or awareness. She remains slumped on the floor, feeling her world
collapse, like stones raining down upon her. She starts to weep in a
somber tone. Rahav pulls over a chair to sit near Joan. Joan leans
against it, comfortably at her feet. Joan collects herself after
awhile and speaks honestly from the heart.) Who are you? (then
thinking to add with emphasis) What are you?
Rahav: Connect through all this, Joan. (Her arms sweep the darkened
chamber, through the window that looks out over the neighborhood,
high atop the building they’re in, illuminated by a harvest moon,
Sukkot.) This is my home. (A coat of arms hangs on the wall with the
motto, ‘cor ad cor loquitur.’ Next to the coat of arms is a portrait
of a soldier in uniform from WWI. The name below it, Wilfred Owen,
titled, ‘Greater Love”. Rahav points to the portrait.) This is my
family. I am solidly (then reflecting)…bodily, here with those who
are cut out. Anathema. (realizes this won’t hit the mark; Joan won’t
know that word and she’s not going to ask her to look it up) The
accused and accursed. A gallery of the ailing. (It’s not getting any
clearer, searching for solid ground for a moment, but the earth is
continually shifting, quaking.) I am … one among them. (sounding
enigmatic) And the two shall become one. (becoming metaphorical) How
do you join a person at the hip and not become what the other is too?
Joan: (not following at all, though the last comment made the most
sense, allowing Joan to speak up, almost irritated) Say what? Speak a
language I know or translate, si?
Rahav: Si. (Speaking again she tries to give an undistorted picture
of her life on the pavement, concrete as can be) I walk the streets,
Joan. Talk. Visit. Engage. Hang. Sleep. (sounding lyrical) Embrace,
breathe in, draw forth the Ambient Array into me. (returning to the
painful truths) And see within and without the people who hover over
all for carrion. All sorts of names are given the inhabitants of this
street, all sorts of pictures are formed. (wanting to give a human
face to very specific people she cares for, not categories they are
identified in, realizing it’s a failure of language, so she points to
the picture on the wall) Persons with families, and children, and
lives. Their failures multiplied like stones in the desert with no
bread to sustain them. (But knowing what they are called, she can’t
finally speak them.) I can’t call them these names. They’re my
friends. Associates. (starting to name them) Madeline … Tamar …
Madonna …Lilith…Simon … Harry (She takes a breath, and relaxes,
trying to sound lighter.)
Anyway, ‘prostitute’ should only be used as a verb. Did you submit
yourself, your gifts, for hire, for ill purpose? It’s a good
examination of conscience. Mantra. Koan. Test. An almost perfect act
of disbelief in one’s self. Practice it daily.
Joan: (Joan’s having no relief. Her heart’s breaking as she loses all
balance again. She’s in a different place altogether than this
conversation.)
Rahav: (Realizing Joan’s lost, sitting on the floor, staring out into
the void, Rahav leans over from her chair and kisses the top of
Joan’s head. As her lips touch Joan’s hair, she releases her breath
over Joan and a warmth spreads throughout Joan’s body. In Joan’s
swoon, her words wash over Joan like salve. Finally, Joan begins to
listen in rapt contemplation of that which she understands not. Rahav
begins telling her what accompaniment’s like on the street.) Go to
jail with them. Not fun. But quite the ambiance. Accommodations for a
beast.. …(going on) To the hospital when someone’s sick. (commenting
again) Another of my favorite hotspots…Location, location, location;
it’s almost everything. ..(moving on to her true calling) Greet each
with a kiss. We talk …. about their children. How all this happened.
Their relationships. (Joan begins to see their faces in Rahav’s
words.) Sex, too. Love can’t be purchased or sold. They know that.
It’s a gift, huh? (Joan’s been hearing of Rahav’s instruction and
care, but now she’s feeling it for herself.) The body’s a sacred
temple. Quite the shack, true enough? (Rahav is now stretching Joan
to reach into the ambient array with her.) I hold them in the light.
Their innocence. And we take steps. Learn a new set of movements. One
moment at a time.
Joan: I know all about that (thinking of Rahav’s mention of sex;
Rahav connects to Joan’s experience) …. And I’ve moved on .. or maybe
I’m stuck. Sometimes, I don’t know anymore.
Rahav: The past is a nightmare of judgement for some, Joan. It’s a
daily practice, to trust, to forgive the past, even after it’s
released. …especially sex… It’s a mystical union of two people. With
a cloud of witnesses and … It’s a wedding made in bed, or a camper,
in a place of worship or with a justice of the peace. In 15 minutes
or a lot longer. A lifetime. Our deepest needs for union, communion,
played out to see. A comfort to the long loneliness.
Joan: (wants to leave, but can’t get up; she’s enthralled, still weak
in the knees)
Rahav: (Rahav moves to the hard, painful part) When I get picked up….
an experiment in truth… With no guarantees. (gazing into Joan’s eyes)
I look deeply. Vipassana. Into their eyes… And the world behind them.
It’s hard. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid the light of the eyes. Where the
soul’s first seen. They CAN’T look at me. Treat me persona
non-existent. Brute….. Matter….Thing. … But they can’t …. not sense
the gaze. Sometimes they get pissed off. Hit me….Conjoin….I don’t
fight back. Or call the police. Carry the pack an extra block. A
beast of burden. They get plenty disturbed. Imagine that. Looking
deeply. It usually stops them in their steps. They think they’re
gettin’ screwed. It’s not for me to judge. At least, for now.
Joan: (Joan’s had enough. She walks out of the chamber as though on
thin air, her mind in a cloud, her face radiant, aglow.)
(Joan continues down the steps, returning through the doorway into
the ballroom, finally collecting herself, mumbling something. The
volume of sound in the hall is overwhelming after the encounter with
Rahav. She goes up to the sound system guy who’s got a headset on.
Joan sees an extra headset unattached, a sound muffler, and says to
Sound Man, “I need this.” and just takes them. Removing her hat, she
puts the headset on. She walks down the steps from the 3rd floor
ballroom down to the 2nd floor main entrance. She looks like some
kind of moonchild as she goes back to the table where she was
collecting money. She starts counting it. Mrs. Villa looks at Joan
like she’s just come back from the moon and speaks to her.)
Mrs.Villa: We’re just about done here, Joan. And the DanceFest is
too…. Follow me (looking to both Joan and Michael). (They leave the
main entrance to complete a final count of the money elsewhere.)
\ **Part 29**\ : (Just as Daghlian is about to arrive at the old
community club building with the patrol cars, he calls Will one more
time, hoping to reach him. But Will doesn’t pick up, so Daghlian
makes a decision, telling Will what the situation is. “Will, your
daughter’s at the Beachland where we’re gonna make a bust. Come now!”
Will feels the vibrator go off again. Helen’s in rapt thralldom with
the monstrous climax of the Final movement of Beethoven’s 7th. Will
feels like he’s going to burst as he pulls his cell out and sees its
Daghlian’s number one more time. The entire audience rises out of
their seats with applause, some waking up for the first time since
the second movement.
(Before arriving, Daghlian also choreographs the raid, while alerting
the cars that Will Girardi’s daughter’s at the club and to keep her
out of harm’s way. When they pull up, Daghlian barks out directions,
motioning uniforms on approaches to the club and who’s to enter with
him.)
\ **Part 30**\ : (The police observe kids outside with illegal
substances. (smoking dope, snorting heroin, injecting meth. They’re
arrested before they can get rid of the stuff. Woman outside
appearing to be soliciting is also arrested. Police go in and see
open beer containers and round up all involved. No liquor license for
the event. A rapidly shifting sense of confusion comes over all of
the evening’s festive spirit.)
Police officer: We’re closing this show right now. The party’s over.
(Police move to arrest stragglers; they go into restrooms, pull
people out…sending them off or arresting them if suspected)
**Part 31**\ : (Joan’s in a rear anteroom with Mrs. Villa and
Michael, well cut off from the main entrance, in a separate section
of the 2nd floor. They’re making a final count of the money. She’s
taken the headset off, but leaves it around her neck. Mrs. Villa
hears the commotion coming from the police entering the main building
and gets up from the table to take a look at what’s happening.)
Mrs. Villa: You two finish up… I’ve got to find out what’s happening.
… Anyway.. we’re really done.. over $5,000. $5,238 to be exact.
Official total. I just wanted to do a second tally. We need to get
this to MC. .. I’ll be right back…Don’t let the money out of your
sight.
(Immediately upon walking out of the anteroom, she sees Alex through
the doorway of a makeshift dressingroom. He’s taking off his wings of
fire and putting on a t-shirt. She stops in the doorway, getting his
attention.) Alex, whatever’s going on… stay out of it … Understand?
You don’t have to solve the world’s problems…..
Alex: (nodding, he walks out of the dressing room; Mrs. Villa
leaves.)
(Joan notices Alex through the anteroom’s doorway. Alex looks at
Joan… Their eyes meet… transfixed on one another for the briefest
time. Unsettling. Joan returns to her work as Alex turns away. But
noise and crashing sounds bring her sight back to the doorway. She
observes a police officer entering the outer room where Alex is
standing. )
Police officer: Party’s over…. Let’s go…. Now. (impatient with Alex’s
slow movement)
Michael: (hearing the police officer who’s entered calling out that
‘the party’s over,’ he gets up to see what’s going on…he speaks out)
It’s over anyways, pinhead. (then adding under his breath) Pig.
(Alex’s stopped moving as soon as he heard Michael)
Police officer: (inflamed by the remark, seeming a hothead himself)
You want to say that again …I’ll arrest your ass. (Michael walks off,
out of the area entirely.)
Alex: (lingering, and hearing the exchange, gives the officer a dirty
look and spits on the ground. The officer eyes Alex, who starts to
walk away. Alex looks back, saying) Stop doggin’ me.
Ryan: (arriving on the scene, seemingly out of nowhere, he walks into
this part of the building and hears the sparring, intervening) Son,
you need to apologize to the officer.
Alex: I ain’t your son, you ain’t my daddy. (sneering and ready to
attack)
Ryan: (to Alex, almost condescending) It’s easier to beg forgiveness
than go to jail. (being direct and authoritative) Apologize.
Alex: (ignoring Ryan) They come in here thinking they own the
(swearing) ….place, baggin’ us. … They can’t just do what they want.
I’m a man. I got rights. (standing up for himself… he’s not takin’
nothing from nobody)
Ryan: You do (using reason like a knife)….Unless ….you lose them
acting like this. (Ryan starts to walk away, realizing his
conversation with Alex will only get worse. He stumbles on something,
tumbling into Alex, who falls towards and into the officer, with
strong force. It looks comic, like a comedy of errors, a cascade of
mis-steps in a waltz of toreadors, stepping on feet, choreographed by
some unseen power. The officer takes Alex’s tumble into him to be
aggression, immediately leveraging Alex’s arms and body onto the
ground, and putting his hands into cuffs. He seems to have Alex under
control. Ryan gets up quickly.)
Ryan: I’ll alert your backup on what’s transpired. (He leaves, but
returns to doorway where he’s exited to retrieve something when he
fell. He notices that Joan’s arrived on the scene and he observes
until the explosion by Alex at which point he hustles out to find
Daghlian.)
Joan: Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! (Having seen what’s been happening, and Ryan
leaving, Joan comes out of the anteroom, wanting to be a peacemaker.
She enters the fray, presuming she can help to get the fracas under
control before it spins completely out of orbit. She still has the
headset around her neck, no longer over her ears, so she looks silly.
Moonchild, indeed. Joan’s thinking she’s knows police business,
police officers, and can help. Besides she knows Alex.) This is out
of control here, fellas. (Joan speaks to Alex and the officer,
sounding like she’s talking to little boys fighting on a playground.
They don’t like the tone one bit. She realizes this almost
immediately) Ok. Not helping. (About to give up, she decides to try
again. She begins to speak with authority, like she’s settling two
sparring footsoldiers or better a bull and toreador. ) I saw what
happened. It was an accident. Just stumbling around like a couple of
rolling stones. Or waltzing toreadors. No ill intent. None. No one is
guilty. No one is innocent. …(now giving them advice and direction
that fails miserably) Officer, now you take the cuffs off him…. And
you, Alex, explain. You didn’t mean it.
Alex: (screaming at her) Get outta here! (to the officer) Get off.
I’m gonna mess you up.
Officer: (ignoring Alex, and speaking to Joan) Back off! You could
get hurt. I’ve got this under control. Backup’s on the way. (assuming
Ryan will alert his backup.) Move on…
Joan: (resisting both of them) No, No. Really. It was a mistake. An
accident. You guys didn’t see how funny it was. Really. Falling over
yourselves like a couple of idiots….(They’re having none of it as
Alex, inflamed, ignores Joan and continues to resist. The officer is
sitting on Alex, but having difficulty because of the force of his
rocking opposition.)
Officer: (trying to get him to concede the fight, not getting what
set off Alex the first time) Son, just give up. You’re not gonna win
this one.
Alex: (exploding, with the officer falling off of Alex. As he’s
thrown from Alex, the officer bites his tongue and lip, causing blood
to spurt out over his uniform and Alex. This gets the officer
incredibly angry. The officer grabs Alex’s head by the hair, but
resists banging it with the force of his body because Joan’s
watching. It’s getting uglier by the moment.)
Joan: (not able to stand it any longer, losing control herself, she
starts to scream at the top of her lungs, hysterically) Stop! Stop!
Stop! This was not supposed to happen! Stop! Please!!!!! (she’s about
to grab the officer herself, but just collapses, hopeless, sobbing.)
(Her screams actually shock both Alex and the officer out of
themselves and they suddenly become subdued, as though they’ve
shifted to another place on the spectrum of light and darkness. A
queer silence overtakes all of them. All seem to succumb to some
other force working in their midst. And this seemingly little episode
of trauma subsides.)
(After awhile, Joan just walks away numb and dead to all feeling, all
her senses suspended, seeming burnt out and through. She rises like
an old weathered and burnt newspaper that crumbles to the touch, and
is blown by the wind. She finally makes her way back to the anteroom
and, in a state of deadness, she picks up the money and puts it into
a bag, She sidles idly away, like she’s on automatic pilot, towards
the steps to the 3rd floor and the main ballroom.)
**Part 32**\ : (Daghlian arrives after Joan leaves. Ryan’s alerted
him to what’s transpired and that Joan may be in danger there.
Daghlian talks with the officer and feels that the whole raid has
turned into a mess. No Joan Girardi and it’s escalating.)
**Part 33**\ : (Joan walks into the main ballroom with the bag of
money, wanting to turn it over to the DanceFest sponsors, organizers.
She’s looking for MC, Mrs. Villa, Rahav, even Michael, with no luck.
It’s over $5,000 and she doesn’t want to be left holding the bag with
all the commotion going on. She’s worried. And she looks on, all
about her. She sees Rahav being handcuffed and taken away, but what
for, she doesn’t know. The DanceFest’s buoyant spirit has collapsed.
And the audience, the organic unity, has been transformed into a
crowd that’s becoming more and more volatile, like a contagion’s
settled in. There’s yelling and arrests taking place seemingly all
over. It looks riotous to Joan. The shifting mood of this mass of
humanity has now been driven to the other end of its ebullience.
Hellish. And she’s wanting it all to just stop, start over again from
an entirely different place. A stunned stare of observation crosses
her thoughts: How did this happen? Who got this so out of control?
It’s like a demonic force; a dark angel’s taken over this vibrant
evening, doing wanton damage to a fragile spirit of hope. She feels
like crying again. But that’s been spent. She just wants her dad, but
there’s no comforting face in the mass of human flesh before her.
Just conflict, arrest, unmediated by kindness or …. Again, she wants
to wail, ‘Get me outta here.’… ‘Somebody.’ But nothing comes out.
Finally, she inhales the heaviness hanging in the heat of the crowd.
Her lips start to mouth words unknown to her. Vispassana. A guttural
sound, a groan, arises from the cavity of her abdomen. A lament. She
releases a quiet breath into the aggregate of anonymity, almost
dropping the moneybag from her hand.
Revived, she raises her eyes to the balcony/lighting area, making
brief eye contact with Adam. He and the crew are occupied with
something, but he makes a connection with Joan. Joan then sees
Michael and she walks towards him, offering the moneybag to him. As
he’s about to take it, a chain of events takes over: just as the
crowd seemed a leviathan, now too the safety force. A kid next to
Michael, scuffling takes a swing at a police officer, who hits the
ground. Several other police officers apprehend both Michael and the
kid as a result, leveraging them to the floor. The moneybag falls to
the floor. In the flurry of the scuffle, Joan’s unable to recover it
immediately.)
Shouting from kids in the crowd en masse: “Michael, we won’t let them
trash you. They’re not getting out without a fight.”
(The sheer confusion, riotous nature, gives the officers the impetus
to want to pick up and leave with those arrested, hoping to dispel
the confrontation with the crowd. The whole audience starts to yell
at the officers. No one’s attuned to how to change the
ill-spiritedness and the officers are not finding any easy exit.)
Police officer: (trying to calm the crowd and leave) Okay, we’re
leaving with those we’ve arrested, taking the proceeds with other
evidence (picking up the moneybag and seeing its contents) until we
can sort out what’s gone on here. (Michael sees the police officer
pick up the moneybag and reacts with a vehemence that spurs the
officer to assist the ones who are leveraging him and the other boy
on the floor. The officer puts the moneybag down on the floor to do
so.)
(Joan hears the comment, ‘taking everything as evidence,’ and
connecting the dots with,…… ‘money missing’… picks up the moneybag
before the officer knows what’s happening. She abruptly throws it
into the balcony where she had seen Adam and the lighting crew
working. Adam’s seen her risky action and quickly drops down, picking
it up the bag… invisible… He’s made the connection, too, and checks
the bag’s contents quickly.
Joan trusts, hopes for the best in the uncertain exchange. A
last-ditch effort and offering. Foolhardiness and uncertainty
abounding.
No one in the balcony is visible from the ballroom floor. Adam,
having heard the police’s statement about taking all the proceeds,
keeps the moneybag and follows the guys he’s been working with into
the deeper recesses of the balcony.
They’re synchronized in reading the moment with assumed
communication. Like lighting the dance of shapes this evening, they
silently forge clear action in the spotlight of necessity. Their
movements follow like a disciplined army that depends on intuitive
strategy, a choreographed score with varied expression’s expected.
Initiated by a sacrificial act with no confidence of effect, it could
easily go up in flames of failure. Yet the longing remains.
In the rear of the balcony, they quickly pull down from the ceiling
high above them a barely visible trap door that has an attached
ladder. It allows them to rise up easily to the next floor, out of
peril. They pull the ladder up and trap door behind them, sealing it
seamlessly back into the ceiling. On the next floor, Adam follows
them into the chamber room and out the window. They close the doors
and windows behind them and slip down a fire escape that’s in a
distant corner of the building. The police arrive in the balcony and
find no one; they’re frustrated, searching without result.)
(Meanwhile Joan has been arrested for throwing the moneybag into the
balcony, getting rid of evidence. She accepts the handcuffs. The
headphones remain around her neck as she’s unable to remove them or
even put them over her ears to drown out the night’s sirens that
blare her away. (Sinead O’Connor’s song, ‘Feel so different’ plays
over the moment.
\ **Part 34**\ : (Will finally arrives at the Beachland dance club,
only to see his daughter’s face in the back of a police cruiser,
being driven away. He’s beside himself, angry, grinding his teeth,
emotionally bent out of shape, worried out of his mind about Joan.
What happened? He goes up to Ryan.
Ryan: Just the wrong place at the wrong time. (Ryan’s trying not to
sound cavalier or callous, but it fails. Dr. John’s song, “Right
Place Wrong Time” begins playing to the end.
(And Ryan adds) Just bad luck. She’ll be okay.
Will: (He’s so stunned that it keeps him from grabbing Ryan by the
lapel and punching him out, saving him from a worse fate.)
