tea party

a small table is in the center of the stage with a very expensive tea set and all the fixings for a very civilized afternoon tea party.

2 kids, Max and Marjorie, sit at the table dressed in their mothers over sized clothes.

which include but not limited to

puffy dresses

floppy hats

pumps

clip on earrings

strings of pearls

(max is wearing large yellow plastic dish washing gloves)

* a note, no matter how vicious the dialogue seems it should be delivered with the appropriate amount of decorum and politeness for well bred folks 

Marjorie: Biscuit?

Max shakes his head no

marjorie: petit four?

Max shakes no again

Marjorie: You know when i invited you to tea this afternoon i thought we could have a decent conversation... you know that thing where one person asks a question and usually the other responds...no? - nothing huh? a breath, a pulse??? anything????

silence

Marjorie: oh fine

(in a nasty whisper)i dont know what i expected from someone like you

Marjorie: you know, i know what you do at night. (she looks side to side to see if anyone can hear her and in a hushed whisper) with your pee pee

pause

Marjorie: oh well! i think its disgusting. people like us do not do things like that, we go to academy, and wear ralph lauren. for god sakes you are a child model, ralph lauren child models just dont do things like that. i just--- (shes overwhelmed her self)

(regaining composure) well ive said my peace. I think its disgusting and demand you to stop.

Max starts to pull off the gloves, Marjorie Freaks out, all decorum is lost

Marjorie: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!? NOOOOoooOOOOO stop stop Stop STOP STooooooooPPPPPP!!!! you touch that tea pot you buy it! i know where those hands have been and if you thinking youre spreading any of that to me and my friends (she looks around as if the room is filled with many people) well you just think again

max stops, takes his cup and saucer, drinks from it, gargles it around his mouth, tips his head back and as if he was a whale lets it spray all over marjorie, her perfect tea set and the floor.

Marjorie: You revolt me.

(as the lights go down we see marjorie pull out a bottle of lysol and spray max's cup, and the rest of the table right down to the last plastic scone) 

what you need

released disappointment

yet i thought

pending an oceanic churn,

ecstatic

perverse

and rhythmic questions 

just drift.

raw materials

spilling

instead of melting

you who worked subtly

stumble indefinitely

without suspicions of

A dionysian future.

in art

the viewers

palpable unease

is inescapably tied to narratives

asking us to play along

but behold

masked patterns

emerge

and we are reborn

partly its pleasure

and partly it violence

tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick... tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

the next choice you make is yours and yours alone.
not gods or your mothers
or the man that stands on the corner of 16th stinking of pastrami, waving a sign in your face advertising humanity's collective doom while asking for a quarter and a smoke.

its you, standing in the darkness. everything else has ceased to exist.
if there were such a thing as days, you think to yourself, it would probably be a Tuesday. you can just feel it where your gut used to be.

but since all of that have disappeared, sucked into a vacuum thats still humming somewhere in space, you have nothing to rely on.

you look down to where your fingertips used to be, but now they've been replaced with tiny lights. you wiggle them and they dance, momentarily leaving streaks of light in the air. you try to write your name in the sky but realize you dont know what it is. you think really hard. something that identified you your whole life shouldnt be this hard to remember, but it is.

you give up and decide you'll rename yourself. that in death you'll finally be reborn. (and why not with a new a name) but everything your mind settles on doesnt work. nothing captures the grandness you feel. your soul is too big, your heart too full. youre brimming with ectasy and any old name wont do.

you decide it doesnt matter. that you'll answer to everything.
a call to arms
a call to love
a call to lavender.
youll rush to their side, a pillow for their desire. you'll weave honey-laddened tales for their children to sleep on and their lovers passions.

youll be everything all at once.

youre dead she said, lighting a cigarette

i know he replied

what does it feel like?

the sun burst into a million pieces of glass and each one landed on my skin

the ground was left untouched by these floating murderesses.

my cells invited them in

and they silently stalked until they found the object of their desire

one by one they bit my soul of out of my body

and it disappeared forever with the sun

and the world was left in darkness

my empty body wandered the barren shell of a planet

eating nothing but the carcasses of once live fish

and walnuts that had grown salty with decay

i aint no founding father, but you can call me momma

a woman sits on stage

she is wearing a wig, but not one of those white ones all the "founding fathers" wore

she can change wigs as many times as she wants, for she is every women, man and child and she can reflect this as she likes

on her table is a typewriter and a copy of the constitution

as she types she speaks what she writes

(what she is typing are all the necessary changes to the constitution to make All the people in this country actually free)

read this

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/25/magazine/25desire-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&hp