Saturday, February 27, 2021

Chapter 6

A Socratic dialog on abortion

"S" is Socrates and "T" is some Tommie, Dickie or Harriet.
S: Is there a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Of course.

S:  So any woman has a right to terminate her pregnancy for any reason?

T:  Undoubtedly.

S:  Well, suppose the preborn being -- or perhaps we might say potential human -- experiences pain during the termination process?

T:  As the, er, being is not viable, how can it experience pain?

S:  If there are physiological studies that show that the being's reactions are consistent with a viable infant's feeling of pain, would that be relevant?

T:  Well, then you are only talking about what might be.

S:  So if there is a possibility that the being in the womb experiences pain during abortion, that possibility is of no relevance to society?

T:  Not to society, but that consideration might affect a woman's personal decision.

S:  None of society's business?

T:  No.

S:  So if a woman decides to terminate a pregnancy for trivial or shallow reasons, that is her affair.

T:  Yes.

S:  In many cases, the decision for abortion is economically based, as when the family of a young woman presses her to abort so that she can go on to an economically prosperous life, or when a woman aborts the being in her womb because she has enough children and doesn't want one more mouth to feed. Is that correct?

T:  Economic issues are plainly a driving force behind abortion.

S:  Also, many women resent the idea that a male-dominated society may control a woman's right to reproduce. So-called reproductive rights.

T:  Yes, very true.

S:  What is it that she doesn't want reproduced?

T:  Another human, but that's only after birth. Before birth, the quality of humanity doesn't exist.

S:  So you say. Others would say, before the first trimester. And there are yet other ideas. So there is little agreement about when the being in the womb becomes a bona fide human being.  Anyway, wouldn't you agree that "reproduce" means reproduce oneself?

T:  Well, the child is not a clone. The father's genes contribute.

S:  So she is reproducing herself and her sex partner.

T:  I suppose.

S:  And that reproduction is in progress in the womb. So is she not destroying a reproduction of herself?

T:  You are just playing word games.

S:  And the male sex partner? Should he have no legal say in the preservation of a reproduction of himself?

T:  Of course not. The reproduction hasn't occurred yet at the time of abortion.

S:  Oh. But I thought that at conception, the genes begin the reproduction process. So doesn't the preborn being represent a partial reproduction of the male?

T:  I suppose so. But you know very well that to give the male any legal say would upset the world since the day Roe vs. Wade was decided. Besides, the man doesn't have to suffer the trials of pregnancy and giving birth.

S:  Yet, a part of the man, a potential daughter or son, has been destroyed. I suppose to a materialist like yourself that doesn't matter much?

T:  Well, these things are all relative. There are no absolutes.

S:  No absolutes? Except for the absolute right to abortion, of course.

T:  We are clever, aren't we?

S:  But it is a fact, is it not, that scientific materialism is your default philosophy?

T:  Well, I am no philosopher, but I would agree that science is better than superstition.

S:  And you have heard of the atheist philosopher Bertrand Russell?

T:  Who hasn't?

S:  But no doubt you are unaware that Russell and a number of other philosophers have attacked scientific materialism as deeply flawed?

T:  Really? I had no idea. What do they propose in its place?

S:  Would you be perturbed if I told you that there is no consensus, that no one seems to know what to make of the Cosmos, or Being?

T:  Yes, all very well. But as I say, I am no philosopher.

.S:  You concede you don't know why there is a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Well, Rights of Man -- I mean Human Rights -- and all that sort of thing.

S:  I see... Well, you do agree that a woman has a right to terminate a pregnancy for economic reasons.

T: Correct.

S:  So then, a woman -- perhaps in consultation with her partner -- has a right to terminate a pregnancy based on the sex, or gender, of the being in the womb.

T:  I don't quite follow.

S:  She has a right to terminate a pregnancy based on sex preference.

T:  It's a trivial reason, but I suppose it is none of society's business.

S:  Now suppose a large number of women preferentially abort females? Would that be acceptable?

T:  It doesn't sound right, but fortunately that isn't the case.

S:  What do you think feminists would think of such a practice?

T:  They would probably try to outlaw it.

S:  So then society does have an interest in maintaining the life of a being in the womb?

T:  Your scenario is not the case.

S:  You are wrong; it is a fact. In India, couples routinely terminate females in the womb for socioeconomic reasons. Further, there is a shortage of brides there, which is the consequence of this practice. India's laws against revealing the sex of the being in the womb have proved ineffective.

T:  Well, point. But this isn't India.

S:  The original question was, Is there a fundamental right to abortion?

T:  Ah, I see what you mean. If we must go by cases, there isn't a fundamental, all-encompassing right.

S:  So society is permitted to take an interest in the welfare of the being in the womb?

T:  I would say you have made a good case. But, unfortunately for you, most people think in memes, and won't follow philosophical arguments.

S:  Agreed.

The night before the procedure, I asked the baby to forgive me

https://www.sarahmae.com/abortion
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Chapter 5

In death's borderland

Time: 12:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Sept. 12, 2001.
Place: In the Manhattan buffer zone uptown from the twin towers catastrophe.
When I first arrived in the buffer zone between 14th and Houston streets, surrealistic scenes greeted me.

Police cars in motion covered with ash and dust; a convoy of giant earth movers filled with skyscraper rubble; emergency rescue vehicles on unspecified missions.

No one was afoot except for me and a few drunks, addicts and homeless persons.

At the key intersection of Houston and 6th Av. (also known as the Avenue of the Americas) I shared a bench with a homeless woman, watching as emergency vehicles came and went, convoys of dump trucks were deployed and city buses ferried police, firefighters, volunteers and construction workers in and out of the death zone.

I wandered up and down East Houston, noting the trucks laden with scaffolding parked and ready to roll. I stood on a footbridge over FDR Drive watching streams of emergency vehicles, some marked, some not, some with lights flashing and sirens blaring, some not, streaming in and out of Houston Street or heading around the FDR curve to approach the disaster from the toe of this forever-changed island.

In my wanderings, I frequently came across homeless men sleeping fitfully on sidewalks and loading docks, in jarring contrast to the more than 10,000 dead buried a few blocks away. Yet, I noticed around 4 a.m. that most residences in the buffer zone had all lights out, so I presumed that many New Yorkers must have simply gone to bed.

All I could think when watching the emergency activities was that New York should be glad of such efficiency and cool-headedness in response to this outrage.

Once dawn came, I saw groups of professionals hustling off toward West Street (aka the West Side Highway), apparently on their way to work.

Overheard snatches of conversation:

"We all know somebody who is dead," said a woman striding along with two men.

"We had a very, very close friend who was on the 92d floor," says a bearded man into a cellphone.

Cellphones of course were ubiquitous. People at Houston and 6th were using them to report details of what they were seeing. One man sitting on the by-now packed bench was reading his notes in French, most probably to an editor at the other end of his cellphone.

Channel 3 News from Hartford encamped at the intersection at about 5 a.m. and all day long conducted TV interviews with New Yorkers who had been at or near the catastrophe site.

By 10 a.m., the pace was picking up, as more and more New Yorkers ventured out, looking for newspapers (none delivered in the buffer zone), visiting neighbors and just plain looking around.

But it was eery. A perfect summery day. The residents of the buffer zone were perhaps defiantly nonchalant. Those in the streets showed no trace of fear, spoke animatedly to one another and played with their children, doing their best to enjoy a very bad day. And they somehow were succeeding.

If the point was to terrorize the New Yorkers, I can tell you they were not at all terrorized. New Yorkers were well behaved. A few onlookers were a bit of a pain at the key intersections, but when one considers the number of people in New York, things went very well. And the harried police handled the onlookers good naturedly.

Among the contrasts:

Throngs of curious Manhattanites near the death zone acting as if it was a nice day off (and that feeling of confidence was quite clearly contagious); yet every once in a while silent rescue workers, individually and in small groups, would trudge past the police checkpoint and walk uptown. You knew who they were even if they were not in uniform. Their footgear was covered in ash. They trudged, stonefaced, staring straight ahead, overcome with exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

As a Vietnam veteran, I could identify with them somewhat. Once past the checkpoint, many in the crowds failed to notice them, but of course that didn't really matter.

Over on West Street, crowds made a point of cheering and applauding the rescue workers as they drove to and from the death zone. Many news trucks lined West Street. It gave one of the clearest views in Manhattan of the 'hole' in the skyline.

I couldn't help but wonder: is it wise to put so many people in one place? Do we really need skyscrapers anyway in this new economic era of computer teleconferencing?

I recall seeing a family walking their children up the bikepath, their little girl racing along gaily, clutching her dolly -- completely oblivious to the tower of smoke billowing up behind her.

Similar scenes played out in Washington Square Park where parents supervised toddlers laughing an giggling under the turtle sprinkler.

Looking downtown, three crosses atop churches abutting the park stood out in stark relief against the heavy pall of smoke.

I heard a helicopter whipping high overhead and was watching it for a while before I realized: I had heard it because there was no traffic making the usual Manhattan cacophony around the park.

There just wasn't enough noise in the air.
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Chapter 4

Brahman as Unknown God

What follows is a discussion of some material found in A Short History of Philosophy by Robert C. Solomon and Kathleen M. Higgins (Oxford 1996).
Though their book is somewhat uneven, the interludes of analytical brilliance make a read-through worthwhile. I was intrigued by what seems to be a succinct summary of the essence of much of Indian philosophy, which prompted some thought.
This chapter also appears in another of Conant's e-books, Mind Journeys.
As paralleled in Heraclitus and some of the other pre-Socratic philosophers, in Vedanta, Brahman is the ground, the value, and the essence of everything. This ultimate unity is therefore a coincidence of opposites – hot and cold, dry and wet, consciousness and world – which is incomprehensible to us. Brahman is "beyond all names and forms," and, like Yahweh, Brahman is a name for the unnameable, a reference to what cannot be understood or analyzed. Brahman is always "not this, not that."

But, we are assured Brahman, can be experienced, in meditation and mysticism, with Brahman being ultimately identical to one's true self or atman. It is thus the awareness of Brahman, most importantly, that is every person's supreme personal good. One of the obstacles to this good, especially among the learned, is the illusion of understanding.

The apostle Paul would very likely have identified Brahman as the "unknown God" – the utterly mysterious mind behind and within all existence.

Yet, he would say, we cannot connect to this mind without the intermediary Jesus, the Savior. The Unknown God decided to reveal his great love of humanity by this means. That mind is far beyond our rational capacities, whether the mind is called Brahman or Yahweh.
Yahweh (=Jehovah),
which means,
He is,
hence suggesting,
I am.
Thence
Jesus (=Joshua=Yeshua),
which means,
I am salvation
or
I save.
Jesus is the human face of the Unknown God, or Brahman. As the Son, Jesus is the projection of God into the world of humans.

Ultimately, Brahman is in fact one's true self, we are told. This idea runs parallel to Jesus, quoting scripture, saying "you are gods" (hence strongly implying "you are God") and to saying that he would bring to his right mind, or wake up, the person who turns to him. Those who turn to him are, says Paul, junior partners in Christ, welded into a spiritual oneness. All share the Holy Spirit, an inexhaustible fount of wisdom and cheer. In other words, they share in God's mind. So if believers have God's Spirit, they begin to awaken – sometimes very slowly – to their true, higher selves. They are returning to the state of perfect oneness from which their angels – atmans – have fallen.

Also, we are told, that in Vedanta recognizing oneself as atman is at the same time recognizing one's true self as Brahman. "An individual person is really just one aspect, one of infinitely many transient manifestations, of the One." Even so, there is plenty of room for interpretation as to whether Brahman is to be considered as the One who created those manifestations, or is identical to them, or is incomprehensibly different from them.

So, I suppose many Buddhists and some Vedantists turn away from the concept of vast, unfathomable mind. Yet are they not reaching toward superior mind or consciousness for their destinies? Why should such greatly enlightened minds be the pinnacle of the cosmos? It seems to me that that would mean that something that is less than the cosmos would still be superior to it, even if, perhaps, only temporarily. (Do you hear an echo of the ontological proof of God's existence in that argument?)

Yet, we must be careful here because of the apparent difference, for Buddhists, between mind and consciousness. In Buddhist parlance, the idea is to empty one's mind or self, obtaining the state of the anatman, which essentially means no-mind. That is to say, the Buddhists equate the human mind with the self, which needs to go away in order for the person to reach a state of bliss. From my perspective, both the Vedantist and Buddhist ideas are summed up by the New Testament injunction that one must die to self, to lose one's carnal mind (stop being a meat-head).

It should be noted that the authors say that Buddhists, in general, view Brahman and atman as illusions. Yet, if there is no ground of being, what is it that Buddhists are attempting to reach? How can any kind of eventuality exist without a ground of being?

Now, the Buddhist aim of enlightenment, either in this life and this body, or in a future life and body, yields this puzzle:

What is it that will suffer or experience bliss in the future? If the basic Buddhist theory holds that the objects of all desires are transitory, that the mind and soul are both temporarily existent illusions, that nothing lasts forever, then why desire a state of non-mind bliss, that supposedly implies an end to suffering? "You" won't be "there" to enjoy nothing anyway. Similarly, why worry about karma (you reap what you sow) in a subsequent life if it isn't really you proceeding to that next life?

So then, a Buddhist would desire to share in the bliss of Nirvana. He or she does yearn for some continuity of existence between his or her present state and the future. Of course, Buddhists will attribute such a contradiction to the inadequacy, when it comes to sublime mysteries, of human logic and language.

(We acknowledge that the Northern – Mahayana – school favors that devotees strive to become boddhisatvas, or enlightened beings, who delay attainment of Nirvana in order to help others become free of the bondage of suffering, whereas the Southern – Theravada – school favors Nirvana first followed by the helping of others. In either case, our puzzle remains.)
In response James Conant, a Buddhist, quotes Chögyam Trungpa:
The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is, there’s no ground.
We can draw a parallel here based on these scriptures:

Psalm 46:10
Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
Being still here, I suggest, implies a deep, meditative awareness, letting our transitory thoughts and desires subside so as to permit the "ground of being" to be heard.

1 Kings 19:9-12
9 And [Elijah] came thither unto a cave, and lodged there; and, behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and he said unto him, What doest thou here, Elijah?
10 And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.
11 And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
12 And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
At the core of existence is God. He is not "in" the phenomena, even though he causes them. (I note that there is a distinction between the "word of the Lord" that asked Elijah why he was hiding in a cave and the "still small voice." I suggest that Elijah was led to commune with God at a deeper level, at the "ground of being" if you like.

Mark 4:37-40
37 And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full.
38 And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say to him, Master, care you not that we perish?
39 And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
40 And he said to them, Why are you so fearful? how is it that you have no faith?
41 And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?
The world's phenomena, that we take to be so real, are subject to the human mind when it is in accord with God's mind.

A key difference between the Christian and Eastern outlooks is the assurance that Jesus will assist the believer to die to self (granting the fact that it doesn't always appear that very many believers actually do so).

Matthew 16:25
For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.
For a list of other supporting scriptures, please see:
https://zion78.blogspot.com/2018/02/we-must-die-to-self.html

The spiritual seekers of ancient India had had some important revelations. Yet, in Christian eyes, they were yearning for the big revelation that did not occur until the resurrection of Jesus.

We observe that Jesus himself pulled in those of low estate, who were acutely conscious of their need and not so inclined to intellectualize themselves out of drinking in the water of life. The "poor in spirit" (meek) are the ones positioned to break through the barrier of self-justifying delusion. Even today, as through the centuries, very strong belief flourishes best among the poor and lowly.

Matthew 11:28-29
28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
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Content of Dharma Crumbs

This e-book contains about 15,000 words, which is far shorter than a standard book.

 More will be revealed. More chapters are coming. Well, maybe.

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Friday, February 26, 2021

Chapter 3

Dharma dreams

 

Thinking of Dad


A crowded mission
in San Diego
eating happily
A thin wiry man
is managing to sit erect
drunk

booming out
I'm no goddamn Chicano!
... I'm an Indian!
I speak English!

Very cowboy sound, actually, like he's from West Texas or somewhere like that
Especially the way he said goddamn
Indians of the Old West
maybe Tombstone?

used to call the cowboys goddamns after their manner of speaking
Dad was an Old Californian I guess. He said goddamn just like a Westerner,
just like that Indian
who speaks goddamn English

hard candy
she's  oh so sweet
  oh so fine
the problem is
  she's never mine

she's very proper
  oh so proper
that's why I'm
  a gonna drop 'er

she's always right
  and never wrong
i guess we'll never
  get along

she won't she won't
  i don't know why
should i give her
  another try

that candy cane
  she's made of steel
but i need soft
  and warm and real

The law the prophets and fig newtons

for the sake of argument

let's say

i meek

all things newton

for now

and then of course

the code 'x' of moses

hollers from back you'nder

who am i

how do i know

says a stone

how should i know

thinks i in stein

figs

***

says isaac

we'll take a playful peek

under the covers

aha

exclaims the prophet

whose word made law

tis a great light spear

a flying phenom hurtled

thru the air apparent

sun of a ray gun look here

a rainbow host doth appear

yet the pure white light is

one

elijah

***

how is it that the moon and mars

keep faith with the farthest stars

is it the code 'x' of moses

or druidical data

that seals the deal

the elegance of the inverse square

does little to repair

the fall of gravity

mother

***

no need for all this ethereal fluff

says albert i

tell you light is a weighty matter

and further

space is time

and time is short

or long depending on the pace

of holy c

still i cannot give place

to any force that fields the light

as other than a concrete insight

into twisted reality

no dice

***

mathemythics bohr and bohm

hunting for lost cause's home

were whirls apart

copenhagen

no

but don't you see

what's in is out

and what's out is ink

and paul dirac's holey ghosts

show up in any goal-danged space

andromeda

***

knock that damn two-timing cat

out of that highly improbable

hat howl erwin

al et al to know avail

it seems elektra is

what do you know

bi

by the way

i've taken quite a shine

to a brilliant bloke what a find

what a friend i have in goedel

who

put us all to the test

and found we come up wanting

at best

indeed

***

the trouble with cantor's paradise

is deep down

there's nothing to it

tho fig newtons are very popular

chewy

quiets the discontent of not knowing

where

your mother went

alaska

That girl, Julianne
Watch out, you young men, here comes stunning Julianne
She'll claim your soul with a grin, will that saucy lovechild.
Julianne, Julianne, she will make you her fan
By her charms you boys will soon be beguiled
So then dream about her all night and all day
But there's a hidden key to that heart of pure gold
And if you don't hold it, you'll go badly astray
Julz has her sights set on the best and the bold
Her dreams that girl has tied to a wondrous bright star
Her young woman's heart it yearns for only the best
Not many of us can follow on a journey so far
Yet I'll back that young girl on her marvelous quest
In my mind I must crawl before that stunning Julianne
who I see clearing hurdles with amazing force and grace
One day she'll rule a world like nobody else can
My soul so longs to kiss her dimpled scarface
When time fades, like winter gray
I will love Julianne, come what may.
Copyright 2024 by Paul Conant
Let her be

indicted
by catholic anxiety,
she doubts
every action

a miracle
of authentic existence
she needs

liberty

Who
will let her be?
Copyright 2024 by Paul Conant

Scarface

Apologies to our friend. You just never know what will spark the lyricist. Even with a good melody, somehow we don't think these lyrics will fly... but here they are anyway.
Scarface, Scarface,
you're really such a doll.
Scarface, Scarface,
won't you be my gun moll?

Scarface, Scarface,
do you know how I pine
Scarface, Scarface,
for you and your sign?

Vocal bridge
The perfect touch
on that little fillie
Well look at her blush
Oh don't you be silly
Scarface, Scarface,
you're quite the gun moll.
Scarface, Scarface,
for you I do fall

Scarface, Scarface,
she's a really big hit.
Scarface, Scarface,
She'll never, ever quit

Outro
Scarface, Scarface,
She'll never, ever quit

Scarface, Scarface,
She'll never, ever quit

Scarface, Scarface,
She'll never, ever quit
Copyright 2023 by Alan Cupton
You can't go wrong with Jesus

You can't go wrong with Jesus,
You'll do all right with Jesus.

The devil is what you get
when you get God wrong.

So get God right
and get Jesus

You can't go wrong with Jesus,
You'll do all right with Jesus.

You'll be so glad
You'll be so glad
No more sad
You'll be so glad

You can't go wrong with Jesus,
You'll do all right with Jesus.
Copyright 2023 by Paul Conant
Bluezark Mountain Melody

Darn. I wish I had the ability to come up with a melody or some chords or something for this.
 Oh Oh, Oh No
I've got a bad case of the bluezarks

Oh No, Oh Woe
I have really caught the bluezarks

Thought I was OK
when my baby went away
way down in the Ozarks

But Oh Oh, Oh No
I've caught a bad case of the bluezarks

I've got to get gone
got to make a run
to get me out of the  Ozarks

It's Oh No, Oh Woe
I can really feel them bluezarks

Thought I'd heal up fast
but Im really downcast
way down in the Ozarks

Oh Oh, Oh No
I'm lost down here in the Bluezarks

Copyright 2023 by Paul Conant
Where do you wander?

O how I do wonder
where do you wander

O how sad I am
that with her you took off
O how bad I feel
that with her you fled north

O how I do wonder
where do you wander

You hit me with a clap
of terrible thunder
when you decided
to tear us asunder

My whole life went up
in a column of smoke
All our grand plans
now I have to choke

Living your life
without me how I hate
Don't you remember
our first loving date?

O how I do wonder
where do you wander
[repeat refrain as desired]
Copyright 2023 by Paul Conant
Hadley

This one is so corny, it'll have to be a Bluegrass number.
I am so madly, madly
in love with little Hadley

I need her so badly
that cute little Hadley

She's the best thing ever
Yeah she's really so clever

She got my heart a-cookin'
when I wasn't even lookin'

But she ain't playin' fair,
'cause she don't really care

But still I am madly,
in love with that Hadley

That smokin' hot Hadley,
she's burnin' me badly

Hadley, Hadley, Hadley,
she burns the boys badly

Gladly, gladly, gladly,
I'd give my love to Hadley

But sadly, sadly, sadly,
I can't get next to Hadley
Copyright 2023 by Paul Conant
Candy

The great thing about lyrics is that being corny rarely hurts them -- if they are coupled with a good melody.
When I see you,
I see the moon and the stars.
When you come into sight,
my heart leaps clear to Mars.

Refrain:
You are such a sweet piece of candy.
Me 'n' the whole world think you are dandy.

When I hear you,
I hear Tupelo honey.
At the sound of your voice,
I'm so happy it really ain't  funny.

Refrain:
You are such a sweet piece of candy.
Me 'n' the whole world think you are dandy.

When I talk to you,
my heart goes a'flutter.
When I say your name,
my whole body turns into butter.

Refrain:
You are such a sweet piece of candy.
Me 'n' the whole world think you are dandy.
Copyright 2022 and 2023 by Paul Conant
Fourth verse for Rocky Top

Three verses aren't enough, even with an instrumental bridge.

Verse 4
One day I'll go back to Rocky Top
to look up my old neighbors
Can't say who's still on Rocky Top
gettin' poorer for their labors

Chorus and finale
Copyright 2022 by Paul Conant
Party crasher

You crashed my party, babe
You were really, really bad
You done crashed my party
but now I'm really, really glad

You broke down my wall, girl/boy
You threw me for one big loop
Yeah you done broke down my wall
and jumped right into my coop

---------
Party crash, party crash
Oh no, it's a party crash
---------

You slammed me in my comfort zone
but what a jackpot thrill!
Yeah whomped me in that comfort zone
Now for this love there ain't no pill

How'd you catch my scaredy heart, girl/boy?
Now here am I: your slave
Oh how'd you catch my scaredy-cat heart?
Now it's you alone I truly crave

---------
Party crash, party crash
Oh no, it's a party crash
The lyrics above are under Copyright Act protection. The copyright assignment is being kept in a time-stamped file until the final draft is complete.
Stupid Cupid

Subject to revision.
Oh baby why can't I get away from you?
What has got such a hold on me?
You never loved me, you just won't do.
What do you have? I just don't see.

Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid ripped me off.
Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid why does he scoff?

Why am I hanging around your door?
Baby you're not hot you're not cold.
All I am to you is a mat on the floor.
You're one hand I've got to fold.

Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid ripped me off.
Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid why does he scoff?

I have been with you all these years
And all I have is an ache in my heart.
Baby all I get is a face full of tears.
What did I do that I'm not so smart?

Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid ripped me off.
Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid why does he scoff?

I thought I loved you oh so long ago.
I said you're the awesomest (man/woman) ever.
Now I've got to get away is all that's true.
You should leave me. Then we'll surely sever.

Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid ripped me off.
Missed by Cupid, stuck on stupid.
Yeah stupid Cupid why does he scoff?
Copyright 2021 by Renee R.T. Keene
at No comments:

Chapter 2

Since Grandpa died

A play in one act

Conant comments:
Elizaberh O'Donnell's contribution to this play was to come up with the storyline and to interact with me while the script was in progress. My part was the finished product.
During the first draft, I used the name 'Liz' for the main character as a space-holder. We then got so used to that name that we left it.
We ask no royalties if this play is presented by a not-for-profit group. Profit-seeking groups may obtain further information by emailing Conant at krypto784@gmail.com.

Characters:

Liz: a woman in her twenties who goes through flashbacks to important incidents in her life.
Voice: a male voice who takes on various roles in Liz's memory and imagination.
Most of the play occurs in Liz's bedroom, though two scenes occur on a barren stage.
The play opens with a sparse set: a bed, a chair and a dresser. A few props change by scene. One prop is a vodka bottle, the same bottle being used throughout the play.
Each scene features a large poster that signals a period of Liz's life. Back-projection might be a convenient way to handle this.

SCENE 1

L: [staring intently at phone] Why won't he call? I know he's gonna call. I prayed he would. He's got to hear me thinking of him. Oh, Joe. . . why did this happen? You know you love me.
[Turns to vodka bottle, picks it up and cradles it, almost like a baby.]
L: Lizzy, come on, you know you should just pour it out. Tina [addressing bottle as if it is Tina], why did you decide to be nice to me and bring this over? I know you just wanted to be friends. How could you know I quit drinking?
[Puts bottle back down, fumbles for cigaret from pack on dresser, attempts to light it but breaks it, and then gives up in disgust.]
Joe's going to call. I KNOW he will.
[Closes eyes as if intently willing him to call.]
If he doesn't call, I'll drink this vodka. THAT'S what I'll do!
[Irritably]
That's why this bottle came to me. In case Joe doesn't call.
[long pause]
Oh Liz, you dope. You know God told you to quit drinking -- but it's too hard! I only have ten days clean and sober. Oh Christ, it's too hard!
[Then, as if a thought came]One day at a time. That's what they say. Don't drink just today. Cindy told me to call if I felt like drinking. Maybe I should.
[Peeks again at bottle; hesitates, and instead takes a well-worn paper from the bureau, reading aloud haltingly]
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'
[After a moment of calm, she flies into a rage]
That's a nice prayer! Too bad it's bullshit! The only man I ever loved, my soul mate -- gone!
[Mood softens]
But it's not really his fault. It's more my fault. Oh why did I have to play it so dumb and go out with that other guy? I didn't even care about Travis at all. Joe was so mad when he found out! But it wasn't fair. He had broken up with me -- again! What was I supposed to do? I have feelings, too. Hey, I'm human. Who does he think he is to play those head games?
Still, I could have waited. Why didn't I wait a little longer? Maybe he wouldn't have minded if I'd dated different guys and not get serious with anybody. But I wasn't really serious about Travis! Shit! This is so fucked up.
I know what it really is. I can be a bitch. I had an attitude: I'll fix his wagon! Now I wish I hadn't gotten so mad, though. I fixed my own wagon, too. I can't live without him. If he's not in my life, all I want to do is drink.
Yeah. . . But he drinks too much, too. He could really tie one on. He beat the crap out of me once when I was really bad . . . But I goaded him into it. I know I did. I wouldn't shut up. That was the liquor talking. I'm sure of it now.
I wish he would call. Then maybe he'd go to some meetings with me. Those meetings are weird. A lot of talk about Higher Power. They mean God. I believe in God. Don't drink and go to meetings, that's what Cindy said. Maybe I should call her.
If only he would call. Please call, Joe. Please. I'm your soul mate. We"re meant for each other. You're the only one for me. If he calls, THEN everything will be OK. I'll turn on the sweet li'l me act. I'll get him back. I know how to make myself look good. He'll take me back!
I would go over there. But, what if he's with somebody new?
[Fondles bottle, then expresses disgust]
People are always leaving me! Can't I get anything to work right? Nothing has been right in my life. . .
[As lights dim, Voice joins Liz in completing sentence]
L and V: . . .since Grandpa died.
***endscene***

SCENE 2

[Liz takes a teddy bear from under the bed and places it on the bed, lying on its back with its head on the pillow. Poster is now something that would appeal to a young child. Liz sits on floor beside the bed.]
L: Grandpa, you're my favorite person in the whole world. We're going to get married when I grow up, huh?
V: Sure, Liz. We'll have a fine wedding. But [chuckles] what if Prince Charming takes you away from me? What then?
[Liz adamantly shakes her head, little-girl style.]
L: Nope. I'm marrying you.
V: Well, sure, Apple of My Eye. But let's not forget I told you I may have to go away for a while. . .
L: No!
V: And I don't want you forgetting all I told you about the saints and God and all his angels.
L: Grandpa, tell me about St. Michael. You know, the angel who likes God. I like God.
V: A great angel he was, and is. A terrible battle broke out in heaven. 'Who is like God?' shouts Michael. Then he and the other good angels drive out all those snakes: the devil and all his angels.
[Long pause.]
L: Why was the devil bad?
V: Now that's a funny question. But the answer is: He didn't want to do what God said. And so there was no end of trouble from then on.
L: And now he's . . .[points downward] down there.
V: Yes, but he's still sneaking around. That's why we should pray to Michael, and the other saints, and say the rosary to our Blessed Mother.
L: [Singing] 'Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so; little ones to him belong; we are weak but he is strong.' All the children sit on his lap!
V: The GOOD children.
L: [Impishly] And the bad little girl jumps off, and runs away, and turns into a . . .a . . . witch! [Sudden mood change.] How old was I when my mommy went away to be with the saints?
V: You were only two, my little pumpkin. You were very young. But you loved your mother, that's a fact.
L: I wish I had my real mommy, instead of JULIE!
V: Julia's a nice girl. She wants to do the right thing.
L: I HATE her. Daddy says he's not going to marry her. Good!
V: The blessed mother will be -- is -- your mother, Lizzie.
L: She WILL? But what if I turn into a WITCH!? [Sudden mood change] What does God look like, Grandpa?
V: Oh, you can't see . . . [rethinks his words]. He looks like Jesus, only his hair is white.
L: Is Mommy in heaven with Jesus.
V: Why of course, my little darling.
L: Why doesn't Daddy go to church with us? Maybe he could talk to God, and then he would stop being so mean.
V: We mustn't be talking about your father that way. He's a hard worker, but he just doesn't understand little girls.
L: Plus he drinks a lot of whiskey . . . a lot.
V: Yes. I'm afraid so. In that area, he was mistaught.
L: I hate him! He's so mean! And I hate his girlfriend! She's mean, too!
L: God made them, Liz. Some day you'll understand.
***endscene***

SCENE 3

[The poster should reflect a 13-year-old's tastes, as should her apparel.]
L: Grandpa, I wish you weren't gone. Daddy doesn't love me. He only loves whiskey. I feel so bad all the time. I ought to run away from home again. But there's nowhere to go. That was HORRIBLE in the city. Some people were nice. I guess it's OK that the police picked me up.
Daddy doesn't mean to hurt me. [Rubs arm.] He's too drunk. Anyway, they told him to watch out, 'cause I might get taken away. Julie told him to don't hit when he's drunk. She says we should get along.
Where are you, Grandpa? You're with God, I know.
[Shrieks.]
No! No! Please, Grandpa, don't be gone! You can't be gone! Why did you die, Grandpa! No!
[Sobs, then looks out at the audience and says:]
I hate you, God!
***endscene***

SCENE 4

[Lighting is spooky. Eerie music is heard, but not too loud. The poster emblazons some cult-like rock group. The bureau has on it the vodka bottle, a book, a phone and a few small items. During the scene change, Liz dons a dark robe.
Upon taking a swig from the bottle, she picks up the book and opens it near the beginning, holding it open as she reads.}
L: Which chapter do I want? Runic secrets? Shadows and shades? Mother goddess love spells?
[Laughs at herself.]
Why do I believe in this stuff? It's stupid, I know, BUT . . . If the other girls find out, I'm through. Lindie Crawford got all mixed up in this stuff, and now everybody calls her 'Halloween' . . . Still, that's better than being called a whore.
[Looks in mirror, then down at floor.]
Kenny shouldn't have done that to me. I was drunk.
[Liz takes another swig, then lights a bowl of cannabis. After a while, she speaks.]
If my dad and that slut girlfriend of his knew what I was into, they'd wig out. I oughta find a spell to hex her. She's the real witch!
[Liz sits on the bed, chilling out for a while as the music comes up. Suddenly, loud clangs are heard and the music cuts off. A dark-hued spotlight is played off center stage. Liz, a separate light on her, leaps up in fright.]
Voice: Death, blood and gore. That's what I have in store, for Grandpa's little whore.
Liz cries out: Grandpa! Grandpa! Help me!
V: [Mocking] Grandpa! Grandpa! Help me!. . .Help me get another hit, help Kenny cover me in shit!
L: [Anguished] Grandpa!
V: Help me get some real good shit. Help Kenny play with my little clit!
L: Grandpa!. . .Jesus, somebody. . .please!
[The instant Liz utters 'Jesus, somebody' the off-center spotlight switches off. As Liz recovers her composure, stage lighting becomes less spooky.]
L: [Lighting a cigaret.] I must be going crazy.
[Takes another pull from her bottle, then goes to phone and touch-dials.]
Hey Heather, what's up? Yeah. The play was a lot of fun. You should have tried out for it. [Pause.] Do you really think I was good? [Laughs.]
'O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name.
'Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.'
Man, that play was hard. I didn't understand half the stuff I was saying, even though Mr. Jackson explained it all. But that was OK. It was fun.
You know, I was thinking of being an actress. I'm gonna try out for 'Our Town.' I think I'd make a good actress. When I get old enough, I'm definitely going to Hollywood. Why not . . . ? [Dreamily:] That would be SO cool. Maybe I won't be a star. But I MIGHT.
[Light-heartedly sings:]
'They're gonna put me in the movies.
They're gonna make a big star out of me.
They're gonna put me in the movies.
And all I gotta do is,
act naturally!'
[Ringo Starr made this Buck Owens song a hit.]
So anyway, are you going to the party Saturday? Dave's parents will be out of town for the weekend. It should be a blast. I'm gonna bring some good stuff.
I just hope that creep Jed isn't gonna be there. He's such a pain. Spoils everything. He thinks he's Tom Cruise [or latest matinee idol] or something. But when he gets trashed, forget it. He can't hold his liquor. Everybody makes fun of him, and he eats it up, the creep.
He sent me this dumb poem. If he wasn't such a creep, it'd be kinda sweet.
[Fishes in drawer and pulls out an envelope, from which she withdraws a piece of paper.]
Ready?
'My Angel' -- that's the title.
Once upon a time, there was this angel friend of mine.
She was there day or night, rain or shine.
The angel never said a thing.
Just smiled brightly there.
Sometimes she would flit around
putting music into the air.'
He said he wrote it for me 'cause I'm a star now.
Anyway, at least Dave's cool. But can you imagine him or any of the other boys writing a poem? [Laughs.] Yeah, right. Unless it's for a rock song, that is. But like I say, Dave's cool. And so is J.R. He's turning into a doll. I can't believe how good he looks. I wouldn't mind getting into his pants. . .
YOU got it on with him? REALLY? Tell me everything. What was he like? [Fairly long pause.] Oh you're so lucky. I can't BELIEVE this. Well, I guess you guys -- huh? -- just friends? Yeah. I get that. That's the way it is with me and Kenny. I don't know if it'll turn into anything. It's OK for now . . . I guess.
Well, you hang in there. You never know. Just don't get like Sally. You know what she says to me? She says, I feel like I'm a big slut.
You want to come over? [Drops voice.] Got any pot? Cool, we can put on some Slayer [or whatever gothic group is in vogue] and shit.
If you can get some vodka from your dad's liquor cabinet . . . listen! Don't worry about that. Listen to me. Pour the vodka from a bottle in the back into a soda bottle or something. Then fill up the empty vodka bottle with water. He'll never notice. Then we'll replace it later. I'm sure at the party one of the older guys can help us get some more. Good idea, right?
Way to go, Heather!
***endscene***

SCENE 5

[Wardrobe change is suitable for a young woman in the 19 to 21 age bracket. The poster has a Hollywood motif, featuring a female film star (of any decade). Be nice if the poster includes the word 'Hollywood.'
A waste basket is at center stage.
Scene opens with Liz kneeling in front of the waste basket, vomiting. No vodka bottle is in sight.
She slowly gets up and sits in chair, holding her head and using other gestures to indicate illness.]
L: What's WRONG with me? I can't do anything right. Not since Grandpa died. My life's a wreck -- at twenty! That big jerk of a boss of mine. Where did he get off firing me? I could sue the pants off of him. He had no right. I was trying to save up enough money so I could get my own place with Heather. Shit. And that clod, Ken. We've been going out forever, and he goes and joins the Marines! Like, what am I, dirt? He didn't even tell me until he was at Camp Lejeune.
Well, that's it. We're breaking up! Who needs him? Anyway, all he ever wants to do is get high and screw. He can't even hold a conversation like a normal person.
[Pause.]
I saw Jed yesterday. What a dreamboat he turned into. He kinda liked me once. But I was going with Kenny. And now he's got a girlfriend. . . I wonder what she's like. Yeah. But he got too religious for me. I can't handle that Goody Two-Shoes trip. I hear that if you give him half a chance, he'll shove the Bible under your nose. Still. . . you know, he's got a good job. . . Maybe I should make a play for him . . . No. What would he want with a loser like me? Anyway, his girlfriend is probably one of those la-de-da types. Too cool for school, don't you know. How old is she, anyway? Shit, I can't even think of her name.
Oh, what the fuck am I thinking about? Damn, what am I gonna do? I'm trapped here with my dad and Julie, who still has the idea in her head she's my stepmom. THAT'S a joke. Oh well. At least she's not so bad anymore. At least SOMETIMES I can talk to her.
I can't BELIEVE I got fired. So what if I came in a little late sometimes? I always did my job. I was a good worker.
[Liz withdraws the vodka bottle from a handbag that has been carelessly tossed onto the bed. She pours herself a stiff one into a tumbler that is on the bureau.]
I wonder if there's any OJ in the fridge. I've got to learn to drink like a lady. Oh well . . . bottoms up! [Drains glass.]
[Sweeping bag onto floor, she throws herself onto the bed and chills out for a while. At length, the phone rings, and she answers it.]
L: Hi Tara. What's up? . . . What!!! My God! How awful! My God! My God! She's my best friend! Oh God, you can't do this to me! Not again! Tara, tell me, how could this happen?! . . . She did?! How many stories up was she when she fell? . . . God! . . . I bet she was out with that get-high crowd of hers again. Everybody drinks a little. Everybody smokes a bone or two. But she always pushed it. I told her, listen Heather, you better watch out . . . but she just wouldn't listen. Not to me. Not to anybody.
What was she on? Oh, I already know. Mad Dog and Bad Boy . . . God, I told her to slow down . . . This is so AWFUL.
OK, I know you have other people to call. I'll let you go. No. I'll be OK. Really. Bye.
[Hangs up.]
Heather, Heather. You're my best friend! You can't go.
[Weeps.]
I know God is looking out for you. I hope he is. He must be. Heather, do you remember how we used to talk? You were gonna be a singer. . .a rock singer. Me an actress. You could SING, too.
[Liz sings first verse of 'Amazing Grace.']
You used to sing that sometimes, Heather. Remember? You sang it so good.
[Pause.]
Heather, you can't go . . . Now I have nobody . . .
[Pause]
I better call Joe. He must be feeling terrible.
[Dials]
Oh hi Joe. This is Liz. It's terrible about your sister. I just wanted to say how sorry I am. We were best friends for so long. I can't believe it.
Yeah, don't worry. I'll be sure to come.
Listen, why don't we get together over a beer and talk? How about 0'Toole's? OK, sure you can come pick me up. Nine o'clock? Sounds good. See you then.
I'll say a prayer.
***endscene***

SCENE 6

L: I should have known better than to hang out with Tammy Sue.
[Lights cigaret, takes a puff or two, then agitatedly stubs it out. Trembling, she attempts to pour vodka into a glass but unable to do so, she simply swigs from the bottle.]
That girl is TROUBLE. Now she's on probation. And my name is in the local rag. I used to see myself getting my name in the paper. Rave reviews for the great Liz. And now it's come to this: 'Dumb broad barely stays out of jail.'
Well, at least the judge let me off. Tammy Sue had gotten into trouble before. She gets probation. All I got was a fine. It could have been a whole lot worse. Maybe the judge felt sorry for us. Or, it could be because my dad's in good with City Hall.
But what stinks is that now I have to listen to a whole bunch of shit from Julie. Watch your P's and Q's, she says. You better watch out who you run with, she says. I don't know where that slut gets off talking . . . Who does she think she is? Miss La De Da? Miss Holier Than Thou? I notice Dad never stuck a wedding band on her hand. Slut.
You'd think she never snuck anything out of a store. Anyway, so what if I did boost a thing or two? The money's gotta come from somewhere. SURVIVAL. You gotta survive.
But that dumb Tammy Sue. She sashays her dumb butt out of Smart-mart with her coat bulging like Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey. We didn't even make it to the car before the cops were all over us. NOW I find out that the cops hang out on the mall roof, waiting to grab dumb clucks like us. So then the officer says, 'Well, if you paid for all this stuff, why are all the alarm doohickeys cut out?' God, that was so embarrassing.
[Takes a swig; thinks for a while.]
Now I've gone from Most Popular Girl -- well, I was once, during my high school acting days -- to Goofus, partner in crime with Dumbo. How could that happen?
[Another swig.]
Julie's watching her purse AND Dad's wallet like a hawk. Plus, she's got the liquor cabinet fixed up like Fort Knox. What was I supposed to do? Really, the truth is, they OWE me -- after all they put me through.
Then, when Heather dies, they have the nerve to send ME to a shrink. What about THEM? I never saw two such fucked up people. Anyway, that trip to the shrink was a laugh. I talked to her -- once. She asks me all these personal questions. Like, none of your goddamn business, bitch! I'll take care of my own self, thank you.
Still, I know Dad was just worried about me. He says, maybe Heather's death threw me off. I remember, at her funeral, Grandpa's wake came rushing back into my head. That was so awful, looking at him in the coffin, deader than a doornail, as they say. He was my best friend. How could God -- I mean, if there is a God -- do that to me? And then Heather. Ditto. [Pause.] They couldn't have an open casket for her. Too mushed up.
[Another swig.]
It's so funny, how Heather could be my best friend and I never paid any attention to her brother. And now Joe's my soul partner -- when we're not fighting.
[Pause.]
Sometimes I think he's looking for his sister in me.
That could be a big part of our problem. Why we always fight. I'm not Heather. I'm me.
Well, that's no prize. Poor guy. He doesn't need me. He should find somebody, you know, who's better for him.
Face it, Liz. You're just no good. You'll bring him nothing but tears.
Oh GOD! I'm so mixed up. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore!
That judge told me that if I ever came into his court again, the next time he wouldn't fool around. It'd be the Women's House of Detention for me. Christ, I'll kill myself before I ever let that happen.
[Pause.]
A lot of times I wake up and say, 'God, why am I still alive, stuck in this miserable hell hole of a life again?
[Another swig.]
One of these days, I may just do away with myself.
[Phone rings and Liz answers.]
Tammy Sue? Hi. . . You're right about that, we were really lucky. Hey, I don't feel like talking on the phone. Let's meet over at Riley's. You're broke? Me too. Don't worry, there's always plenty of guys over there who will buy a girl a drink or two. [Laughs.]
Yeah, I know, I know. I'd rather pay for at least SOME of my own drinks, too. But, you know, we've gotta stay away from boosting. Hey, something will turn up. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Right? Right!
***endscene***

SCENE 7

[Hollywood poster signals that Liz is still in the same period of her life as she was in the previous scene.]
I can't believe that bitch Julie says I drink too much. Shape up or ship out, she says. My way or the highway. So I drink a little too much sometimes. What about THEM!? If I ever get as bad as my dad, then I'll quit. Besides, I smoke pot. That way I don't get fucked up on one thing. It balances out. That's the smart way to think.
What I should do is, I should move to Hollywood and start over. That would get me away from all this crap. And I'm good enough. People still make it out there.
[A pause, then, with resolve:]
OK, Hollywood! Here I come!
[Pause.]
Oh . . . who am I kidding? I don't know anybody and, even if I did . . .
[Takes long pull from bottle.]
Whatever happened to me? I was gonna be this big star. What a joke. My last audition -- when was that? -- I was so fucked up, they wouldn't let me finish. But what else could I do? I HAD to take something to calm my nerves. It's not that it was stage fright. It's just that I've been too nervous about everything.
[Rhetorically:]
Does that make me an alcoholic?
[Liz recites, haltingly and poorly, yet trying to sound high-toned:]
'Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Deny thy father and, uh, refuse thy name.
Or, if thou won't be sworn by my love,
And ... uh ... I'll no longer be a... something.'
Oh, what's the use? I'm no good. I WAS good. But now I can't even hold a dumb data entry job. Stupid job, anyway. I was going crazy with a bunch of who-cares numbers. That's not ME. I should have been a star. Or, at least an actress.
But nothing ever comes of anything for me -- not since Grandpa died. Now all I do is drink and get high. I mean, I'm no alcoholic, but who wouldn't drink if they were in my shoes? And I've been seeing too many guys. Joe's hopping mad about that. But how did I know he'd want to get back together? And now he dumped me again! Oh I can't stand it! My life sucks!
How could somebody like me expect to get married? Kenny and me were gonna get married -- I think he's stationed in Okinawa -- three kids, a dog and a white picket fence. A big wedding. Everybody would be so envious. Yeah, but Kenny turned out to be no Prince Charming.
But then again, I'm not exactly Cinderella.
Can you imagine Cinderella having to get an abortion? God, I hope Joe never finds out. Now I've got 'baby killer' on my record, too.
[Weeps.]
I know what to do about this bummer life! Shape up or ship out? Well, I'm shipping out!
[Leaves stage and returns with prescription drug container. She dumps out a bunch of pills, puts a handful in her mouth and chases it with a long pull of vodka.
[Lights dim; in darkened theater, a siren wails.]

SCENE 8

[Lighting changes help signal mood change; poster is the one used in scene 2.]
Voice: Grandpa, tell me about St. Michael; you know, the angel who likes God. I like God.
[As Voice speaks, Liz arises from bed and takes up a string of rosary beads, which she fingers while reciting the 'Hail Mary' two or three times, breaking off in mid-verse.
[A white spotlight is cast onto the stage, slightly off-center. A lesser light falls on Liz.]


V: You're still the apple of my eye, Liz.
L: Grandpa? . . . Is that you?
V: Just good old me.
L: Grandpa?
V: Tell me, Lizzie, do you still like God?
L: You KNOW I like God. [Pause.] Well, sometimes I said I didn't. But I didn't really mean it. [Pause.] I know . . . you must be St. Michael, the archangel.
V: Who is like God Liz?
[Long pause.]
V: If you . . .
L: Well . . .
V: like God,
L: . . . Jesus
V: you're like God, Liz.
L: [Forlorn.] But Grandpa . . . uh, I mean, St. Michael? . . . I've been very bad. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel terrible. I'm so sorry.
V: You'll always be the apple of my eye, Liz.
***endscene***

SCENE 9

[Stage is barren, the furniture having been pushed out of lighted area. Poster is gone. Liz is now dressed as Juliet.
[Lighting is mottled.]
[Liz and Voice speak over dreamy background music for this scene.]
Voice: You're such a beautiful little dreamer, Lizzie, my darling dream girl.
Liz: [With confidence]: 'O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?' . . . Is that OK? A little more fluid? OK, how's this? 'O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?'
Better? Thanks. Good. You know, I'm beginning to hate that line. Everybody thinks they know how it should sound. But I bet Shakespeare wasn't making some big deal out of it. There's a lot more important stuff in the script, that's for sure.
You know, I've just about had it with this rehearsal. Can we take a break? OK, Sonny?
[Liz paces a bit.]
So Dolly, anyway -- cigaret? Look in my bag.
[No bag is onstage. Liz listens to Dolly before responding.]
L; Yeah. It sure beats some of the dogs we've been in. And imgaine, we're actually getting PAID. We're moving up in the world, Doll. At least this is real off-Broadway -- not off-the-wall Broadway.
[Listens.]
Yeah, true. Some of those jobs were fun. We got to work with a lot of good people. I guess we were lucky that way. It's amazing how often we ended up on the same stage. Well, anyway, correct me if I'm wrong, but this must be the fifth time since drama school.
Remember when we did [Pick a song the actress can handle]together? Hey that was good.
[Liz begins to sing that number, also doing some easy but pleasing dance routine, and laughing with pleasure at the conclusion.]
So anyway, Doll, you gotta admit this show is a big break for the both of us. Here's our big chance.
Did I ever tell you I played Juliet in high school? [Laughs.] It was kinda weird. 'Cause my so-called stepmom's name is Julie and all through the play I kept thinking wouldn't it be nice if Julie would drop dead, too? But anyway, it was back in high school that I decided that the stage was for me.
You too? Yeah, I guess that's a pretty common thing to happen. Yeah, lots of people have dreams, but we're going to make it! Next stop, Hollywood! Right, Dolly!?
[Listens.]
Yeah, that's true. Film and legitimate theater are two different worlds, I know. But acting's acting. That's what I always say. I mean, maybe they don't care about Shakespeare in Hollywood -- I mean, unless you get very, very lucky. Still, it's important to get known. And that's what we're doing!
And, like I say, this is such a good experience for me. Yeah, so professional. Yeah, Sonny is really, really straight. But that's cool with me. It doesn't bother me that he won't let anybody crack a beer in the studio and that you better not show up with liquor on your breath. That's -- actually -- good for me. There was a time when I might have resented that, but now I'm so glad to be a part of a professional production.
[Breaking glass is heard offstage and lights dim rapidly.]
Voice: [Loudly:] This is not your future, Liz.
L: Not my future? What does he mean, not my future?[Sobs.] But why? WHY can't it be my future? That's ME. That's where I BELONG. On stage. It's such FUN.
V: You won't let yourself have this future.

!L: What do you mean? . . . Oh, I think I know . . . I'm no good. God is really mad at me.

V: You must find another way if you want your dreams to come true.

L: What other way?
V: Let me be you and you will be me.
[Pause.]
L: I mean, it's hard for me to pray anymore.
I mean, I believe in God and Jesus. But I've been so fucked up -- I mean, uh, bad -- that I'm just a total mess.
V: We won't hold it against you, Liz. You'll see.
***endscene***

SCENE 10

[We're back in Scene 1 version of Liz's room. She's smoking.]
Liz: Boy, that rehab was a trip! I don't ever want to have to go through that again! They tried to tell me I'm an alcoholic. So I got a little fucked up. Shit happens. I'll tell you what I O.D.'d on: Too much happy horseshit from those counselors.
Well, I bought myself a present to celebrate getting the effin hell out of that place. [Pulls vodka bottle from her bag.] I think I'll do it up right. I'll actually use a glass! [Laughs.] Then Tammy Sue 'n' me 'n' her new boyfriend are going out. He's got money. PARTY TIME!
[Searches around a bit.]
I thought I had a glass here somewhere . . . Oh well . . . [begins to tilt bottle to lips but halts.]
Liz and Voice (simultaneously): Liz, if you don't put down that drink, nothing good is going to happen. You're going to die.
[Slowly puts down bottle.]
Maybe I'd better call Cindy. She says she used to be like me. But now she goes to these meetings. I guess it can't hurt to go, even if I'm not really an alcoholic.
***endscene***
[Set remains same. Scene opens with phone ringing.]
L: It's Joe! Thank God! I thought he'd never call.
[Approaches phone tentatively, then snatches phone vigorously.]
Hello! . . . Oh, hi Alice. Well, actually, I'm glad you called. How are you doing?
You want to get clean and sober? Well, I have 38 days -- including 10 since I left rehab. If I can do it, I'm sure you can, too. And neither of us wants to end up like Heather. Tell you what, why don't we go to a meeting together tonight? Yeah, a bunch of people staying sober or trying to get that way.
They're not so bad. Can you throw away your pot and pour out your liquor and beer? It's better to show up sober, if you can.
[Liz takes note of her bottle.]
Hold on a sec, Allie. I'll be right back.
[Liz takes bottle offstage; a toilet is heard flushing and she returns without the bottle.]
Allie? Listen. There's a bunch of women you can talk to. You don't have to worry if the state took your license. I'll take you around for a while. It'll be OK.
[Pause.]
Oh, you're so welcome. Hey, I'm glad you called. Really! Yeah. See ya.
[Hangs up and, as lights dim, Liz sings to herself. Pick a number suited to the actress.]
***endplay***
Copyright 2002 by Elizabeth O'Donnell and Paul Conant
at No comments:

Chapter 1

Cody

A short, one-act, one-man play or prose poem
Permission is granted to reproduce the following work -- including commercially -- under Creative Commons license conditions. Please see footnote 1.
Asterisks indicate pause.

Hey there, young fellow, got an extra cigaret for an old tramp? Name's Cody. What's yours?

***

Pleased to meet you.

Sometimes they call me the Old Philosopher around here. I don't know about that, but I don't mind passing on a thing or two, if you don't mind listening.

Don't be so hard on yourself, is my advice. You're probably not as unique as you might think. Here's what I say, everything everybody does is pretty much a bunch of nothing. Everybody's running around trying to get ahead, and the more they run, the more they just stay in place. Work like a dog, and what do you get for it? It's always been like that. People come, people go, and the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The way I see it, this world is all about work. Even the sun is busy: up down, up down. The wind is always in a hurry to get somewhere, but, don't worry, it'll be back. Look at the rivers: always moving. We are all caught up in one big merry-go-round,

Things keep happening over and over again. You think you've figured out how to beat the system, but then some hobo will tell you, forget it. Been there, done that. This world is a lot like a hall of mirrors, in my opinion.

You know, back in my glory days, I thought I was a hotshot who was smart enough to figure out what makes this world tick. I said to myself, if there is a God, why would he make things so tough for everybody? I was a real people-watcher, and it didn't take me long to realize: everybody's running uphill. Just a bunch of frustration is all.

Some people have all the answers and carry the whole world on their shoulders. But -- guess what? -- the world is messed up no matter what you try. When you fix one problem, all you do is trade it in for another one. So much is out of joint, there's no way to fix it all.

***

There was a time when I was really pulling in the moolah, I said to myself: I have arrived! I even had a big house with a new Mercedes in the driveway. A white picket fence, a dog, the whole nine yards. That worked for a few years, but then it started to get old. The wife: nag, nag. The kids always need something. Never had any time for myself. The more I wised up about what's really happening, the worse I felt.

That's when I said: You know what? It's time to put some fun in my life. But even that got old. It dawned on me: all this fun is going nowhere.

I even tried a mood-altering substance and did some crazy things to see if I could find out the meaning of it all. And in my work life, I was quite the empire builder. I really knew how to impress. I had a few shekels. Quite a few. I could buy anything or anyone, I was that big back in the day. And when I got to the top of the heap, I stayed sharp as a whip.

And, by the way, I could really throw one hell of a party.

But, I have to admit, something was missing. I had everything, and I still felt bad inside. All that work, and all I really had to show for it was a bunch of nothing.

Mulling it all over, I realized: what's the point of trying to be Bill Gates, anyway? I don't mean that it isn't better to have a head on your shoulders. Stupidity isn't cool.

Still, even though sharp guys have an edge in life, everybody ends up the same: pushing up daisies. So what's the big deal about being a real comer? Once you're dead, all your great achievements are, soon enough, just vapor, really.

Think of it like this: No matter what you do, life happens. Somebody is born, somebody dies. If you're not weeding the yard, you're cleaning the gutter. Everything's nice and peaceful and then, it's war. For every building that gets torn down, two more are going up. Some people are miserable, others happy. Some mope at home, others party on. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Some things last, others get the heave. Sometimes its best to speak up, other times: zip your lip.

Sometimes everything's all lovey dovey. Other times it's total war.

My point is, with all that going on, how can anyone get anywhere in life?

I often wondered, why did God put everybody in this crazy mixed up world? But then one day it finally came to me: if we could just somehow get in sync with God, we would realize just how beautiful everything really is -- and he just keeps on giving. God's real aim is to make people happy. So, basically, there's nothing wrong with enjoying what you have. And, when you think about it, wouldn't that mean that God must have a plan for you, one that, absolutely, will work? How can you not respect that?

God's got more than all the time in the world. So whatever he said back when, it's bound to happen. Just you wait, young friend. All those smart people who think their rip-offs are a big joke and who go to church on Sunday and worship the devil the rest of the week, they won't get away with it. You can bank on it.

I don't mean to offend you or anything, my friend, but too bad people can't see themselves as they really are -- just a part of the animal kingdom. Don't people and animals all breathe the same air? Don't they all fall over and die some time? In the last analysis, man and beast both turn into compost. And, by the way, what makes you so darn sure you'll go up instead of down when you die? Maybe it's not that simple.

What I am saying is, now is the time to enjoy your hard work. Otherwise, life's a bitch, and then you die.

I really took it personal once I realized that everything I had worked for would be taken over by somebody who could very easily turn out to be a numbskull who blows everything. Give it up! That was my attitude, What's the point of El Shrewdo passing the baton to El Dumbo?

What do you really get for working your butt off? Work, work, work, that's what you get. El Shrewdo turns out be El Stupido.

Instead of being a workaholic, what you need to do is slow down and smell the roses. Take time to enjoy what you work so hard for. There's more than one kind of lockup, young friend. But when you know how to enjoy life for real, you're really blessed.

No matter what happened or how you ended up where you are, in the last analysis, your problem is you. You're the man, you do the deciding.

I've been on the road a while, and this is what I think: If I try to keep on track, God will help me. I will have a better handle on what my next move should be. But, if I take my will back, then little problems can turn into big hassles. Not only that, the guy who doesn't game the system gets what I should have had, with interest. Just being smart isn't enough over the long haul. It's worse than a waste of time.

The more I thought about everything, the more bothered I got. Think about all the poor people that get held down while the high and mighty use them for doormats and nobody can do a thing about it. Maybe everybody would be better off dead, was my view of it. Why come into this world just to get stepped all over? Even people who make something of themselves and do impressive things are, when you get down to it, just playing a game that they can't win.

The other extreme is the numbskull who makes like a couch potato. He can hardly blow his own nose. Not much future there.

If you want peace of mind, be satisfied with the basics. Less really is more. The Scrooge who spends all his time trying to get rich is so afflicted with more-itis, he has no time for anybody else if they won't further his agenda. He's always looking for a sign: the dollar sign. He doesn't take a minute to reflect and realize: 'For a self-employed person, I sure have a rotten boss.'

What's the good of being an old skinflint who's to cheap to share? But, if you have a partner, you have that opportunity. Plus, you can help each other, and give each other a break. A friend can even warm up an old coot. Plus, there's strength in numbers. Life is easier when you have real friends.

Oh, hey Joe! No, I don't have any smokes. I bummed this one. See you later at the mission.

As I was saying, money isn't everything. Isn't a poor kid with a head on his shoulders in better shape than the old money bags who has to have a nurse follow him around? The poor kid still has a chance to break loose from the ghetto way of life, but the rich kid who has always had everything handed to him goes and blows the family fortune at the casino. That's how life is.

Look back over time, and its one long parade of people playing games, and for what?

I advise you to go up to the mission, son, so you get some chow and a place to sleep out of the rain. But I suggest that when you're in chapel, keep a low profile. Some people like to act all big at church. That's pretty ridiculous, I think. I don't mean to talk down to you, but I believe in showing God some respect. Talk is cheap. Watch what you say when you're in church. I mean, can you read the future? That's God's job, not yours.

Take that mission. It's full of folks running their mouths who have nothing to say.

Don't be like that. If you tell God you're going to do something, do it. Don't beg off and act like God doesn't mind. What if he does? Take my advice: Be sincere, don't show off, follow through on what you say.

There is more than one man over at the mission whose big mouth has ruined his life. There was no getting out of it. Promises, promises is all he gave God for a long time, until finally enough was enough. That's what comes of paying attention to everything except God.

Here's another point: if you see a poor man getting a raw deal, you're not the only one who notices. God made this world for everybody, not just for a privileged few, though it's obvious that that's not what money grubbers think. They want to own everything, and even that's not enough.

And those who like nothing better than to spend, spend, spend, what they really have is the disease of more, more, more. Big waste of time. Anyway, a lot of money just means there'll be a lot of people around trying to get a percentage of it. After you have the basics, everything else is pretty much eye candy, which, really, doesn't do you much good.

Usually, the working stiff sleeps like a log while the fat cat tosses and turns worrying about his stash and how to add to it. Though, I will say, many a poor man will work like a wild man trying to get rich quick, only to lose it all by dying young, leaving his kids with nothing. And what's crazy about it: you can't take it with you, so show me how he got ahead.

Goes to show: money grubbing can be real bad medicine. You work yourself to death -- a miserable one, at that. That's no way to live. God would rather you enjoy life. Count your blessings. If you have enough and the health to enjoy it, you are truly blessed, no? You know what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

Reminds me of the fellow who finally makes it to the top, but then once he gets there, doesn't get a chance to enjoy it. There is something really wrong with that picture,

Then there's the fellow who has done all right for himself financially and could afford to raise a boatload of kids. He lives to a ripe old age, but, his whole life he's been a low-down SOB who would sell his own grandmother if it meant cash on the barrelhead. His birth is worse than an abortion. At least a baby born dead doesn't have to bother with a useless life piled up with trouble.

If that man lived 2,000 years, what do you think the end result would be? You can't put off consequences forever.

Of course, just about everybody works to eat. No getting around it. Whether you have a college degree or street smarts, makes no difference, you're still just one of the Bozos on the bus. If we could just be satisfied with what's in front of our noses instead of thinking the grass is always greener over the hill, we wouldn't spend so much time spinning our wheels.

***

All the scientist is really doing is trying to find out what's already written down in one of God's books. It's true like they say: the more I know, the more I know that I don't know much.

There are all kinds of ways to kill time, but what's the point?

Does a man really know what's good for him in this smokescreen of a life? It's a mystery what's coming up, wouldn't you say?

A man might want to ask himself: Where is my name written down? If it's in the right place, he can die with a smile on his face. What a payoff you'll get for taking grief in this life instead of always being a people pleaser. Life's no joke the way some people think. Listen to the spiritual man, and watch out for the power party crowd. While they're whooping it up, hell's a'poppin'. They think nothing of ripping off poor people, and you can't do much about it, because payoffs have a way of making smart people not see the obvious.

You know, life is made up of one hassle after another. So it's understandable why people are in so much of a hurry to get past life's problems, whether real or imagined. You're better off to take life one day at a time. Take it easy, and don't try to get somewhere by throwing your weight around. A hair-trigger temper is a ticket to trouble, so learn to chill out, my friend.

Another thing: When you hear people talking about the good old days, be a little skeptical. You won't get far traveling down Memory Lane.

I know everybody wants to win the Powerball jackpot. But, what they really need is spiritual power. Then they'll really have something to share with other people.

Sure, an education can help ease your life. But what you really need is spiritual knowledge. Think about how God operates. Can you straighten out anything he bends? But isn't that what a lot of people are really trying to do?

When things are going well, we should enjoy life, of course. But when things get rough, there's a reason for it: to keep us right-sized.

I've been around and I've seen a thing or two. There's the fellow whose sense of honor gets the better of him and, as a result, his life is short. Then there's the sly old Mafia boss who lives to 90. He's not getting away with anything, I assure you.

Respect the Lord, young fellow. He'll pull you through. If you'll pay attention to him, you'll have power to do the heavy lifting. But don't worry, God knows you're not perfect. Everybody's done something wrong.

Including you. So try to let some things pass; you'll be better off. If somebody on the job says something about you behind your back, think twice before you make a big issue of it. Remember the times you've done something similar.

Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Been there, done that. Back when I was wet behind the ears, I tried to be Mr. Know It All, but it didn't work. I messed around with the occult, and that was a bad trip, let me tell you. I ran into a witchy woman, but thank God I got clear of her. What a pain she was! If you go for that sort of thing, she'll do you in, brother.

If you were to look at the ledger book in heaven and see who is checked off, you wouldn't find very many names with an OK.

It's hard to understand how God puts people on the right track but they keep getting sidelined.

***

It's a true saying that they eyes are the mirror of the soul. You can tell a lot about a man by reading his face.

***

Now take my advice, obey the law as best you can and stick with the Lord. You can't hide from God, no matter how hard you try. You can't beat him, so why not join him? You'll be glad you did when you discover you keep cool in situations that would make most people frantic.

Bad things happen for a reason. But people stay miserable because, really, they don't want to accept God's decisions. They're trying to control the future. Well, forget that. It won't work.

When your number's up, your number's up, that's what I say. You can't dodge that bullet, no matter what you try. Your retirement fund won't help you then.

***

Ever notice the fellow who claws his way to the top? What's he really doing to himself? I've seen big crooks who went to church regular be buried with honors. Doesn't mean a thing. Problem is, justice delayed encourages people to learn the wrong roles. They don't seem to realize we're all auditioning. Those who please the director will get the part; those who don't will make a quick exit.

It's an unfortunate fact that in this world there are friends of God who are treated like criminals while big crooks are bowed down to. That kind of crazy situation can't last forever.

I used to think I was some kind of genius, but all my head-scratching boiled down to these basics: Keep a positive attitude. Be satisfied with what you have. Count your blessings. I lost a lot of sleep over trying to put a tape measure to God, but I found out that no matter how long the tape measure, it's never long enough.

You might be pretty smart and a nice guy, young man, but isn't that actually God's doing? As I've said, no matter how hard you try, you really don't know what's coming down the pike. Although, it's safe to say that there's one thing that happens to everybody: the good, the bad and the ugly. In one way of thinking, it doesn't seem fair that the Grim Reaper cuts down everybody -- all these poor, confused people, here today, gone tomorrow. Why?

A flea-bitten dog that's still scratching is better than a dead king of the beasts. At least the dog has maybe a bone to look forward to. The dead are just star dust, or something. All their loves, hates, desires: Done.

A man should make his life count while he has the chance. What you do now is what God is looking at. You might say "maybe later" once too often. Self-will run riot is a ticket to disaster. If you get married, try to get along with your wife. It's hard I know. But that's the way God wants it.

I mean, now is when you should be doing your best, right? It's a little late once you're dead. I agree, things don't always work out the way you expect. The winner isn't always the fastest or strongest. Church pastors go hungry. Smart people can be poor. It's hard to say how the chips will fall.

People don't have any idea of what's really going on. They don't even realize they're like fish swimming into a net or a bird about to spring its own trap. All of a sudden -- boom! -- the jig is up. Done.

***

There's something else that makes me shake my head: During the last war, there was this town surrounded by several army divisions. Everybody knew what would happen if the town was overrun. Then, one of the privates in the local militia had a really sharp idea to defuse the situation and spare the town. It worked. That private didn't even get a promotion. Everybody forgot about him. Some general took all the credit. If that poor man had any other good ideas, it made no difference. Nobody listened.

Even so, it goes to show that a thoughtful person can speak in a low voice and still have a big impact. Nobody pays much attention to people who scream and holler.

In fact, a man with a head on his shoulders is worth 10 divisions of combat infantry. But all it takes is one Bozo to screw things up for everybody.

It's like this: just like one little old dead fly wrecks a nice bowl of soup, one little slip can ruin your name for a long time. Take a tip: stick to the straight and narrow, son. Watch what people do, and you'll figure out who not to be like. Dumb bunnies are painfully obvious.

That includes big shots. They can be the biggest dummies of all. So if you happen to rile up somebody like that, it can't hurt to try a little humility. You'd be surprised what people will let go if you stay calm and try to be peaceful.

I don't mean to say that some of these big boys can't really mess things up. Especially when they promote the worst type of ass-kissing flunkies to top positions and kick their best people to the curb.

It seems to them like their method is working. But, eventually, things catch up to you somehow. For example, you'll be working in your yard and get bit by a copperhead, or you'll fall off a ladder at work, or get into a car wreck...

***

Anybody knows, if you want to make it easy on yourself, you have to sharpen your ax. That's why it's important to get some inside knowledge from the man upstairs. Think of it this way: Have you ever been to the circus? Spiritual knowledge works in your favor the way a lion tamer's knowledge keeps him from getting hurt. But put somebody who doesn't know his business in that cage, and you'll soon be making a call to 911.

We need spiritual knowledge, young friend. It makes a big difference in how you talk. Without that, a man's own words will make a fool out of him. He'll tell you his crazy ideas and, before you know it, end up in some screwball mess. Talk is cheap when you don't worry about consequences.

A fellow like that wears everybody out with all his kooky chaos because, really, he can't even tie his own shoe laces.

God help us all when somebody like that gets to be in charge. He's got a business plan: Fun City 24/7. Things go better for everybody when top people have a responsible attitude and don't act like every day's their birthday.

When the high muckamucks are too busy playing games, the whole shebang starts to go bad and fall to pieces.

Are you against the government? Well, just a tip: Watch out for happy hour. Walls tend to have ears. Sometimes it's best to keep your opinions to yourself. You'd be surprised at how much they're watching everybody these days.

***

Here's a true idea: Cast your bread upon the waters, and sometime down the road you'll get it back with interest. Don't just give what anybody might give. Dig down deep. You never know when you'll run into a problem yourself.

***

You can stare at the sky all day, wondering if it's going to rain, but things happen when they happen. I mean, if you're always waiting for things to be just right, you'll never get anything done. When you get down to it, life's a mystery, or, in other words, it's impossible to figure out the Creator. So, young fellow, I suggest that maybe you're better off with more than one iron in the fire. If one thing doesn't work out, maybe the other will pay off.

Take the long view while you're still young, friend. I mean, if you see someone who's lived a long time and always had it easy, that shows there's something wrong. He's in for one really bad day -- in fact, a bunch of them. He'll be in Crazyville soon enough.

So a young man like you should take a positive attitude toward life. But, even so, remember that at some point you'll have to answer to God.

I'd suggest you start working on those resentments that are eating you up -- everybody has them -- and try not to always put Number 1 first. You're not always Number 1. Quit wasting your time on that kid stuff.

You're better off to get right with God before you burn out and the world starts to go down the tubes.

(Changes tone)

When the shades are drawn over the sun

and the moon and the stars

When there are no more spectacular sunsets

When this old building starts to shake apart
and the caretakers get sick to their stomachs

When tough guys' knees turn into water and workers lay down their tools because hardly anyone is left and people fade away who were waiting for the next paycheck

When all the stores and factories are locked up and the hubbub of the cities gets real quiet, though you might hear the sound of the clean-up crew on its way

When people are afraid to look up, and the land is overgrown and the bugs are like combat infantry and the temple of Me, Myself and More will shut down because man is going to his eternal destiny

And they're weeping in the streets.

Once the plug is pulled, the lights go out and the utilities are shut off, it's time to meet your Maker.

***

The things we think are so important in this life are just a bunch of nothing, son. I have tried to give it to you straight and advise you which way to go when you get to the fork just around the bend. You can hang your hat on what I told you, for sure.

You can read books till your head spins, but it all comes down to this: Respect God and do what he says, and that's good enough.

Remember, friend, nothing gets past the Big Man. Whatever you do or don't do, it's written down somewhere.

Say, it's about time to get up to the mission and get something to eat. You coming?
Copyright 2011 by Paul Conant
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