I’ve been blogging every day in June (thus far) on my play Slam. Slam is in her early thirties and spends too much time situating her life in a way to keep her hidden. It’s like she’s preparing a bunker, but the war’s over, construction’s expensive, and she already lives in a nice home. But goodness, I’ve wandered far afield (although I like the bunker part and might use it.) Let’s get to the entry, shall we?
This is not a day to be writing. This is a day to wander aimlessly in Brooklyn, which, by and large, is what I did. I did see Sontag: Reborn at New York Theatre Workshop, so about an hour and a half was inside a theatre. But when I could, I walked out and about, took my time with it, and pretty much stayed off my cell phone.
Walking clears the mind, it’s good for the soul, it’s one of the top five reasons I stay in New York. And in so walking, I made a connection regarding the play, only now I can’t remember it. I’m going to take a pause. See if I can recall. I know it had to do – ah-HA! Yes.
Aren’t you glad you kept reading?
I’m not going to describe the hygiene connect, except to say that sometimes, with some individuals, fury turns inward and rebellion takes all sorts of forms. I’ll jot a few words about a scene between Slam and Verna, her former boss. Verna owns Graebel’s, a family-style restaurant, and the grocery store where Spoon still works. Slam got Spoon his job. She used to be Verna’s head cashier. Times change, however, and Slam doesn’t want to be part of anyone’s family, blood or otherwise.
It’s nearly impossible to win with isolation as your trump card. Humans can’t isolate long without falling apart. Hence the hygiene issue and Verna’s comments, which are redolent of her business manner: trustworthy, but gruff.
Say a prayer I get this scene written, that I don’t become too drunk on perfect weather, that if I do get my bike fixed tomorrow, I take just a short ride…