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Brandon Roy: a psychodrama

 

Brandon Roy

a psychodrama



 

 

SCENE I.

Ocean floor.

 

A deep sea DIVER makes slow progress toward a sea cave.  Blind fish swim past.  DIVER enters Cave.

 

 

SCENE II.

Sea cave.

 

DIVER swims toward entrance to a large shopping mall.  Carefully swims through revolving door.

 

 

SCENE III.

The moors of Scotland.

 

Enter PRZBILLA.

 

            PRZBILLA. [Sings.] A little clock indoors excitedly expires.

                        Memories still like the elderly settling in for bingo…

                                    The dog curls itself to the inmost.

                        Its nose retreats from the air.

                        A spider unfastens its string in the dark…

                                    A muffled television descends on a front yard,

                        and collaborative voices consider the bills.

                        A truck parks beneath a tree.

                        A plane zips West.

                        The sound of its jets falls off…

                                    I have forgotten someone I hate,

                        who is so much to be adhered to, perhaps

as near as noon, shy of the banalities of the arc.

Perhaps it is just as well.

 

 

SCENE IV.

A shopping mall.  Many persons milling, among them ROY.

 

DIVER removes mask.  Looks around in awe of the enormous mall, which contains an impressive rollercoaster.  DIVER waits in line for rollercoaster.  He is seated beside ROY.

 

            DIVER. Hey.

            ROY. Hey.

 

As rollercoaster climbs, Diver grows increasingly agitated.  At the summit DIVER tries to scream, but only bubbles come out.  ROY looks at him and, just before the rollercoaster plunges, shakes his head in disapproval.

 

 

SCENE V.

The moors of Scotland.

 

Enter FERNANDEZ.

 

            FERNANDEZ. [Sings.] The fountain spray is preceded by the fountain sound

                        Ice moves like a waiter

                        A woman’s face dies like a shrub

                        The time of the bird is daybreak, yes!

                        This room likens itself to being

                        A crack in the street mends the window

                        Suburbs wear at the voice of winter

                        Voices impoverish the future oh!

                        Judge not the angel at the bellows

                        Her chapped hands, her spitting out

                        A fellowship of blue-aproned fish

                        Her howling them under an old woman’s bonnet

                        The portrait precedes the pen

                        The reader the thought-white paper doll

                        Smelling of temporal ink, of Goethe, the bible

                        Tables the life, exacts the will

 

 

SCENE VI.

Ocean floor.

 

DIVER exits sea cave, descends into a ravine downstage.  His passage takes roughly ten minutes.

 

 

SCENE VII.

What appears to be a massive, submerged lost and found.  Purses, jackets, backpacks strewn about.

 

Enter DIVER, who sifts through the stuff.  Lingers over a pile of finely wrought gold rings.  Eventually locates own wallet and ascends.

 

 

SCENE VIII.

Middle School Classroom.

 

Enter WEBSTER wearing a tweed jacket and vest, and carrying a briefcase.  Walks to the front of the class, sets down briefcase and clears his throat.

 

            WEBSTER: ‘One is not bit twice by the same snake,’ said the philosopher Pythagoras.  But it is always the same people eating your sammy!  [Paces.] Always the same lateness in the clock, hit or miss.  All of you, you shooters of the broken isolation, I have named you after the Greek and Roman statues listed in the in-flight magazine.  [Points.] There is Aphrodite of Melos!  There is an Abstract Head!  Menelaus is a point guard!  When Apollo appears in the corner, I know a god is beside me!  Strange that Diana and Caesar are on the stunt team. [Pause.] But thou, old wanderer, who come in the disenchanted evening to take away the dying hotdogs as I am firing up the Hummer, thou whom I sort of know, thou ordinarily halfway-housed peripatetic, I have given you a derided and ignominious name; I have named thee Nero.

 

 

SCENE IX. INTERLUDE.

The moors of Scotland.  ROY with a Spanish guitar, seated in a straight-back chair, plays THEME MUSIC, first right-handed, then switches to the left.

 

 

SCENE X.

ROY’s recreation room.  Pool table center stage.

 

Enter RANDOLPH, who walks in flip-flops to the pool table.

 

            RANDOLPH: [Pointing out the details of the carvings decorating the sides of ROY’s pool table.] Here is a levee great and strong, restraining a varnished river.  Beyond the river is a cloud that from one angle looks like a room full of children eating lunch off plastic trays, from another like four flamingos surrounding a caterpillar, their heads near to the ground, from another like a man in fatigues aiming a paintball rifle in such a way as to suggest he is taking the game too seriously, and from another like a woman feeding a black bear a bunch of grapes.  Here are two stadiums busy with people’s chatter.  In one, a teen pop idol escorted by floods and spots from all conceivable angles waves to seas of girls in t-shirts and ties.  Loud rise the PA speakers while the idol stands by her microphone.  Meanwhile the audience has encircled a disagreement—two moms are wrangling over the blood money for a basket of nachos upset in the rush.  People take sides, each backing the side that she has chosen, while the ushers keep them back and suggest the parents take their dispute elsewhere.  Outside the other stadium people are encamped waiting for playoff tickets to go on sale.  There a game of nerf football proceeds in which the team with a commitment to defense is winning.  Here is an empty lot, spacious and paved.  Contractors are discussing blueprints while the workers drink big gulps.  One worker has a tattoo on his bicep very curious to behold.  It depicts a room full of women operating sewing machines, and when the worker flexes it appears that the needles move and the cloth is guided underneath.  Here is a pen filled with cattle, brown, brindled and black.  As they are led down the chute, two men watch from above, talking sports.  Beside this is a bottling plant made of bricks and decorated with red neon letters rising from the roof: OCEANUS.  Here also is a greenhouse, and inside Christmas Poinsettia are arrayed in rows beneath grow lights.  This whole panel is devoted to tract homes and the occasional strip mall, with cars passing here and there, and carven telephone poles protruding above.  People are gathered outside of a particular Villa-style home to welcome a newborn and his mother returning from the hospital.  In the back yard they are barbequing and playing Dead Prez on a boom-box.  All along the edges of the pool table are carved explosions, the four thick legs of the table extending up into chiseled mushroom clouds.  The pool cues are shaped like missiles, and the overhead light is a replica of the moon, illuminated from within.  [RANDOLPH chalks a pool cue and begins a leisurely game.]

 

 

SCENE XI.

Ocean floor.  DIVER swims through a kelp forest.  Discovers a Christmas tree ornament attached to a kelp frond.  Pauses to examine ornament.  DIVER continues swimming, ornament in hand.

 

 

SCENE XII.

Enlarged version of ornament lies center stage, the words “Know Tenderness” printed in white flocked letters on its metallic face.  ALDRIDGE walks around and around the ornament looking up at the letters.  Lights fade.

 

 

SCENE XIII.

The moors of Scotland.

 

Ender BLAKE.

 

            BLAKE. [Sings.] The reach of the prince is the purpose of the father

                        My attentions mistress echoes

                        Which raven drinks

                        Offers his observations of the guards

                        A seal glories in servitude

                        The prince knows wrong

 

 

SCENE XIV.

A shopping mall.  BAYLESS and ODEN are seated in the food court sipping Orange Juliuses.

 

            BAYLESS. In the end, you are weary of this past season. [Sip.]

            ODEN. This morning among houses the dogs bark Rose Garden, you investment! [Sip.]

            BAYLESS. Tired of living in Celtic antiquity, and Laker. [Sip.]

            ODEN. Here even the lightrail looks retro. [Sip.]

            BAYLESS. Modesty alone has remained young; modesty has remained as simple as a parking lot. [Sip.] The most contemporary American is William C. Ralston. [Sip.]

            ODEN. This morning I saw a busy street whose name is Caesar Chaves, a broad and simmering meal for the sun, where from Sunday evening to Sunday evening, six times daily, investors, workers, and lovely paralegals go their way…[Sip.]

 

 

SCENE XV.

The moors of Scotland.

 

Enter OUTLAW.

 

            OUTLAW. [Gestures grandly to the audience.  Sings.]

All of this totalizing annoys me

                        It’s either an instant or an eternity, Sydney or the bush

                        Everything is gone or redeemed

                        The wide sky is a neutron o’erscattered with camels

                        Their saddle bags filled with dancing demons

Or angels or Jordans

                        Poor Dirk made a friend, and now the dancing lights

                        Cast long shadows

                        Looking ahead, we have

                        An outing to the zoo: see the caged Blake Griffin

                        And the women laugh

                        According to Bill Walton, they are either laughing

                        With us or at us            I believe

                        They have their own jokes

                        And yet we share certain aspirations

 

 

SCENE XVI.

The shore.  DIVER surfaces, runs in flippers through the waves and up the beach directly toward audience.  At the last moment he falls into the orchestra pit.  He is followed by each member of the cast in turn, in uniform, surfacing and running with a basketball.  ROY is last to fall into pit.

 

 

END.

Comment 55 comments  |  33 recs  | 

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2nd that

It has potential though. Potential for what? I have no idea. But potential, nonetheless

"Tough times don't last. Tough people do."
-Chauncey Billups

by Kelsoballa on Jul 9, 2009 3:32 PM PDT up reply actions  

yeah, i am completely lost with this.

Big D from Blog-A-Bull - "Pritchard is such a genius that teams just give him players for free."

Greg Oden - The only other rookie with more than 500 points, 400 rebounds, and 65 blocks in under 1400 minutes played. Since 1946

by FiveOhThree-RipCity!! on Jul 10, 2009 3:56 PM PDT up reply actions  

my oh my!

But I like to be here. Oh, I like it a lot! Said the Cat in the Hat. To the fish in the pot.

by you'vegottomakeyourfreethrows on Jul 9, 2009 3:30 PM PDT reply actions  

why do I love this?

I know it not.

oh man, I think I'm average like, ten points, like, twelve, thirteen dimes, like two, three assists, and about four, five rebounds, and if we need me to play, play a different position, I might get a little bit more.

by abdelnaby on Jul 9, 2009 3:34 PM PDT reply actions  

Reminds me of trying to read Finnegans Wake

Complete lack of comprehension… It’s an odd feeling.

by PoliSam on Jul 9, 2009 3:38 PM PDT reply actions  

i dont understand it

but i think that someone who would understand would like it

bayless leaves over my dead body

by thomasikehara on Jul 9, 2009 3:39 PM PDT reply actions  

Reminds me of Pericles in style

except under the sea, instead of above the stormed ship, or like following Odysseus’ path in the third person weeks before he got there. No interaction just pure people watching…

JAWESOME!!

by TheOdenator on Jul 9, 2009 3:43 PM PDT reply actions  

Isn't that Oedipus?

I know less than half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

by haildablazer on Jul 10, 2009 10:11 AM PDT up reply actions  

The ancient greeks were #&*%@ed up.

I know less than half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

by haildablazer on Jul 10, 2009 2:35 PM PDT up reply actions  

Wait just a minute there, mister!

What are you doing?! This isn’t a trade post!

If you're gonna quote me, misquote me -- The Arkitect

by prezofdeath on Jul 9, 2009 3:44 PM PDT reply actions  

I wish Roy or Rudy would say "Is this a dagger which I see before me"

If you want to trade our spare parts for Devin Harris, I have three quarters I would like to trade for your dollar

by Norsktroll on Jul 9, 2009 3:44 PM PDT reply actions   3 recs

I will use this dagger forwith against mine enemies.

For I will strike a last second three, as to bring enemies to their knees, and my fellows to joy.

JAWESOME!!

by TheOdenator on Jul 9, 2009 3:52 PM PDT up reply actions  

In Robin Williams Dead Poet Society John Wayne Voice

or SouthPark voice?

Honor Alaa Abdelnaby.
First in the NBA. At least alphabetically

by OhOhOden on Jul 9, 2009 4:18 PM PDT up reply actions  

Dont know what to say except I liked it

And I am impressed with sheer magnitude of your wierdness.

by southern oregon on Jul 9, 2009 3:51 PM PDT reply actions   1 recs

I read everything except what Shav had to say.

I suppose that means something.

The cowards never started
The weak died along the way
Only the strong survived
They were the Trailblazers

by lukeyhere on Jul 9, 2009 4:09 PM PDT reply actions  

thank you St. Bayno

Do you enjoy the silent films of Man Ray? – Elgin

Without you out there, we're nowhere here

by 22baylor on Jul 9, 2009 4:20 PM PDT reply actions  

I read that as Zach . . . maybe I'll have to re-read it with a different player in mind.

Things happen for a reason they say, but I say there's a reason things happen.

by sixth on Jul 9, 2009 4:24 PM PDT up reply actions  

Nake this Green

we need to know

"its tough to play with one eye, unless you're a pirate." Delonte West
"una canasta a Pau en la cara" Rudy

by Honka Playboy on Jul 9, 2009 5:11 PM PDT up reply actions  

I'd actually prefer not to

The ambiguity is perfect in that paragraph. Is it the ghost of blazer past or is it the observations of the relative outsider? Let the reader decide.

by stikit on Jul 10, 2009 8:01 AM PDT up reply actions  

Damn Darn your ambiguity!

I want answers and I want them NOW kthxbye

Honor Alaa Abdelnaby.
First in the NBA. At least alphabetically

by OhOhOden on Jul 11, 2009 9:01 AM PDT up reply actions  

Interesting . . .

The only part I “get” would be Outlaw’s at the end, and I like it very much. The rest of it lies just on the wrong side of nonsensical for me. I suppose unique pieces with a lot of work put into them get rec’s, whether they make any sense or not . . .

Things happen for a reason they say, but I say there's a reason things happen.

by sixth on Jul 9, 2009 4:24 PM PDT reply actions  

On second read . . . I like Webster's bit to the classroom as well.

Things happen for a reason they say, but I say there's a reason things happen.

by sixth on Jul 9, 2009 4:27 PM PDT up reply actions  

Are you high?

Cause you only make sense to yourself

by TrailBlazer4Life on Jul 9, 2009 4:28 PM PDT reply actions   1 recs

This had me enchanted.

VOTE CLOUDYDAYS
JUNK DRAWER 09/07/09

by The Pirate on Jul 9, 2009 4:29 PM PDT reply actions  

I ♥ this

Tonight when/if I get home, I’ll reread this and post my “thesis” as to what in the hell this means.

She Hate Me
"oh I served BRP all right
drained J-Kiddesque running floaters over him all night long last time we balled" - prezofdeath

by cloudydays on Jul 9, 2009 4:34 PM PDT reply actions  

Kubrickesc

There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim and we sat in the Korova milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

by 3pointer on Jul 9, 2009 4:58 PM PDT reply actions  

fantastic

free darko meets broadway

ROY with a Spanish guitar, seated in a straight-back chair, plays THEME MUSIC, first right-handed, then switches to the left.

i love it. words fail me.

by stikit on Jul 9, 2009 5:02 PM PDT reply actions  

This completely cleared my head of all the trade/FA/MLE/CBA/cap/etc garbage

thank you

"its tough to play with one eye, unless you're a pirate." Delonte West
"una canasta a Pau en la cara" Rudy

by Honka Playboy on Jul 9, 2009 5:13 PM PDT reply actions  

Scene IX is The Ish

I love it. There is a simplicity to your verbosity.

by FlyingOutlaw on Jul 9, 2009 7:18 PM PDT reply actions  

What did I just read?

"I'm at the thingamajig talking the yakety-yak" - Kenny Smith

by blzrfan on Jul 9, 2009 9:44 PM PDT reply actions  

Someone

who is both intelligent and under the influence of the same type of ganj as St. Bayno should explain this…

and tell me where to find that ganj.

by Illmatic88 on Jul 9, 2009 9:51 PM PDT reply actions  

Seconded

I know less than half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

by haildablazer on Jul 10, 2009 10:13 AM PDT up reply actions  

From my Spanish perspective, it looks like a Dali painting or a Cortazar writting.

Preamble to the instructions on how to wind a watch:

Think of this: when they present you with a watch, they are gifting you with a tiny flowering hell, a wreath of roses, a dungeon of air. They aren’t simply wishing the watch on you, and many more, and we hope it will last you, it’s a good grand, Swiss, seventeen rubies; they aren’t just giving you this minute stonecutter which will bind you by the wrist and walk along with you. They are giving you – they don’t know it, it’s terrible that they don’t know it – they are gifting you with a new fragile and precarious piece of yourself, something that’s yours but not a part of your body, that you have to strap to your body like your belt, like a tiny, furious bit of something hanging onto your wrist. They gift you with the job of having to wind it every day, an obligation to wind it, so that it goes on being a watch, they gift you with the obsession of looking into jewelry-shop windows to check the exact time, check the radio announcer, check the telephone service. They give you the gift of fear, someone will steal it from you, it’ll fall on the street and get broken. They give you the gift of your trademark and the assurance that it’s a trademark better than others, they gift you with the impulse to compare your watch with other watches. They aren’t giving you a watch, you are the gift, they are giving you yourself for the watch’s birthday.

 Instructions on How to Wind a Watch

Death stands there in the background, but don’t be afraid. Hold the watch down with one hand, take the stem in two fingers, and rotate it smoothly. Now another installment of time opens, trees spread their leaves, boats run races, like a fan time continues filling with itself, and from that burgeon the air, the breezes of earth, the shadow of a woman, the sweet smell of bread.

What did you expect, what more do you want? Quickly. strap it to your wrist, let it tick away in freedom, imitate it greedily. Fear will rust all the rubies, everything that could happen to it and was forgotten is about to corrode the watch’s veins, cankering the cold blood and its tiny rubies. And death is there in the background, we must run to arrive beforehand and understand it’s already unimportant.

by amlmart1 on Jul 10, 2009 1:01 AM PDT reply actions   3 recs

Nice!

Instructions on How to Sing:

Begin by breaking all the mirrors in the house, let your arms fall to your side, gaze vacantly at the wall, forget yourself. Sing one single note, listen to it from inside. If you hear (but this will happen much later) something like a landscape overwhelmed with dread, bonfires, between the rocks with squatting half-naked silhouettes, I think you’ll be well on your way, and the same if you hear a river, boats painted yellow and black are coming down it, if you hear the smell of fresh bread, the shadow of a horse.

Afterwards, buy a manual of voice instruction and a dress jacket, and please, don’t sing through your nose and leave poor Schumann at peace.

by Corvid on Jul 10, 2009 10:33 AM PDT up reply actions   2 recs

WHAAAAT just happened....?

I should not have read this prior to negotiations with a customer. They are in for it now!

by tking503 on Jul 10, 2009 10:01 AM PDT reply actions  

WEBSTER: ‘One is not bit twice by the same snake,’ said the philosopher Pythagoras. But it is always the same people eating your sammy! [Paces.] Always the same lateness in the clock, hit or miss.

fantastic, and so true.

by Arcturas on Jul 10, 2009 3:17 PM PDT reply actions  

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