Rich Lovejoy has his finger in a number of different pies. I first knew his work as an actor (via Eric Bland’s Death at Film Forum), and then directed him myself in our production of Trav S.D.’s Willy Nilly: A Musical Exploitation of the Most Far-Out Cult Murders of the Psychedelic Era. Then I find out about this whole writer thing, with his work on standout Brick shows Adventure Quest and A Brief History of Murder. He’s also an impresario, a filmmaker, a burlesque performer, and the Most Holy Incarnation of the Messiah for a smallish cult of agrarian-utopian anarchists based in rural Idaho. Team C cannot do without him.
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If I could rewrite the ending to any play it would be Caligula because someone (other than Chairhead) needs to get that elusive fucking moon.
No one’s gonna stop me from doing whatever it is I do in my spare time when I'm anywhere really.
When I first read the Dainty Cadaver scene that came before mine, my initial reaction was "This calls for straightforward naturalism!" Then, I thought "or maybe not." Finally, I enjoyed a sandwich.
The song I listened to most/had in my head while writing my scene was 4'33.
As Abraham Lincoln said, “The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget to floss, for dental hygiene is vital.”
Before I had Piper McKenzie in my life, I was a hollow shell of a human being. Now I am a hollow shell.
The superpower I would least want to have would probably be the power to vomit live fire ants when lonely.
Out, out, brief candle! / Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, / That struts and frets his hour upon the stage / And then is heard no more. It is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury / Signifying boobies.
The first play I ever wrote was indulgent. After that I indulged.
If I were to finish this sentence it would be largely miraculous due to my desire to just keep fucking going on and on forever as though I have something important to say and that I have to say it using as many words as possible and repeating as much information as necessary to draw the point I'm trying to make out for as long as possible and far longer then is humanly decent because really I could just go on forever and it is only by happy accident (usually in the form of a well placed shiney object) that I even consider stopping once I've started to blather about incessently about things which really couldn't interest anyone unless they were interested in cool things like radios, board games, death and other topics which include food, basbeall and bolagna but certainly not anything that Praust ever wrote about when he said "Their honour precarious, their liberty provisional, lasting only until the discovery of their crime; their position unstable, like that of the poet who one day was feasted at every table, applauded in every theatre in London, and on the next was driven from every lodging, unable to find a pillow upon which to lay his head, turning the mill like Samson and saying like him: "The two sexes shall die, each in a place apart!"; excluded even, save on the days of general disaster when the majority rally round the victim as the Jews rallied round Dreyfus, from the sympathy--at times from the society--of their fellows, in whom they inspire only disgust at seeing themselves as they are, portrayed in a mirror which, ceasing to flatter them, accentuates every blemish that they have refused to observe in themselves, and makes them understand that what they have been calling their love (a thing to which, playing upon the word, they have by association annexed all that poetry, painting, music, chivalry, asceticism have contrived to add to love) springs not from an ideal of beauty which they have chosen but from an incurable malady; like the Jews again (save some who will associate only with others of their race and have always on their lips ritual words and consecrated pleasantries), shunning one another, seeking out those who are most directly their opposite, who do not desire their company, pardoning their rebuffs, moved to ecstasy by their condescension; but also brought into the company of their own kind by the ostracism that strikes them, the opprobrium under which they have fallen, having finally been invested, by a persecution similar to that of Israel, with the physical and moral characteristics of a race, sometimes beautiful, often hideous, finding (in spite of all the mockery with which he who, more closely blended with, better assimilated to the opposing race, is relatively, in appearance, the least inverted, heaps upon him who has remained more so) a relief in frequenting the society of their kind, and even some corroboration of their own life, so much so that, while steadfastly denying that they are a race (the name of which is the vilest of insults), those who succeed in concealing the fact that they belong to it they readily unmask, with a view less to injuring them, though they have no scruple about that, than to excusing themselves; and, going in search (as a doctor seeks cases of appendicitis) of cases of inversion in history, taking pleasure in recalling that Socrates was one of themselves, as the Israelites claim that Jesus was one of them, without reflecting that there were no abnormals when homosexuality was the norm, no anti-Christians before Christ, that the disgrace alone makes the crime because it has allowed to survive only those who remained obdurate to every warning, to every example, to every punishment, by virtue of an innate disposition so peculiar that it is more repugnant to other men (even though it may be accompanied by exalted moral qualities) than certain other vices which exclude those qualities, such as theft, cruelty, breach of faith, vices better understood and so more readily excused by the generality of men; forming a freemasonry far more extensive, more powerful and less suspected than that of the Lodges, for it rests upon an identity of tastes, needs, habits, dangers, apprenticeship, knowledge, traffic, glossary, and one in which the members themselves, who intend not to know one another, recognise one another immediately by natural or conventional, involuntary or deliberate signs which indicate one of his congeners to the beggar in the street, in the great nobleman whose carriage door he is shutting, to the father in the suitor for his daughter's hand, to him who has sought healing, absolution, defence, in the doctor, the priest, the barrister to whom he has had recourse; all of them obliged to protect their own secret but having their part in a secret shared with the others, which the rest of humanity does not suspect and which means that to them the most wildly improbable tales of adventure seem true, for in this romantic, anachronistic life the ambassador is a bosom friend of the felon, the prince, with a certain independence of action with which his aristocratic breeding has furnished him, and which the trembling little cit would lack, on leaving the duchess's party goes off to confer in private with the hooligan; a reprobate part of the human whole, but an important part, suspected where it does not exist, flaunting itself, insolent and unpunished, where its existence is never guessed; numbering its adherents everywhere, among the people, in the army, in the church, in the prison, on the throne; living, in short, at least to a great extent, in a playful and perilous intimacy with the men of the other race, provoking them, playing with them by speaking of its vice as of something alien to it; a game that is rendered easy by the blindness or duplicity of the others, a game that may be kept up for years until the day of the scandal, on which these lion-tamers are devoured; until then, obliged to make a secret of their lives, to turn away their eyes from the things on which they would naturally fasten them, to fasten them upon those from which they would naturally turn away, to change the gender of many of the words in their vocabulary, a social constraint, slight in comparison with the inward constraint which their vice, or what is improperly so called, imposes upon them with regard not so much now to others as to themselves, and in such a way that to themselves it does not appear a vice," hey you skipped to the end, didn't you?
Writing for the Dainty Cadaver in this manner worked in concord with my usual process by being a process involving writing.
If I didn’t write plays or do things like Dainty Cadavers I’d probably be nightmarish.
Soylent Green and Soylent Green and Soylent Green: that’s what little girls are made of.
I think the Internet affects the ways we make theater in that it exists.
The jumble of random nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs I would use to describe my Dainty Cadaver experience includes the following: The jumble of random nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs I would use to describe my Dainty Cadaver experience includes the previous.
When walking down themiscellaneous screen somewhere in Daventry, King Graham picked up a tridentalong the shore. It belonged to Neptune, and King Graham had to return it.
In the beginning God createdsheep. And the sheep floated in the void, bleating into nothingness.
I couldn’t live without my brain, but the part of it I could live without is all that emotional damage.
Have you ever noticed thatthey are always like “Here is an example of how we are awful,” while we are always like “Those guys are awful?”What’s the deal?
Snabfllp nibminimmbinmtt falalaboocheray toddlesmickperfection abbib simblantfermay pobbadooblemirph.
Tonight is the Night of the Century! Team A’s Dainty Cadaver is performed LIVE – ON STAGE – with Teams B and C to follow over the coming days. I have posted all the Mad-Libs interviews that I have in my possession, but I would like to take a moment to honor those playwrights who, for a diversity of reasons – bad weeks at the day job, home Internet connection failures, just generally having genuinely better things to do – have been unable to participate. Here are a few words for each:
