photo by Joe Mazza and Brave Lux
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
I Sea, I Sea, I Sea
I Sea, I Sea, I Sea
by Jacob Juntunen
Characters
PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN
PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN
Setting:
One block onstage
One block onstage
PERSON WITH BUCKET OF SAND and PERSON WITH STALKS OF
CORN onstage.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
But you’ve been here four years. Can’t you put down that bucket and move in with me?
But you’ve been here four years. Can’t you put down that bucket and move in with me?
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
I can’t ever put the bucket down.
I can’t ever put the bucket down.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
But how many times have we heard the chimes of midnight together? How many times have we walked the empty streets, night sky reflected in the asphalt puddles?
But how many times have we heard the chimes of midnight together? How many times have we walked the empty streets, night sky reflected in the asphalt puddles?
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
How can I stay if you can’t hear it?
How can I stay if you can’t hear it?
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
I could lie and say I hear it.
I could lie and say I hear it.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND OF SAND
It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been here with you, I’m always going to carry the bucket, and I’m always going to hear it.
It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been here with you, I’m always going to carry the bucket, and I’m always going to hear it.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
After four years of wine and whiskey, of fantasies and facts, we finally have a chance to make a home, if you’ll move in with me.
After four years of wine and whiskey, of fantasies and facts, we finally have a chance to make a home, if you’ll move in with me.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND OF SAND
If you can’t hear it, how can you really know me? It’s a part of me. It will always be with me.
If you can’t hear it, how can you really know me? It’s a part of me. It will always be with me.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
Just like all the fields around us, from Mr. Bushel’s little plot to Monsanto’s seas, I can’t ever put that down, but you understand me, don’t you?
Just like all the fields around us, from Mr. Bushel’s little plot to Monsanto’s seas, I can’t ever put that down, but you understand me, don’t you?
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
Do you think so?
Do you think so?
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
I took you out into the mazes of maize; we rode the carts sitting on hay during the orange and black fiery evenings; caught snowflakes on our tongues during the fallow season. Don’t you know me?
I took you out into the mazes of maize; we rode the carts sitting on hay during the orange and black fiery evenings; caught snowflakes on our tongues during the fallow season. Don’t you know me?
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
So why can’t you hear what I hear?
So why can’t you hear what I hear?
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
Let me try again.
Let me try again.
PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND holds up his bucket and PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN puts his ear into it. PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND looks
anxiously at PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN. Nothing.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN (cont)
Maybe a little echo of something?
Maybe a little echo of something?
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
This is hopeless.
This is hopeless.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
No, let’s try something else. Show me, like I showed you the rows and rows of ears and silks.
No, let’s try something else. Show me, like I showed you the rows and rows of ears and silks.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
But it’s hundreds of miles from here.
But it’s hundreds of miles from here.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
Is this just an excuse not to move in with me?
Is this just an excuse not to move in with me?
PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND thinks for a moment,
then pours sand in a circle around the block.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
There. Try now.
There. Try now.
PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN closes eyes, listens.
Nothing.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
You got sand everywhere.
You got sand everywhere.
PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND puts the bucket down in
front of the block, then gets up on the block and conducts unheard noise, a
symphony of silence. PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN closes eyes, listens.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND
Nothing?
Nothing?
PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN shrugs.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND (cont)
Listen:
Listen:
PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND conducts the silent
symphony described.
PERSON
WITH A BUCKET OF SAND (cont)
The waves crash against the rocks! Then suck their way back towards the horizon. They carefully caress the sand, shushing up almost to where you’re lying supine. Underneath your back, the ground is warm, grains shifting slightly under your weight, conforming to your distinctiveness—a little indentation sighing as the salt hits your nose and the water sucks itself back towards the horizon. Up above, the high pitch call of a flock in flight, hanging on the wind until they dip down and slap against the waves that suck their way back towards the horizon. Again. And again. And again. For the hours that you lie in the sun.
The waves crash against the rocks! Then suck their way back towards the horizon. They carefully caress the sand, shushing up almost to where you’re lying supine. Underneath your back, the ground is warm, grains shifting slightly under your weight, conforming to your distinctiveness—a little indentation sighing as the salt hits your nose and the water sucks itself back towards the horizon. Up above, the high pitch call of a flock in flight, hanging on the wind until they dip down and slap against the waves that suck their way back towards the horizon. Again. And again. And again. For the hours that you lie in the sun.
As PERSON WITH A BUCKET OF SAND conducts and
describes, PERSON WITH STALKS OF CORN slowly enters the circle of sand, sits,
back against the bock, bucket in lap, and puts the corn in the bucket.
PERSON
WITH STALKS OF CORN
I sea, I sea, I sea.
I sea, I sea, I sea.
Blackout.
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