More About Our Binary World

More About Our Binary World

A dear friend just commented on my post about my new play featuring a woman who never makes the right decision. (Just scroll down.)

In it, I opine that the world is binary. That it’s yes/no, in/out, off/on. My friend accuses me of spending too long in Texas, ignoring the many shades of grey/gray. Well, I don’t know, pardner. Maybe it is a Texas thang.

But I look at binary like a decision tree flow chart. You pose a question or challenge, and then follow the decisions you make to the obvious solution.

To wit: I need some money. I could (a) get a job, or (b) rob a bank. Some members of our communities will go with (b).

I am going to rob a bank. (Just for a moment, I must tell you about the time I covered the attempted robbery at a Federal Land Bank, where the robber got away with about $30 from the secretary’s purse. He didn’t know what a Land Bank was. So, I guess we should start with identifying a bank that has money in it.)

So, I am going to rob a bank (a) by myself, or (b) with some friends. But I don’t know any bank robbers. If I did, I wouldn’t trust them, I’d have to split the money, and I’d have to shoot them to keep them quiet so it’s probably just as well I go this alone. After all, if you want something done right…

I am going to rob a bank by myself…with/without a disguise, with/without my own car, with/without a gun…if you keep at this long enough, you will arrive at a plan to rob a bank.

But roll it back there, Scooter. You made your mistake when you decided to rob a bank. Really? That’s the best answer you could come up with? Apparently, for a fair number of people every day, it is.

That handsome guy just asked me out. Yes or no? Well, I know two of his ex-wives, one of whom he married twice. I just noticed he’s using his father’s credit card to pay his bar tab. I’m not sure where he’s working now, but he’s not at my company any longer. Well, yes or no? Yes! It’s not like I’m looking for a relationship, and what could go wrong?

I’m really sad today, and I’m mad at everybody. This would be a good day to get my hair cut. Yes or no? Why, yes! Shave one side of my head and put in blue streaks? Sure!

Yes, the world is binary. Very few shades of grey/gray – especially when you’re in a bad mood and reach for the bleach.

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

My friend, Jan, who you’ve read about in the coma-awakening story (and she’s the person I brought to love Elvis) lives in a verysmall  apartment in Los Angeles. Through daily calls I’ve shared her three month-long saga of trying to save her bathroom from crumbling away.

It should be noted she does not own this building. She could have left the damn thing to rot and mold and turn to wet muck.

But, good citizen that she is, she notified the management of a damp wall, now crumbling. This, she noted, could be a bad thing.

Setting the stage here – the apartment is very small. No doubt there are campers with bigger bathrooms. It is the smallest possible bathroom that can accommodate a small bathtub. A person of good stature could probably touch all four walls (two at a time, of course) without much effort. Now crumbling.

The discussion began. Apparently, this situation was worthy of very careful consideration. It was studied by workers who said “hmmm” in several languages. At last, it was determined that Something Needs To Be Done. (A note from me here. Things that are obvious need no contemplation.)

Early in the process, someone painted the wall to cover the wet spot and crumbles. Ah, if only paint would get rid of the ravages of age!

But, our men of the tools finally discovered what women already know. Paint will not cover structural problems. And so, six weeks ago, men of questionable skill came in fix this mess. First, they made a mess tearing out the wet wall. They found a leaky pipe. (We are not surprised. I diagnosed this from Texas.)

After the diagnosis, time passed. When dealing with construction, it seems necessary for everyone to take a day or two to decompress from actually doing some work. An unsatisfactory plumber eventually fixed the pipe, which had to be fixed again. The wall needed to dry. (Another note from me. If one is following the trade of being a plumber, it seems to me that repairing a pipe is a fairly straightforward bit of business. No moving parts. You see what leaks. You cut it out, put in a new piece, seal it up and then rest from your labors. You have not been asked to assemble a jet engine or take four toddlers to the zoo.)

Someone else came in to deal with mold. Then everything had to dry. No doubt everyone needed a good, long rest.

Two weeks passed, and some fellows arrived to rebuild the wall and plaster. The toilet goes into the bathtub again. Noisy. Messy. Much head and ass scratching as everyone thinks about the situation. Something needs to dry.

It was time to sand and paint. Scheduling seems to be more difficult than wall repair. Tomorrow, not tomorrow becomes two weeks.  

But it finally commences. Two workers – one very tall, broad, and muscular man and his colleague, short and very round. They work together in the teeny, tiny bathroom with the door shut. (Another thought from me. The door opens in. That means these two large men, and their accouterment had to get in far enough to close the door.) It has been very hot in LA, and the apartment has no air conditioning. They will need to dry.

Now my dear friend hears the scritch-scritch-scritch of sanding. They eventually paint the base coat. Now it has to dry.

Today they came back to do the final coat. One would think it’s finished. One would be wrong. My friend just texted me…this is the actual text: “Mother of God. They won’t be back until Monday to put the towel rails up because the walls…have…to dry.”

I think she’s crying. She will need time to dry.

Now for Some Serious Theater

Now for Some Serious Theater

Well, not “Death of a Salesman” serious, exactly.

I got such good response from my Broadway musical draft, “The Last Straight Man on Broadway” (actually 2 comments which is about 200% more than I usually get – my readers are a taciturn lot), that I have decided to dip my rather large toes into the fetid pond that is serious theater.

I haven’t decided on a title, but I’m working on it. The play tells the story of a woman who can be counted on to make the wrong decision about everything. From men to hair, makeup to breakup – she’s on the wrong side of the 50/50 split.

This idea springs from my idea that everything in the world is, at heart, binary. Off or on, up or down, right or wrong – when you scrape away all of the moss we use to cover it up, there is always an either/or choice – and one of the two is almost always correct.

We open Act One, with our heroine considering the wreckage of her life. (That always seems the theme of serious stuff.) Maybe she is working this through with a therapist and spends a fair amount of the play on the couch. She has the idea that something is wrong, but simply cannot figure out what it is. (Of course, as she recounts her life moments, we see her up and playing the recalled scene.)

We have to start with childhood, of course. She probably makes a horrible little friend and dumps her stalwart, really nice little playmate. No doubt she will choose to lie to her mother about something that doesn’t matter, just to stay out of trouble. She breaks something trivial but hides the evidence. And gets in trouble.

It should be noted that this girl is not a sociopath. She just has very, very poor judgment and it never gets any better as she grows up.

We will see her as a teen. Of course she will choose the wrong friends and the meanest, bad-est boy to lose her heart to. (He cannot be redeemed. This is not John Travolta in “Grease”.) Of course her heart breaks. He might even lead her into some sort of minor criminal enterprise. We will have multiple examples of when she says “yes” or “no”, it is exactly the opposite what good sense would tell you. She is just so absolutely clueless. We need the audience to feel mounting frustration with her. I would like to build the audience distress to a point where they are (mentally, at least) shouting at her, “Don’t do that again!”

On the couch, she continues to tell her analyst that she just cannot figure out why her life has always been such a mess. Lacking any insight at all, she defends all of her choices. “My mom was always hard on me; she never understood me.” “But he was such a nice guy. Nobody loved him like I did. I never believed he stole that car.”

We crawl with her through one situation to another…and each time we will see the choice – this car or that one? – this house or the other?. We will be able to see the disaster coming from ten miles out. In a world of either/or, she always yes, but.

I think it would be very good to have the analyst grow increasingly frustrated with her. Maybe the analyst starts calling her friends and family, because he just cannot believe that anyone would be able to infallibly choose the wrong way to go. Maybe the analyst is moved to call his analyst friends because she is driving him crazy.

In Texas, it’s said that “even a blind hog can find an acorn now and then” (maybe that’s said in other places, too, I don’t know) but our girl has never found the acorn.

                                               

Intermission

In the Second Act of this two-act wonder, the “yes” man shows up in her life. There needs to be some kind of inside-out “meet cute” – she needs to begin with an absolute dislike of this man. This is a very good sign that he’s a good guy.

He represents everything she should say “yes” to. He represents the 4 S’s – single, straight, sober, solvent and he is handsome. Unaccountably, he adores her and treats her well. She finds herself moving from being annoyed to kind of liking him.

No doubt she will discuss the situation with her analyst, who by this time is a mere shadow of the professional we met at the opening. He’s developed an ulcer, migraines, and he’s worried about losing his license to practice. She is, literally driving him crazy.

The dramatic tension is whether or not she will choose “Mr. Right”. She tells her friends and her analyst that she’s dating him “against her better judgment”. This can only be seen as good news..

Now, for the ending. If this is going to truly be “serious theater”, she needs to dump “Mr. Right” because she’s met an ex-con drug dealer in greasy jeans and a wife-beater t-shirt who seems like the better bet.

If we go with a less serious approach, she will say yes to “Mr. Right” and will have a breakthrough with the analyst and will go on to a happy life of better choices, albeit with less drama.

But, perhaps even better…we let the audience vote. Perhaps we stop the play at the moment where “Mr. Right” proposes. “Mr. Greasy Wrong” is on the fringe of the stage – he’s already told her it would be OK with him if they “hang out for awhile”, but she’ll have to pick up the bills. “Mr. Right” is on his knee with a ring. The action freezes…and the analyst steps out to address the audience and asks for a show of hands. Based on the vote, or heroine either says “yes” or “no”…and we move to the end.

I am on the fence as to which ending I prefer. Our heroine has a lifetime of bad choices informing her – she is drawn (unaccountably) to the wrong path each time she has a decision to make. I would like for her to make at least one right choice.

But then the imp in me can see her choosing Mr. Greasy Pants. Why wouldn’t she?

The analyst closes the loop…he will either stand tall and realize that his therapy worked and good for him. Or, he will have a heart attack and die.