 All right, hope everybody can see me. Hello, everyone, happy pride and welcome to the new Alternatives Play Reading Festival brought to you by the podcast, A Star's Board. I'm Keith Weiss, I created A Star's Board. And remember though, we are on Facebook and HowlRound and our new partner over in the UK, Scenesaver. You can follow the podcast on Instagram at starsboard.pod. And while tickets are free, we are asking viewers for a suggested donation of $10 and we will donate 100% of the proceeds towards new alternatives NYC. New alternatives increases the self-sufficiency of LGBTQ plus homeless youth by enabling them to transition out of this shelter system to stable adult lives. And you can go on the website, www.newalternativesnyc.org. And our donation link is included in the post below in this live stream as well as in the description of the Facebook event. And the festival will consist of three one-act plays in the following order. Round by Johnny Lloyd, directed by Kenan Tyler Aliphont. The Wind-Crisemary by A.A. Brenner, directed by Colm Summers. And the Darker Side of Paradise by Franco D'Alessandro, directed by Catherine Antailer. And with that, I'll give you the synopsis of our first play, Round. Brandon is in his 20s, black queer, and can host face pics only though. And Seth's an athletic jock, white gay verse, and looking for a no strings attached just for tonight mass cookup. It's a match made on an app, but there are red flags. Seth might have brought a friend and they might be trying to colonize Brandon's apartment. And maybe Brandon can't bring himself to care. A queer scene cycle round explores how the racism of everyday queer life comes into the bedroom. And tonight we have Brendan George playing Seth. We have Malik Reed playing Brandon. And Jason Alexander will explain Kenneth and Torian Brackett on stage directions. And we wanna thank you all for being with us and supporting Live Theater and Quarantine. It is so fun to get back in the rehearsal room and bring this to you, whatever rehearsal room we can make. And without a further ado, we will begin. Round, a queer scene cycle by Johnny G. Lloyd. Setting, Brandon's apartment present day. It's probably after a parade or an afternoon in Central Park or a day at Reese or something like that. All of these guys are kind of sadomasochists, huh? I guess most people are. Most people who can afford to be at least. And they all can afford to be to varying extents. Seth relaxes at the foot of the bed. He idly pulls his phone out. Brandon sits on the bed, body taut. He breathes heavily. So, what did you think? It was... Surprising. Yeah? That's good, I try. I try for it to be, it's a special kind of like secret talent, special skill, whatever. I'm still... It's normal, totally normal. People have really strong reactions. One guy cried. That was hilarious, like actual tears. And then there was another guy who said it was the most disturbing thing they've ever seen, which I guess I should have expected that, given that you can take a moment if you need to. Incommon. Yeah, you do seem like you're doing better. Yeah, like a lot better. I get you some water, but I don't wanna use your kitchen. Didn't mean to scare you. Sorry. I mean, I'm not really sorry. It's just a thing to say. Like, you have to have friends in common. I can't believe you. I did. Same year, same major. And we never ran into each other. That's crazy, really. So crazy, right? We're basically the same person. Maybe we are the same person, and that's why we never ran into each other. I'm kidding. Did you know, did you know Sarah? Which? Sorry, Sarah Bernard. She lived with me junior year. She was an Africana studies major. I took an Africana studies class with her my sophomore year. I think it was about colonization, something like that. We're basically best friends. Did you play sport? You look familiar, and I feel like I saw you baseball. I have really bad death perception, so. Oh, yeah, no, totally. Sorry, I just knew all the baseball boys, so I was like, maybe that's why. I actually dated one for like two seconds. I guess not dating, dating's a little. We slept together twice. I was actually super close with this girlfriend, so awkward. Which was crazy, right? Were you in like, maybe not Capella group? Dance team? Spoken word? I can't believe we don't have a single. Amir Woods. Amir, he was on student council. He was literally everywhere. Who else? Jasmine Brown. Anise Jackson. Hakim? No, you'd be immediately like Hakim, if you knew Hakim, yeah. Who else? Duran. Corinda. Tom. It's a nice apartment. Thanks. I want an apartment like this. The bathroom is perfect. We should get an apartment like this, babe. Oh my God, I wanna see the bathroom. It couldn't cost that much. What do you do? Banking. Oh, cool. I worked as a, well, right after high school, I worked as a teller for a little bit and the pay was worth. Maybe he'd let us move in. Do you wanna let us move in? We've been paying too much for our place. It's not that nice, honestly. It's, I mean, the location is great, whatever, but I'd be super down for a place like this. Maybe we could sublet the whole place. You could find another apartment, right? Or you can stay here and we get the rest of the apartment with that work. I just want the bathroom. Well, get rid of some of the art, maybe move the table. The pictures can stay, I think. We could make it work. Analyst. I'm an analyst. Second year at large, multicultural sort of. We invest a lot of money into India. The bank does. That's my job. India sounds cool. I'm ready, if you guys... Ready sounds so formal. No, I mean, like, okay, I was just saying, I don't feel like, like I don't want to wait if we're just waiting to wait. I'm joking. Seth takes off his shirt and kisses Kenneth. Brandon looks on. Are we going to join? Sorry. I totally forgot your name. That's super embarrassing. Breeden? Bradford, it's Bradford, right? Benny? Do you feel uncomfortable? If you did, it'd be okay. I'd get it. I'm uncomfortable often. Okay. I want you to feel entirely free to be like, this works, this doesn't work, or that sounds weird. I don't know. I just want you to feel like you have some kind of agency, I guess. Like, feel like this is your... You're not racist. Like I know there are a lot of guys who probably say that, but we totally mean it, like totally not racist. And everyone in my family is racist, like literally everyone. My mom is super racist. She's a total... Well, I think she gets it from my grandmother. My grandmother used to say the dumbest shit about Obama usually, back when she was alive. And my dad's also kind of racist, but he's more genuinely just hateful. I think it's because he's super closeted. Can't prove it, but that's my theory. But I don't know. Like I think being around that many racists, I don't want to say they're bad people, but like knowing they're super close minded and then knowing us. And actually, when I went to college, my roommate was black and he was great. And you remind me of him, actually. It's the way you say words. It's really smart. And like you choose good words to say, it's your really... You said that I felt uncomfortable. I'm serious though. This is one of his things. Okay. A good contractor, a contractor with an actual engineering background who like actually went to college would have a field day with this place. He likes looking for the problems. Okay. I mean, I don't know that much, but just from a glance alone, I mean, there's that part of the ceiling which looks terrible and the floorboard and that is just waiting to give. And I'm not even a professional, but I'm a pessimist. And you're not? I'm an optimist. I'm a realist. That just means pessimist, but in different words. It means that I'm honest. You don't think I'm honest. Like, no, I didn't say that. I don't think you're honest with yourself sometimes. Like I think I'm the kind of person who just says what he wants and he sees and like that's kind of it. Like I see that this place is kind of falling apart. We could fix it though. I mean, it wouldn't set us back that much, only a few thousand, but then we could add a dishwasher and I... Things always kind of falling apart. Well, it depends on the foundation, but oh my God, sorry. Look at this molding. I wanna know. You don't. I do. That's why I do. I hated it. Did you really like it? Oh my God. Okay, so in my defense, I think a normal person watches horror movies and just gets scared, but I maybe watch horror movies and I think about like the damage I do to myself on a daily basis, which is... And to other people? What? Oh, yeah, I should probably think about that more right. But I did have fun with you, watching it with you because I think I like... Brandon kisses Seth. They kiss as Seth slowly pushes Brandon towards the bed. You can't get me out of your head, can you? Is this what you want? Is this what you want? You can't get me out of your head. Seth, Seth, how are you? It's what you want. What up, bro? What up, Seth? What do you want? What's up? Hey, you know what I heard? Hey, you got pics? Is this what you want? Seth, bro, what do you like? What do you want? Know what I want? You can't get me out of my head. I want that. I always wanted to try big. Is this what you want? I want to try big. When will I get a chance to speak? I want to speak. I want to say, I want to say, fuck. When will I get a chance to speak? I want to speak words. I want to say what I said and not think about it. To feel like my words matter to someone else. To see them resonate. To see them activated or pondered or I want to destroy men. Rip holes through them when I want with no consequences. I don't want consequences. I want to fuck. I want to fuck and feel like it's my choice. Like I'm the one fucking without feeling like I'm being stared at. I want to be stared at, but not like that. More like regarded with some sort of intent. Like you see the way it's that I'm special. Maybe I'm not that special. Maybe I'm actually really boring. I wish people would look at me and think about nothing actually. Just like a blank hole in thought, empty air. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I'm not used to having all this time to go on like this. It's, it's distracting. I'm used to having to choose the moments when I try to even take a second of time. Not used to having options. I don't think I'm very smart. If I was smart, I would be more enlightened. Not saying I want to be enlightened, but I just wish sometimes that I could speak and say something that is totally my own and actually maybe actually heard. Brandon puts on his undershirt and his shirt. He puts on his socks and hat. He puts on his pants. Seth sits on the side of the bed, not facing Brandon, fully clothed. A reset. He'll be back in a second. Do you do this often? This often? I'm being weird. Sorry. I should stop being, I'm just, I don't know. That's not a full thought. I'm just anxious. That's fine. I have an idea to break the ice. Want to see something? See what? It's kind of like a party trick, but it's a little more visceral. I learned it a couple of years ago. I was, my family has this boat house and it's super boring. So I kind of taught myself to, I shouldn't spoil it. It's a surprise. Yeah. Kind of. Just give me an object, whatever, honestly. As long as you don't think you need it anymore. Brandon reaches into his pockets. You don't need it. It's for just in case something goes. And I think I'll be fine. Seth stands. Brandon is exactly where he started the play. I can swallow literally anything. I swear, I'm not lying. I'll bet you a dollar, five dollars, I can swallow this thing whole. Consume like digest it. Don't close your eyes, it's not gonna be, it's not super graphic, unless that's what you want it to be. Brandon leans in. Seth places the blade above his mouth. He opens wide. End of play. Thank you for that. That was round by Johnny Lloyd. And now on to our next piece. And that reminder, tickets are free and we're asking viewers for suggested donation of $10. And we're gonna donate that to New Alternatives NYC. And now I'm gonna pass the evening over to my friends and the playwright of the Wing Cries Mary, A.A. Brenner. Take it away. All right. Hey, everyone. Thank you so much for tuning in tonight. We're so excited to be here with you. I am beyond honored to present my one act, the Wind Cries Mary, directed by Colm Summers and dramaturged by May Truhaft Ali. A multi-dimensional, neo-absurdist play, The Wind Cries Mary, questions the confines of reality, memory and death through a queer disabled lens. After agreeing to a dinner date with long lost childhood friend, Mary, Reg is forced to reconcile their idyllic early memories with the complex and off disturbing realities of adulthood as they confront the ghosts of their past. So tonight we're incredibly lucky to be joined by Morgan Dean, who will be playing Reg, Cara Young, who will be playing Mary, Munira Batul, who will be playing Dala, and finally Antoinette Levecchia, who will be our Aunt Judy this evening. Yeah, so we just wanna thank you all so much for being with us tonight and supporting Live Theater in quarantine. It's been so, so incredible for this entire team and just everyone associated with this festival to get back into the rehearsal room and bring this show and hopefully a little bit of joy to you tonight. And so without any further ado, The Wind Cries Mary, I'll be reading stage directions. All right, The Wind Cries Mary by A.A. Brenner. For me, identity is fundamentally about desire and death. How you construct your identity is predicated on how you construct desire and how you conceive of death. Desire for recognition, quest for visibility, the sense of being acknowledged, a deep desire for association. It's the longing to belong, a deep visceral need that most linguistically conscious animals who transact with an environment that's us participate in, Cornell West. Will The Wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past? And with its crutch, its old age and its wisdom, it whispers, no, this will be the last. And The Wind Cries Mary, Jimi Hendrix. One, lights up on a cramped space, a table with two table settings, two glasses full of water and two empty wine glasses, two chairs and some suggestion of cheap restaurant kitsch, Russian nesting dolls, snow globes or prayer flags and Christmas lights. In fact, the entire ceiling and three of the walls are strung with them, giving the restaurant the appearance of a bizarre neon soka. Reg sits at the table alone with an unopened bottle of wine. They fidget nervously. Suddenly, Mary enters. She does not notice Reg. Hi. Mary doesn't notice. Reg rises to get her attention. Mary. Mary turns around. Mary, hi. Oh, hi. Hi, you made it. Yeah, sorry. Don't be, don't be. No, I am. It's my fault early. Yeah, but it's my fault. Don't be. Reg goes in for a hug. Mary doesn't notice. They sit. So, oh, so how you been? Me? No, the other Mary. That was a joke. Oh, of course you. Oh, yeah, yeah, I've been, I've been fine. Yeah? Yeah. How are you? How are you? Good. Good, no, really. Really, I'm good. Really? Yeah, and you? Me, I'm fine. You are? Yeah. Good. Well, you made it. I'm glad. I was worried you wouldn't. You wouldn't be able to find this place, you know, hole in the wall. Yeah. But you found it. You did and I'm so glad. So how have the past 15 years been? No, seriously, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw you, we were nine. I mean, except for on Insta. Ah, Insta! Yeah. How did you find me? Huh? On Insta. On Insta? You found me on Insta, which is why we're here. Oh, yeah. How did you, I don't know. You don't know? I find everyone on, I find everyone, I don't know. It's Insta. Gay Insta. I find everyone gay on Insta. Sorry, I'm so sorry. I just came from my building. We had this barbecue today in my building and I just, I just came from and there were margaritas and now I'm a little, I'm a little tipsy, that's all. So shit, I'm so sorry. It's okay. No, I'm such a mess. I'm so sorry and I'm an alcoholic. No, really. I'm really an alcoholic. Oh. Well, well, I guess I'll just have to catch up to you then. Reg pours himself a glass of wine. Please do, please do catch up to me. Please don't be an alcoholic, but do catch up to me. I mean, unless you are already an alcoholic, I'm not gonna judge you. We've been friends forever, but if you aren't, don't like become one just because of me. Oh, don't worry, it won't be because of you. Shit, wait. So you're an alcoholic? You're an alcoholic too? I mean- Shit, well, I thought I was the only one. I thought I was the only alcoholic I was friends with, but now I'm not. Now you are too. Yeah. Mary reaches for the bottle of wine and ends up knocking over her water glass. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm such a mess. It's fine, let me help you. No, no, no, no, no. They'll get it. They'll get it. Nobody gets it. Mary pours herself a glass of wine. So how about you? How are you? How have you been? Good. No, but like, how are you? Tell me, how have you been? Tell me everything. Tell me everything about you. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. Just like, you're like my best friend. We've known each other since we were 10. You mean we've known each other since we were three? Yeah, we've known each other since we were 10. Tell me everything, everything about you. When did you realize you were gay? What? I mean, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm blunt. I've always been blunt. Blunt, it's not just because I'm tipsy. I swear. So yeah, when did you know? When did you know you were gay? I mean, I always kind of knew, you know? Mm, right, right. What about, what about you? Yeah, I mean, I never liked boys. One time in high school, I brought this girl home and I was like, this is my girlfriend. And my parents were like, cool. And I was like, cool. And that was it. How's your mom? My mom? Yeah, your mom. She was so cool. I remember her. Really? Oh yeah. My mom worked a lot when I was little. You sure you weren't thinking of my babysitter? No. Your mom. I remember because she was cool. How was she? How was your mom? She's good, thanks for asking. Good, she was cool. So was your aunt. How was your aunt? I remember my aunt. Yeah, your aunt. You remember my aunt? Of course I remember your aunt. She was cool. She was cool like your mom. Only she had this hair, this like crazy hair. What was it? Red. Red. That's it. This crazy hair. Yeah. And a thing. She had a thing, didn't she? A cane. She had a cane, right? And she like, she like walked funny. Not like funny, funny. Just like cool, funny. Yeah, it was cool, super cool. Does she still have it? Does she still have red hair? Well, actually. Oh, she does. Actually, it was a... That's great, that is so... It was a wig. A wig? Yeah, she actually, she had... Well, does she still have it? What? The red hair, the red hair, does she still have the... I mean... She's done it. Of course. I mean, she's dead. Oh, so. Yeah. What? Yeah, she's dead, she died. Oh, oh shit, when did she... Like, like 10 years ago, 10 years ago now. Oh! Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. She was so cool. Your aunts, oh, but your mom, your mom's still alive, right? Yeah. Yeah, and your dad? Yeah, just moved back in with them, actually. Oh, really, really, with your dad? With both of them. Oh, both of them, wow, that's great. That is so great, wow. They live together? Yeah. Wow, that is so great. That's so great that they live together, and they're still alive and live together. Yeah, that is great, that's so great. I'm glad. How nice, your parents, your mom was cool. My mom's dead. Oh, yeah. Oh, oh man, wow. Shit, I didn't know that. Yeah. I'm so sorry. It's fine, it's whatever, yeah, she's dead. She died last December. I'm so, I'm so sorry. Yeah, it's whatever, it's, no, no, no, it's not whatever, that's fucking hard, I know how. Yeah, whatever, but your parents, they're still together, that's great, they're still alive and together still. Reg pours himself another glass of wine, so does Mary. Suddenly, chicken tikka masala appears on the table. It was always there, but nobody noticed until now. Is that chicken? Yeah. Mary spoons some chicken onto her plate. So tell me, tell me everything, everything about yourself. What do you do? Like on average, what's an average day? An average day in the life of Jina? It's reg. What? Yeah, like reg, I go by reg now. Oh, not Jina. Oh, that's cool, that's cool, I like it, yeah. So what do you do? What do you do on average, an average day in the life? Well, I guess I draw a lot. You do? I mean, yeah, I'm an illustrator, so. Wow. Wow, that's so cool, that is so cool. You're an illustrator. I mean, it's my job. Oh, cool. And then you're in fashion? No. I mean, I was. I was in fashion, I went to FIT, not MIT. It's FIT, not MIT, I told someone at the barbecue, I went to FIT and they said, MIT? Me too, I said, FIT, they said, yeah, MIT. So I gave up, you know, I interned for CBS one summer and whenever I told someone where I work, they always thought I was interning at CVS. Well, right, it's like, who do you think I am? You think I'm interning at a drug store? Not just at drug stores. Okay, yeah, so yeah, okay. So you went to FIT, you graduated, what do you do now? Yeah, well, I'm not really doing anything at the moment. Oh, if you're in between jobs. Well, no, no, because I wasn't really doing anything before. Oh, yeah, I'm kind of a mess. You're not. I am, but you, you look great. You look great, just look at you, you're so cute. You look great. Look at your face, so cute. Thanks. No, I mean, I mean, you look great. You really do. You look great too. Thanks. Like really, really great. Your shirt is great. Oh, thank you. You actually like Star Wars or do you just like the shirt? No, no, no, of course I like Star Wars. I never do that. I mean, I'm basic, but I'm not that basic. I mean, I live in Brooklyn and my dad pays my rent and I'm like basic, but I am not that basic. Of course not, of course not. Sorry, I suggested you were, I did, I mean. Yeah, sorry, don't be sorry, don't be, it's fine. You're fine, you're so cute. Look at you, God. I'm hungry, aren't you hungry? Mary takes a bite of chicken and ends up smearing masala sauce all over her face. You got something on your- Oh, that's so good. On your face, on your face that there's something- Oh, I'm obsessed, have you had some of this? I'm obsessed, don't you think? Uh, yeah, yeah. Mary smears more masala on her face. Reg gives up. Anyway, I saw on Instagram that you read a lot. Yes, yes I do. I do read a lot, I read seven books a week. Wow, that's amazing. Yeah, I mean, I'm an employee so I read a lot. You know, there's nothing else to do really. I hang out by myself all the time, I don't have any friends. Really? Yeah, I mean I have friends, I have like three, but I don't like them. Ah, got it. Yeah, like I told my dad I was getting dinner with you and he was like, why don't you find new friends? Why do we keep going back to the old people? And I was like, girl, I call my dad girl. I was like, girl, I hate new friends. I hate new people. You know this about me. But seriously, seriously, I hate them. I hate people. I get that. I hate people, I hate people too. But not you. I don't hate you. I like my- Search the web for them. No. Just tap the search chip below. Okay. I don't hate you. You're like my best friend. We've been best friends since we were five. So we're gonna be queer friends, right? Uh, sure. Yay! I've always wanted queer friends. I have like three friends and they're like all straight. I hate them. So tell me, are you single? Am I single? Yeah, are you single? Are you? Yeah, yeah, I am actually. I just, I just- Oh, oh, you're, oh good. I'm not, I'm not. I mean, technically I'm not. I have a girlfriend, technically. I technically have a girlfriend. Oh. Yeah, she's cute. She's real cute. I like her. I like her a lot. That's great. That's great you like her. Yeah, well, kind of. It's kind of great. It's kind of not great at all. She left me, you know? I mean, she not left me, left me. We're still together. I mean, she went on a road trip and left me. She left you. Yeah. I mean, she told me she wouldn't let me go. She told me we needed to be in an open relationship and she wouldn't let me go. Like, she was like, I'm going on this road trip, this road trip for three months. We should be in an open relationship. And I was like, no. And she was like, yes. And I was like, okay, because I like her. I really like her. Actually, I kind of love her. Is that bad? I don't think so. That is so bad. No, I mean, she's your girlfriend. It's great that you like her. Yeah, but she's shit. She's treating me like shit. I hate her. I hate that I love her. She's so cute. She's so, so cute. She's like best friends with my dad. Really? Yeah, she'll like, she'll like call him on her own and they'll like hang out and stuff. He like, he really, he really likes her. He'd really like you too, because he knows you, but he loves her. He like really does. They love each other. Mary attempts to spoon more chicken onto her plate and ends up dropping a dollop of masala sauce into her wine glass. Here, here, let me, let me see if I can get you in. No, no, no, it's fine. It's fine. We'll get it. Don't worry. Mary pours more wine into her glass and takes a large swig of the now viscous fluid. Reg chugs the remainder of their glass, then refills it. So, but yeah, she left my girlfriend left so, so long ago and I missed her. I've missed her the whole time. I'm just, God. So, so sad. How long has she been gone? Three months. You're almost done. She's almost coming back soon. I mean, yeah. So that's great. She'll come back and you guys can be together and it'll be all good. No, it won't be. It won't be. No, I mean, she'll come back, sure, but it won't be good because she's not the one. She isn't. No. I mean, I love her. I love my dad loves her, but she's not the one. But you and me, you and me, we've got each other, always. You can count on me forever. Do you know that? Thanks. Oh, seriously, seriously, I mean it. You can seriously count on me. I'll always be there. I'll always be there for you. We've known each other since we were 12. We've got each other. We're gonna be queer best friends forever. Mary reaches over the table, grabs Reg's hand and kisses it. Well, thank you. I appreciate it. Well, but seriously, seriously, forever means forever means forever, okay? Okay. Mary takes more wine, spilling some onto the table. She doesn't notice. Hey, wait a minute. Yeah? Wait a minute, do you still have that thing? The thing? Yeah, you know that thing? I remember your mom. She was cool. And I also remember you had a thing. You mean my babysitter? No, no, no. Not your babysitter, not a person, like thing. You had a thing with your legs. You still have it? Oh, yeah, yeah, that. Yeah, I mean, yeah, yeah, I still have it. Really, you do? Yeah. You really do? I mean, cerebral palsy doesn't just go away. Wow, you still have them. I can't believe it. You still have the thing. I remember it was, it's like the only thing I remember, not in a bad way, never in a bad way. You were always my friend. You were always just my friend, do you know what I'm saying? You had these two things. What were they called? I had two things? Yeah, yeah, yeah, you used to wear them, like, excuse me, you had to wear these like, these things, these things. You wear them, you wear them on your. Oh, my braces. Yeah, braces. I'm sorry, I'm blunt. I'm always blunt. I'm happy because I'm drunk. I swear, wow, those things, those leg braces, you still have them? I mean, I don't have braces anymore. You still have them, I can't believe. You still have CP, but not braces. I haven't had braces in years. I have orthotics now. They're much smaller and. You still have them. You were always my friend, my friend with those things. It didn't matter. It never ever, it never ever mattered. I still loved you anyway. What are you reading right now? What? Your books, what are you reading now? Anything good? Well, now I'm reading in Carson because Jenny Schechter reads Annie Carson and I'm Jenny Schechter, but also I hate Jenny Schechter because everyone hates Jenny Schechter. So if you are Jenny Schechter, but you also hate Jenny Schechter, does that mean you hate yourself? Yes. Mary tops off her drink. God, I'm so sorry. I'm a mess. Don't worry about it, don't worry about it. No, no, I am, I really am. Just so sad, so sad. It's okay, it's okay to be sad. I'm there too. Honestly, I'll probably kill myself. I'll probably just kill myself just like Jenny Schechter. Hey, hang on a minute. No, I swear, I will, I will, I swear, I swear, I swear. Just wait, I'll do it, I'll do it. You can't kill yourself yet because we just became friends again. I know. So you can't. I know, but. No, Betz, you just can't. I know, I know, I'm sorry. I know we just became friends again, but also we were always friends. We're always, we've always been friends. We've been friends since we were eight, but we're queer friends. We are queer friends forever and we're gonna have so much fun. Just wait, we're gonna have so much fun to do so many things and it'll be great, I promise. Well, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right, you're right. Okay, okay, okay, you're right, but I can only promise you a year. Okay, deal. Actually, I can only promise you a month. Actually, a week. Actually, Mary checks her phone. What are you doing right now? Nothing, why? You'll be my best friend forever if you come back to Fort Green with me. Please, Gina, please. Suddenly the scene shifts and we're transported to Mary's apartment in Fort Green. It is a glass box one bedroom with a view of the Manhattan skyline. Grab a chair, make yourself at home. You want some wine? Yeah, sure. Mary pours reg, a glass as reg takes a seat. This apartment is beautiful. Thanks. No, seriously, this view, if I lived here, I think I'd probably just spend all day staring out the window. Reg notices a poster on the wall. It's a vintage movie poster of Annie Hall. Holy shit, dude, I love that movie. Of what movie? Annie Hall. Wait, really? Wait, really? Really, me too? That's my favorite movie. No fucking way. Yes, I am Annie. But you hate Annie. No, I love Annie. I am Annie. Oh, I'm Alvie, but I hate Woody Allen, so. You hate Woody Allen? I love his movies, but I hate him. I hate the person. Why? Oh my God, do you know him? No, no, no, no, no. I don't know him, just... There's that abuse thing. He was accused of abuse. I mean... You're cute. Mary pulls Reg's arm around her shoulders and kisses them. Is this weird? No. They make out. It gets intense. Mary knocks her glass of wine onto the floor. It shatters, spilling wine everywhere. Shit, are you okay? Yeah, I'm fine. Let me clean that. No, come here. Mary, he eats glass. It's fine, they'll get it. They, who's they? They, they'll get it. They will, I promise. I promise, just come here. Come here. She kisses Reg, she pulls away. Listen, I think I should go. What, you just got here? Yeah, but it's late and I live with my parents. Parents? Yeah, I live with them. I told you, remember, I'm saving money, remember. You should just stay here. Because artists don't make money. No, you should stay here. You should stay here with me. You're being silly. This is your house. This is your house. This is your house because it's my house and my house is your house. You're my best friend. Did you know that? Did you know that? You're my best friend. I've known you for so long, so, so long. I've known you since I was 13. I didn't. I'm going. No. Yes. But we haven't even watched Annie Hall. Mary. We haven't. When you said you would, but we haven't, and you said you, you said, you, you, you, so you have to stay here. You have to stay here and watch Annie Hall with me, just like you said. Just like you said you would. Please don't go, Gina. Okay, okay, geez. I'll watch Annie Hall with you. Yay! Yay! Yay, you will. Yay! They sit back down. Mary grabs her remote and turns the movie on. She grabs Reg's hand. It's so good to have you, Gina. It's so good to have you back. I missed you. Did you know that? You did. We're gonna be queer best friends, Gina. We're gonna be queer best friends forever. The movie plays. After a few moments, Mary begins to nod off and lets go of Reg's hand. Reg looks at Mary. Sure, she's asleep, they rise. A roll of paper towels appears, or perhaps it was always there just hidden. Reg begins to clean everything up, the water, the wine, even the chicken tikka masala. They start to pick up the broken glass and cut themselves. Shit. They take a paper towel to staunch the bleeding. Look at Mary still sleeping. Look at Annie Hall. Look at the glass and exit. Two. A table with two table settings, two glasses full of water, and two empty wine glasses, two chairs. Reg sits at the table alone. They fidget nervously. Suddenly, a wind chime placed over the door sounds. Reg notices it. A short middle-aged woman enters. She wears a plain, gauzy white linen shroud and carries a plain purse. She looks around the restaurant. Dala. Dala does not notice Reg. Dala, hi. Dala sees them. Gina D. Reg rises, they embrace. Oh, Gina D, just look at you. Look at you all grown up. Only somewhat, Dala. They sit. I ordered some naan for the table. I remember it used to bring it to the house sometimes, so. Oh, it's wonderful. Wonderful. Oh, you look wonderful. How are you? Well, you must be wonderful. I'm good. Oh, splendid. And your mommy. Good. And your daddy, too. My dad, yeah. Wonderful. And how about Aunt Judy, your sweet old Aunt Judy? How is she? She's, she's... Is she still in Brooklyn? Well. In Sheep's Head Bay, yes. She was in Sheep's Head Bay. Yeah. So she's moved. I mean. Out of Brooklyn. Yes, but. Are she clean? Actually, she's... In Long Island City. No, I mean. Yes, actually, I guess she's technically in Long Island. Splendid, splendid. Oh, I'm so glad she's well. That's really... Yeah, see, the thing is, she isn't exactly... Oh, I ought to give her a call on the telephone. She isn't because she's... Or does she not have a telephone anymore? Does she just use her cell phone? Doesn't need a phone because she's... Unplugging. Yes, she... Isn't that what all the kids say he does? No, because she's dead. Oh, what a joke. Look at you, Jean-Marie. Always the joke stuff. Yeah, and I'm not joking. She's... Oh, it's so good to know that everyone is well. You don't know how often I think about all of you. How I wonder. How I wonder what happened to you all, all my wonderful patients. Yeah. You must keep in touch with Nicholas, don't you? Nicholas? Or is he unplugging too? Who's Nicholas? You don't remember Nicholas? No. Gina D. Oh, I'm surprised. I would have thought you both would be dating by now, or at least I'd become best of friends. You mean that kid you introduced me at your office? Yes, Nicholas. Oh, he was such a darling boy. So sweet and Jewish too, just like yourself. So how you made such a cute pair playing together at the office? Huh. Oh, you must remember, Gina D. You must. And Aunt Judy, she used to take you to all our therapy sessions. Don't you remember? I mean, I remember her taking me some of the time, but... Oh, no, she was there all the time. Yes, she used to come in from Sheepshead Bay to sometimes three times a week. Three times a week? Oh, yes, you remember? Oh, and you were so cute, Gina D. So, so cute. You were the littlest one of them all, little Gina D. And the three of us, we'd play games and sing. And of course, you remember what song we used to sing. I do. Of course, of course, we used to sing. Buf the magic dragon lived by the sea. I remember that I actually remember that now. Of course you do. It was two, three times a week for years. Of course, you must remember. You must remember it all. I mean, I remember my legs hurting, sometimes my feet, my heels. You used to press them when you were stretching me out. You didn't mean to, but you did. You had to, well, my legs would snap right back, stinging. I remember that tea you'd bring from Calcutta and the cookies from... Luca? From Luca, yeah, yeah. And the honey candies from the corner store. And the blue plastic log and the white plastic brace and the green ball and the red ball and the yellow ball. I hated the yellow ball. Yes, it was a bit too large for you if I do remember correctly. And I remember walking in the forest. Do you remember? No, the rainforest. Yes, yes, of course. Don't wake the birds, Gina D. Clyde, Clyde, don't wake the animals. Remember, heel toe, heel toe, there you go. Yes, yes. Oh, I could go on. A plate of biryani appears or perhaps it was always there. Dalla notices it. Oh my goodness. Is this biryani? Yeah, dinner's on me. No, no, no, Gina D, no, no, you mustn't. At least I can do. It's been 15 years, Dalla. Has it really? Yep, the last time I saw you, I was nine. Were you? Uh-huh. Time really flies, doesn't it? Yeah. Dalla spoons some biryani onto her plate and begins to eat. Hey, Dalla. Yes? What happened? Big fun. 15 years ago? What happened? I went in for my appointment and you never showed up. That's odd. Yeah, I remember Aunt Judy came in and we walked over to your office. She could still walk back then. It was before her leg gave out, so she could still walk. We walked over and when we got to your office, there was someone else there. Are you sure? Of course I'm sure. We walked in and there was this guy, this random guy, and when we asked where you were, he said that he didn't know. So Aunt Judy called you, just kept calling and calling and nothing until one day on our way into the city, she drove over to the hospital to see if maybe they knew and when she got to my house, all she'd say is that you were sick. That you'd gotten very, very sick and you weren't coming back. So I want to know, I want to know what happened. Well, I'm afraid I don't remember. You don't remember. You remember all the crap about Nicholas and Puff the Magic Dragon and you don't remember what happened to you? Oh, Gina D, Gina D, you must turn on channel 13 tonight. What, stroke? It's the magic flute. Of course, all this time and it's been 15 years. The magic flute on BBC, it's playing and it's... I want to know, I want to know what happened the day that you just... You must remember, you must remember the magic flute. What happened? Dala finishes her biryani. She looks at Reg. You are always such a creative child, Gina D. Wonderful, just wonderful. Dala checks her watch. Well, I'm afraid I must be heading out. She digs around in her bag. Where did I put that? Still digging. Must have left it at home when the kitchen countered the chair. Oh, the tea, oh my, I know how much Aunt Judy loves that tea. I will, next time. Yeah, next time. Dala pulls something small out of another purse pocket. Honey candy? Okay. She hands Reg the candy. Thanks. Dala rises. It was so good to see you, Gina D. So good. She begins to exit, then she stops. Oh, and Gina? Yeah? Do tell Aunt Judy that Dala sees hello. Dala exits. A moment, another moment, a third moment. Reg checks their phone. Suddenly the restaurant's Christmas lights flicker on. Reg notices them. The door chimes jingle, Reg looks up. Mary enters. She's dressed in the same outfit she wore in part one. The scene restarts. Hi. Mary doesn't notice. Reg rises to get her attention. Mary. Mary turns around. Mary, hi. Oh. Hi. Hi. You made it. Yeah, sorry. Don't be. No, I am. Don't be, it's my fault for being early. Yeah, but. It's my fault, don't be. Reg goes in for a hug. Mary doesn't notice. They sit. So, three. The queue train, 2.36 a.m. Reg sits on a small two-seater subway bench, their bloody hand wrapped in paper towels. Blood seeps through the makeshift bandage and is smeared on the pole next to them. They stare into space. The train doors open. An older woman with a white cane enters. She is dressed in white, white pants, shoes, pocketbook, all but for her overcoat, which is black and her hair, which is bright red. She takes a seat next to Reg. Reg doesn't look at her. The woman doesn't look at Reg either, except for every few seconds when she sneaks a peek at them when she thinks they aren't paying attention. The woman is Aunt Judy. She pulls a roll of lifesavers out of her pocketbook. Here, take one. What is it? Lifesaver, they're good. No, thanks. Suit yourself. She helps herself to one and puts the roll away. Let me see. No, let me see your hand. Oh, Reg. Please don't, come on. Reg reluctantly gives Aunt Judy their hand. Aunt Judy begins to unwrap their makeshift bandage. Ow! Oh, don't be dramatic. I'm not, you're hurting me. There's still glass in there. No, there isn't, ow! Aunt Judy holds up a tiny shard of glass she pulled out of Reg's hand. See what I tell you. Reg puts their hand away and rewraps it in the bloody paper towel. Well, well what? Well, what do you say? What do I say? Thank you, Aunt Judy. Oh, come on. No, is that nice? You hurt me. I helped you. You hurt yourself. Thank you, Aunt Judy. That's better. I can't believe you. I can't believe you. Did you see all that? Of course I did. I see everything. Everything? God, not everything. Of course there's some things I don't want to see. Get your head out of the gutter. You're the one who said everything. So it makes sense, Reg, really. How am I supposed to know what you can or can't see? It's everything except for the sup. I shouldn't. Who says you should have seen any of that at all? I don't know, but you're lucky I did because you could have gotten in some real trouble. Since when do I get into real trouble? Since always. Name one time. That alleyway in Chinatown. What alleyway? Drinking at seven o'clock in the evening. I was 15. Exactly, you were underage and in public. Do you know how stupid that was? Okay, listen, number one, it was still light out. Number two, we ran away the second we heard that cop car coming. Yeah, and you know who sent that cop car to keep you from any real trouble? Are you kidding me? We were 15, Aunt Judy. I think the cops have a lot more pressing issues to worry about than underage drinking. It wasn't the cops I was worried about, it was everyone else. At 7 p.m., the sun hadn't even set. But it was going to. You're lucky, you know that? I don't feel lucky. Well, you are. Aunt Judy gestures for Reg's hand. Let me see again. No. Come on, let me see. She grabs Reg's hand and unwraps the paper towel. Ow! Aunt Judy inspects Reg's hand. More glass? No, that time I was just screwing with you. She was Christ. Reg pulls their hand away and begins to rewrap it. Since when do you screw with me? Since when do you do things that are stupid? Well, this one time in Chinatown. Oh, don't be smart. Did you just let it go? No. I'm literally bleeding right now. Well, whose fault is that? I don't know. You apparently sent that cop car eight years ago. You couldn't have stopped that wine glass from smashing or something? I could have, but I didn't. Jesus Christ, why not? It was because you're so smart, you can figure it out yourself. I give up. Reg puts their head in their good hand. Well, well what? Are you done pitying yourself yet? No. Suit yourself. You have five more stops. Reg lifts their head up. Hey. Yeah? What ever happened to Skylar? What? You know, Skylar, what ever happened to her? You know what happened? We broke up. I liked her. She was kind. She was boring. So what's exciting, this? And Judy, following Mary home, following poor Mary home and ruining yourself. I didn't ruin myself. Just look at you. I'm fine. You're a mess. Well, if I'm such a mess, then maybe you should have stopped that from happening. Is that a defeat the purpose? What purpose? You mean which? Which purpose? And besides, I'm not God. I don't know. You sure act like it sometimes. Hey, is that nice? I'm kidding. No, you're not. You've gotten very bold lately. Yeah, it's called growing up, really. Because I think it's just a sign of immaturity. Reg begins to shiver. Aunt Judy gestures towards them again. Come here. No, relax. I just wanted to give you my jacket. She takes off her black overcoat to reveal a white shroud, just like the $1 war in the previous scene. She places the jacket around Reg's shoulders. There. Thanks. Your stop is soon. I know. Aunt Judy reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out the lifesavers again. Take one. Aunt Judy, well, you have to have one. Right, all right. Reg takes a lifesaver. They pop it in their mouth. Well, they're pretty good. They? I forgot. I forgot how good they are. What did I tell you? You need money. I'm good. You sure? Yeah. All right. How's your nana? I am. We all share? Every now and then, but it's different. Listen, before you get off, I need you to do me a favor. Oh, well. Tomorrow, when you wake up, I need you to go into your kitchen and I need you to take out two plastic bags, two plastic garbage bags, okay? Okay. Then I need you to go into that closet and I need you to go to that top shelf. Aunt Judy, I'm not finished. I need you to go into that closet and I need you to take down whatever is there and I need you to put it in the garbage bags, one for garbage, one for recycling. But, and then I need you to throw it away. All of it? All of it. Even, even your wig? Especially my wig. Aunt Judy fixes her hair, reg watches. You look good. So do you. Thought it was a mess. You are. Tonight. Oh? Don't let it get to your head. The train door is ding open and closed. Aunt Judy notices the stop. Hey, you're next. I know. Reg begins to pull off Aunt Judy's jacket. Here's your- He said it's chilly out tonight. The train stops. Well, here you are. So long. Wait, but- What? When will I see you? You will. Reg begins to exit. Be careful. Reg is gone. Aunt Judy sits on the train alone. A moment. The next stop, Dala gets on. She sits next to Aunt Judy. They nod at each other, then sit in silence. The train continues. Another stop, another. Next stop, the door is open. Mary, now dressed in the same shroud as Dala and Aunt Judy gets on the train. She is bleeding. She sees Aunt Judy. Aunt Judy sees her. They recognize each other. Mary freezes. White stem end of play. Thank you so much, J.A. That was amazing. Love that piece of theater. Thank you. And that was The Wind Cries Mary, which was directed by Colm Summers and featured Manira Batul, Morgan Dean, Antoinette Levescia, and Carrie Young. And now onto our final play this evening. And reminder that while tickets are free, we are asking you guys to give a suggested donation of $10, just $10 to new alternatives NYC, which increases the self-sufficiency of LGBTQ plus homeless youth by enabling them to transition out of the shelter system to stable adult lives. And now I'm gonna pass the mic to my beloved friend, Catherine Ann Taylor, all yours, Kat. Thanks, Keith. Hello, everybody. Thanks for staying tuned in. Our last play of the night is The Darker Side of Paradise by Franco D'Alessandro. This play is about a gay high school teacher, a fragile pupil of his, and hideous insinuations about them in an Irish-American community. Reading for us tonight, we have three actors. David Leeper is playing our teacher, Mr. Grace. Amy Bisjack is playing our headmaster, and Zachary Galt is playing 17-year-old student, Danny. I'm Catherine Ann Taylor. I directed the reading, and I will be reading our stage directions. I would like to dedicate tonight's reading to the life of Dr. Frank M. D'Alessandro, our playwright's father. He lived from 1928 to June 13th of 2020. He was 91 years old, and we dedicate this to him. Thank you all so much for tuning in for live theater and quarantine. We definitely appreciate you taking the time to watch. So without further ado, we'll start the play, The Darker Side of Paradise by Franco D'Alessandro. The time is 2010. The place is Hope Valley Academy, a private school anywhere. Mr. Grace and the headmaster in the classroom of the private school. The headmaster looks around Mr. Grace's classroom curiously. Oh, education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire. Oh, well, I can assure Mr. Yates that most pails certainly need filling and most fires are hardly worth lighting. I... Be who you needed when you were young. Who said that? Me. It's kind of my personal motto. Oh, I see. You do? Let's be honest, Mr. Grace. Children don't need people. They need knowledge, learning. This is a school, not a daycare facility. That is certainly an opinion. You're an outstanding teacher, Mr. Grace. I know that. Your numbers reflect that. In fact, they speak volumes, and the students truly respond to your class in pedagogical style. Thank you. And I am certain that you have neither the time nor the inclination to take personal interest in any students. I don't. Do you know why I'm here? I can't say I do. Mr. Grace, you were hired well before I came to Hope Valley Prep. I know that. How many years? 20 years. I am 42 tomorrow. I never knew much about you, but over the years and certainly recently, strangely, I've come to know far too much about you. I beg your pardon. I don't care what you do outside the school, but I do care when a teacher becomes a topic of conversation. Have I become a topic of conversation? Oh, indeed. You have. Well, I'm not sure I have any control over what topics people choose for their conversations. And I absolutely certain I no longer care what people say about me. Well, you should. You've become quite the popular teacher, which is never a good thing. Indeed. The students should be miserable and abhor their teachers. In recent years, your behavior has become flavorant and more aggressive. Flagrant. That's a word for a crime, which I'm gathering means marrying my husband last year. Oh, I am aware of your status as a homosexual. Homosexual. Homosexual. My God, what decade is this? No one uses that word anymore. Oh, really? Yes, really. It's offensive. It's a made up word in a recent year. One of that, you know, some repressed Victorian German crackpot made up the term in the late 1800s. So gay is just fine. This isn't the 1950s. So many babies thrown out with the bathwater. The 50s was a perfectly good time period. Really. And aggressive. You know what? I have no idea what that means. Patrick, come on. You have that Celtic culture. Come on. You have that Celtic culture club that is filled with boys. The boys are learning their Irish heritage. It's a fun atmosphere of them to learn in a casual manner about who they are, their, their history and roots. It's all boys. And frankly, the optics. There are six girls who are members. Mary Catherine is the vice president. What about the boy? The leader. Danny. Oh, great. What about Danny? You spend an awful lot of time with him. His father died the first day of high school. His younger sister has cerebral palsy. His older brother is autistic. His poor mother was pretty much a basket case and trying to make ends meet is very happy. I look out for him. The kids got a lot on his plate. So we talk. I know what you're going with this. No, you don't. Don't be presumptuous. Don't be presumptuous. Don't be presumptuous. And being uppity and smug. Will not put me at ease. I said aggressive because there's been some complaints. Plates. By whom? You're spending time with so many of the boys make some of this students uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. Who has been made uncomfortable by me? None of your business. Certainly is. I cannot think of anything that is more of my business. I have the right to face my accuser. In an effort to protect the child who made the accusation. Oh, so it's one person. One person, not several. You implied that there were multiple complaints. Don't be obdurate. I'm not playing around here. Oh, I assure you, neither am I. You know, my family and I fled British occupied Northern Ireland in the 1960s. Oh, I remember the 60s. Peace protests. The sexual revolution. The Vietnam war. Oh, really? You fought in Vietnam? No. I was in graduate school getting my PhD in mathematics. But I remember it well. Total chaos. Self-inflicted human created chaos. In Ireland, we had our own chaos. And it was brought to us not self generated, which is why my parents left because they had no rights. Every action was monitored and restricted. I'm beginning to understand how they felt. You have fewer rights than you would like to believe. This is Hope Valley. Hope Valley. I always found that name ironic, don't you? Not in the least. Look, this is not some public school. No. What it is, is my life. Teaching is my passion. I've devoted myself to helping young people because I had no one helped me when I was their age. One teacher, one teacher in 12 disastrous years of education changed my life in my last year of high school. When most teachers would have given up, most kids would have expected them to. That was when everything changed for me. And I committed myself to being that person for others. You know, when I started teaching, I immediately felt I found what I was always meant to do. That empty lost feeling that every 20-something has was suddenly gone. Teaching was my true north. And when I came here, I thought I found paradise. I'm able to do what I do because I love this job. And I love these kids. Oh, God, Mr. Grace, you are not here to love them. That's what I mean by aggressive. And certainly a teacher with your, well, in your position should not use such words. It's a delicate. People get the wrong idea. I'm a numbers person. I came here to raise money and streamline things. I even got you teachers a raise, but it's a small town and people talk out of boredom more than anything else. And a scandal, any scandal. It's not good for the bottom line. Patrick, it's, it's nothing personal. But let me explain. I don't want you powing around with the students. No shoulder slaps. Certainly no hugs. No touching of any kind. Do your job. Fill the pale. We certainly don't need any fires around here. The headmaster exits. Fade to black. Seem to. Days later, Mr. Grace is at his desk grading papers. The door opens slowly. It's Danny, 17 years old, tall, and with his eyes closed, he's a very tall, outwardly confident and athletic, inwardly a wreck. He's oddly nervous and distant, considering this is the teacher he connects with best and comes to see daily just to talk. But this time something's off. Something is different. Danny makes no eye contact with Mr. Grace and it becomes increasingly obvious. He holds a folded six page letter in his hand, which is rolled tightly and seems invisible in the language phrases that Mr. Grace has been teaching the students. Hey, Danny, come on in. She'll kick me out the door. She'll squish my muncher. Mahara. Hey, Mr. G. Gonna sit out to Danny Mahara. I'll make a mouth. I'll go staphane. You'll make a mouth. That was great, Danny boy. Wow, you're really getting the hang of it. So, what's going on? Are you hungry? There are snacks in the fridge. No, I'm fine. Sir Irish is getting stronger by the week. I mean, I know it's only a few phrases, but it's exciting. I mean, we can't have Danny Boyle Brady not speaking a little bit of the Kaelic language of his ancestors. Worked on it all summer. It kept me focused. Distracted from the colossal shit show that is my life. What did Yates say? That's funny. I really hope you study a semester in Galway like we talked about. Mr. Grace reaches for the leather bound journal that he has been wanting to give Danny. His desire to give this to Danny is met with Danny's desire to give Mr. Grace a piece of his writing. Galway, huh? Yeah, the idea of college, never mind seeing Ireland seems a million miles away. Nonsense. Oh, I'm glad you stopped by. I mean to are you okay? You look thin. I'm fine. Yeah? You sure? Sure. So I wanted to give you this and I didn't want to do it in English class or Celtic club. When I was in high school, I had a teacher, Mary Cronin who took a special interest in me. She gave me a journal. She said it was to shut me up. I think that was true as much as she believed in any talent I had, but she and I are still friends and I'm still writing and well, you had mentioned you had felt the urge to write more and more and I suspect there may be a writer in you because you certainly have the talent Danny. Mr. Grace hands him an expensive leather bound journal with the letter D embossed on it. Every writer needs a place to put his thoughts and ideas and gripes and grousings, grievances, complaints, blusterings, bombasts, rants, ravings and rages, et cetera. Thank you, Mr. G. You didn't have to do this. Sure, I did have to. I believe in you kiddo. You know, I really wanted to. Sorry. Oh, I just go ahead. I'm a teacher. I talk too much besides I'm always more interested in hearing what you have to say. You are. Oh, sure. Yeah, you are. That's true. You've always been interested in hearing me blather. But. What did you want to tell me? Just that. Well, I don't have children of my own, you know, and I've taught for 20 years and. And I never, well, if I have any regrets and I try not to have them, it would be not having a child of my own, but. I really feel blessed to have you in my life. That's all. Hence the quote from Fitzgerald's this side of this page. Read it. You're my. You're my month, senior Darcy. Thank you. What a famerie never had Darcy. Never had Darcy. That's the whole. I'm sorry. It's beautiful. You start writing in it. Yeah, I don't know about that anymore. Danny, you're gifted. I've read your work for three years. Believe me when I say you have true talent and you have to keep writing. I can't. I can't. I'm tired. I have no energy. I have no desire, nothing to say. I'm just so tired. I don't care anymore. Don't care about what? Anything. Everything. I can't. I just... You know, remember we read The Glass Menagerie freshman year? I don't want to be like Tom in that play. I don't want to leave them behind. I can't bear the idea of abandoning them. But at the same time, Mr. G, it's too much. I can't take care of them. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to support and care for all of them? My sister, her CP, it's never getting better. I mean, it's not like she will ever get better. There's no hope for that. We all delude ourselves and my mom goes broke paying for physical therapists and occupational therapists and therapists, therapists. And then my mom, she never got over. My dad leaving us fucking twice. I thought your father passed away before ninth grade. Yeah, he did. Right after he walked out on us for the last four years, I thought he was on a business trip, but my mom just let it slip that he left us. He left her for his cardiologist, talking about fucking irony. He drops dead of a heart attack in front of the woman who's supposed to be an expert in the organ that failed him. Pretty fucking heartless to do that to us. And I wish I could unhear that little bit of information. Yeah, yeah, she unloaded that bit of reconnaissance last month when she was having a meltdown. One of the few times she has an ketonic, which of course she is most of the time. So I drive my brother to his life skills classes. I take my sister to therapy. I cook dinner. I mean, I try, I really try. I know you do. I try, but I'm so, I can't fucking, I can't do this anymore. Danny, what's wrong? I hate this place. Can't wait to get out of here. School is so stupid. Such a waste of time turning us in a little automaton's program like robots. Like, do you know the pre-industrial education system was much more about experiential learning? The Greeks would walk and talk and have conversations to facilitate learning. The peripatetic school dates all the way back to 350 BC when Aristotle began teaching in the Lyceum. They did philosophical and scientific inquiries while walking around and asking questions. It wasn't until the 1800s that education became a fucking factory model, literally making kids ready to become a fucking cog on the wheel and work a factory job. Like that was the greatest aspiration for you to have. And this is where we are in 2010. We still make kids come to school at 7.45 in the fucking morning. When we all know they should be sleeping, but then we change the start time. No, no, we drag them out of bed at 6 a.m. and we still sit them in these crab classrooms and little-ass desks in these small-ass chairs. Jesus, the teacher still has this in rows, just like a fucking factory. In the same class, every day, at the same time. It's routine, routine boredom, boredom. Good way to kill your level of learning. Good, the perfect way to murder the mind, to slaughter the soul. I mean, interest dead, enthusiasm dead, desire dead. Hello, anyone listening? Mr. Grace understands all in this moment and gently goes over to Danny and sits next to them. Their eyes don't meet quite yet. I am, I'm listening to you, Danny. No, no one listens, no one ever listens. Danny, I am here and I'm not going anywhere. Not until you look at me. I can't. What? You can't what? Look at you. Why? I can't, I don't wanna. It's okay, you can. I lied. I lied. I haven't been writing. Here. Danny hands Mr. Grace the letter. It's a three page suicide note. Mr. Grace's eyes grow large and he very quickly understands what's happening. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown you that. I've been working on it for the last few weeks. I don't even see any color anymore. Everything is gray or black, like fog or shit. And it's like my head is filled with cement and I can't think or feel. I can't feel anything. I'm so, I'm so fucking numb, but it hurts too. And I just wanna die. Mr. G, I wanna die. Every day, all I think about is ending it. It's all I think about. I just wanna stop. It's like some twisted fucking Mario around. All I wanna do is get off and sleep. Remember freshman year when I had that injury on the football field? It was horrible. I remember lying on the field. I couldn't feel anything. My arms, my toes. I was so worried about you, but what's that? Nothing, paint. I know, I know, I know, you came to see me. You were the only one. You really cared about me. Don't think I forgot. And you brought me a pillow in the shape of a football. I love that football pillow. I still have it somewhere, but as I was lying there, I remember thinking, I thought, oh shit, this is it. I am fucked. I'll never walk again, never be able to do all the things I love, like hike and climb and swim and ski. I wanted so badly to live, to be alive. Why can't I feel that anymore? Look at me. Danny, look at me. I can't because you know me. I know you know me. And if I look at you, I can't. I can't what? Keep lying. Mr. Grace has noticed that there are red spots on the gauze of Danny's wrist area of his shirt sleeve. The red dots on the sleeve become more visible as if they're leaking. Danny, today the lying stops. You don't need to lie. OK, from now on, you tell me everything, OK? You're safe. You're safe with me, but I need you to look at me. Look me in the eyes. I'm so fucking scared that if I start, I won't be able to stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. I'm going to do it every second of every day. It's like some psychotic mirror to go around and I want it to stop. I can't make it stop. I want it to stop. Listen to me. I'm going to get you help. You're going to trust me, OK? You have to trust me, Danny. We're going to leave here. We're going to see a doctor. We're going to get you a therapist. We're going to find medicine to help you through this. No, I don't want to be some fucking zombie on meds. Danny, that is not going to happen. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, OK? You trust me, right? Danny, do you trust me? Mr. Grace gently and subtly examines Danny's bloody sleeve. Yes. But you need to know that a lot of people love you. And ending your life is not an option, OK? You are so strong, Danny. You inspire me. The death of your father, the struggles with your brother's issues, your sister taking care of your mom. You're an amazing son, a phenomenal brother, a spectacular human being. And I am so honored to have taught you and be your friend. My God, you are a champion. You have been a rock these last three years, and it's OK to feel weak. It's OK to want a break. It's OK to need help, Danny. You are loved and needed. And taking yourself out of this crazy fucked up ride we call life is not an option because we all love you and need you. OK? OK? So many people love you. I love you. Danny flies into Mr. Grace's arms and hugs him for dear life. I'm not going to let you out of my sight. And it's all going to be OK. I'm not. I'm going to help you through this. You understand me, Danny boy? The headmaster appears in the doorway. She opens the door. Oh, great. Step away. Mr. Grace, what is the meaning of this? What is the meaning of this? As the two men separate, Danny picks up the gifted journal off the desk with his bloodied hand. And Mr. Grace is now plunging the suicide note in his hand. Danny looks at the headmaster, his red tear-streaked face utterly confused and terrified. Lights dim to blackout. Epilogue in darkness. Lights slowly reveal Danny's face. Dear Danny boy, teaching you these last few years has made me a better teacher and a better person. With your curiosity and passion, you single-handedly revived my own passion for the noble profession when it started to wane 17 years in. You are a remarkable human being. And I thank God you came into my life. This quote by Fitzgerald sums up how I feel about our friendship. I have had dreams sometimes, and I'm going to tell you one of them. I've enjoyed imagining that you were my son, that perhaps when I was young, I went into a state of coma and begat you. And when I came to, had no recollection of it. It's the paternal instinct. Sometimes I think that the explanation of our deep resemblance is some common Celtic ancestor. Curiously alike we are. Curiously unlike too. When lightning strikes one of us, it strikes us both. I want, I need to thank you, Mr. Grace, for being there. When I kid me, la bojas, la munchor, majara, 100,000 thanks to you, my teacher, my friend. Lights fade to black. Curtain. Wow, you guys. Thank you so much. Thank you to everybody who is still watching. I want to thank Kat, Catherine Anteller, my co-producer, and Katora Brown. And thank the playwrights of Rounds by Johnny G. Lloyd, which is directed by Kenan Tyler Oliphant and feature Torian Brackett, Brendan George, Malik Reed, Jason Alexander Wilkes. The Wind cries Mary by A. A. Brenner, which was directed by Colm Summers and drama turged by May Truhaft Ali. And that featured Munira Batul, Morgan Dean, Carrie Young, and Antoinette LeVeccia. And The Darker Side of Paradise by Franco da Alessandro, directed by Catherine Anteller and featuring Amy Bitchak, Zachary Galt, and David Leaper. Thank you so much and good night.