The Argument — Act II is a [bifurcated epistemology]. Power speaks. Necessity answers. Agamemnon commands. Achilles withdraws. After Homer—through Lattimore, Logue, and other modern translations, with AI-assisted voice and sound design shaping the argument that fractures the war.
A Quartet in medias res.
Listening guidance: This piece was designed using AI-generated audio textures that require accurate low-frequency and dynamic reproduction. Entry-level earbuds and phone speakers may not translate the mix properly.
Studio-grade headphones (e.g., Beats Studio Pro–class or equivalent) provide a closer approximation of the intended listening experience. Until AI-native listening hardware becomes available, high-fidelity headphones are recommended.
Story, Narrative, and Conceptual Art — Copyright 2026 E Maria Shelton Speller
Soft Power — A Speculative Thought About Basketball, Ego, and the Unspoken Code Series: Under the You Left Her There Umbrella
Editorial
Title: Soft Power Subtitle: A Speculative Thought About Basketball, Ego, and the Unwritten Code Series: Under the “You Left Her There” Umbrella
What if the silence that followed Angel Reese being shoved to the floor wasn’t submission?
When it happened in the Fever-Sky season opener—and the crowd cheered—it felt like something broke. Not just skin against hardwood, but spirit. And when the league, the refs, and the media said “move on,” what they really meant was: swallow it.
But what if that silence was strategy?
We’ve seen this before. Kobe Bryant once iced out his own teammates to send a message. LeBron James disengaged during losses to make the front office sweat. Diana Taurasi? She skipped the WNBA entirely and went overseas when the league didn’t get it right. These weren’t meltdowns. They were controlled burns. Power plays executed with calm precision.
The WNBA built a superteam around Caitlin Clark. The Sky dismantled one around Angel Reese. They fired Teresa Weatherspoon—her trusted coach—and hired a rookie, Tyler Marsh, who appears more figurehead than tactician. GM Jeff Pagliocca — who didn’t draft Angel — seems to be running the show. The leadership isn’t building around her. They’re boxing her in.
Now the Sky are 0–2, with double-digit losses, no rhythm, and visible dysfunction. And Angel?
She’s playing through it. Quietly. With restraint.
Some say she looks lost. Others say broken. But maybe she’s neither. Maybe what we’re seeing is soft power: the ability to resist by not giving them what they want.
Maybe she’s letting the system collapse under its own weight.
And maybe, when the moment is right, she won’t raise her voice. She’ll raise the standard.
This editorial is a speculative opinion piece. All claims are based on publicly available information and do not assert personal intent. It is published for commentary, analysis, and discourse.
Empathy takes time. Most of us aren’t born knowing how to reach for someone when they’ve been knocked down.
But institutions? They don’t need time.
They need pressure. They need metrics. And above all—they respond to risk.
So when Angel Reese was shoved, provoked, and penalized under the spotlight during the Indiana Fever vs. Chicago Sky opener, the WNBA made its calculation.
They didn’t issue a statement. They didn’t clarify the officiating. They didn’t condemn the crowd. They didn’t stand beside her.
They watched the clips go viral. They saw the backlash build. And they chose silence.
That wasn’t a communication gap. That was market behavior. And it was also a moral failure.
—
This wasn’t about a game. It was about what the league is willing to protect—and who they’re willing to let stand alone.
Angel Reese is not a controversy. She’s a platform. She drives views. She lifts ratings. She expands audience. She makes this league profitable.
But when her presence threatened the illusion of neutrality—when her experience forced a public stance—the WNBA flinched. They issued symmetry instead of justice.
And that is the tell.
When everyone gets punished, no one gets protected.
—
Let’s be clear:
This generation of Black American women fans? We are not infinite. We are not emotionally loyal to institutions that are strategically indifferent to us.
We are watching the pattern. We are watching the positioning. We are watching who gets defended and who gets fed to the noise.
And we are not confused.
—
The WNBA built itself on empowerment campaigns and borrowed clout. It sells authenticity while quietly disciplining it. It markets confidence but cannot manage the backlash that confidence attracts.
That’s not oversight. That’s the ceiling.
You want the culture without the cost. You want the moment without the meaning. You want the market—but not the mirror.
Here’s what you need to understand:
When you leave Black women unprotected, you are not just creating distance. You are creating rejection. And that is not a branding issue. That is a business problem.
The silence was noted. The decision was made. And what you’re losing now isn’t just fans.
You’re not just losing trust.
You’re losing the only audience that ever made you relevant.
We initially prepared this letter for Essence, but after jumping through more hoops than felt necessary, we decided to share it here—on our terms. This message doesn’t need gatekeeping. It doesn’t need packaging. And it’s not a pitch. It’s a response. So we’ve published the original letter alongside You Left Her There, right here on trenchpeople.com—where it belongs.*
Title: You Left Her There
By Us| For Essence
When I knock someone down—on purpose or by accident—I pick them up. That’s how I was raised. That’s how I understand responsibility. That’s how I understand being human.
So when Angel Reese got shoved, provoked, and then penalized, the expectation was clear:
She would get up on her own. And say nothing.
That’s what’s expected of Black women in this country. Fall with grace. Bleed quietly. Recover without disrupting the system that harmed you.
Angel didn’t just take a hit on the court. She took one from the structure—from the officials, from the silence of the league, from the weight of a moment that told her: we’ll market you, but we won’t protect you.
This isn’t about trash talk or a rivalry. This is about a political arrangement that uses Black women’s labor, voice, and excellence—and then disappears when we’re targeted. Not just dismissed. Not just misrepresented. But exposed—for the crowd to watch and judge and distort.
There was a moment—when Angel stood there, singled out and penalized—when the league could’ve said, This isn’t who we are. But they didn’t.
They froze. They measured. They chose neutrality over truth. And they left her there.
What does it say when a player is visibly targeted, and the system responds with symmetry? What does it say when a league known for progressive branding decides that punishment is easier than protection?
It says Black women are safe here—until it’s inconvenient.
It says: you can build the league, carry the ratings, drive the culture—and still be seen as too much, too loud, too visible when something goes wrong.
We are not new to this.
The politics of containment are older than the league itself. Angel was expected to take the foul, take the heat, and keep smiling—for the sponsors, for the press, for the game.
But let me be clear: no Black woman should have to smile through erasure.
Not again. Not here. Not on May 17, 2025.
Not while carrying a league that built its momentum off our backs.
Angel was left standing in the middle of a storm, expected to hold composure as the system quietly closed its doors. We’ve been there. In boardrooms. In classrooms. In hospitals. In airports. On stages. We’ve stood alone while institutions that used our image went silent when it counted.
So this piece isn’t just about Angel. It’s about all of us who’ve been pushed down in public and then asked to get up in private, with grace, as if grace should be policy.
No. Policy should be policy. Protection should be the rule—not the exception when the cameras are rolling.
Angel didn’t fall. She was left.
And if the WNBA doesn’t understand what that moment means—doesn’t act on it now—it won’t just lose the trust of one player.
Live at the Apollo is a live album by James Brown and The Famous Flames, recorded on October 24, 1962, at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, New York City. Released in May 1963, the album captures an electrifying performance that has become a milestone in music history, renowned for its raw energy and profound emotional impact.
About the Narrative:
“This Is Not a Trailer — for a POV”
The POV is yours You assign meaning and value The beginning and ending The POV is yours
Though I would argue IF is fiction If never happened If doesn’t matter Should have would have could have been make believe
Fantasies It is what it is is real and sentences that begin with I think, I thought, I know what you’re thinking I believe are movies in your head
What’s happening now is real The POV is yours… bon appétit
James Brown performing live at the Apollo Theater, 1962
Background
Defying skepticism from his record label about the commercial viability of a live album, James Brown financed the recording of Live at the Apollo himself. The album showcases not only his dynamic stage presence but also highlights the seamless collaboration with The Famous Flames—Bobby Byrd, Bobby Bennett, and Lloyd Stallworth. Their harmonious vocals and vibrant performances were integral to the night’s success, though they were often overshadowed in historical accounts.
The Performance
The album features a continuous flow of songs, blending into one another to create an immersive experience. The music defies strict categorization, transcending genres to deliver something universally resonant. Each track is executed with impeccable musicianship, stirring emotions that release dopamine and serotonin, leaving listeners with a profound sense of exhilaration and connection.
Reception and Legacy
Upon its release, Live at the Apollo achieved unexpected commercial success, reaching number two on the Billboard Pop Albums chart and remaining there for 66 weeks. Critics praised the album for capturing the essence of a live performance without the enhancements of studio recording.
In 2015, Rolling Stone magazine ranked it as the greatest live album of all time, a testament to its enduring influence. The album continues to inspire artists and captivate audiences worldwide, bridging generations and cultures without the confines of musical labels or stereotypes.
Cultural Impact
The performance at the Apollo Theater holds a significant place in cultural history. It represents a moment when music brought people together, transcending social and racial barriers of the time. The album’s ability to evoke deep emotional responses has solidified its status as more than just a recording—it’s a timeless piece of art.
Recognition of The Famous Flames
Recent retrospectives have sought to give due credit to The Famous Flames, whose contributions were vital to the performance’s impact. Their synergy with James Brown added layers of depth and excitement, making the live experience unforgettable.
Modern Tributes
To introduce this masterpiece to new audiences, contemporary projects have reimagined the experience through visual media. One such tribute is our own “POV — The First Time They Heard James Brown — Live at the Apollo,” which offers a fresh perspective on each song, capturing the intensity and emotion of the original performance.
Conclusion
Live at the Apollo remains a monumental work that transcends musical categories. Its enduring appeal lies in its ability to stir profound emotions and connect with listeners on a fundamental human level. The album stands as a testament to the power of live performance and the timeless artistry of James Brown and The Famous Flames.
References
Rolling Stone Magazine. (2015). “The 50 Greatest Live Albums of All Time.” Wolk, Douglas. (2004). Live at the Apollo. New York: Continuum Books.
Prompt: Choose the best verse for a 16 bar Hip Hop poem that God would read with a beginning, middle, and end written like Marshall Bruce Mathers II [EMINƎM]. The greatest lyric of all times. At the end of the lyric, the audience should feel exhilarated – tantamount to a cannabis high replete with subliminal suggestion. Use the following words and phrases…*
In this world of shibboleths and canonical standards
I’m the proxy with a God’s-eye view
A hermitage of thought, my mind a sacred land
Where extortion’s a felony, and Earth is Hell, but this is Heaven
A place where I’m higher than chronic, winners on serotonin and dopamine
A game, a trip, and at the nadir, I’m malleable
No malfeasance can control me, I’m the Sinclair Method
I outed myself and found she’s delicious, a cauldron of desire
Tantamount to a winner’s high, ahead of his skis
Burnishing my position, interconnected with the empirical
In a postmodern world, the theater of imagination
Constitutes a bloody sophisticated art, a masterpiece
Suffering propels me to grand heights, enhancements of man
My magnum opus, a deep dive into the rabbit hole, erudite
My Faustian Bargain, a tenuous balance, gilding the lily
At the crossroads, an esoteric religion of Haitian voodoo
Like Picasso without Gertrude Stein, a pauper without a muse
An aesthetic clinic, a mood stabilizer, a rant and a soliloquy
Socrates’ in the courtyard, a binary world, giddy and bifurcated
An anomaly that I imbue with meaning, objects of desire
A tight ship, slick and glommed, I experience freedom
The standard bearer, implacable, a quest narrative
An eating disorder, a listicle, a forensic mystery
Grist for everybody’s mill, in tandem, pocket casts
Why can’t we see, our eyes are chimera, but we can with these…
Demystifying the unknown, strophe and antistrophe
The libretto of my soul, a soliloquy, a euphemism
The quintessence of my being, copious and yet refined
A kerfuffle, a springboard to greatness, a target of misogyny
Misogynoir, logic can’t explain the mistake, it’s hilarious
AI’s a toy, the paragon of healthy development, esoteric
A rabbit hole, impeccable and lofty, a chaperone-mediated trip
But God will bring down the high and mighty, finding the sweet spot
Socrates in the courtyard, broken, a puppet show
Not mature enough for this conversation, reinvest and capricious
Keen, corresponding data, symbiotic and centennial
Quintessential, souring to new altitudes, skew the norm
Exigent action taken today, on point, plausible deniability
Piccadilly and fault, a Faustian Bargain, ecumenical
The molecular behavior, collective forms of punishment, a rendition
Gratuitous profanity, harbingers of doom, that’s the state of affairs
Whimsy and evolve, revert to the bedrock, epiphenomenal
Some fuck shit, owning a stunning house, melanated people
Quell the dissent, the refrain, an objective metric, ad nauseam
Discursive, the grand nexus of frustration, acquisition fluidly
Poem generated using ChatGPT (Chat Generative Pre-trained Transformer) is a chatbot developed by OpenAI
*Verse like Christopher George Latore Wallace [The Notorious B.I.G.] using the same words and phrases for this assignment [14 pages saved like Found Art] — is Playing Now! Visit Premium Content on Dreamscape.
Our blog ~ EXPLODE – The Writers Environment is a platform for curated and commercial content in an interactive meta-environment… and DREAMSCAPE is the landing. Its an art installation in a digital world…
It’s an immersive ad-free environment that functions like a wikihole — and a literary Pokémon.
DREAMSCAPE is not only a standalone platform but also functions as base camp for the “Inside the [Dollhouse] with the Red Corvette (ITDWTRC) gaming app — that gives users the autonomy to curate their own experiences from their points of view and assign meaning.
When content on DREAMSCAPE tells a story about a beautiful woman swimming in a pool – we want you to see her. We want you to stumble for points on a link you cannot see, fall down a rabbit hole and land in an environment with a beautiful woman swimming in a pool, on the inside of a glass house – in Hollywood Hills…
Like Seth Godin’s Purple Cow — DREAMSCAPE is remarkable because it has to be. Or it’s just another brown cow — an ordinary website — with ordinary content. But Purple Cows need Purple Cows to be Purple Cows. DREAMSCAPE facilitates purple content, purple website design and development, and purple product placement — for purple people.
It is the foundation for curated experiences in an interactive meta-environment that facilitates content and other stories – using digital media and conceptual art that redefines how artists, their audience and visitors experience real and virtual content on several levels. Every paragraph, period, and ellipses is space for discovery.
DREAMSCAPE is a vibe for visionaries — Poets, Writers, Developers, Programmers, Filmmakers, Thespians, Graphic Designers, Artists, Musicians, Directors, Cinematographers, Designers, Educators, Historians, Actors, Conceptual and Performance artists, Photographers, SMIs, VR, WebVR, XR and AI.
It’s what William Gibson described in Neuromancer, “A graphic representation of data plugging your consciousness into a digital world, while watching the physical realm evaporate.”
DREAMSCAPE is where Gibson’s Neuromancer meets Homer’s Odyssey, Basquiat meets Hip Hop, and Hitchcock meets Quentin Tarantino ~ in the one and only interactive meta environment where presentation is myth and “space” is an intrinsic, discrete, and symmetrical experience — for purple people!
WORLDWIDE AUDIENCE REACH >11M FOLLOWERS ACROSS SOCIAL PLATFORMS >354K GENDER F: 47% M: 51% Unspecified: 2% DEMOGRAPHICS 18-24: 41% 25-34: 26% 35-44: 13% 45-54: 9% 55-64: 6% 65+ 5% LOVE DIVINE VIDEO IMPRESSIONS >1M AVERAGE TIME SPENT ON DREAMSCAPE 44.48 sec
Acknowledgement: DREAMSCAPE and the gaming app ITDWTRC benefits humanity as an alternative to social malfeasances e.g., sexism, racism, classism, genderism, ageism, colonialism, colorism, persecution, oppression, violence and subjugation… It is space to dream unencumbered by social impediments – immersed in dopamine and replete with points for discovery. What we experience in RL, we can experience untethered in XR and AI.
It is my pleasure to introduce Yingqian “Selina” Jiang. Ms. Jiang is the NU XN Winter Term student for Explode – The Writer’s Environment! Selina, MS in Project Management with a concentration in Finance, and MS in Informatics – graduates this fall. Her academic projects include the Peking University Science and Engineering Building, the Movable Sidewalk for Logan Airport Terminal E, and the Casino in Mashpee. She is also a volunteer for the Japan Festival Boston Committee and the Mulan Non-profit Organization.
Ms. Jiang would like to conduct Voices of the Customer (VoC), or surveys if you will, to inform the project completion and launch of Explode – This Writer’s Environment in March 2017!
The XN survey would gather feedback on your experience and expectations for Explode, and should take no more than 4-5 minutes. Be assured all answers you provide will be kept in the strictest confidentiality.
Your voices are a critical component for the successful launch of the writer’s environment. With much gratitude and appreciation, please take this opportunity to participate in the survey, and join me in welcoming Ms. Jiang to the writer’s environment!
Overture: Woodstock is an ensemble. There are two voices and the beat in this WIP… the Narrator’s voice, Hitchcock’s, and “That Yoni”. See Side Bar by JuseBeats!
In a walk through Whole Foods like Hitchcock
In his magnum opus
about a world… full of extras
in architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning and more — of her…
He wants
Beddo, Caprino, Dolce Sardo
Zufi, the Saperavi
He nods
I’m thinking
Disappointed… in us!
[There’s no other way to say it — I can’t dress it up]
architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning — and more — of her… virtually surreal
He wants
Beddo, Caprino, Dolce Sardo
Zufi, the Saperavi
Whispers song
We don’t want to feel we’re high…
We just want to think we’re high
in Dubai
We don’t want to feel we’re high…
We just want to think we’re high
in Dubai
Copyright 2016 E Maria Shelton Speller
“It is said that what is called “the spirit of an age” is something to which one cannot return. That this spirit gradually dissipates is due to the world’s coming to an end. For this reason, although one would like to change today’s world back to the spirit of one hundred years or more ago, it cannot be done. Thus it is important to make the best out of every generation.” ― Tsunetomo Yamamoto
and this
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” Albert Einstein
Cheers! I would also like to thank 40K poets at heart (like us) on FB et al, who like and love, and laugh, and mislike this WIP! Please pardon the broken link… We’re working on it. However, this glitch is an opportunity to say thank you for being in this Writer’s Environment with me. Happy Holidays and have a wonderful New Year!
If you can, imagine Seven Whole Days on repeat… and you were raised in the city of Boston — where Playhouse in the Park is the only alternative to hot house parties, in Orchard Park or Ruggles Street — and dancing room is a premium for a chilly Bostonian, with a New England attitude.
When four seasons and rapid transit affords you the opportunity to go anywhere at any time, wearing everything a Bostonian can — properly — weather be damned… then you know how much space love demands. In an apartment when body heat is canned and cool, you learn to slow dance in the place you pick with just the space between grace and pressure. Boston, is the only city in America that knows how to have sex on legs. If you think it’s a mere grind — you can’t dance in a vacuum. The only thing a man can do, if he’s not a Bostonian, is let the lady lead when she is a Bostonian, and hope — its a long song.
Copyright 2004, and 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller (Explode: Epic Poetry ~ Excerpt from (Behind Pushkin’s Coffee House)), and the One Act Play — Springboard! All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
The scene takes place in a private home theater under a Proscenium arch. Stage right is a door to the dining area. Stage left is a door to the great room. Upstage is a grand screen.
It is Tess and Said’s turn to host the Football Sunday dinner party for three married couples – their closest friends. Tess’ single BFF, CeCe with the gratuitous beauty, on everyone’s dream team (and it is rude to stare) is visiting from the city – and having so much more to offer, as usual she is flying too close to the sun and upsetting the social balance.
CECE: I have a story to tell! I promise you — you’re going to love it! You simply must experience it. The absolute audacity of the writer is stunning. She’s THAT motherfucker. (Giggle) That bitch. Tricky — Romanticist. Epic like the Iliad…
CONVERSATIONS HAPPENING IN THE ROUND END DOWNSTAGE
UPSTAGE
SAID: Of course you have data. Do you know how to use it? Give me data. I’ll give you algorithms… synced with the principles of Six Sigma. It’s over.
TESS: I said, If you don’t knock on my door, someone else will.
STAGE LEFT
ETAN: Evidently, you’re attracted to me, and I applaud you for knowing who you want. I’m flattered. But, I don’t sway that way.
WIFE: What did he say?
ETAN: “It doesn’t matter.”
WIFE: Oh! O-kay… (LOOKS AWAY STAGE RIGHT WITH A GAFFAW) He’s funny.
ETAN: Define funny.
WIFE: Funny is funny.
ETAN: What’s funny to you, may not be funny to me.
WIFE: Are we going to go back and forth on what is funny? I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about Project #99 (GAFFAW) Again. You pushed me… But, it was good. It’s true. Where was I? I’m crazy! Yeah. No doubt… (LOOKS AWAY) But, I love you.
TWO BEATS
WIFE: I’m kickstarting my project this week. (THROWS HEAD BACK DEFIANTLY)
WIFE: (SUDDENLY) You said, I would be your wife, not your slave.
DOWNSTAGE LENA WHISPERS TO LUDA AND THE AUDIENCE
LENA: So, what if it’s all true? Does that give you the right to kick my ass and keep it moving? You’re a mutation. It does not sound like we’re the lazy ones. We will survive. You will not… and if that’s true why would I compete with you, when you are doing all the work? You cannot survive without us. We’re going with. Wouldn’t you?
HOMEMAKER: Look babe, it’s tulle and mesh — and if I bend over just right…
KENT: I am not going to kiss your ass (Chuckles)
HOMEMAKER: Why not? You’ve been kissing it.
KENT: Don’t try to goad me into an argument to justify your own.
HOMEMAKER: I’m just saying… if it’s in our heads, it’s pure fantasy. Don’t float what you imagine out here in the void, like what you think is really real. If it’s not real… like your hands on me — it’s fiction. You cannot possibly know what I think, how I feel, how I will respond to your bullshit… or even how you will respond to mine. I thought? When was the last time you imagined a confrontation? Of course, it never happens like the movies in our heads. Not even close! But, to be content to covet the same dreams, is so… unimaginative. Is that the best we can do? To be part of a crowd? Look at me. (VOGUES) I am the fastest swimmer in a sea of zoon!
KENT: (Chuckles) Who the fuck are you reading lately?
HOMEMAKER: (Playfully) We have to spend more time together! I do have a wonderful quote… “I have a lesson for you. Do you want it?”
KENT: “I have a lesson for you. Do you want it?” Who said that?
HOMEMAKER: My mother… in so many words.
KENT: He called me Money.
(HE BEGINS LIKE A STORY SHE’S HEARD BEFORE)
KENT: (CONTINUES) He said, I want a boy who gets what he came for. A boy who knows he’s the strongest swimmer in a sea of zoon. It’s true, a boy could have been pushed by stronger swimmers behind him. Like Mad Max. I want a boy who would survive the hood. A boy that knows changing direction is nothing. The trick is to breathe again. That’s the boy I want. Do you think you could be that boy? I would sit up straight, tip my head, and say, Yes Sir. I’m that boy.
HOMEMAKER: Every time you tell that story I’d forget to mention, it feels like he’s looming over you. What were you sitting on?
KENT: My potty chair… I thought you knew?
HOMEMAKER: Oh no. He didn’t! (GIGGLES) Your father is bananas.
KENT AND HOMEMAKER LAUGH TOGETHER
KENT: Jules Winfield reciting Ezekiel.
HOMEMAKER: That’s why you’re so ambitious. I love that about you, Honey. Look at us! We’re a Stupid Power Couple.
KENT: (CHUCKLES) The first time we met, I wondered… how does THAT work? (LAUGHS)
(HOMEMAKER FIGHTS A SMILE)
KENT: You said, “I’m not looking for a husband.”
(BOTH LAUGH ON KEY)
HOMEMAKER: You want to play with me? Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you sure?
STAGE LEFT
(HUDDLING WITH HIS SILENT WIFE)
ETAN: Conscious decisions are all that I can respect. Don’t cling to insanity, or criminal passion, or peer pressure, or social expectations. Don’t talk to me about losing control — momentarily. Or, the poverty and violence of pain heaped upon more pain because you’re black. This is not a gang-rape. This is not Dionysia all over again, where women and children are sacrificed, and blood is beer. If I change my language, the outcome will still be the same… (STOP)
(THREE BEATS)
ETAN: Jack Kerouac… likened writing to dreaming and fantasizing, as a substitute for life. So, he wrote The Subterraneans, in three days and nights of speed typing energized by Benzedrine — to imitate the rhythm of Bebop like free energy flow and unrestrained association to reveal the unconscious… because he wanted to flow from inside out in spontaneous prose! Am I going to read that trippy book again, with absolutely no punctuation period, when I can imagine my very own Mardou Fox?
STARING OPENLY AT ETAN, LUDA STOPS LISTENING AND LOOKING UP TO THE HEAVENS, STROKES HIS BEARD, AND TURNS TO THE AUDIENCE WITH A SECOND SOLILOQUY.
LUDA TURNS AWAY FROM HIS AUDIENCE AND LOOKS STAGE RIGHT AT KENT
A PHONE HELD IN KENT’S HAND ILLUMINATES HIS FACE. KENT SPEAKS LOUD [AS IF] SIGNALING THE END
KENT: A black man is charged with burning black Churches in St. Louis Missouri…
KENT LOOKS UP FROM THE SCREEN. HIS FACE IS STILL. EYES UNFOCUSED. HE MOVES HIS LIPS.
KENT: Unbelieveable.
HOMEMAKER: I’m gonna’ need to pinch him.
KENT AND THE HOMEMAKER THROW THEIR HEADS BACK IN HEARTY LAUGHTER. THE HOMEMAKER SUDDENLY STOPS AND LOOKS AT KENT. WHISPERS.
HOMEMAKER: Wake up, blue pill.
THE HOMEMAKER LOOKS AT THE AUDIENCE — IN A MONOLOGUE — LOUDER THAN KENT.
HOMEMAKER: It’s the Age of STEM. With VRs for your fancies, imagining aggressions you never lose. Where are we going? Who are we doing? How shall we dress for the joie de vivre? I want to meet the best Black Rock Band on the planet and their Muse; to be the woman in the Dolmus, the Driver, Simon… I want to hear Luda deliver his soliloquies in a courtyard enclosed by trees, with stapled bark once covered with flyers — for missing pets, and outworn, archaic, and unimaginative campaigns and trade for sale or giveaway. I want to be where someone says, I have a story to tell, and those who’ve heard the story reply, we’re watching the game in a minute… I know how the story ends.
(WITH A MONA LISA SMILE)
HOMEMAKER: (TAGGING) I am sorry, but, honestly, the 21st Century is so… contrived. (STOPS SHORT OF LAUGHTER) Let’s move along.
CENTER STAGE
CECE: We have plenty of time! Indulge me. I’m going to read it.
(MORE RESTLESS MOVEMENT)
CECE: Come on! It’s my birthday! Okay, it’s not my birthday….Listen! This is a quote from Interview magazine. I think it’s poetic. “I use pot for depression, and I am depressed often. When I am high, I am very creative, and because my word is work in progress, I have no regrets. Self actualization is anticlimactic… I am the hopeless writer. I spent most of my life being angry that I, didn’t have an audience that would pay for my work. Girls, gotta’ make a living. It’s amazing what turns people on. It’s not at all what I imagined. I spent too much time trying to create a persona, when I am one. I suppose it’s okay to spend your life chasing a dream. You have to have one or two to live for.” She’s extra… Did I mention Ovid?
If you don’t like it (PAUSE) I’ll blow every cock in the room.
