the Gonzo Road (unfinished- in progress)

The Gonzo Road

A close up on Boy’s face, some whistling wind, his eye lashes and eye brows are frozen

BOY: (overdub narration) Mary Annabel Isabel Wolf.  Further north, and even outside the city leaves have started in on their vibrant change.

shots cut to autumn days and theYoung Man’s movement through environments and daily motion, the film reflects the narration

BOY: That day when autumn releases her first fragrances: dirt and fire and crisp air- that has past; there have been a dozen of those already.  More than the fashionable have unpacked their winter clothes to don scarves and knit hats.  The summer tans have washed off.  There are the weekly masses that cluster around tables of specialty apples and unpasteurized cider.  And today has brought the first biting, fridged reminder of winter- those bone aching rains.  You wish it were 10 degrees colder, that it would be snowing at least.  But it is the first one, and so with a necessary bravery and high morale the Young Man goes out in a shirt, light jacket, toting his antique umbrella, cashmere scarf of course, and a check: a modest sum to most, a bargain for the space, their rent.  The Young Man knows this too, but he has to remind himself as he balances his check book.

Young man walking, side stage he is having a conversation with a friend at work

FRIEND:  You want to come out to the City Tap Room for Happy Hour?

YOUNG MAN: I need to focus on my art.  Anyhow I am broke.  I think I have twenty dollars to my name.

FRIEND: Oh? (laughing) that’s good, the rest is in savings? (clarifying, for himself or for the Young Man)

YOUNG MAN: No, that’s it.

FRIEND: (His friend’s face turns) (turning to the audience:) He’s playing a game?  I’ll have him admit something.  (Turning back, still trying to smile) you won’t touch your emergency funds?

YOUNG MAN: No.  No emergency funds.  In fact we haven’t paid rent in three months so I am actually in the negative.  We have a very forgiving landlord, or he is preparing our eviction.

FRIEND: (frustrated, but still a friend) Ok man, sure.  (to the audience) I can’t understand this, even as forward as the Young Man has been with his description.  To me ‘broke’ is three months rent and bills in savings, to the Young Man ‘broke’ seems to be twenty dollars in hand.

side scene fades, focus returns to the walking Young Man, the cold rain that makes it past the lip of his umbrella to soak through and numb his lower legs and feet.

BOY: The lights are turning to their grays and blues and darks.  What light remains reflects beautifully on glassy roads- for that the walk does not torture him so much, and he does his best not to let this week’s finances plague him too much.  Food stamps have come through and the plumber is a friend so he can hold on payments for a week still.  Also his housemates owe him for bills he has already paid, but they are even less employed than he, so he won’t push them, just post the bills on the wall.  He will have to wait another week or two to buy wood to begin building sets for the play, and he cannot go to the café as he likes to do, not unless he knows the barista and her boss is not hovering.

YOUNG MAN: Forty seven, twenty eight, I think.  That seems right.

He talks to himself.  The door is large, dark hardwood with small touches of ornate trim.  High and centered is a glass pane, behind warm light fills large open wooden floors and tactful marble columns.

BOY: He knocks as though he is shy- softly.  A loud knock would startle the at-home to have them spring to their feet and cause a sudden impulsive rush to the door, this soft one, that slow awakening that someone is calling, gives a moment first to realize that there was in fact a knock, then the slow rise and curious approach to the sound that was little more than scratching.

MARY: (following Boy’s narration)

BOY: She pulls the door open, it was not locked.  The warmth, the warm light, the dry home, her rose flushed face from so much warmth, her soft body in these muted tones and soft fabrics, so much already to this Young Man who expected his landlord, or some neighbor as he wasn’t entirely sure which house was which.

YOUNG MAN: Is this Rob Wolf’s?

MARY: Yes.

YOUNG MAN: Oh.  I have rent for him.  We are trying to catch up.  I just couldn’t remember which house to bring it to.

MARY: But you’ve lived there for years.

YOUNG MAN: Normally my housemate brings the check.  We’re trying to catch up.

MARY: Oh, ok.   I’ll put it on his desk.

YOUNG MAN: Thank you.  Good night.

Young Man stands by the door even after it has closed.  He stands a while longer in shock. 

BOY: He wanted to say much more.  To ask who she was.  This first cold rain and the long walk and how warm her house was and her face, and that she dressed wonderfully, even in her simple night time attire.   How he didn’t expect her to come to the door at all, but that he expected Rob.  That he much preferred her answering.  Had she seen him before?  Has she come to an art show of his?  He has invited Rob before.  Has his housemate spoken to her time and time again and not mentioned that their landlord had a beauty in his house?  It doesn’t matter.  He cannot love her, he is behind on rent.  (Young Man leaves the porch) He will go home and lay defeated strokes of paint on wood, and play minor chords on missing stringed guitars.  This is how Mary is to some boys.  They are defeated before they begin, their hearts laid out and nearly broken before they even know why.  Should they be?  She is not so beautiful.  No, she is.  (Young Man reels with indecision or upset) But she dresses so magnificently you can not tell if it is her magnificent wardrobe or her significant beauty, and you want to believe it is more than that, but you know nothing but that, but you feel as if it is more, but she is so beautiful and so well dressed that you are sure you are seduced by that and that your passion is shallow.  But it is not, there is something much more that you would discover later if you were strong enough to pursue but you always crumble.  If you could secretly watch then you would know, but if let into that world you would crumble invisible or not.

inside now, we begin to watch Mary’s life

BOY: She knows him, he is one of the artists who rents from her father- another one who does not pay rent on time, who her mother and father have a joking bet of when they will catch up.  Her father does not care at all- and her mother has learned to let it go a bit.  Mother understands that it is Father’s philanthropy, though she prefers the sort that they can claim on taxes.  When Mary was younger she came with her parents to an opening at the artist’s house, now that she is not a child she has gone on her own, to openings and parties with her friends.

MARY: (she leaves the check on the stairs for her father then slips back under the blanket by the fire to continue reading studies researching the parallels between meditation and psychotropic drugs.)

BOY: (his face in the wilderness, spoken from the actor in the wind) Mary.

ACT ONE: the happening

Scene opens with shots of the city, of the juxtaposition between the rich, and the homeless, the beautiful and the delapatated.  The beautiful ruins and the hideous examples of modern expensive tasteless architecture.  This montage should resonate both a sense of wealth and aesthetic contrast, but a sense of the multi-faceted dimensions of reality co-existing in the same physical space.  The crackhead and the sorority girl, the young professional and the grease man, the new age type and the Old City NJ crowd, etc….  The scene moves, following the journey of Mary, through her outfits that describe her own eclectic realities: ball gown, work clothes, casual riding, then outfit for the evening.  She is not a full on hipster and her style shows a certain care, but not primary focus or associated importance.  The scene also subtly reveals her attention to more than her bubble, but she does not see everything.  She might move an injured bird or help an old man up.  But there is also the crack head screaming in the alley she passes; there is the homeless woman she gives a coat or blanket, but there is also the short skirted girl weaping by the bridge.

Int: A dimly lit warehouse.  There is commotion of some Happening however the camera is fixed toward one wall of the space.  The framing of the shot, the composition and lighting is dictated by the actual moving events of the scene.  Be it from actors coming on screen and standing in very specific places, or flames and lights changing ‘off-stage’ thus impacting how the characters in-frame appear.  The volume of the back-ground happening also dictates how well the in-frame actors are heard.  Not every bit of dialogue will be heard, sometimes even whispered between the friends.

What’s the vibe?  What’s the vibe?  The side-lines to madness, magnificence.  The characters in the fore ground are taking refuge from themselves, from the insanity of the Happening.  It is Ryan and Andy.  There is the illusion from how the scene is shot that there is nothing happening behind the camera, that this is a staged production, and any illusions to something actually happening is just effects played upon the captured shot.  This represents the same judgements Mary and some of her friends have on Boy.  When the scene ends and the camera pans to the insanity of the Happening and to the look exchanged between Boy and Mary, it is apparent that there is some error in all our perceptions.  To be convincing we need to convince the audience that Mary is right, and also that the scene is staged, then the revelation that the scene was real, then comes the feeling that perhaps Mary has been mistaken.

RYAN: This is amazing! (Looking at Andy)

ANDY: Holy shit!  (Looking at something off screen)

RYAN: Have you been to burning man? (Attention focused on Andy)

ANDY: Holy shit, look at Mary! (Still looking beyond)

RYAN: Yeah.  Is this like burning man? (Glances away and back to Andy)

ANDY: What?  No.  I don’t know, not really. (Glances to Ryan then back to the beyond)  Jesus Mary is beautiful.  You forget sometimes.

RYAN: I don’t.  She is beautiful.  (the lights eminating from the party behind the camera change so that Ryan is illuminated in a monologue-appropriate way) No, she is not so beautiful.  No, she is.  But she dresses so magnificently I can’t tell if it is her magnificent waredrobe or her significant beauty, and I want to believe it is more than that, I feel as if it is more, but she is so beautiful and so well dressed, I am sure that I’ve been seduced by that and that my passion is shallow.  But it is not, there is something much more that I might discover later if I can be strong enough to pursue but I always crumble.  If I could secretly watch then I would know, but if let myself into that world I would crumble invisible or not.  It doesn’t matter.  I can’t love her, I am behind on projects.  I’ll go home and lay defeated strokes of paint on wood, and play minor chords on missing stringed guitars.  This is how Mary is to boys.  They are defeated before they begin, their hearts laid out and nearly broken before they even know why.  Shouldn’t they be? (Light changes back)

ANDY: I am confused.  I thought you came out?


ANDY: Ryan!  Just last week you went on about “giving up the sherade that is heterosexuality!”  Are you gay or did you?- you came out because Jon did!  Ryan!  You can’t just be gay because, because you got the idea to be gay- (flustered) damn it Ryan.


ANDY: Well don’t tell Mary we think she’s beautiful-  or that I do.  It is better for her not to know such things.  She doesn’t really know that she is beautiful, and it is better for a girl to find herself in ways that are not so vain.  She is interesting for that.  See how she moves?  Not worried about posturing or posing, or keeping a pictureque face.

RYAN: (slouching and making a dull and almost ugly face)

ANDY: Your not beautiful anyhow, you should try harder to be vain!

Mary comes over

RYAN: Hi Mary.

ANDY: Hi Mary…

RYAN: Who lives here?

MARY: (Shrugs)

ANDY: No one, Melissa owns it but Boy put this event together.

MARY: Who?

ANDY: Boy.  The guy dressed as the Amazon Green Man.

MARY: Him?  He fucking goes by ‘Boy’?  He creeps me out.

RYAN: Really?  This (referring to the party) is pretty awesome.

MARY: Sure.  No, it really is.  But I have had some weird run ins with him.  He was at the Assembly Ball.

ANDY: Yeah?

MARY: Just kept staring.

ANDY: Mary, you are beautiful.  I mean, guys might stare.

MARY: Thanks Andy (not taking his words seriously or trying her best to take the compliment without owning the meaning).

RYAN: How was the ball?

MARY: It was fine.  The music degenerated to limp Classic Rock covers by midnight.  But it was good to see my extended family.  I always feel weird at that thing.  At least the waitstaff was not entirely black this year.  The class divide felt way too plantation like last year.

RYAN: How was he staring?

MARY: I don’t know.  Just always looking at me or finding places that he thought were inconspicuous to sit so I was in his line of sight.  Imaging that I would not notice him staring in the reflections of mirrors or windows.

Sasha enters soaking wet with a crown of candles- everyone acknowledges her, she begin picking leaves out of her hair and wringing out her clothes.

ANDY: You can’t expect boys not to check you out.

MARY: It isn’t the staring so much, though that is incessant.  I mean I would like the attention like anyone else but he is weird.  It is his posturing.  He indulges so heavily in the blue blood role, then pretends like he is homeless.

RYAN: Well I think he is homeless.

ANDY: Bullshit.

MARY: I did see him bathing in the park.

ANDY: Bullshit.

MARY: No, I did.  But I don’t think he’s homeless.

SASHA: Wait wait, what are you talking about?  Who did you see naked?

ANDY: Boy.

SASHA: That guy?  Really?  Well?

MARY: I don’t know, my Dad and I saw-

RYAN: Wait wait, tell it like a story.  Put me in the moment.

MARY: What?

ANDY: Shut up dude (to Ryan).

RYAN: Seriously, this sounds amazing.

MARY: Traumatizing.

SASHA: Alright alright.  Lets hear it Mary.

MARY: Ok.  Uh. It was an early and crisp morning with an early spring feel- shit Ryan.  I can’t do that!

RYAN: Try.

ANDY: (laughing) what the fuck Ryan?

MARY: It was like early spring, but it was sometime in June already.  My Dad had been getting after me to spend more time together and as I hate the Society and he is so antsy in café’s I suggested that we begin riding again.

ANDY: Are you boarding at the farm?

MARY: No, no, there is a relatively affordable stable in the Wissahickon where where you can buy into a share of a horse.  If you choose odd hours you can get a lot of riding in.  I am trying to work out a work-trade.  But I don’t want to take that opportunity from lower income riders either.

ANDY: I didn’t know your Dad rode.

MARY: He was something of a country gentleman in his hay-day.

RYAN: Were you in chaps?  With the velvet riding cap and boots?

MARY: No Ryan.  Jeans. (short)

SASHA: I’m with you Ryan, I bet Mary looks great like that.

MARY: Alright alright, do you want to hear this?

everyone nods agreeing

MARY: We were riding along.  (Looking at Ryan) the dew lifting off into a idealic mist.  (Normally again) Dad stopped before a stream crossing to readjust his saddle, one of the buckles kept coming undone.  I continued, given the chance for a bit of solitude, not that I don’t like being around Dad, but it was a really nice morning.  We were riding along the pipe trail that splits through the rocks- you know those sections that look like small canyons?

ANDY: Sure.

MARY: Do you know that waterfall just before the Iron Bridge?

ANDY: The Devil’s Pool?

MARY: No, closer to the Inn, on the other side from the Indian statue.

RYAN: On the North side.  Not good for swimming.

MARY: (considering the aspect in her mind and with her hands) Yes..?  Yeah, I don’t know.

RYAN: Yeah, it freezes up in the winter.

MARY: I guess, it is across the river from the Devil’s Pool.  The other stream.

RYAN: (looks satisfied with his assessment)

MARY: Well in all this picturesque… (dramatically holding her head as if remembering a troubling image)- I wouldn’t have noticed if not for Butterscotch.

ANDY: Your horse?

MARY: Yeah she made that trying breathing sound and she wasn’t worked or anything.  I looked to where she was looking.  Oh God!  (Dramatically)

SASHA: Seriously?  Come on Mary.  What’s the big deal?  You’ve never seen a guy skinny dipping?

MARY:  Sasha, I was really close, and he was not swimming.

RYAN: Not a good swimming hole.  But pretty clean according to the EPA.

ANDY: Shut up.  How the hell would you know?  Never mind.

SASHA: Still is seeing someone naked such a big deal?  I mean was he jerking off or something?


SASHA: Circumsized or uncircumsized?  (Looking out at the party beyond the camera)

MARY: (ignores)

SASHA:  (looking at everyone else in their group of friends) what?  She said she was really close.

MARY: He was washing with a real sponge and Dr. Bronner’s soap [choose more expensive soap].

RYAN: Ok.  So do I.

MARY: Not in the woods, and you are rich.  I’m just saying if he is homeless it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a trust fund.  And that is a little fucked up.  Anyhow, it is not so much how he lives, but that he is hamming up these roles.  Like this shit tonight!

RYAN: What?

MARY: He is so playing up this Bohemian artist homeless educated shit.  The ritual.  It is cool, but totally messed up too.

RYAN: Come on, you are being pretty negative.  This is a good thing.  We need a little urban shamanism.

MARY: But it is so thrown together and predicatble: the Om chant, the smudge sticks, the drumming.  It is like a Disney version of the thing.  Then we get this illusion as to what the real thing is.  That is the whole problem with cultural appropriation.  Where do we leave the indigenous?  They are in the shadow of expectations of themselves that they were never aware of.  Then they suddenly have to live up to something that has nothing to do with their original practice.

RYAN: But we need it too.  So what if it’s a little off.  Gotta bring it to the masses.

MARY: Everything is already in such a hurry.  My spiritual path shouldn’t be as well.  The thing would decay as quickly as McManshions or American Apparel t-shirts if we hurry to gain something.

SASHA: Oh God, Mary’s Yoga rant.

MARY: 90% british military drills!  Yoga is a perfect example of a spiritual practice sold back to itself.

RYAN: Better than nothing.

MARY: Maybe.  But then we walk away patting ourselves on the back and don’t try for something more.  Meanwhile we are tweeting about our headstands on our smartphones that have the blood of African slaves in the Coltane!

ANDY: Mary.  It is not perfect.  And I’m with you, he is ridiculous, acting like a cult leader dressed as a shaman.

RYAN: I said ‘shaman’ no one else is mentioning shamans here.

ANDY: Ryan?  For real?  This is pretty obvious.  He is dressed in leaves!

RYAN: universal architypes.

ANDY: Bullshit…  But the birth canal was badass.

MARY: And next we’ll be taking mushrooms and having an orgy.

RYAN AND SASHA: sounds good.

ANDY: Not everyone can go to South America for a ligitimate experience Mary.

MARY: No, no.  That kind of thinking is a bit of trap.  I am not saying I can access a ‘legitimate’ experience just by going to Peru next month.  And I know I am super privelaged.  But I worked and saved for my own ticket.  I won’t let my parents pay my way.

SASHA: That’s crazy.  Use it if you got it.

MARY: No way.  That’s not fair.  I need to earn my way like everyone else.

SASHA: No one earns their own way.

MARY: What kills me is when these rich kids act poor and rely on welfare claiming to be artists.

RYAN: Boy?

MARY: I bet he is on Food Stamps.

RYAN: Yeah, he is homeless.  Lives under a bridge.

ANDY: Bullshit.

RYAN: Seriously.

ANDY: What an asshole.

RYAN: He’s probably really nice.  Apparently a really great artist too.

MARY: Oh God, he’s looking over here.

RYAN: What?

Jon enters

ANDY: Jon, is that guy Boy a trust fund kid?

JON: What?  Totally.

MARY: Thank you.

RYAN: Come on.  Jon how do you know?

JON: Sasha knows.  He’s been at every ballet this season.  Always creeping on the dancers.

MARY: What did I say?

RYAN: Well how much are season passes?

JON: $____, but he has _____ tier seats.  That requires like a $10,000 donation.

ANDY: Fuck.  I couldn’t even really afford that.

SASHA: Yes you could.

ANDY: But I wouldn’t.

JON: You don’t like the ballet.

ANDY: It is kind of stupid.  And expensive.

JON: No.  It is amazing, and horribly executed; to no fault of the dancers (to Sasha).  And yes it is expensive.

RYAN: Well I am standing by that he puts on amazing parties.

JON: No one is arguing with you there.  (everyone looking at Mary, Jon realizes)  Really Mary?

MARY: It is an amazing party!  Fuck.  I just think the guy is a creep.  Anyhow it is an amazing party because he has the time and money to do this shit.  He probably pays people to come up with ideas and set things up and then takes credit for the whole thing by being the front man.

JON: He has a crew of friends.  A bunch of older dudes, they were in that prog band that wears the stupid costumes and can’t really sing.

ANDY: They are a total cult.

MARY: Or frat.  Why are we even talking about him?

JON: Seriously.

ANDY: Mary brought him up.

SASHA: Mary, do you have a guilty crush?

MARY: (glares)

SASHA: Holy shit!  At least your grandfather would be happy to have you dating in your social class.

MARY: Fuck you.  Absolutely not!

Mary turns away from her friends.  Her attention is suddenly caught by a feeling from her perifrial.  She glances up, towards the party, beyond the camera.  The long shot of the conversation finally cuts, to Boy amidst the madness of a enigmatic ritual.  He is amongst and not held up as more important, but he is the center of the dream that she sees.  He is adorned with leaves and paint, and is a grey green amongst smoke and people miming animals and pulling and enduring.  He is looking right at her.  The camera cuts again to her.  She is confused and disarmed.  He is intense and somehow conveys openness and sincerity in his look.  She is frozen and terrified and then there is a moment of softening.

There are certain things I want in this conversation.  The rest is important simply for the timing and space.  The things in the conversation are: convey an impression of Boy that is questioned by the parting shots; make the audience sympathize for Mary and also think very highly of her, while keeping her as a real person; not 2 dimensional; paint visuals with words of the ball and the boy bathing in the woods; keep engaging and well paced.

ACT TWO: the boat

Mary and Boy are in a homemade scrap-wood boat.  Should we jump to that place already?  Can it be that within one scene we assume and leap beyond their initial meeting?  Can we instead have them meet by the river?  She is wandering the streets and comes across Boy who is in the market- by the edge of water throwing buckets of water at the locals and they at him?  It is here instead that she sees him and it takes a moment to recognize him.  Just until he looks at her before she realizes.  She comes right right up to him.

MARY: What are you doing here?  (almost accusing)

BOY: I came because you were. (Admitting)

MARY: What?  Seriously?  (shocked by how forward he is)

BOY: Yes.

MARY: You don’t know me.  Did you ask someone and then take your plane?  Did you expect that I would be happy to see you?

BOY: No.  Yes.  I don’t know how to talk to girls.

MARY: Well you better arrange your flight home.

BOY: We can’t talk?

MARY: I am trying not to speak to anyone who speaks English.

BOY: You are lonely?

MARY: Did Ryan tell you this?

BOY: No.

MARY: Well I am lonely, but I am managing that fine.  I am finding my way.  I don’t need you to rescue me.

BOY: Ok.

MARY: You are leaving then?

BOY: No.  Not yet.

MARY: You have other business here?

BOY: No.

MARY: You don’t make conversation very easy.

BOY: I have no way of getting back.  Not yet.  I am working on this boat.

MARY: What?  You made that?

BOY: Yeah.  The trip down was too dangerous.  I can not go back that way.  They will kill me if I go back.  It was fine the first time.  A second time would be impolite and I would be killed.

MARY: What?  I don’t understand.  Are you putting me on?

BOY: No.

MARY: Trip?  Through where?  How?  You don’t have a private jet?

BOY: No.  Do you?

MARY: No.  I took a plane at the airport.

BOY: I walked.

MARY: … …  … I don’t understand.  You walked?  From where?

BOY: Philly.

MARY: Bullshit.

BOY: …

MARY: Seriously?  When did you leave?

BOY: After the party.

MARY: How?  Through Mexico and Central America, the Jungle?

BOY: (nodding yes)

MARY: Why?

BOY: To see you.

MARY: What the fuck!  You know that is insane?

BOY: Seemed like the right thing to do.

MARY: Why?  We’ve never talked.

BOY: I know.  I got ahead of myself I guess.

MARY: This is not how you pick up a girl.

BOY: I’m not trying to pick you up.

MARY: Really?  You could have just asked me out.

BOY: That would have worked?

MARY: No.  I’m not really getting involved with people right now.  Focusing on my own thing.

BOY: Oh.  That’s important.

MARY: Yeah.

BOY: I’ve been doing that too.

MARY: So why the boat?

BOY: To explore the river.  Eventually to get back to Philly.

MARY: You are crazy.  Like actually crazy.  That explains why you are rich and act homeless.  But you didn’t actually walk here.

BOY: I hopped a couple trains too.

MARY: The party was four months ago… …

BOY: I’m not rich.  I’m not homeless.

MARY: I saw you at the ball.

BOY: Yeah.  I like that ball, until the music is bad.

MARY: Tickets are $200

BOY: It’s a lot of money.

MARY: You sneak in?

BOY: No.  I save up for that ball.  I work odd jobs, mucking stalls, playing ballet accompaniment for dance classes.

MARY: Ballet?  You have ____ tier seats at the ballet.

BOY: No.  My old piano teacher does.  She lets me sit in her seat for the performances her husband and her do not attend.

MARY: You use a real sponge and Dr. Bronners [soap name].

BOY: You saw me bathe?  No, I knew that.  Sorry, I found a new spot further off trail.

MARY: You are homeless?

BOY: No.  I really like Philly.  I have good friends there.  I have also made friends here.

MARY: You speak Spanish?

BOY: Not very well.  We just hang out and dance.

MARY: Who?

BOY: A woman who is also a jaguar and a boy who is a bird.

MARY: Don’t joke around like that, it is pretty insensitive.

BOY: Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about their power animals.

MARY: No, it’s racist.  And you are doing it still.

BOY: No, I’m serious.  You should meet them.

MARY: Where?  In the jungle?

BOY: Sometimes.  They have a cardboard house on the river.  And they go to the jungle too.

MARY: Cardboard?  It floats?

BOY: Amazing right?  Totally inspiring.

MARY: You are either insane or so full of shit.

BOY: …ok.  Yeah, I am working on it.  I am trying to live right.

MARY: So what is it then?  Are you insane?

BOY: … I don’t know.  I mean either I am completely sane or totally crazy.  I suppose I wouldn’t know it if I were.  I think I am sane.

MARY: You are full of shit.

BOY: I don’t know.  Do you want to see their house?

MARY: The cardboard house?

BOY: Yeah.  It’s blue.

MARY: How?

BOY: In my boat.

MARY: If I go with you will I come back alive?

BOY: I don’t know.

MARY: That is not what a girl wants to hear.

BOY: Well I don’t know how your life is going to play out.

MARY: You’re not going to kill me?

BOY: I’ll try not to.  It would be super upsetting if I did.

MARY: Jesus.

BOY: We’ll bring someone with us.  Small Boy!  (Calling out across the market)  Kleine Nino!

MARY: Boy, stop it, you are aweful.

Small Boy enters.  He is a scrauny native child no older than 10 or 11.  He holds out his hand, Boy gives him a coin, he takes up the boat and paddle and drags them into the water.

MARY: You are really fucked up.

BOY: Why?

MARY: You just waltz about with your money expecting everyone to do your biding?

BOY: No.  Small Boy gives boat tours around the floating village.  He is very good at it.  I want to support his living.

MARY: I thought you were homeless or poor.

BOY: I don’t think of myself as homeless.  Poor is relative.  Right now, I have more than, no, I probably have less money than small Boy, and he probably has a much richer community of support here than I.  So I suppose I am ‘poor’ in a sense.

MARY: But you just gave him a coin.

BOY: (Rifling through his pockets, extracts another) One left!

Small Boy comes up to Mary, taking her hand he pulls her to the boat, she is permissive with the child.  We experience the boat tour around the Jungle River Ghetto.


ACT THREE: the weight

ACT FOUR: the wandering and waiting beyond persistence, the talking fondly of Boy while he wanders the tundra