Monday, March 29, 2010
for Hunter H., in North Carolina
January 28, 2010
KEVIN and MARCIA are running late to class. They stop outside the classroom door.
I’m going in first.
No you aren’t. I am.
Whoever’s last has to stay after to clean the board. I can’t stay, I have another class right after.
But it’s your fault we’re late. You don’t untie your shoes when you take them off and it takes you forever to get them untied before you go out the door. I’m going in first.
No, we’re late because you spend like 45 minutes straightening your hair when everyone else in the house needs to shower. I’m going in first. You can go fuck yourself.
KEVIN goes inside. MARCIA pulls out her phone and sends KEVIN a text. MARCIA leaves.
In class, KEVIN gets a text message. He discreetly looks at his phone.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM MARCIA:
Cutting class. You’re last, bitch.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Postcard Play #10: TEA
for Emmie S.
KATE and JAMES are British.
I say— ................I say—
—oh, go oh—.........—sorry, old chap—
—no, please—........—after you—
—bother. ...............—dash it all.
KATE and JAMES drink tea.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Postcard Play #1: CHARLIE’S CRISIS
for Anne-Marie T.
I don’t feel like eating these seeds.
What do you mean?
I’m just done with seeds.
Well what are you gonna eat?
I don’t know, like roots or something?
Who the hell do you think you are, “you’re gonna eat roots,” what is that?
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I do. You’re a bird, Charlie. You’re a goddamn bird.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
for Meghan Deans
Bet I can lift that.
Bet you can.
No, you gotta bet I can’t.
Why? You probably can.
Yeah, but you gotta take the other side of the bet. That’s how it works.
I’m not going to bet on something with losing odds.
Dude, there’s no point in lifting that thing if you think I can do it.
I thought the point was to lift it.
No. That would be a complete waste of time.
Here I shall post the scripts of The Postcard Plays along with whatever you send me...pictures of you with your postcard play, of you staging your postcard play, of your cats staging your postcard play. Heck, turn your postcard play into a movie, I'll embed that shiz. This is the twenty-first century, and these are our postcard plays.
The Postcard Plays:
A project by Anna Moench
Here's a startling statistic: 9 out of 10 Americans have never received a postcard with a play written on it.
I'm outraged too. But we can piss and moan about this sorry state of affairs or we can act, and I have decided that it's time I did my part to heal this broken world. Therefore hear this: I will write you a play on a postcard and mail it to you. It will be new and just for you, and you can perform it with finger puppets at your kitchen table or simply read it in the bathroom. Together we can change an invented statistic. Will you join me in the fight?
To take part, email your address to postcardplays (at) gmail.com. I promise I won't drop by unannounced or share your info with anybody.
This is open to anyone who may be a victim of our cultural neglect.