Supreme beings: pg
The fighter planes say
we are alone on earth.
Therefore to speak is an exercise in futility
No, you fighter airplanes are not alone
We occupy an unreachable realm of being, we are therefore alone
I see you, I speak to you
We are blind. We are deaf. We have no tactile sensation
We consider ourselves the must frustrated of beings and drop many bombs without hesitation
Please don’t drop bombs, please don’t hurt people
The one thing we lust for is aesthetic sensibility, but that too is denied us.
I’m sorry. I do sympathise with a hunger for aesthetic sensibility-- but don’t express that understandable frustration through dropping bombs
It has been said, in previous eras, that when bombs explode-- seen from the clouds, this produces an aesthetic sensation
Bombs kill people
Airplanes eventually crash. Airplanes--
Airplanes eventally run low on fuel, and start falling from clouds toward earth.
Ah, here you are--
This beginning to die. This-- descent of the realm of human beings--
You are no longer alone, airplane. Let’s have our photograph taken together
--Haven’t you heard? Photographs steal the soul
Haven’t you heard? Airplanes have no soul. That’s why they seek out the earth, and human beings--
No, fighterplanes do not seek out the earth, nor human beings
For that reason, unhappy fighterplane, you feel alone. Isolated--
It is not my lonliness which worries me.
--I can tell by your tone of voice--
--Surrounded by people who cannot speak--
--Who do not speak-- shall we say they do not speak my language?
Do you hear the sound of your own voice, at least?
My proper discourse, comes not through words, but through the penetration of space-- total space is available to me
Not higher than the highest clouds, however--
Is it enough? Escape from this room, show me.
Escape from what.
You’re in a room, airplane. Escape from this room
There’s nothing to escape from here.
(moves, as others open doors and enter, and first woman exits)
I can’t escape.
I bet you can escape if you try
--I bet you can’t escape even if you try. There’s a ceiling to this room as well as walls.
You see, we know something about airplanes
Better than you know ourself possibly
Once-- this was a long time ago-- I invented an airplane with banannas for engines.
That was quite an invention. I , on the other hand, invented a cheese sandwich with wings. It flew towards people who were hungery
Break through arificial walls, airplane. We can help
We’re human beings. We’re very inventive
If we open this door-- what would you like most of all to find hiding behind this door
You want the sun? I’ll show you the sun
I see it.
Having seen it?
It’s enough. It’s everything
No, airplane-- it’s not enough.
Don’t you like vacations?
Don’t you like meals in resturants?
I like sunlight
Don’t you like the ocean?
I’m afraid of falling out of the sky and into the ocean
Don’t you like pictures of beautiful women? Here’s a snapshot--
I’ve carried a photo of a beautiful women, glued to my dashboard as I rose through space--
(woman at door)
Could I come back in?
You just did
I mean-- can I stay now that I’m here?
Isn’t that what “can I come in?” usually means?
Fighterplanes and I are friends, am I right?
See if you can make any sense out of this story--
Fighterplanes never understand stories
What do they understand
I bet they understand adventures.
Fighter planes experience adventures-- but their obcessive concern is to lift out of adventures-- to much greater heights
--To even greater adventures
You understand nothing because you inhabit the earth, human beings
You understand nothing because your head’s in the clouds, airplane
And who’s perspective is advantageous?
Ok-- What treasures do you bring back from your days exploring the earth from great heights?
From great hights, things turn small enough to vanish
Ah, what a disappointment--
But fighter planes maintain contact with the invidible-- radio contact
That’s one of the reasons airplane feels uncomfortable in this room. He misses having a radio in this room
This is true.
If there was a radio in this room I might, now, turning it on for myself,
hear-- intuition-wise-- what I missed, or lost, in my meticulous exploration
high over cities and countryside--.
Nothing like human memory you understand, but instead
--like a broken self, a broken me,
and in those cracks
the wind of real things at last, through a radio--
invisble but touching me.
so that I re-imagine a world entire,
living the rest of my life forgetful,
sensing whatever purpose I managed to evade as I slid sideways through the wrong door titled "obligation through this door' --and I was almost in the lost and found department for an eternity
--which could never decide whether it was the land of the lost or the the land of the truly--
FOUND at last!
Should I try to make sense of that story
Was I telling a story?
It seems to me-- that in a certain room,
a certain radio was absent.
Once upon a time each room contained a radio.
Now, no radio in no room.
In a certain hotel
plans were made
to broadcast from a tower on the roof of the hotel--
But such plans never came to fruition.
Nevertheless, the name of this hotel
was the Radio Hotel.
How often has a name been less than appropriate?
In this case one could understand why the name was chosen,
even though it was no longer appropriate.
Having once been to a certain extent an appropriate name
there was now a pause
Through that pause,
thoughts from another space
bled-- leaving the residue of a name.
No blood staining yet the walls of the Radio Hotel.
Silence-- radio reigned!
And the Radio Hotel
closed inside itself
the lost proclivity it broadcast
towards street wards
those who passed or entered
or passed through as guests in the
"Hotel Radio-- hello, radio Hotel"
Can I help?
No. But help.
It's one of my favorite words. No. It's my favorite word.
I help whenever I get help
The more times you can use the word help in a sentence, the more it helps.
Help yourself to the word help, which is how I help myself.
Help yourself to some fruit.
I don't think I should eat right now.
One of the most potent ideas I ever had, ever, was the idea that in the center of the fruit was a pit, and the pit was the radio in the center of the fruit. And the whole fruit helps-- the radio in the center of the fruit.
My ear; helps.
My ear was help also.
Does this help? My ear helps.
Have some fruit now
Eat it, or let it turn into the radio that it is.
In the Hotel Radio, the fruit placed in bowls which sit on small tables in each room-- no radios in rooms, but fruit in rooms, and in the center of the fruit, is a radio.
I imagine walking down the street and seeing the letters painted on the stone wall of the building I pass to spell the words "Hotel Radio". Then I imagine a round fruit-- just it's image, painted on a stone wall. And I imagine a ray of energy, traveling through the stone and emerging from the stone to fly over the whole city. This helps. This imagining this thing helps.
What does it help?
It helps me. If I try to say what it helps-- me-- that separates me from myself and that does not help. So I do not explain why it helps, even to myself. I just say and know, it helps. Which is much like being in, or traveling towards, the Hotel Radio. Just remembering it, even from inside one of its rooms, and I don't know if there are many such rooms or only a few-- but it helps.
Hello, this is a part of the hotel radio, and it helps.
Self discovery in a Hotel? This does not seem possible
I don't want food
You don't have to look at it
Wait a minute. Is this to eat, or watch
You can only watch it if you use powerful concentration. Otherwise, eventually appitite wins out and it ends up in the stomach
Take it away, please
Whatever you say
--Take it away please
What I said was enough to make it happen. Wait a miute-- do I want a radio in my room? or will that make it difficult to know whether or not it's me doing the talking
Where shall I put it
I'd rather have my suitcases delivered
When is soon
The radio could take your mind off your problems
Is that true?
Plug it in but don't turn it on
No. You plug it in
Just put it on the table
Self discovery in a hotel. This does not seem possible.
This could perhaps be the play in which entering a room-- me--an individual such as myself with no special qualities visible to one who is placed outside me and is only able to observe me from that same outside of my body and my consciousness both
This could be the play in which everything is different
Everything. I pick up this egg from the plate
That would seem to be the end of something. And therefore the beginning of something else
But everything is different
Is this the world you were talking about?
What kind of a life is lived by somebody with no holes to patch closed
There are doors and windows in every room
Not my kind of a room
Doesn't the brain spin sufficiently?
"Special Talents" (a title)
The universe uses me, I'm afraid. What I mean is-- therefore I have to hold on tight
Does it spin
It spins me
You spin internally
But if I look close, I should be able to pick up on that
That must be a spcial talent
No-- you're the one with the special talent
I dodn't say so
You didn't have to say so.
I am not myself
Well, in a certain sense I am not myself either
What makes you happy
Waiting to be with somebody whom one is not with. Waiting to be with somebody whom one cannot be with
(In window) Smell the flowers, Maestro
Do not mock me
Well-- they're your flowers
For that reason, I can hardly avoid smelling them-- permiating the room as it were in regards to odor-- However your point is well taken. One's NOSE becomes acclimated.
I think we can agree. Life has conspired against me
We don't agree at all
Are you that blind?
From where arrives my bitterness, my despondancy
I have no idea
I blame the lottery of life for dealing me, genetically, a pre-disposition to such negative emotions.
I do not like-- think not, I like being in front of what I call 'people' and you call 'myself'. Now-- let us join minds and proceed through this combination of mind power into discovery and adventure
Ah, nothing comes up immediately. Perhaps we need help.
I think there'd be better functioning if you'd lie down
Isn't that a vulnurable position?
I'd call it relaxation
Ah-- were I to lie down do you fantasize a second body physically rising out of my first body and that collaboration could be fruitful?
Myself with myself
You tell me
I only hear one person talking
I didn't lie down
Don't think I like this.
There isn't much that you DO like, am I right?
Ah-- am I now talking to the second me that just rose up out of my recumbant physical self?
Then we should shake hands--
(Offers, not taken up. Pause)
Perhaps you don't need me
What adventures you must have had
Mind adventures only
Don't disillusion me
Oh? Isn't that enough to keep you interested for a few hours?
Nothing holds me that long
I call that adventurism
Which is why I turn to you for guidance
On that basis and on that basis alone, I am wiling to speak about my so-called adventures
On yes, I am dpoing that
You mean you can hardly stop doing that
Going on and on and on. You follow me this far?
I can hardly stop doing that
A terrible face that appeared as I opened my eyes
Did you open your eyes to make it appear
Did I what
Did you make it appear?
By opening my eyes, yes. I made it appear
What did it look like
I can hardly remember
But it frightened you
I woke up screaming
Ah-- then you were asleep when you saw it, but your eyes were already open
This is not clear
Not clear at all
Does my face remind you of anything?
While I'm looking at it I can't tell
Then feel free to look away
I can't see it
Is it frightening
Oh no-- only when I remember that other face am I frightened
(Goes to wall points to picture)
Imagine for a minute that this face was looking at you rather then at the object under observation. Would it frighten you
OK> Perhaps we should leave you alone
This is painful. This-- being left alone
Yet why am I left alone?
I know the answer. I drive them away from me because of the degree of my mental concentration
What is it, really. This sex thing
I want to eat you alive
The parts that smell bad?
You're right. I have two levels-- one level that wants to eat you alive, and the other level that is disgusted by such an idea and pulls away into more spiritual concerns
What part left the room
Don't think you know
(Pause. Left goes and gets doll, devours, others re-enter. He stops and puts it away).
Would you like to visit another planet
Yes. I certainly would like to do that
Not yet. You're not ready
(out. Re-do doll. Stops by self, puts it in chair)
Are you alive?
On some level. I think you are alive
(END OF A PLAY)
How can I come to the end of this experience, which is unsatisfactory, with no end in sight, and yet make that very fact an end,
and an end that is satisfactory as an end--
fulfilling in it's very experience of being not-fulfilling
Who can deal with this
(All enter. Put on a record, then add more.
This is less than frightening
This is not something I can prove
The total circulation of my emotions leaves me exhausted
Probably not exhausted-- rather with a distaste for what heretofore appealed to me. Every kind of sweetness
This is not something I underatand
You don't have to understand me
No-- this was not my train of thought
It's my train of thought, God damit
I'm being manipulated by your emotions
You are very forceful
Well, I meant to be persuasive
I was keeping this for you
Why does this make me uneasy?
It's just an orange
Oh, I do see that
But if it makes you uneasy-- it makes you uneasy. Si I'll put it back in the drawer
I think that has something to do with it
An orange in a drawer
It's not un un-pleasant fragrence
Ah, you mean if I were to join it in an adjacent part of the same piece of furniture
Oh. I don't think you could fit into that particular piece of furniture
You're too large
Where did I put my gloves?
(slam shut, hold face)
It was a trick
What was a trick
Here-- let me manipulate this panel
Ah. The secret book
But when you said it was a trick-- that refered to something that already happened previously
Don't be predjudiced against me
That was before. I'm talking about now.
I must have a bad memory
If you have it, it's not bad, if it's bad you don't have it
I think the trick is right now
The trick is, finding it
The real trick is hiding it
I guess I did pretty good
This is not my way of understanding the world
--I haven't said a word
Ah yes. You haven't unpacked your suitcase, but your suitcase is stuffed full and my x-ray eyes are capable of penetrating that suitcase
My suitcase must be invisible
That's how it works.
I just made a misstatement
I said, --I haven't said a word. And then I did-- start speaking. So in retrospect
--See how confused you are?
That's not my way of looking at things
Don't believe everything you read
Well, for instance, the sun's down so it must be night
Ah, if you could locate a window, you'd have the basis for a possible argument
How come there's no window
That's not my way of understanding the world
How come there's no suitcase
I was using a verbal mechanism
No. You were, and are, being used by a verbal mechanism.
Ah, you think you can escape by not talking
Well, there may be no window, but there certainly is a door.
(Goes. Then 1 re-enters. Pause. Then 2 re-enters. Stops, looka around the room by turning in place)
This is how I understand the world. And I think my way of understanding the world takes prescidence
Not any longer
(Looking back in the room)
I forgot to tell you. There's a window in the next room
The sun is shining
As far as I'm concerned, that means it's daytime. Which is unimportant to me, because my life has been from the contraints of time passing.
That's what I tell myself-- though it's not a hundred per cent-- but I don't care whether or not anything is a hundred per cent, because nothing is.
What an adventure.
Theories release energies.
Let us: suppose, that consciousness is a way of lying about the world
Ah, what energy are we about to release.
Let's find out
You mean. lets let the world find out for us--
Yes, but is any of this possible if consciousness is a way of lying about the world?
We certainly don't want to abandon such a productive theory before it's had a chance to flower into a few rare and valuable exoticisms
We feel the need for exoticism?
Oh yes. At least I do
Because of a jaded pallet?
No. I'd rather say because of unceasing mental agility
OK> Consciousness is a way of lying about the world
Does that make the world a friend of consciousness?
I see-- it could be a method that insurfes privacy
The world, of course, has to be postulated as desiring privacy
Well, I wonder what my consciousness is doing. It might be assumed that I know, but I don't really.
I don't know when it schedules other people to decide to leave the room, just as I don't know when it schedules me to take corrective action
You probably thought I was making an intellectial point, leaving when I did, but the fact of the matter is I had something to do
You didn't explain
No. I didn't
Are you lying?
No, I had to check something
It was a medical somethiong
I'd like to keep it private
Somebody asked a question I couldn't answer
Please, open the same door
You mean close it and then open it?
No. Keep it open
Now-- open it
(Pause, woman comes in opening)
What's going on
Have a seat
Nothing else is happening
This isn't a difference of opinion, this is-- what.
I don't know
I don't know
Then it is a difference of opinion after all
That's why we have nothing to say to each other
So be it
(She comes, sits, kisses)
That was a very powerful kiss
(She goes back)
Do we have a difference of opinion?
Don't ask-- and it won't happen
Is it ok if I shut the door?
Did I answer?
No. I just took it upon myself
(She stands, he goes to kiss her)
Open the door.
(He does. She starts to exits, twirls embarassed)
This is hard to do
(Hangs in door, leans back into room)
This is one version
(Pops out of room)
Now-- I imagine it's up to me alone whether I open it or close it
(Closes, thinks. Opens)
Well-- no answer, is not really an answer. Somebody could be there-- just not talking.
Are you one of those people who refuses to be at one with the world?
Is that an insult
You tell me
No. Not an insult, because the world isn't such that one should be at one with it
Ah. Is that an insult?
Are you the world?
I'm a little bit of it
Hum, that could be taken in two ways
At least two
Yes, but before 3-4-5 etc, two has to be dealt with
One has to proceed step by step
Oh no, I can jump right to seven hundred and sixty five
What made you jump to that number
I don't know
Here's a thought. You wanted to go backwards
I would say seven hundred and sixty five is a long leap forward. Except I see your point. 765 is 567 backwards
You must have had an unconscious motivation
To go backwards
I do have the feeling we're back where we started
Is that an insult
Should I be able to drag you forward into some desirable future
It could be undesirable
If it's the future, it's desirable
Even if one only wants to get there so one is able to go backwards?
This object you see, is revolving at the center of my particular universe.
I keep my back to it as much as possible. Is this fear? No. This is deep respect for reality
There is no atmosphere in space.
That is-- moods of light, cloud, mist-- different atmospheric conditions that create different ambiences. This does not exist in space into which man is now moving.
So: man arises perhaps, co-incidentially, with a certain kind of atriculation of light and water-- which are the building blocks of atmosphere. Also dust, I suppose, which is earth-- even fire, which creates smoke. The four classical elements. Man. But consciouss perhaps, is therefore a twin of atmosphereic. . .mood. Is this possible?
Is life supposed to keep me entertained?
Hello life? Do you have an obligation to entertain me?
Should I play the part of life?
That's the idea
OK. I don't think I have an obligation to be entertaining
Who exactly put me here-- shall we say-- in your particular catagory
What's my catagory
Everything living. That includes me
You're in my catagory
You don't find it entertaining
At least I get an appology. But I don't get entertainment
Should I go
Would that heighten the entertainment quotient?
Then why go
I better go
Now I'm alone. And in fact, it's more entertaining to be alone than to be frustrated. Thank you, life
Is it more entertaining to be alone than to be frustrated. Well, yes-- in that my mind feels freer. I don't feel constraints on my imagination.
I'm not in control
Is this a problem?
I was announcing an achievement
It's an internal contradiction
No. When I say I'm not in control, what I mean is something else has taken over. It's not that I myself have achieved not being in control-- it's that I welcome what something else has been able to do with this raw material. Me.
I too, wanted to be able to philosophize without letting thought have anything to do with it
I need to find a teacher
I think the time is ripe
Oh please. Don't worry about it
Can you psyche out what I'm really talking about?
I don't know
That means no
No-- it just means my priorities are different
Life keeps changing direction on me
That's an internal contradiction
Change your priorities
(Pause. Other exit)
I interpret that as a change in priorities. Also, I interpret that as me losing control, ergo--something external
Don't mis-interpret my decision to go
I have no way of knowing
Well-- what I'm suggesting is-- feel just a little bit of the internal stasis I feel
(other goes again)
No. I'll resist the temptation to say to myself-- now, where was I?
I can be amazed when I see the real world, circling around me
I can be amazed at so many things
But I choose one or two
I choose this table
I choose to be amazed at this table
It is amazing that this table exists
And it does
Look, how it's four legs fall from a certain height, to rest on the ground
I like this, I do like this
And the like is expressive-- it is intense enough to be called amazement
The world is going in one direction. I am going in another
I want to be what I am
I am not THIS
(pulls at flesh)
I have nothing to do with THIS
I am elsewhere-- something else
I want to be what I am
You sound very petulant
Maybe I struck a deep responsive chord in somebody to whom I was speaking
That's very possible
Shall we permit ourselves to be in the library?
Oh, didn't I tell you? These books are no longer relevent
Ah, how delightful. Doesn't that make them even more appealing?
No. As ways to defind our own idiosyncratic hunger
Ah, you return to bodily function after all. Remember when you said "I am not THIS" and plucked at your own flesh. Well, from whence arrises the possibility of hunger-- even if it is then-- spiritualized
You just gave me an idea
A new idea about hunger. As a catagory. Hunger is a ack. Is there anything that does not lack, since there is nothing that does not lack whatever is total, except the totality. So-- everything --lacks.
What does this table lack
Then you're wrong
I don't follow you
He said he was hungry--
This man who tries to be brief, but isn't brief enough. Me. Whenever I develope an idea, it changes. The impulse-- matures: which means everything else in the world, into which the impulse is planted by speech, corrupts it.
But this must happen.
The alternative is that nothing manifests; and to be here to discuss this obligation to manifest, and the purity of such self manifestation-- toward which we have an obligation thanks to an equally unavoidable rigor, to be lauched here in that very pure way that must necessarily fall corrupted by that very self same necessarily corrupted stuff --out of which the entire world is constituted.
Ah-ha. That means the task is, is it not, to realize oneself as the magnificent maneur producing mechanism one is. More and more-- which of course nourishes the production of even more and more-- pure impulse again and again which, through the rigor of this magnificent system, flowers so that transformation into maneur is once again, inevitable
Ah, my poor children
I didn't know you had children
Everything that comes out--
I think of that as my child
The world is beautiful, at times
If you're hungry for the world, the world is beautiful. If you're hungry for something else-- no.
I think I'm hungry for the world
Be my quest
Oh, I just ate a little while ago
Don't worry. A little time will pass-- you'll want more.
Maybe I'll just have a taste--
Wait a minute
Entertain me. Just for a moment. Just a moment's worth of entertainment
I don't know how
That was it. That was entertaining. Now-- dig in if you like
(Other tastes, stops)
You don't like it
Somehow, you spoiled my appetite
Ah, that's no excuse-- remember hunger is something you should consider an OBLIGATION
Really. I mean, you have a choice-- perhaps you don't like this particular selection, so we'll see if we can come up with something different
Please, don't make the effort on my behalf
You don't understand. I feel obligated. And when I feel obligated-- it's something I dare not evade. But in the meantime, we can get on with other things.
Do you think it was unforseen-- this morsel of the future--
This moment. This word in this moment
Whatever comes next. Which isn't always a word, of course. Or, maybe it iws.
Time will tell.
The futiure will tell, yes.
No, maybe the past will tell.
Then the way you put it was right. Time will tell.
My hand seems to rise-- effortlessly. What I am lost inside of-- I do not know. Call it-- something extra. I am lost inside-- something extra
This is one of the hardest things to understand you have ever proposed
Yes. It keeps alluding me
If I raise my hand, is it effortless?
I can't really tell-- I did will it, but the moment of wiling it and the fact of it rising seem to have no connection
Maybe that catagory should expand
Maybe everything could be in that catagory
Assume that wall--
Now-- are you just saying that? Or are you really trying to think that
I admit. It's effortless
So it's extra?
I can't answer
Ah, that IS extra. That not being able to answer-- don't be afraid. Just, feel it--
Not being able to answer
Lifting the hand
I don't think my left hand is very efficient
Once I tried to write a letter with my left hand
Was it hard to read?
I never found out
You mean you never showed it to anybody else
What a shame
Why don't you try writing something for me now
I don't know what to write
I suppose I could dictate something
Oh no, that wouldn't make any sense
It should be my own thoughts
I can see why
You have something you want to express
Only your left hand can do that
Precisely because it's less efficient
I'm glad you remembered that word
No. I had to look it up
You mean inside
You had a memory of it
Now I'll try
(Writes with left hand. "You had a memory of it")
It looks either illegible or greek
That's a very superficial response
Well, what you wrote is superficial
What did I write
"You had a memory of it". You just repeated your own words
Not on purpose
They were ringing in my head
Try it again
(Pause, writes "Tis is something but--")
This is strange. I was going to write "this is something more or less expected", but the laboriousness of the effort made it swerve into thinking that wasn't words, but I pulled back from that, so at a certain point I just wrote "But"-- followed by a dash, so the sentence reads "This is something but--".
(Pause, makes marks)
So. This is just-- marks
I didn't try to make any recognizable words. Is this the real me?
Oh yes. The real you can't be fathomed
That must be the awkwardness.
ˆtrick myself into productivity. The flood gates open, just for a second
If it's just for a second are thry really open?
What comes out
You tell me-- what comes out
The moment is so brief I'm not allowed to occasion of recognition
You mean it's as if things didn't exist
Well, your ideas, your dreams, your fantasies--
I don't think you have an accurate catagorization
What do I have
You tell me
N0-- you tell ME
You have everything wrong
How high;ly productive of me
In a was it's unavoidable
Yes. Most things that are unavoidable are invisible
How convenient-- that's number one, and how-- well, I was about to say dishonest but that can't be number two
There's nothing dishonest about it
I'm not sure
You tell me
How do you get to be 'sure' about some things and not so sure about other things
I wait to see how it comes out
You wait for the flood gates toopen
Just for a second
Ah, it just happened
I missed it
That has to mean, it really happened
You tell me
No, you tell me
OK. It really happened
This ocean in which I am found-- does not mean I am under water
I'm under orders
That could be the same thing
It's my special way of saying-- I don't see you
Oh no, I do care, I just don't see you, and therefore I think about you all the time
I'm afraid I can't breathe under water
You don't have to
Right. I'll be dead soon enough, no matter what
Are you now?
See? I can't tell
Is that why you care so much?
Prove it. Or at least-- demonstrate it
I'll do that at the next available opportuinity. I promise
(Notice how form "this jumping into, echo's page one)
This jumping into new ideas-- turns out to be predictable
What adventure superceeded it
Is this the very end of the adventurous epoch
We'll have to do some further exploration
I hope not
Ah-- there's you adventure
I hope not?
I wonder if another word could be provoked. A different word
Different than "yes"
I doubt it
If I were the right species, I could perhaps jump over myself
Ah-- you are in line for a promotion
Promotion? I don't think so
What's your line of work
I don't want to share that with you
Fear it might interfere with self devolpment
This is especialy designed to provoke me
See? My species has been identified
Not at all
Just because a kangeroo leaps himself across the landscape-- don't think I'm capable of doing anything like that
Ah, but in your dreams?
In my dreams, I am all things to all people
Then I've lost the animal quize
Don't worry. There'll be others
Yes, there is a surprise lesson here.
Don't promise me a surprise because then I won't be able to recognize it
That's the surprise
Let me just close my eyes and imagine I'm crossing a green field. In the sunlight? No, it's overcast-- You see what's happening. I'm trying to surprise myself and I can't
That's why I want to try to help
You were trying to be on my side by turning against me
That was supposed to surprise me
Now I admit that's possible.
What are the alternatives
Giving up, I suppose
Oh, this must be a retroactive decision
Yes. I gave up
I give up now
It's the same thing
If it's the same thing, it isn't a surprise
That makes it a surprise.
Wise men have known all along, that all I had to do was keep the pen in motion over the paper
You mean-- they've known that all THEY had to do--
That's what I said
And you keep the pen moving over the paper
Not for the reason you think
In fact-- my wrist is giving me pain
Well, you tell me that, so now it IS the reason I think.
Right. But you can
't do anything more than IMAGINE the pain
If you read what I wrote, would you be capable of imagining that also
Possibly. Unless what you wrote is really something that is really, deeply beyond me
I don't think I could pull that off
I don't either
Does anything hurt
See how I'm smiling? It's just an idea that came to me. My wrist doesn't really hurt
You respond to your environment
Yes I do
But you respond to your environment in a very particular way that might be yours alone
Well, my 'environment', seen as a totality, might be mine alone also
We don't share it?
Not a hundred percent
Of course not
That means I'm free to go
Ah. Now we share it one hundred percent
I'm here-- which is what I think I just said, but are we talking about once upon a time?
What am I doing here and why do I have to project myself into this series of declarations of intentt-- is that what they are?
No. I better just . . .oscilate, where I am.
So you're here after all
I've been asking everybody--
How would anybody else know
Didn't you say you were asking people--
That's no longer necessary
But it happened
I turn around and there you are
No-- you dopn't 'turn around". I mean-- if you turn around, then I vanish
I don't think so
Well, if I didn't answer, you wouldn't know
(Turns and faces)
Let's face it-- there are other explinations
Step into my. . .
(Searches for the phrase)
--sphere of influence, for a moment
It can be half and half
That's not good enough
Jesus christ-- am I here alone now? Well I can hardly claim to have erased every mental residue, so when I'm talking to myself, it isn't really.
This-- universe of mine is still
relatively well populated
(whirls and falls)
Did you fall
Yes-- how the hell did you know that
Well, I heard a thud
That's one explination
Do you have another?
Maybe we're well attuned
Of course we're well attuned
Well, then I don't need you here
Ok> I get it
I'll need you here sometimes. Later. But not all the time
(Sits, picks up newspaper-- reads-- toss away)
This isn't what I wanted
(Presses temples: other looks in)
(Goes. Calm now
(Covers hand with cloth)
Now my hand is well covered
Come in now
Well, if nobody is here to experience this with me, I will experience it myself
What are you doing?
Can't you see?
I see that cloth covering your hand
I wonder what I'm trying to hide
You're speaking for me when you say that?
Ah, decisions, decisions
(Pause, other takes it off)
See? That was so easy
Do you like it better when it's covered?
It's different, that's all
Is that a choice?
It's an option, so we might as well entertain every option we can imagine
Leaving it uncovered is another option
Yes, but somehow it's less-- option like.
(Covers it, other exits)
This is where I began. From now on I have to remember, whatever happens, to say to myself-- this is where I began
(Pause. Off--into drawer. Exit)
"This is where I began"
Tomorrow, more of this will happen
Yes, but I won't see it happening
You're not going anywhere special
I might take a trip
The adventure's over
You missed it
That's why I might try again
If you try again it won't be an adventure
Remember I said something about tomorrow?
Yes, but I can't remember what you said
Ah, that's the adventure
Trying to remember?
No, that's not very adventurous
OK> I'll just wait and see what tomorrow brings
I knew you would
Do you know me better than myself
No, but I know you better than myself
Am I in a position to say the same thing
Maybe. . .
Look at this
What is it
It's a cabinet I opened
Isn't the implication there's something inside the cabinet to look at
That's a very particular implication
What is this
I can't tell unless I look at it
Well,m look at it
I can't look at it
If I could tell you why not, I could look at it.
I bet you could remember what it looked like if I put it back in the cabinet
I can't remember
Ah, it must have had a powerful effect on you
Let's say-- semi powerful
OK. That's a reasonable compromise
I hope it is never necessary to use this library
Now-- suppose, just suppose, I picked one book off a shelf of this library and said, this book and this book only, tells the truth about things
I wouldn't believe you
Now --suppose I set fire to this library and burned it to the ground. What would happen to the contents of the books. Would the contents of the books in the library be burned?
No. I have to assume there are other copies in other libraries of each of the books included
Yes, but would the contents of the books be burned also?
I can't answer
It would be an arbitrary choice, since I could defend either position
Suppose there was a race of people who punished anyone who read a book after he or she had reached the age of-- say-- 30. But up til then, reading books was encouraged. But the punishment for reading a book after the age of 30 was death. What do you imagine would be the results
Some people would read in secret, a few would be caught and punished, and most wouldn't read after 30
Yes, but what do you think would be the results.
It seems a very poetic concept. Because the mental reading tools-- there are internal mental reading tools, that would have to be applied elsewhere. Would they be applied elsewhere? Well-- maybe.
(red door. (Plain door)
It must capture your attention
Is what's more interesting what's on this side or on the other side
Maybe there's one way to find out
Sometimes, depending on how many doors
There's one that's obvious
By all means, let's follow up on the obvious
I'll try coming in from the otjher side
It was locked
You mean thank goodness this one isn't
You seem to be building up confidence
Not at all
Try it from this side
(Tries red door)
Does it matter?
I have total access
This is an example of over confidence
If I wasn't over confident, I wouldn't be confident.
Is it a face that is in or on the wall, or is it me-- doing my normal series of connections.
Suppse it was really in the wall
Do you mean-- would I fall down and worship it?
You mean, you would--
No, I mean your question was the one I wanted to be asked-- would YOU fall down and worship it
Ah no, your answer was yes--
To a different question
The minute you say yes, you take the position of one who worships things
It's always the same thing
Me? Why not??
Maybe it's ypu face in the wall, but then again, it's so elusive, it could be me
Yes! Are you worshiping me?
I don't know, but I'm certainly worshiping something
Whatever I'm worshiping turns into thereby, what I'm worshiping
Or at least, an image that seems to--
No. Just the wall
Even if it has no image
If I worship it-- it has an image-- erased or not erased
Let me help.
I probably had very little effect on your powers of imagination
Let me give you aa kiss
You mean-- sexual
No, I don't think I mean that
A kiss of peace
I think I heard about it
You mean, I'm being worshiped
(Kiss on cheek)
Am I destined to betray you
I don't know how
Then something's lacking. Try
I will tryWhat will you do
Then you will worship me with more resonance or less resonance
I've decided to be as creative as he universe
How can that be a decision
You mean, how can that be an act of will, since I don't have any
What you mean is-- yes
Yes, what I mean is "yes"
Ah. If I had the ability to perform an act of will, that act of will would be a no, because only a 'no' is an act of will
I'll have to think about that
You think that's serving the universes purposes?
Then it must be true, but personally, I don't think this 'thinking' business is producing very much in the way of the beautiful, so pardon me if I opt out
Is that a 'no'?
Ah, you fell down on the job
Of course, that's how I get material for my thinking mechanism
Whichyou'd rather not operate
Now you can see what fuels my anger
I knew you were angry
Yes, I can't even remember my beginnings. And I don't mean ultimate beginnings, I mean-- where did I just begin
Here we are
Yes. Here we are
Thatnk God for the universe
Even if I say 'no' to that-- yes.
You find yourself saying things
This is amazing, I find myself saying things
There has to be an alternative
Are you talking to me?
To you and to myself
Both of us
This is amazing
What's amazing about something that seems to be so automatic
I didn't hear that
You only hear it when it comes out of your own mouth? Maybe
If I ever felt like interrupting you, I'd do it immediately
Later, I'd think about it
You'd realize you'd been interrupted
Why do I feel like my personal space hasn't been invaded, but rather I'm some kind of fucking explorer
That word seems out of context
The second from the end
My counting's fucked up
I was wrong
It no longer seems inappropriate
I can't count on any consistency from you, can I
Let me get something
Is that to take my picture
Yes-- but only when certain words are being uttered
Suppose I stop talking--
That I'll have a hard time taking a picture
You must have been paying attention to your own words instead of mine. No-- you already weren't paying attention to what you said
And you didn't stop talking like you promised
It wasn't a promise, it was a threat
Isn't that word out of context?
You don't seem to remember anything about context or you wouldn't have taken a picture
If this camera could wind back, I could correct that
Doesn't it wind back when you've finished the roll of film?
Then you'll have to take a few more pictures-- whether or not I choose to say anything else
I suppose I will
Try it now
It seems to have worked
I hope you're not operating under the misapprension that by winding back you somehow erased the pictire
I know a little more about the machanism of photography than that
Not necessarily good. If I know less I might go ahead and shoot over the old picture, which might result in an interesting superimposition. But I'm a little too sophisticated to make that mistake
I'm afraid if you want to expose any more frames on that roll of film you'll have to reshoot the frame you wound back to
I'll hold my hand over the lens; that'll avoid a superimposition
I wonder how words could be subjected to the same technique
I consider that an insult
(Other puts camera back)
How easily he extricates himself from a no exit situation
(Tries other door)
Just as I thought. Still locked
This was my first experience of some very bright light that didn't, in fact, help me to see better, but not because it was blinding me
Are you talking about something here and now or something in the distant past
I was following the course of a mental projectile
Of course I was
Tou were what
I too have had my moments of mental projectile
This isn't a shared moment
What you see-- I see
I don't have to. My view of you and your experiences is secret-- locked up here
If I make a powerful effort, I don't see you though I still see everything
It's me too
Include me in
I thought you erased me
You gave me the idea. so it must have been you doing the erasing
Look at this picture of a flower
(Book opened, closed, put away: Pause)
Do you have to look at it again
I wonder if it's still there
(Out, looks, closes)
Yes. It was still there
Then put it away again
Decisions, decisions. OK I will
Close your eyes
Is anything different?
This is a superficial perspective
There are two sides to every question and there are two sides to every perspective and I'm finding out they balance each other perfectly
You mean compleely
I'd like to get closer to you
Into what special loophole, do I project all my verbal energy
I can't pick up on it
Oh yes, you can change the subject
Does everything "click in'
If you change the subject, definately
That leaves a wide open field
Careful, I'm probably going to overpower you no matter what direction you head into
Maybe I can find a loophole
I'll be in and out ahead of you
After that it'll be my space
I mean now
Then shut up
Ah, nothing's moving
You need my imput
Your verbal pyrotechniques seem to be lighting up my personal horizon, damn it
I do, but that doesn't eliminate mixed emotions
Go ahraed. Hit me
I don't like following orders
Come back so I can hit you
Well. Thank god this hand didn't have to offend anybody
(Pause, looks, then covers mouth with hands. Other in)
What are you doing?
Too bad. I see your hands are otherwise occupied.
(Other tries to exit, but no hands-- first helps)
I better help
(Opens , other exits)
That was a close call.
Outside the realm of belief, here I go, taking a step into the unknown-- I should say the unknowable, but it isn't. I know it. I am in it
What are you in
I don't know
You mean you know but you can't say
What was the first thing you noticed when you came to this city
I noticed how it was familar but confusing
That confirms my own understanding
Then you don't mean understanding
I mean what I can't put my finger on but my head keeps turning in that direction
This is amazing
We're not frightened
No, I'm not frightened
Even though we're confused
I like it
If I stepped out the front door at this moment, how would I know in which direction to circulate
It would depend on your inner proclivities
I'd like to find a nice resturant
No, I'm talking about the ambience
Ah, what kind of people do you want to be surrounded by--
No-- I only want the resturant to have one or two other customers. You see I don't want to be alone, but I don't want OUTSIDE brain activity to be oppressing my own brain activity
You just described an unresolveable paradox
You can't think unless somebody else helps
I didn't say I wanted to do any THINKING
Oh? Try putting a stop to it
You can do that?
I don't think you can do that
If I could find such a resturant, I could find out
What would you order
I said I wasn't hungry
I think they'd throw you out if you didn't order something
Physically-- throw me out?
I'll order coffee
I'll order hors d'oeuvres
That sounds like after dinner, rather than hors d'oeuvers
Then I won't
Because I won't be having dinner--
Where do those ideas come from?
You're right. I could develope my ideas this way, all by myself
Aren't we going out
To a resturant?
I don't know my way around this city. I'd get lost
Where are you now
In this room
Where is that. I mean in relation to the plan of this city as a totality
I don't know
Then you're lost right now
In a sense
(Other gestures "See?")
But I'm getting my bearings from the objects around me
That's always possible, inside or outside
There's a difference
Outside in the streets-- well, it's impossible to stay in one place for a long time, so it's harder to get your bearings, which takes a period of acclimatization.
In the street, there is always a tendency, internal and external both, to move on. Here in this room, I can just stay here. Until it gets familiar to me. My points of reference get to be familiar.
Then you don't need me
Fore some things I need you. For other things I don't
What do you need me for
I don't need you for getting acclimated
Do you expect me to say "No, don't go?"
I won't hit those numbers
I'll still go
Ah, thank God I have my memories
So what if they keep drifting like smoke
I am searching for the person who can help me
Did I hear myself echoed
It must have been the hearing mechanism or the seeing mechanism, or the thinking and imagination mechanism
This room-- cleansed, could pour forth innumerable treasures, and I would like that
Just suppose-- the cleansing was not necessary. Would the treasures still be acceptable
I never said, whatever the terms, they were necessarily acceptabl,e
What I deny you is my mental agility
Didn’t I possess it already?
Approach the table
Approach the table and lay your hands on the surface of the table, palm down.
Now, lift them and examine the palms. Are they clean
They appear clean
Is the table top soiled
It appears clean
Which of those two surfaces is more likely to be unclean, even if appareances to the human eye are not to be 100% depended upon
The human eye is alwaysto be depended upon as an erasable something that leaves a potential hole in things
You mean if they’re closed
Close your eyes
You mean you can still see
In a sense
I don’t need help any more
It seems that in the natural course of things--
Yes. By definition, the course of things is natural
In the natural course of things, I find myself led, unaturatually, out of every dilema
I’d say-- you’ve stumbled upon a treasure
I can’t see it
Then I’m wrong
No, no, no-- I’m not saying that-- because I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. Quite ther opposite
Is this where a story begins or ends
No, no, no-- this is always being in the middle of a story at the point where it takes multiple directions and is therefore unchartable-- but by no means, therefore, less than a story.
I can only tell it if I have multiple voices
How many do you have
Then you can’t tell it
Then there’s no story
Wrong. Because I can’t tell it doesn’t mean there’s no story
(Blindfold off, behind which his eyes are closed)
Ah, you had you eyes closed after all
(other covers, releases hands-- they’re open)
Does this mean I’m back to reality
You tell me
I could take that two ways
At least two
Sounds like a story
That’s another story
I better protect myself, because the light, when teribly intense, hurts
It didn’t hurt
It got as bright as possible
I didn’t see that
You were looking at it
When you were looking straight at that tremendous intensity, you-- in comparison, were so infinitesimaly tiny-- that’s what saved you
You mean it saved my eyes
Is that the tiniest part of my body--
There is a point, in the center of your eye, or should I say, in the center of your eyesight, which is the tinest part of your body
Then what I see and what I don’t see get similar
Yes-- how did you figure that out
What did I figure out?
Well, whatever it was it just welled forth
Can that be called figuring it out?
I have no trouble in here with my vision. Except-- maybe there’s more here than meets the eye.