new play up online

good news on the virtual publishing front - looks like the literary magazine ygdrasil has decided to publish a play of mine, "atomic age."

It's up online here . You have to scroll down a touch.

Oh, and don't ask me how to pronounce the name of the magazine. I surfed around their site for a while to no avail.

Here's my basic synapses, and the play itself isn't much longer:

... two loving parents go on a campus visit to their son's apartment, who is obviously making great strides in graduate school ...

--GEH--

A Nietzschean Tragedy in Honor of the Most Mysterious of Russian Letters in One Act;
A Tragedy that will Move Audiences Not.


-dzh. s. uolker-


Dramatic Personae,
Presented in No Particular Order:

WRITER, a russian, logical and rational; secretly named gugo v. kharold
BUREAUCRAT, also russian, a mystic; secretly named khelmont v. van gog
GASHEK, a Czech hockey player, retired, former member, czech national hockey team
KHEIDOOK, a Czech hockey player, member, czech national hockey team
KHEMINGOOEI, an american novelist
GEGEL, a german philosopher
GEGELITSA, his wife, German-looking, and German by all appearances, 45
KHEIDEGGER, a german philosopher, unfortunate brief proponent of fascism
GEIDIGGER, his evile double who does not exist, used mostly for jokes and thought experiments
GERBERT GOOVER, a former american president, namesake of giant phallic symbols across California
KHOOVER, an American vacuum cleaner, which can also sustain earthquakes
CHASE G. FULLENTHROP, an american student from current Connecticut capitol Khartford, originally from Aidakho
DIGGIN’ KH. DAWG, an american student from theoretical US capitol Garvard, originally from Ogio
GERMANN GESSE, a character no other characters understand, “cannot speak”
DRAMATINCHA, a character everyone thinks has left, Russian, Beautiful, a woman of literature, 19
GAMLET, a danish prince who does nothing, but who sounds quite well-read
KHAPPI MEEL, symbol of American imperialism with god-like powers, form resembles a box with loopy handles, convenient for carrying about school as well as imprinting subversive instructions
GRABAL, a crazed Czech thief
TANYA, a Ukrainian peasant, in traditional Ukrainian dress, 66
MEMBERS OF THE AUDIENCE, women, of various ages
NARRATOR, who at times speaks with a very slight Russian accent and at other times speaks with a very slight German accent
 

No curtain, stage hands run about assembling scenery, wearing black.  Half of the set resembles the Gaaga, the other half Khelsinki.  There are scattered signs in German, Russian, Netherlandic, and Finnish (see appendix).  KHAPPI and KHOOVER are on stage. DRAMATICHNA sits in a pretty chair with two books at her feet: “Gorny Tsvetok” and “Garry Potter”. She is by turns distant and pale and then absorbed and hopeful.  The area around KHOOVER is quite clean. The audience must do its utmost to imagine that this is actually a real fragmented conglomerate of real cities, not just paint, ink and paper, and furthermore that DRAMATICHNA has left.  Enter WRITER with pen and GAMLET with sword.
DRAMATICHNA: Oh, hello!  I’ve been waiting-
WRITER: [to stage hands, would be interrupting DRAMATINCHA had he noticed her] Be gone with you!  Can’t you see I’m writing!  Oh, but your tiny minds couldn’t grasp it anyway.  [they scatter, leaving some of the set unfinished, dropping things and knocking over pieces as they run away, taking  care to stray from KHAPPI.   to audience]  Oh, damn....  You!   Stay silent, just like that, and, please, in no way react!  I need to write.  [looks impatiently at Gamlet, then at his pen, then at Gamlet]  Well then?
GAMLET: I will take your advice, writer.  I will try to act, to continually progress, to guide myself by reason and rationality, to make things better.  O, for what most joyous and edifying intentions my heart doth hold!  / Could I but kiss the dewy lippéd moon, embrace Her silver gilded frame and all Her rocky craters!  Thank you!  Farewell for now!  [exits]
VOICE OF KHAPPI: Bokh!
WRITER: All he ever does is talk. [looks at Khappi] So much noise I’ll never get anything done.  Quiet you!
VOICE: Bokh!
WRITER: Damn!  This is exceedingly difficult, I strain my reason, my glorious mental faculties.  Okay.  Good.  And begin writing... ah-hem.  “As everything has already been written...” [continues writing, to himself]
VOICE: Bokh!
[pause.  silence, minimal movement, an air of foreboding, pregnant with expectation]
MEMBER OF THE AUDIENCE: Jesus, I’m pregnant!
WRITER: Oh, for...!  You’ve mixed it all up.  You’re not pregnant, for God’s sake.  And I told you to be quiet.  All of you!  You have no idea how difficult this is.  Everything has been written, everything has been done.  Even this, this talking.... Everything has been experienced and everything has already been thought of, twice.  Damn!
VOICE: Bokh! [enter BUREAUCRAT]
DRAMA: [Fake-shyly, using Russian wiles]  Hello.
BUREAUCRAT: My life is so difficult, I just count and count all day, every day.  My whole life.  In Russia, there are so many things to count: people, square kilometers, islands – and distinguishing islands from blocks of ice, so the figures are always changing – neighbors, former neighbors, border lengths, cities, rivers, renamed streets, unrenamed streets, foreign investors, money in Switzerland, money in Cyprus, degrees below zero, wind chill factors, people who count things and report to me, the people who count things and report to them, the people I report to and so on.  And that’s not even counting my personal finances, all the personal numbers I’m responsible for, passwords, logins, bank numbers....  Oh, my life is so empty!  
WRITER: Can you keep it down, I’m writing.
BUREAUCRAT: Writer, well... you see... I’m in despair, my life makes no sense, I’ve been thinking, you know, I have higher urgings.
WRITER: We have science.
BUREAUCRAT: That’s the problem.
WRITER: Well, then we have morality, religion, superstition, for silly people like you.
[pause]
BUREAUCRAT: Have you seen Dramatincha?
DRAMA: Hello.
WRITER: No, I think she’s left.
BUREAUCRAT: Forever?  She may have been our hope, or our death, or something... I’ve been thinking that maybe the two are the same, hope and death, you know, mystery, like we live our lives like everything is so normal, but there’s this whole other way of existing, and... Wasn’t she whitish, can’t you remember that tinge of white she had?   [approaches pretty chair]  Oh, this is her chair!  It still smells of her!
WRITER: [sarcastically] our death, our death.  [laughs self-satisfiedly]
DRAMA: Yes, hello.
[WRITER writes, BUREAUCRAT moves upstage and begins counting audience members, occasionally pausing to look upward, trying to find inspiration, but finds none like usual.  GOOVER, DAWG, CHASE enter, GOOVER is giving a tour, walking backward.  KHEMINGOOEI is with them]
GOOVER: ...And vather round, vet your finvers ready for some vreat photovraphs, everyone back at home sure will love them, so authentic, for here you will see the vrand historical center of...  what the..?!
DAWG: [amused] You don’t know where we are, Goover?
CHASE: [not] This is unacceptable, simply unacceptable, Goover.  This is not what I paid for.
GOOVER: [trying to pull self together] Please, [pointing to himself] Voover... and... [points to signs] well, here you see sivns that are written in another lanvuave... not Envish!...  all those dots and such... people really do speak these, amazing!...  And over there is the Vaava, I’m sure of that because I’ve spent many productive, vivorous days in the Vaava, and this over here is Khelsinki, I’d recovnize it any day, but I really don’t....  [recovers, inspired]  Ah, yes, but this is the latest Khoover [points to KHOOVER], the absolute latest model, you can see how fine it is, it’s form is quite revolutionary, it cleans like nothinv has ever cleaned before.  As you can see, the area by Khoover is quite clean, leadinv to an overall “vreater happiness” of the veneral area.  Vadvits like these don’t even need vasoline anymore.  Life is really on the rise....  here!  In this place, that is.  [enter GRABAL, running]
GRABAL: [running in the back, no one can see him.  He steals a piece of scenery]  Gank!  [exists]
CHASE: I’ve missed rush for this?  Freshman jungle vodka death?  
DAWG: Naw, Europe is cool, people are always burning American flags and shit.
WRITER: [mainly listening to Goover] Yes, it is quite amazing, technology is continually expanding, breaking down superstition and the like!  Did you know that the more organized things are the better our lives are?  It was recently published in a well-known computing magazine, and is said to have the support of every major corporation.
[pause, BURE lowers head in almost resignation]
 But, Jesus, can you take the tour further, I’m really trying to write!  This is so difficult.
GOOVER: Yes, yes, then, let’s move alonv, I’m sure everythinv will be clear once we hit those dark tunnels.  Come alonv, boys.  [they exit, although KHEMINGOOEI remains on stage.  the two Czech hockey players jog in, they are exercising, but in the background and other characters pay little attention.  The Czechs do not notice that nothing is written in Czech and, thus, do not complain]
BUREAUCRAT: I have to start all over again!  Oh!  But would it have mattered anyway?
[pause]
That really is quite odd, how that Goover fellow mixes up his ‘g’s with ‘v’s – imagine! he even calls himself “Voover”! - but the sound is pleasing, I think, it makes me think of-
WRITER: [interrupting] It’s terrible!  Things need to be standardized.  It makes no sense; where a ‘g’ is written, and yet you say ‘v’?  The next thing you’re going to tell me Freud’s “EGO” should be read “EVO”, or maybe some made-up word like “SEGODNYA” should be “SEVODNYA”, ha!  Why, just imagine how difficult implementing standardized tests and statistics would be if everyone just scampered about, speaking and doing ‘as they please’!
BURE: Yes, well, I like how it’s all somewhat unpredictable.  Sometimes it’s nice when things aren’t completely sterile...  But Goover really is an upstanding fellow, you must admit that.
WRITER: Right, right, he is quite erect.  [pause] Boundaries are breaking down.  But science will win the day, my friend!  Your precious unpredictability will be wiped away for complete logic, and happiness.... [trails off]
BUREAUCRAT: Don’t you think that might mean something, the breaking down?  Fragmentariness?
WRITER: I am trying to write!
KHEIDOOK: I agree, with you, by the way.  Why, in our Beautiful Czech language, g’s are always pronounced “geh”, we have no such strange abnormalities.
GASHEK: Why, I agree with you, Kheidook.
KHEIDOOK: Why thank you, Gashek.
WRITER: Who are you?
[GRABAL again runs across, steals another piece of scenery, this time makes no noise]
GASHEK: Hockey players. I just retired, but Kheidook has more to play, he has to win back the world title for the Czechs, for we lost to the hated Russians in the Quarter-finals. So now, we’re exercising.  Training.  We are strong.  We have no desire to teach, or to over-reason our power.  It exists, and we feel life from it.
KHEIDOOK: Once someone told us that we should reconsider our stance, that we should invert our strength and view it as a weakness, that really it was ‘bad’ to use our precious strength for ourselves, and that it would be ‘good’ to renounce it forever and feel bad for every weak thing... that the weak was actually good!  At least, that’s how I remember it.
GASHEK: Yes, you are quite close, really.
WRITER: So?
KHEIDOOK: We killed him!
BUREAUCRAT: Oh, God!
GASHEK: Well, we didn’t really kill him.
KHEIDOOK: But we could have!  [they continue to exercise]
GASHEK: Although sometimes I wonder about our strength, it makes me nervous....
KHEIDOOK: Yes, sometimes I wonder, too, a mild feeling of paralysis....
KHEMINGOOEI: But we are all impotent, modernism leaves us that way, in the face of the all the desolation.....
ALL (except WRITER): Quiet!  Americans cannot take part in our debate!  You don’t understand!  Americans have no culture! [etc.]
KHEMINGOOEI: .... And yet it is true that we must go on, and affirm our masculinity, kill bulls if we must... it’s great there are no women here, by the way, though sex...  just sex, you know...
BUREAUCRAT: Stop! American cannot take part in our debate!  You’ll just create a Disney and then a Disney Channel, everything always ends well for you!  Your idea of tragedy is when some Gollyoood starlet gets the flu.  You have no great passion, just automobiles and obesity.
WRITER: [quietly] We do like Khoover, though, and I have watched those films, and sometimes when I’m busy.... well, and these jeans, well... [quietly trails off]
KHEMINGOOEI: Show me, don’t tell me.
KHEIDOOK: That and a Silver medal, the Americans!  Grah!
[KHEIDOOK kills him with an object that ostensibly has something to do with hockey.  DRAMA screams, BUREAUCRAT rocks back in horror, the WRITER is preoccupied, GASHEK is unclear what to do so he continues exercising, KHOOVER whirrs, albeit reservedly]
KHEMINGOOEI: Oh! [dies]       
       [pause]
VOICE: Bokh!
BUREAUCRAT: You see!  What did I tell you about breaking down!  Disconnectedness!  Someone dies, a human being dies, and we can’t react, we don’t react, nothing is together, everything is fragmented, and I just go on counting, and people just go on dying, it makes no sense!  I’ve had a love affair or two....  Just going on, and on, and on....  No sense!
WRITER: But your counting will eventually lead to better, superior counting.  That is, at some point, someone will be happy.  [enter TANYA]
TANYA: [singing] Yak by v lysy, khryby ne rodyly, Yak by dyvky khulyat ne khodyly!
ALL OF THE RUSSIANS: Ha ha ha ha!  [BUREAUCRAT holds his side, WRITER wipes away tears, DRAMA falls out of her chair]
TANYA: Wkhat is so khreatly funny?  Whky do all you khulikhans laugh at me?  Khospodi!
ALL OF THE RUSSIANS: Ha ha ha ha!
GASHEK: Why is this so funny?
KHEIDOOK: I believe because Russia is bigger than the Ukraine. Therefore, they are entitled to laugh.
GASHEK:  Yes, ha ha!  They even lost to Belarus, and Latvia!
KHEIDOOK:I still don’t quite understand.
WRITER: [confidingly, still in tears] Can’t you hear it, she always says ‘kh’, she can’t say her ‘g’s, normally.
BUREAUCRAT: Yes, it really is funny, I promise.
DRAMA: I have an idea!  
TANYA: [offended] I will kho to my kharden.  [she goes to her Garden, tends the land, continues singing: “a ya chernyava kharna koocherava khryby ne zbirala skazakom khulyala....”]
[Enter all the Germans; GEGEL, GEGELITSA, KHEIDEGGER, GESSE.  They all, except GESSE, of course, at first speak an amusing language that somewhat resembles English, but switch into English as they approach center stage.  The Czechs continue training.  GASHEK calls out names of Russian hockey players from time to time, to inspire KHEIDOOK: Khabibulin, Federov, Bule, Bule, Kaspiritis, Kovalev, Zubov, Yashin, Samsonov]
BURE: [stops laughing, looks afraid but inspired]  Wait, an idea!  But I must leave them all for a little while, or my counting will distract me, everything will distract me [goes to the side of the stage, sits between audience and stage, facing stage]
KHEIDEGGER: Das ist nicht Den Haag.
GEGEL: Das ist bühnërfräuleïn, nicht etwas doch.  [stops]  What are you laughing at?
WRITER: The Ukrainians are so funny!  I must say, it is a pity that during the rationalization of all boundaries and standardization that will inevitably take place in the future, much to our mutual advantage, I must add, such amusing things will be a thing of the past, but that is progress!
GESSE: [gestures wildly] guh-guh-guh!  guh-guh-guh!
WRITER: What’s the matter with him?
GEGEL: Oh, no one can guess what he’s trying to say, ever
GEGELITSA: Yes, he has a problem with language
KHEIDEGGER: With speaking
GEGELITSA: With words
KHEIDEGGER: One might even call him ‘dumb’ in your language
WRITER: In who’s language?
KHEIDEGGER: What?
VOICE: Nyemets!                
[pause]
KHEIDEGGER: We were just discussing the historical developments of drama and philosophy.
WRITER: Progress! I enjoy history, it leads to technical mastery and the destruction of superstition.  Can you believe Galileo was killed for science!  What a martyr!  That’s what I’d like to do!  But then, as I’ve said before, everything’s been done, everything’s been said. Thrice, or even four times! Dying for something can only be ridiculous extremism.  We can only make it all better and better.  Damn!  I haven’t gotten any writing done!
GEGELITSA: Well...
GEGEL: I was just mentioning how it all started with Gomer.
KHEIDEGGER: The mythic ‘Geroi’.
GEGELITSA: Yes.
GESSE: Geh-geh-geh [runs around in circles.  GRABAL runs out and steals something from him.  No one notices, except DRAMA]
DRAMA: I may be in love!
GEGEL: Yes, there was the geroi in Gomer, and then a perfect time of drama, of tragedy, a perfect balance of all the elements.  But then came Socrates and abstraction.  He struggled hard against the aesthetic theories of the time, for to argue Beautifully was to argue well, as all citizens were trained in poetry and art.  He succeeded; then came Christendom, which served to invert the Greek ideals of strength, while at the same time adopting their ideas of abstraction.  The wolf, so to speak, was convinced to  adopt meekness by the sheep. Once abstraction was firmly imbedded in the society, and the subsequent internalization of thought, it was only a matter of time until religion was dead and only science remained, with roots in abstraction, with faith in some eventual, overall, abstracted good.  An Alexandrian society, if I may be permitted historical allusion.  But science could only do better and not say ‘why?’, or, ‘for what purpose?’.  Well then, then there was science, Kant attacked pure reason, followed by Shoppengower. Then I come along, and talk about historical movements.  Then Nietzsche comes and tries to sum up. Next will come Kheidegger.  At least I’m pretty sure that order was correct.  Too many Germans, one must agree!
WRITER: Oh, progress, I love it!  It may never end, there may always be something to do!
[BUREAUCRAT seems horrified by this, he springs up, and looks frantically around, then sits again, rocking]
KHEIDEGGER: Well, but it is more complicated than that, yes.
GEGEL: Well... yes....
DRAMA: [recites]         His face, cracked by such lips
 Remind the fingertips of snowy eves!           [pause]
BUREAUCRAT: I know it!  [returns to stage]  We will revere symbols!  Well, that is....  Poetry, Theater!  We will restore aesthetics and art as a grander and more satisfying reality than what we have! And as we know, Nietzsche proved that science is not culture, right?  [The Germans are not sure, only Gesse reacts] Why, is anyone here truly satisfied?  No, but I have the answer now!  
WRITER: Maybe faith in Khappi Meel, that’s something that can be improved and improved, and spread across the world, to glorify reason and the reduction of unnecessary activity in life.
VOICE: Bokh!
WRITER: Or in something useful, like Khoover.  It follows that the more general usefulness, the more general happiness.  [Khoover whirrs splendidly]
BURE: No, it must come in music and aesthetics, reality as art, art as reality!  All others are but illusions, leading to pain and emptiness, this way of life allows us to deal with the pain and frustration of this physical world.   And God, well...  Nietzsche...  All give in to the poetic and mysterious powers of the letter ‘‘GEH’’!   All listen to its resounding sound, its magical transformation, its arbitrary assignment to people’s names, it can be a Geh!  A Kheh!  A Veh!  Even a devoiced Kah!
WRITER: This is absurd!  This is decadence.  
BUREAUCRAT: Like “VKROOK”
WRITER: We have no reason for this!  We need improvement in tradition, repudiation of superstition, not this uselessness!
BUREAUCRAT: Over-individualism will destroy us, look at this place!  A mess of characters, all such individuals, no music, the place is fragmented, no cohesion, I can’t understand what’s happening, I can’t remember anyone’s name or why anyone is here.  Aesthetics, art and aesthetics, mystery, meef, meefology, muses—O, DRAMATINCHA!—and music, we need those!  Not illusion in writer, khappi, khoover!  They give us nothing, the Germans have proved it!  Play the music [music starts playing, it starts quite but gets quite loud] dim the lights!  [the lights dim on stage, MEMBERS OF THE AUDIENCE, all women, rush onto stage, as do ALL CHARACTERS, except GAMLET, and KHEMINGOOEI, who is dead.  WRITER rushes away from all of this, moves downstage
an orgy ensues, the characters begin shouting ‘geh’ and ‘khek’  flashes of skin can be seen in the dim lights, bottles of alcohol can be heard breaking, characters all experience pain, pleasure together, equality, the sound of KHOOVER being destroyed is heard, all individuality is effaced and everything is experienced together,  laughter, orgasms, wails are all heard, commingling with the sounds ‘geh’ ‘kheh’ and sometimes ‘veh’.  WRITER alone stands to the side and is slightly illuminated, he is disgusted and panic-striken.  A devoiced ‘kah’ is heard several times.
WRITER: This is awful, simply terrible!  Despicable!  There must be order!  There must be ration!  Has no one any respect for history!?   For reason!?  Calm down!  Stop!   Stop!   Please, order!  This can’t be happening!  Haven’t you read reports, scientific reports?   They....  Oh!
It continues, getting louder... then all dark,  except the light on WRITER, he peeks around, curiously, but still disgusted.  pause, the music stops.  The lights come back on, ALL CHARACTER are now wearing identical mask, as it is not clear who is who they are now the CHORUS, which forms a half circle, except for some characters lying on the ground, perhaps injured or dead.  BUREAUCRAT, alone, unmasked stands somewhat in front of them, pleased, his eyes are closed. He is experiencing something.  KHOOVER has been ripped to shreds, the set is mostly in ruins]
WRITER: That was.....!  Oh God!   But surely this can all be proven.....  There must be a statistic that shows.....  [GAMLET advances quickly and angrily-WRITER notices this-and he rips off his mask]  Why, it is Gamlet, future king of Denmark.
GAMLET: [rage, but somewhat controlled] Writer, you must tell me, how is everything so clear for you?  How can you just... do so much?  How can you decide so easily?
WRITER: [rolls eyes, sardonically plays to the audience] Do you want me to write it down on a napkin?  You chose something that you can do well, you apply the scientific method to it, and then you make it better and better and better.  Then you start to buy things, and you keep buying the better versions of them.  We make better airplanes because we want better airplanes.  We make better computers because we want better computers.  Wireless technology brings us closer.  Increased digital technology makes our free time better and more interesting.  Everything is possible through science and technology.  It’s all quite simple, idiot... now let me write, I have a lot to think about.  Everything has been written already, but I still have a lot to think about.
GAMLET: [now uncontrolled rage, pulls out his sword]  Tell me the point of it all and I’ll let you live!
WRITER: What?
GAMLET: Tell me the point of it all and I’ll let you live!
WRITER: But what could you possibly mean?  Things get better, we become happier, why...
GAMLET: No!  [He kills WRITER]
WRITER: Guh.... [dies]
BUREAUCRAT: Thank you for that, king.  With writer dead, we can live in our orgy, balanced with Apollonian stuff, of course, we can attain new heights through complete mystery.  We are free to worship and explore symbols, as Nietzsche and the cosmos intend!
GAMLET: No, Bureaucrat, in my kingdom it will not happen like that.  You have transgressed too many boundaries, you have done too much, there is blood on your hands.
BUREAUCRAT: But I have made them happy, I have brought meaning to their lives!  I have struggled and achieved!  
GAMLET: You have struggled, and so you are punished.  There are laws in this world.
BUREAUCRAT: This is absurd!  I must be victorious, it must work that way, the universe must have order.... where are the Germans, who here are the Germans?!
GAMLET: I have no choice now [Struggle.  He kills BUREAUCRAT with sword.  BUREAUCRAT kills him with piece of Khoover].  O!  Gamlet is mortally wounded!  And in the harshest of worlds / breath is pain for us, too / O all you tell my story / My long, long, important, important story / O, I die!  My spirit is... dying / along with everything that is.... / dying.  The rest is really... rather.... quiet [finally dies]
BUREAUCRAT: [takes a little longer to die, counts his pulse until he is counting but his heart isn’t] Zero, zero....  [dies]      
[long pause]
CHORUS: Such is their end, for to live is to die.  As it always will be, as it always has been, for those who dare and for those who do not.
[they pause for appropriate effect, and then proceed to drag the bodies off; the stage is empty except for KHAPPI, who calls Bokh! but then GRABAL enters and promptly steals him along with a piece of KHOOVER.  The stage is empty.  Curtain.  The actors may bow if they wish to destroy the effect of the piece.]

Atomic Age: A Play in One Act

this play has been published at ygdrasil -- it's towards the bottom of the issue