Excerpt from In the Cool, Cool, Cool
(IN THE DARK we hear the sound of ocean waves against a rocky shore. After several moments, the lights rise on a hospital operating room and the sound of the ocean fades. A DOCTOR, NURSE, and NARRATOR, wearing surgical gowns, masks, and rubber gloves, are gathered around the operating room table where they are performing surgery on a bloody PATIENT, who lies with an open stomach wound.)
In the cool cool cool of the operating room circled three disappointed doctors and a pair of muffled nurses. all in white and all in blue. someone said something the others considered impromptu.
why, nurse, perhaps you’d like to go for a cup of coffee afterwards?
coffee. java. the java hut. java the hut. star wars. drinking coffee when I was five. I wasn’t old. enough. ought not to have been drinking. all that coffee. all that vodka. all that dewars. I’m in recovery. jesus cover over me. I know not what I do.
perhaps you’d like to go out for a drink? afterward? soon I think. the patient is dying.
I nursed my baby back to health. she was sick. no one to help. all alone. the apartment floor. condemned. no more. no mas. rumble in the jungle. new york city. a woman and her child. I became a nurse.
nurse. perhaps you’d do me the favor. the linen closet. half an hour. if you are able. the patient. is nearly dead. the anesthesiologist. yawning. I am tired of fucking my wife. underneath the awning. of our very first time. mexico city. spinning on a dime. a long long time. ago. now we yawn. she cleans up the mess. this patient is a mess. nurse. clamp him. clean him up.
In the cool cool cool of the afterlife operating room, the cars went zoom zoom crash on highway ninety-five west, and they all breathed deep the fearful lies they weren’t afraid to keep.
(ALL breathe in together. ALL exhale together.)
Excerpt from Peculiar
There is some allure in gathering groups of people, assembling them in some dark, intimate space, allowing them time to arrange themselves, assume a position, take a seat, or to stand there, awkward or otherwise, see the looks in their eyes, watch the muscles flinch in their faces. Taking note of particular signs: an aversion to direct eye contact is a giveaway, folded arms, aha, the licking of lips, pervert, the crossing of legs, you know. Some nervous whispering. We've heard things about this guy and we're not convinced. Look. There's an aggressive posture. Lean forward, like you've seen this all before. Like you've been there. Done that. But here you are, doing it again. You've got some kind of personal agenda and you're ticking the boxes off as you go. Is this different or just indifferent? This is just an observation. This is the point at which you're told to leave your bags at the door. This is the point at which you're given the shadow of a doubt, but take a chance anyway. This is the point at which you say to yourself - hey, he's kinda cute, but I wouldn't want to cross him. I wouldn't want to be stuck next to him on a crowded bus. Get trapped in a bar. This is the point at which you realise you might have to take a stand, where you might be asked to get up off your seat and follow the instructions. You know the procedure. There is irony and sincerity. There is parody and melancholy. This is not all fun and games. Laughter echoes off. This is the point at which you're told to stop crying. To put that version of your life to the side, file away, negotiate some new kind of fear.
Do not ask me back to your house. You do not know what you are getting yourself in for. Do not cross that line with me. Do not pass over that threshold. Meet me somewhere else. Some non-space, liminal. Do not count on speech or seduction. Be careful to go easy on the booze. Smoke one less cigarette. Dance close to me. Just move slow. Dance close. Don't say another word.
