A Play That Isn't Legitimate

[It's morning, Hacker is on his bunk bed above his desk, Blindman is sitting at his computer idly plucking at his guitar}

Hacker: [sits up]
Mornin' Blindman.

Blindman:
Mornin' [turns back away from Hacker, Hacker jumps down with a loud thud] oooooooh! Hacker, you ok? That was louder than usual I think!

Hacker:
Yeah I think I fell faster that time.

Blindman:
Well...no, you couldn't have. You'd always fall at the same speed but...

Hacker:
No look there's no way I could've reached maximum...yeah I guess you're right

Blindman:
I am right! I am, I'm like a physics...a physician, a physics-ian

Both laugh

Blindman:
Well I gotta get to class. The sooner that's done the sooner I can hop that train home.

Hacker:
Great, yeah...look enjoy this weekend ok? Enjoy it a lot, make it count ok?

Blindman:
Uh...yeah...I-I will...Look I gotta go. See ya Sunday!

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[Dark blue lighting, Blindman sits against a wall, head down. Hope sits at a desk next to him]

Hope:
And you still feel the same after everything that's happened?

Blindman:
Yeah...I do...I feel like I shouldn't but I do. [Laughs airily] I've tried, you know I have.
It's just-it's not gonna work like that. I can tell when I look at her and at the same time it's like I'm never without her.
I can just get out my guitar and look at her picture and it's like I'm never alone.
Just the beautiful smiling face, just like it was in real life. As soon as I put the guitar down though...
that's how I know that it's more than that.
Four months...months are a stupid way to measure time.
Weeks? Days? It doesn't matter, I don't know how to express it...It's in stupid little
love notes and songs we would sing and 1 a.m. walking across town to her door.
That's what it really is, not time.


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{Blindman, a college student, enters his darkened dorm room where his roommate,
Hacker, sits at a desk scribbling in a notebook.
Lighting is dim and warm, the only light from a lamp on Hacker's desk.}

[Blindman crosses the room and flops down on his bed, head down on the pillow]

Hacker: [looks up]
Hey.

Blindman: [waves, head still down in the pillow]

[long silent pause, more scribbling]

Blindman: [rolling over]
Hey, can you go put my iTunes on random?

Hacker:
Ye-hang on...sorry what? Music?
[walks over to Blindman's computer]

Blindman:
Hold on, make sure it's not...which one's first?

Hacker:
Pennywise- Now I Know

Blindman:
Skip it. How about after that?

Hacker:
A.F.I.-Silver and...

Blindman:
NO! Jesus, what's next?

Hacker:
Ben Folds...

Blindman:
Aw hell! Which one, not that it matters.

Hacker:
Brick

Blindman: [in quiet shock]
Unbelieveable...it's happening again...

Hacker:
Blindman...

Blindman:
my playlist is mocking me...AGAIN!

Hacker:
Mocking you? [scoffs] You sound like..

Blindman:
Who? Woody Allen I hope? Well good, I fit the profile. Neurotic, miserable...

Hacker:
Hey Two Coins is the next one.

Blindman: [Staring blankly]
Yeah fine, put that on [Sits up]

[Music plays, Blindman listens staring off as if in a daze, Hacker goes back to work]

Blindman: [jumps, startled]
For the love of...[yanks a cell phone out of his pocket, squints at it]..ugh...Hello?

Hacker: [whispers/mouths]
Your mother?

Blindman: [shakes head and waves dismissively at Hacker]
Hi, yeah I'm good, listen I can't ta....no, I havn't yet...yeah I know I'm sorry, look I have to go. I'm in the middle of something. Bye.

Hacker:
Who was that?

Blindman: [tossing phone onto his desk and laying back down] Aunt...good guess though. A conversation with either is irritating. I'm miserable enough without them calling me every 2 seconds.

Hacker:
Heh no kidding, bad week?

Blindman:
Try three...months even. What the hell? You mind if I leave that? [points at computer/music]

Hacker:
No, go ahead

[Hacker returns to work, Blindman lays back down and falls asleep]

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[blue lights, clock reads 00:00. !!!This is a dream!!!]

Blindman: [sits up, staring off, distant and quietly]
W-Why are we in college?

Hacker:
What?! Because we...how long have you been awake? [shoves notebook into his desk]

Blindman:
No wait...it makes sense now. This conflict, this one right now, it couldn't work unless conditions were perfect, it wouldn't be relevant if I was out of school, it wouldn't be possible if I was still in grade school. We've been written into a neat little corner, this magnificent bastard of a writer! Anyone but my character would be able to get through this. Anyone except me, too poor to own a car, just poor enough to take the train every weekend, just far enough that it hurts to be away, just close enough that it hurts more to be so close but so limited. This writer...my god

Hacker: [audibly shaken, very nervous, shifty eyes]
What are you talking about? What writer?

Blindman:[Faces the audience]
Just look at them...

Hacker: [rising]
WHO?! Jesus man, look I don't know what's with you, what the hell's going on with you ...I mean one minute you're sitting there sulking about the music and then you lay down and start suspecting me of writing....I mean, nevermind. Look, I think maybe you need to talk to someone else about this. I'm not good with this relationship stuff and right now you don't sound so great.

Blindman:[Quickly]
What do you mean suspect?!...no,...[looks towards the audience] no nevermind. Of course this part doesnt make sense anyway, this exchange happened to fast, it was awkward. Sounds like how I would write it. [sighs] Maybe I just need a nap

[Lays back down/puts headphones back on]

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[lights return to normal in the room, almost 3 hours have past, clock reads 11:00pm]

Blindman: [sits up, removes headphones and stares. stands up]

Hacker: [looks up from his work]
Mornin' sunshine

Blindman: [nods a greeting and grunts]

Hacker:[Looks back down]
Since when do you nap anyway?
[pause, looks back up, Blindman is staring at the wall] HEY!

Blindman:[whirls around]
Huh?

Hacker:
T'the hell are you staring at?

Blindman:[staring off]
Nothing...weird dream...[notices Hacker staring at him and writing] what are you writing anyway?

Hacker:
[quickly] Nothing! [slams notebook closed]

<Disembodied Voice: She's getting to you!>

Blindman:[staring at H in disbelief]
What'd you say?! How'd you...

Hacker:
Nothing! God, what's with you lately? One minute you're sulking over your music and -

Blindman:[cutting him off]
Look we just had this argument like 2 minutes ago, don't drag me through it again!

Hacker: What? No we didn't, what the hell, you were just asleep!

Blindman:
No I wasn't, I was...wait! [whirls around to the audience/wall and stares]

Hacker:
There! There you go again with the wall! Stop it, there's nothing there ok! Drop it!

Blindman:[goes to the window, looks outside]
I need some air...[exits]
Hacker:
Yeah...[opens notebook again and begins writing]


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[Scene is outdoors. Almost bare trees, street lamps, a bench, it is obviously cold. Blindman wanders across the stage/where ever this is and paces back and forth in front of the bench clutching his head.]

Blindman:
This is.....Jesus...this is Jesus [laughs] That would make it easier. Maybe when all this is over I'll be so emotionally drained I'll just find religion.
Become a born again...talk to myself even more except this time I'll be convinced that I'm speaking to a ghost or something.
Goddamn it's cold.

Hope:
There you are! I was worried, your away message looked depressing.

Blindman:
Huh...you don't say. Well I'm alright I think. That sounds pathetic though, my AWAY message sounds depressed.
Technology and pop culture sucks the legitimacy out everything.

Hope:
Blindman, what's wrong huh? I mean it is Sunday, so there must be something.
Every time you come back worse but more in love. How do you do it?
It's like you're some super hero.

Blindman:
Heh...Superhero? [Laughs] Yeah, wow.
Right now though, more than anything your name is pretty damn ironic and it's really getting to me.
It's like-it's like someone wrote everyone here into a play and picked out significant names for everyone.

Hope:
Hah, thank you I think?

Blindman:
Did you ever get that feeling...like someone's writing you into a play?
Like right this second someone is looking out the window scribbling in a notebook one step ahead of you completely aware of what you'll do next?

Hope: [clearly confused and a little scared]
No, heh, no I've uh-I've never-That's never occured to me. You sure everything's ok?

Blindman:
[staring at his window across the street, now with a serious look on his face]
Yeah.

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[Blindman's room a week later.]
Hacker: [jumps off his bed and lands with a thud]
OW! Oh man that one hurt! I hurt my foot the other night running across the tracks.

Blindman:
What were you doing on the tracks?

Hacker:
Nothing dude, nothing at all. I had to get a new notebook.

[lights begin to fade and turn blue]

Blindman:
Right, 'cause I forgot they sell them there...across the tracks where there aren't any stores right?
I mean I know your judgement on Thursday nights isn't...well you have crappy judgement anyway.

[lights totally blue]

Hacker:
No there's this guy...he makes them himself.
Some hippy dude, looks like they are good for something.
So Hope said you were like a superhero?
[Laughs] Wow, honestly dude, I don't see it.

Blindman:
Huh? How'd you know that?

Hacker: [stumbling over words]
You-uh-you just told me a second ago.

Blindman:
I did? [eyes him suspiciously] Whatever.

[lights return to normal. Blindman stares off blankly.]

Hacker:
Blindman! HEY! Dude!

Blindman:
Huh? Oh yeah...what was I saying?

Hacker:
No idea, you were staring off and mumbled something about a superhero. You ok there man?

Blindman:
Hah! Probably not, I have no idea. But yeah Hope said I was like a superhero.
Hey, I could be though. you never know, I mean...do you think superman started out as a man of steel?
Of course not, he probably began as an infant...of extreme crankiness. so i mean like one day I could be in uh-in
comic books with lightning shooting out of my eyes or something
and people would say, they'd say "Blindman, how did you become a super hero?" and you could be like
"Well, it all started with perserverence" something like that, ya know?
Of course you're sort of the superhero expert with your comics and all.
I think my experience in that field is...well nonexistent.

Hacker:
I'm worried about you ya know? You've been a little off lately.
You've been really down and a little out of it...
I think this whole business at home is doing something to you. Like the other day
you were staring at the wall all funny and I-I dunno maybe it's nothing.
I'm just worri-sorry I'll shut up.

Blindman:
Yeah-no it's cool. I mean...I appreciate your concern.
I'm ok though. I gotta keep busy, ya know, as long as I don't sit still and I'm not alone a lot.
This past weekend when it snowed I sat alone in my living room and
all of a sudden I was just so depressed.

Hacker: [clearly uncomfortable now]
Yeah...I dunno. Well I gotta get started on a paper.

Blindman:
Hacker...

Hacker:
Uh huh?

Blindman:
What's that notebook you have? You're always writing in it. It weirds me out

Hacker: [taking out notebook]
This? Nothing, just a- just a notebook. I write stuff here all day, just thoughts and stuff. I draw in it a lot

Blindman:
Can I see it?

Hacker: [scratching his head}
I uh-I'd uh rather um...no. Sorry, I mean it's a little personal and just admitting I have this is kinda weird.
It's stupid, just ideas I have ya know? Funny thoughts.

Blindman:
You don't uh- I don't come up in there much do I?

Hacker:
Eh, not really. I mean sometimes, I live with you and everything so I mean sometimes maybe you'd say something and I'd write it down.

Blindman:
Oh...well thank you I guess, glad to see some of these things will be recorded. I appreciate the uh- the gesture.

Hacker:
Yeah...

Blindman:
Yeah...well I gotta get out of here.

Hacker:
Peace.

[Music]
[Blindman leaves the room. Hacker goes to bed. Blindman reenters and cautiously moves to Hacker's desk.
He crouches down behind and stands up now holding a notebook.
He sits down and flips through pages. The clock moves quickly forward.
Blindman stands]

Blindman:
Nothing...it was nothing. I'm not crazy...
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[Blindman enters Hope's dorm room]

Blindman:
Hello.

Hope:
Well hello there, come on in. What's it like out, you look cold.

Blindman:
It's-yeah, it's cold out there. I'm uh- I need some

Blindman: Hope:
advice. advice?

Blindman:
Uh heh, yeah.

Hope:
Well it is Thursday, the day before Friday. You go home tommorow.
I know the drill, and don't say anything, I don't mind doing this really.

[Phone rings]

Hope:
Hang on, let's see who it is...aw jeez it's that guy I went on that date with,
I'll put it on speaker, this will be amusing.
Just don't, ya know, laugh or anything.
Hey Jeb!

Jeb:
Hey, how are ya?

Hope:
I'm great, how are you?

Jeb:
I'm good, I'm good.

Hope:
Really? You don't sound it.

Jeb:
Well I've been crying, I-uh, it's not about anything.
Just sometimes I wake up and-uh I cry.

Hope:
[annoyed] Uh huh. Well what's up, why are you calling?

Jeb:
Oh well I mean I just wanted to apologize about the other night.
I had a really great time ya know.
Except uh- except when my credit card got declined,
I thought that was funny, but um, apar-uh you didn't so...
I thought maybe I owe you dinner and um, how about tommo

Hope:
[cutting him off] Goodbye Jeb.

Jeb:
No, hang on!

Hope:
[Clicks the phone closed] Oh man...

Blindman:
[stifling back laughter, breathing hard]
Wow, I mean that just...wow. Sorry, I mean I uh-I just feel sorry for you.

Hope:
Yeah, thanks. How about you? Another rough weekend?
Sunday nights seem to be the enemy eh?

Blindman:
You know, I don't think I could take an easy weekend because I-I don't respond well to mellow.
You know what I mean? I have a tendency to- if I get too mellow I uh, I ripen and then rot...you know.

Hope:
[giggling] I see, wow. Did you steal that from somewhere?

Blindman:
Nah, well some of it, look I don't know. The weekend, yeah it was bad but encouraging things occured.
Less dramatic but just as depressing I guess.
But hey I mean I don't complain about it too much, somehow I end up
laughing even if it is a little insanity driven. It's gonna be like this.
I have to deal with it because I'm not gonna give up on this even if it is just about a girl.
Look what happened with Shakespeare right? Or anything really.
Helen of Troy. I mean even Star Wars.

Hope:
Well I guess you're right...in a crazy sort of way. You're crazy.

Blindman:
Eh heh, yeah a little. I don't know. I realized I was wrong about something.
Remember that thing I asked you? The thing about being written into a play?
I was wrong...which is good...I think.

Hope:
Look, go back to your room and get some sleep.
You have a big day tommorow
Go home and make her yours, you deserve it.

Blindman:
Thanks...

[Exits]


---------------------------------------------------------Here are some parts that I need to build around-----------
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Blindman:
I suppose it is strange how the most beautiful things in my life also have the saddest stories behind them. Twilight in the fall can stop my heart dead, kill me in an instant. So can a chilly winter afternoon. If there's just the right amount of snow on the ground the chances of me ending that day with a smile on my face is pretty much gone. I mean hell, even my music mocks me, and it's not the sad songs, it's the happy ones from when I was happy whenever that was.

Blindman:
I hate being confused, I hate that people don't read thoughts or else just think like they should and realize if you're putting someone through hell and make them miserable enough that they can't open up to their best friend but can do it to a roommate or a professor or even go as far as writing a play about it. I hate when people screw with your emotions, it's like they went to the store and bought a bi-polarity remote control. If someone sees fit to make me want to kill myself over...and have sex with the same person then there IS a problem because my brain hates it. My brain is not equiped to be so falsely loved so many different times...And you know what else I hate? I hate jackasses who dress like 60 year old lazy middle class intellectuals. Pretentious bastards with no remorse who will gladly ignore you when the situation gets awkward, lets go as far as to say social, and they know that they lack any such skill. They have their existentialism and thus either their purpose or if not that then their drugs. Both do the same thing anyway