Gratefully participated in Playtime at New Dramatists in early November. Worked on a new play - The Conversation - which inspired in me whatever the opposite of catharsis is.
I thank the sun for allowing poisonous flowers to bloom. I thank the sun for being just like any other respectable deity: unfeeling, neutral, as quick to flood as to build. I praise the sun for all those who cannot see it. I thank the sun for being the light of the moon. I thank the sun for water. I thank the sun for its perfect distance. The sun provides all and I have given the sun nothing in return. The sun accepts no gifts, but history is littered with sacrifices. I thank the solar for the soul. I thank the gas giant for the white dwarf. The sun is just one of many stars and we are the only life in all creation and we have this utterly common star to thank. We are alone and the sun doesn’t mind. The sun gives sickness and nutrients, all honor and glory to him. The sun has no other suns to talk to. As above so below: the sun is molten and the core of the Earth is molten, and the heavens are burning and so is every hell. We must get off the Earth before the sun gives out. I praise the sun for gravity, for peace, for how it rises, how it falls. Thank you, celestial body, for the water colors of the atmosphere. Thank you for sight and for breath. Thank you for your inconsistencies. Thank you for being untouchable. Thank you for unrelenting. The sun is my father and just like him, he will not hear my confessions. The sun is not above us, but we look up.
This eight week class will explore the elements of writing for stage. Weekly writing assignments will help students develop their voice, and classroom conversation will focus on literacy with the form, play structure, a writer's relationship with inspiration, how to write for actors, and more. Students will leave the class with a new completed one-act play.
Coming on Saturday September 15th in Boston at 2pm.
My new therapist gestured silently for me to come into the room, then he sat with his hands folded. I started talking. He did not introduce himself.
There is neither soup nor bread.
- Ice Cream
- Jimbo's Roast Beef Sandwiches
- Pickup Truck / Put Truck Down
- Underside of the topside
- Space Marines Built With Prayer
How long can you hold your breath? Is it long enough for an emergency?
- Deep Sea Diving Suit
- Car Wash / Automobile Wash
- Razor sharp teeth
- Something coming, not arriving
- Tonal versus Aural
- Underwater Race
- Trailer reveals ending
- Salad dressing in front of window for benefit of peeping toms
- Radiant / Unsung
Working on revamping the website to offer easier-to-find content and more frequent updates. Thanks for checking out the site.
Definitely follow me on Twitter and Instagram @mfreemanwriter
As a part of The Language of the Birds, curated by Pamela Grossman.
Weds, Jan 27: Performance of “The Language,” a theatrical piece written by playwright Matthew Freeman, commissioned for Language of the Birds 7pm