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The Play's The Thing
November 30, 2005

"Is this the famous Lori S. herself?" he asks
"It is I, and if you are you, how did you find me?"

“You don’t realize how famous you are Lori” he said.

And I’m still half skeptical typing in IM to the commenter yesterday who told me he was a NYC Playwright and wanted to use some of my Blog material for an upcoming Off-Broadway play.

"So how is it possible that a successful NYC Playwright is one of my biggest fans?" I asked him.

He said he found me a year ago while doing research for his new play, Jane Ho. The story about a prostitute with a heart. Wait, but that’s not why he found me....he was looking for other writers who write similar stories, about the human condition and relationship to oneself. Then he came across my blog and has been a faithful reader eversince.

"My strengths are my openings and endings" I said..
"Mine are my dialog and structure, perhaps we were meant to know one another."
"Perhaps"

I’ll make a long story short. He is real. I wasn’t sure until he sent me his latest script and I was moved, almost to tears. In addition to writing 15 plays he is also a working actor who has appeared in CSI and Law and Order among other notables. We are in discussions on a collaboration. Either way, it feels like a mutual friendship of artistic integrity and respect has been born. I'll keep you posted as the details unfold....

Though I keep waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell me I been Punk’d.

More about Mr. Pallotta here

Posted by Lori on November 30, 2005 8:29 AM permalink

 

 

Janesca commented November 30, 2005 9:20 AM

Im glad others see how fabulous you are woman! I of course, being so full of myself, have always known. hahaha

And now a cryptic message from Dolph Lundgren...

Hannukah starts the day after xmas this year, hopefully earlier for some of us! :o)

Done.

 

 

John Pallotta commented November 30, 2005 10:02 AM

A wandering soul aboard the wings of the unknown to only wonder what common grounds there could be for him to land on, or what common emotions he could
speak and hear... If none at all or perhaps all in all.

The endless key pad and journal that separates them is easily demolished when their words interact...

Two wandering souls, with an enormous capacity to write need not meet at all.
Their meeting point was designed with the first glimpse of a letter and their union is there to remain for as long as the flow of words is raging....

Yet...those two have only touched the surface of a deeper capacity within each of them...
Those two are yet to explore the hidden meanings and the warmth that lies within and beneath and beyond. Do they need to meet?! Isn't writing the best means of meeting?!

Two wandering souls seem to be closer than flesh to skin, yet...the distance that lies between their worlds is but the waves of the deepest oceans and the clouds of those endless skies...

Only rainbows can unite them and these are only found in the words they exchange. The words that speak of their truths and the other side of their mirror!

If only we can ride the tide of our words and thoughts to fly us to warmer grounds where we can meet and meet and meet until our meeting point takes the size of the whole universe where only the two of us belong as writers!

I leave you with a warm smile from my heart to yours...

Act One Scene One begins

 

 

liam commented November 30, 2005 10:58 AM

Wow this seems like a good start. I see a reality tv like write off assembling here. This seems like a good step Lori, good luck.

 

 

Lori commented November 30, 2005 11:10 AM

It makes me wonder who else reads my blog but never comments ......maybe Bono!!!

 

 

SL commented November 30, 2005 11:53 AM

Like the old saying goes... Shoot for the moon even if you miss you land among the stars SL. I'm glad you did, stayed true to you, and that your very own soul searching made your star shine the brightest amongst so many others "Across the Universe!" You know what I'm saying. Keep up the great work -- TIMSHEL. Love, YFSL (As always cheerleading in your corner again :)

 

 

Lauren commented November 30, 2005 12:25 PM

Oh Lori this is so great! Don't forget us little peopl ;)

 

 

John Pallotta commented November 30, 2005 5:05 PM

Act 1 Scene 1 begins...

Lori, I have a wonderful idea? Lets keep everyone posted as we progress with the play. Presently I am working on three plays at the same time and rewriting two other ones. Also I am writing the Libretto for a new Operatic? to be presented to The Goodman Theatre in Chicago, (March Deadline)... I would love to pump out this story in less then a month. We just have to dicuss collaboration agreements and the extent of each others responibilities. Since our writing styles are somewhat the same the process should be both pleasurable and smooth going.

The only delay I see in pumping out "Death of a Playwright" is when there are meetings with B way Producers to talk about Jane Ho. I just got a call that due to the success of Jane Ho Off B way, some folks really want to push Jane Ho to the next level.

Since the option expired with the former producers last week... I now control the play Jane Ho. I will be having on and off meeting for the next few weeks or so. But hopefully it wont interfer with the process of "Death of a playwright".

Getting the collaboration agreement and off to you in your e mail for your consideration.

Peace out

John Pallotta

 

 

Lori commented November 30, 2005 6:19 PM

Yes lets. The Blog audience stays apprised of all other newsworthy events in my life (within reason). It may even help with the dialog, my readers are an interesting cast of characters in their own right.

BTW, sorry about the typo on the spelling of your name earlier. I just fixed it....

 

 

John Pallotta commented November 30, 2005 10:15 PM

Act 1 Scene 2

The nurse has just left for the second time, if there is a nurse at all. Somehow I am thinking of a one man/woman play. The nurse and the readings by her to the playwright should all be in his own mind.

Page 10 delivered to your email in the morning... 27 more to go. I found the collaboration agreement but have to work on the text to make it correct for this type of collaborataion doc.

Other great news...

Annie and I (for those of you that don"t know) Annie is Girlfriend.... (Yes... I am a playwright and straight) Ha...

Anyhow... We just spent the good part of this evening going from dog shelter to dog shelter in search of that pooch that needs us. So many pooches so little time... Or if The weather girls had to change the name of there song... "Its raining dogs, Hallejualluh! It's raining dogs"

We went on a quest trying to find that pooch with my name tatooed on its butt, but to no prevail.

In NYC, Dog shelters are a big business. I think that they take bribes, but just not sure....

Any how... Back to writing I go...

I was working on a Narrative for one of my other plays... it was already there, just rewording it. Your thoughts on the narrative below.

Every bit as easily as the day ends it begins again and her life
Outside The Palisades begins as when she awakens... Tomorrow is over and in the past, so today must be different.
As she sleeps in her dreams she thinks about how Hell has turned the fourth corner to frighten her from behind...

It has come to pass, that purgatory has become life, and life, as long as it may seem, will last forever.

As she dreams staring into space, questions linger in her mind as she
Contemplates the future. Her tear stained cheeks become wet again as
She ponders the questions...

Is it fair to make wishes to her that will never be heard?
Should she allow herself to want what she feels can never exist?

And if she allows this great want, will it weaken the soul, further
Increasing her addiction to the wanting? She once knew a man. Handsome, in all attributes. Proud of
Himself, he lied to her, showing her illusions of great proportions.

And I foolishly she believed...
While holding from the inside he told her of his pure and unwavering love. And she believed....

He spoke of a future more distant than the borders of the universe, and
As if it were before my eyes for her to touch and feel and hope.... She believed....
Holding her hand in his and her heart captive, he speaks of a forever.... And again, like the fool.... she believed.

Now it is over and in the distance she sleeps staring into the flame of a
Freshly lit candle, hearing the sound of pain that is inside her. Pain
Has become a person, someone she knows.

From the distance she can hear howls for the prison light to die, raging until the night
becomes silent and sleep takes him to the only escape a mind can know.
The cot and the things he tells his pillow nobody should.

For eighteen years he stripped her of all happiness and the depth of the core that once was.
Now nothing is replaced with the something. Whatever the ice takes, it seems
It will keep. She thinks of the selfish cold that forbids her to love. The
Bitterness that forebodes nothing and refuses to be named liar. As the
Candle flame dies and the night ages, the wind howls and the endless
Echo of her pain is all that she hears. She turns again to sleep for solace.
To escape into a dream, but the dreams make her cry and the ice of reality
Makes her cold.

Although tears should bring comfort, the water has flowed to long and lost
It’s salt... It cannot be replaced. We could run... But where would we
hide? We could fight... But whom would we strike? The savage truth is that
We can do nothing but freeze in the vast tundra that she have allowed to
Surround her.

The man she once knew held a pet in his hand named manipulation. He
Nourished this pet and caressed this pet and whatever he willed, the pet did.

In his shattered wretchedness she fell victim to this pets tenderness.
The man in his bravado did the impossible and stole from the bitter
Cold what had long been believed to crumble to dust...? Eaten by frostbite.
He handed her a gift of hope, wrapped in a bow and clutched in the jaws of
His pet.

Laying her delicate hand and looking into her eyes, she trembles
And feels unprecedented warmth burning her flesh. So incredible is the
Heat that it swallows her mind and cloaks her thoughts. This mythical
Dragon they call love could not possibly exist, yet here she was in the midst of
The fairytale that she could not begin to fathom.

Hungering for her promises
And blindly accepting the currents with her eyes wide shut. Fleetingly
Praying that this not be a dream. But alas...
It is a dream, and it has become time to awaken. Cold and
Alone, more so in her spirit than in the material world.

As she slowly builds her walls of ice back to their original
Proportions, she hears footsteps. The footsteps of another being.
Looking up in surprise, she sees a man. A man with her eyes,
Surrounded by a light so brilliant that she tries to close her eyes against it,
But finds it impossible to do.
She waits…

The man sits across from her staring into her face, yet it is his own
Face...A mirrored image of a soul. He asks not her thoughts...He knows them.
He asks not her dreams... He becomes them. He asks not her fears but gently lays
His hand over her frigid spirit and causes a powerful heat to begin to melt
The ice and the river of emotions begin to once again flow.

Looking up at the moon, beyond the Palisades, the bitter taste of the past still lingering in
The back of her throat, she begins to think of change. Holding the wish of
Her heart in a tightly clenched fist, the world never seemed so big or the moon
So large. Though misery has etched lines in her face and caused her soul and
Spirit to numb, she smiles one last time. Hope is a powerful thing and as
She throws the past into the rushing river, the sun comes out and the warmth
Of it makes her feel safe. She knows this is the soul mate she has searched
For.... As she hears the words escape from her lips, a slight smile of
Surprise crosses her face....

The words.... I Love You Mommy.

 

 

Ith commented November 30, 2005 11:12 PM

We've always known you were destined for great things :)

 

 

deb commented December 1, 2005 12:35 PM

Lori, this is fabulous! You're certainly very deserving of this good fortune and when you become worldwide famous I'll say I remember Lori from when she was just a young pug... ;~)

 

 

John Pallotta commented December 1, 2005 2:41 PM

I have reworked some of the work, titled "WORDS" to somehow fit the play "Death of a Playwright" I want to stay true to your words in my effort to have it successfully work with the play. I thoght your viewers might be interested in seeing the process and creation of how a play is written.

Words below...

The power of words would always amaze me. If my eyes are a window to my soul, then words must be the doorway. The right word formed in the right sentence can make me weep or laugh out loud. I delight in taking words and building anecdotes, embellishing nonfiction that longs to be told. My past that begs to leave a trace with lines, hard hitting lines that deliver an uppercut punch and left hook to the gut. Words transfer thought to paper, infuse wisdom, gain trust. Words can make you sane and words can drive you nuts.
I’ve delivered words in eulogies and sent thoughtful mail to friends. I’ve decorated holiday cards with stamps, stencils, and pens. Colored cardboard cut-out paper with fancy scissor edging, glistening gold calligraphy markers outlined with my prose. I’ve utilized words to write my way through pain in my private journals that nobody else knows. I’ve used words to provide laughter and teaching to a young toddler, to bring cheer to a bereft friend. I’ve wielded words like a sword to wound and punish. And then I’ve used words of atonement to make amends.
The words I’ve used to comfort my life with my voice that to “me” is home. It makes me sad that “I” no longer hear all of my words. So… It’s taken to exaggerated facial gestures, hand signals, and tone from others to catch my attention.
I’ve repeated words like anthems, mantras to keep my spirit alive. Spoken to the Lord Almighty, Holy words aloud in mass. Words of Gospel, words of hymn. Acts of Contrition, forgiveness for sin. “Lord Have Mercy, Christ Have Mercy.” and even “God Dammit”. I’ve recited the Our Father and the Apostles' Creed more times than I can reveal.
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word and I shall be healed”.
I’ve used words to negotiate the business of life and close my own at the end of the day, to make other men rich but, for me, never saw a dime. I've used words to make a swift end, to cut and run and also to bide time. I’ve used words to terminate, ruminate, and resonate, to heal. Words I’ve whispered into the sweet ears of those I have loved and those I have only dreamed of loving, dreamy pillow talk on a rainy Sunday morning. Words to woo my enemies, and protect me from myself.
I’ve given up entire lives and the ones before to speak only in Shakespearian tongue and write Elizabethan verse. Words of comedies and tragedies, plays I’ve rehearsed. One word spoken by some can make “those” weak in the knees or gush with anticipation. Words that beseech. I’ve seen more heartfelt words spoken silently in a glance than could ever be conveyed as powerfully with speech.
The hardest words for me are the words that never arrive. Writers block, a missed celebration, a missed opportunity to express myself just one more time, The empty missed words are enough to make me go numb. I’ve sat at my desk in my library hanging on hope against hope -- only for those words to never come. The worst of words are “my words” those that never have a chance to be said. The words that get filed away forever with regret.
I wonder what words my future has in store. Words on paper, words in print. Words on deeds, more words of repent. Wonderful words I’d given up hope of ever hearing. Baby's first words, words in church I’ve yet to speak. Words that make you strong, words that make you weak. Words that bring sorrow, words that bring fright. Words when the phone rings at 4:00 are like a thief in the night. Words that make me laugh, words that make me cry. Words of truth, words of lie. Words of hello, words of goodbye. Words that dance and words that will be said when alas I am no longer here.

 

 

Lori commented December 1, 2005 3:05 PM

I am okay with your tweaks to Words for the Death of a Playwright character to speak on stage (HOW EXCITING) but if I may…I think the last line sounds so much better with “when alas I finally die….or something with die to rhyme with “goodbye”

Any theatre goers out there care to chime in??

 

 

John Pallotta commented December 1, 2005 6:45 PM

Lori....

Just got off the phone a bit ago with Ruben Brache (One of the producers of Little Woman) one of 5. He is flying in from San Fran on the 10th of Dec and I have a meeting with him for Brunch on the 11th of December. Our primay meeting to to discuss the Play "Jane Ho" and my other play that was just read on Broadway "Vegas" (a story about a mentally challenged man that tells the story of his life growing up in Brooklyn in the mid 60's). He also wants to discuss one of my other New Plays, "Beyond the Palisades" which may be associated with The Goodman Theatre in Chicago.

While I am with him eating and drinking, I will start to talk the hype behind "Death of a Playwright" but not let him read it until it is complete. zI breifly spoke to him about it as well as a Gentleman by the name of Matt Farrell who is a producer at The Helen Hayes Theatre here in NYC. They strongly suggest making and concentrating on this new work to be a one Man Show.

I have also toyed with the possibility of making the lead in "Death of a Playwright" non generic descript. Meaning it can be played by a man or woman and making the nurse and other merely a voice over to which he reacts.

I will be in Chicago tomorrow until the 5th of Dec and will make every effort over the next couple of day to somehow piece together what we have. I will in due time e mail that to you.

Chat soon
J
Peace out

 

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