Act 1.3 cont'd

The man and woman return to the bar, Steve greets them

Steve: Welcome back, I hope you enjoyed your day.

Woman: Matt certainly did; “oh, is there a launch?” What a crock. It's why we came, only I wasn't in on it.

Matt (Man): Anne . . . .

Anne (Woman): (to Steve) Don't worry dear we won't make a scene (glances around) any tables left?

Steve: One just opened up (he crosses to Marie and talks she nods, Steve returns) This way.

Anne: You didn't make her move for us....she could join us.

Steve: Truly she was leaving (Marie is just stepping away)

Anne: Please, dear, you're welcome to stay if you wish.

Marie: Non, thank you...I was just recovering from a departure (she heads into the bar).

Anne: From a departure?

Matt: Anne, it's not our business

Steve: Marie will be fine madame, chardonnay?

Anne: Oh, hmm, yes, thank you.

Steve: And monsieur?

Matt: Oh, let's go tropical. How about a daiquiri?

Steve: Oui (departs)

Matt: Anne, I thought you'd like it here. Yes, I knew about the launch, but I really thought you'd like it here and that it was just a bonus.

Anne: That's not the problem. The problem is that you didn't say that before we came. That you didn't think you could. Am I such a shrew?

Matt: No. … But, you seem to think I never think of you, or that I only think of myself, so if I'd said what I just said, you'd have dismissed Guiana as being of any interest. You wouldn't like it on principle, because you wouldn't believe that I actually did think you'd like it here.

Anne: God, there are so many things wrong with that. . . you think I'm so stupid I wouldn't figure it out?

Matt: I don't think you're stupid. Of course you'd figure it out, but I hoped we'd be here a few days first and you'd decide on your own you did like it.

Steve (returning with drinks): Madame, monsieur. Anything else?

Matt: No, thanks. Not for me. Anne?

Anne: (cooly) I'm fine. Thanks for asking.

Steve: Very good...

Matt: Say, you're American right? What's your name?

Anne: You think only Americans have names?

Steve: Yes, I am. It's Steve.

Matt: Hi Steve, Matt. Sorry, bit of a tiff...

Anne: Thanks for sharing . . .

Steve: If you need anything else, just ask . . .

Anne: One moment, if she wants one, buy Marie a drink on me.

Steve: Yes, madame. (exits, in the background we see him talk to Marie and gesture to the table).

Matt: Bonding or trying to pick her up?

Anne: (shrugs ala parisienne) Just showing I like it here.

Matt: Fine. I thought I'd go up to the spaceport tomorrow do the tour before the big day.

Anne: I'll go to the beach, or maybe go up to Cayenne and shop.

Matt: Okay. . . You can come with me.

Anne: Can I? (then kindly) Matt, you've got your chance, go visit. I'll watch the launch with you, but the rest really doesn't interest me. It's ok.

Matt: I need to get up early to get there. Shall we head back to the hotel?

Anne: Do you mind if I stay a bit? It's two blocks, I'll be fine. I'll take a taxi if you want.

Matt: I can stay.

Anne: And you can go. You want me to enjoy it, let me enjoy it. I like sitting out here; you want your rest.

Matt: Ok...you sure?

Anne: (leans over and kisses him) I'm sure. It's ok.

(Matt leaves)

Scene 4

(and after a moment Marie comes over)

Marie (lifiting her glass slightly): Thank you. I've never had someone by me a drink before.

Anne: That's hard to believe.

Marie: Well, friends yes, but not a stranger.

Anne: Sit?

Marie (sitting): You too have a departure?

To be continued

Conversations 6 (day 10)

Monsieur: So, you survived a plane crash. And now you want everyone to follow your god?

Jacob: Not my god. God.

Monsieur: Pardon, but there are so many and they all say the same things.

Jacob: There's only one god and Jesus was his son.

Monsieur shrugs.

Jacob: I knew from the moment I woke up in the hospital that he had a plan for me.

Monsieur: Which was to crash?

Jacob: You are a cynic. I was the only one of 187 passengers and crew to survive. When you experience something like that it changes you.

Monsieur: Of that I have no doubt. But it is your claim that your god had no plans for the other 186?

Jacob: What?

Monsieur: Or that god's plan for you necessitated the snuffing out of the lives of 186 other people in order for your plan to come to fruition? Or that the plan for them was to die so you would believe?

Jacob: No. I don't know why I was the one chosen to survive, but having survived I realized I could not waste my life.

Monsieur: I agree; so why do you?

Jacob: I'm not. I'm spreading God's word.

Monsieur: That there is a plan for every 187^th person to believe?

Jacob: What do you mean?

Monsieur: That is all you are saying. You keep talking about a plan, a purpose, yet you say you don't know why you survived. So you don't know the plan. And you aren't doing anything.

Jacob: I am doing something. I know there must be a plan and that's the message I'm sharing.

Monsieur: Pah. All religions claim there's a purpose, a reason, some more adamantly than others, but none of them will tell you what it is, so it does not matter. If you want a reason for your life you're the only one who can give it one. I agree that you have a powerful motive, more than most, for finding a reason—but you have not found it. You are just congratulating yourself.

Jacob: How dare you. You think I do this to brag?

Monsieur: I think you do it to ask forgiveness. Something you do not need to do.

Conversations 5 (Day 9)

Conversations 5 (day 9)

Mdala: Just water please. (Steve departs) Senegal. I came here 14 years ago to help build a hydroelectric plant. I'd meant to go home and work there, but another project came along...and probably more importantly, a woman.

Matt: Ah.

Mdala: It didn't last, or lasted only long enough for me to settle here. Now perhaps it's time to go. There is work to be done in my homeland, and sitting here protesting something that is not going to change in a country that is not really mine does not make sense.

Matt: You could stop protesting (he smiles and holds up his hand), I know.

Mdala: What do you protest?

Matt: What do I protest?

Mdala: Surely there is something in your world you think should change.

Matt: Well, I guess so, sure.

Mdala: So what do you do to make that change?

Matt (pausing): I guess I don't.

Mdala (waits for him to continue and speaks only when he does not do so): Then why live?

 Conversations 4 (day 8) 

Mdala: Rockets are a major polluter. The space center destroyed thousands of acres of forest just to be built. Every launch spews the pollution equivalent a day of New York City traffic—and equals it in noise.

Matt: Every new technology brings problems, I'll grant. That's no reason to halt progress. We learn how to control those problems by having them, and often through something we've learned in the process of developing that technology to begin with.

Mdala: God gave us this world in a functioning state. We've completely fouled it up and your argument is to keep fouling up more?

Matt: If you're arguing for a static earth—that God had made something in which everything just worked in perfect balance, you're arguing for something for which there is no evidence, and that means going back before humans entered the scene.

Mdala: Evidence generated by your technology. No. Mine was a metaphor. Take god out of the equation, the point is the Earth needs our help and launching rockets into space isn't helping.

Matt: The environmental movements biggest boost came from the Apollo photo “earth rise over the moon.” That photo galvanized the world into recognizing the tiny place we lived and how important it was to help it. So, actually, space flight did help save the earth and continues to do so. Most of what we know about environmental problems and their scope we monitor by satellite.

Anne and Jeanette in bathing suits and cover-ups return from the beach and sit outside

Anne: It's beautiful here, and not the rush the tourist veneer of the Caribbean.

Jeanette (laughing): Not so many of you, you mean?

Anne (laughing): Exactly. The problem with Americans is we travel to see something else, but most of us don't really like anything else so they build little Americas all around the world we can go visit.

Jeanette: And you? Do you like the other?

Anne: I don't know. I like indoor plumbing and ice, so I'm probably as bad as any of them.

Jeanette: It is probably not so different for other countries, there are just more Americans. But there's a lot of Paris in Cayenne.

Anne: I suppose so. We went to Italy once and in the bay of Naples beside Capri, there's an island called Ischia and it's completely German. Apparently it's “their” Italian vacation spot.

Jeanette: Italy. God, I'd love to go anywhere. You grow up here, where everyone comes, and you can't understand why. I just want to leave.

Anne: Why? I mean I understand wanting to see other things, but you sound like you dislike it here.

Jeanette (sighs): Peut etre. Maybe if I were in Cayenne it would be different. Here everyone knows me. I'm what French men lust after but want nothing to do with—a woman who lives for herself.

Anne: That makes French men different?

Act 1.3 (day 7)

Scene 3

Later that same evening. The stage has rotated to forefront the tables again. The man and woman are back. The musicians are on break. Monsieur wins a game of solitaire. Gil approaches Monsieur drink in hand.

Gil: Monsieur. Celeste says you don't mistake one circumstance for another.

Monsieur (pausing in laying out another hand): Monsieur Gil, n'est ce pas? I am not sure what Celeste meant, but if it means I'm compos mentis, I would like to think so.

Gil: Clever. You sit here everyday and watch everyone and lately it seems taken up philosophy with typically philosophical opaqueness.

Monsieur: I am aware of commenting only on the idea of a new era. I apologize for interrupting your conversation.

Gil: See. You never confront anything directly.

Monsieur: Monsieur Gil, I am an old man. If you are hoping to start a fight you will have to find some one younger—and in another bar.

Gil: Are you throwing me out? YOU... (Marie and Celeste approach).

Marie: Gil, can we talk?

Gil (looks at Marie and Celeste and realizes he has crossed a line. He looks back to Monsieur): Pardon Monsieur. I am upset.

Monsieur: Of course, please do not think of it.

Marie:  Come on Gil. (they find a table). It's awful, but it's not the end. I don't understand why you seem intent on just giving up.

Gil: I've got a deadly disease and whether they cure it or not, I get gelded in the process. What's the upside?

Marie: Maybe that I'm still here. We're still here. Lance Armstrong won most of his Tours after he had it and he became a dad. Gil I love you, why are you quitting?

Gil: Armstrong used dope. He didn't get that baby the old fashioned way. I don't want to take up biking.

Marie: (standing) I'm glad I wasn't in that response. I'm here Gil, but (sits) Gil, I don't think this is about cancer.

Gil: Oh great, cancer isn't a good enough reason to be upset. I must have other issues. I need space. (exit)

Act 1.2 (day 6)

Scene 2

It would be useful if the set were a turntable, so different elements could be swung to CS, thus scene 1 would have the outdoor tables DC, while this scene would have the bar DC and in the background the tables and the sea.

It is evening, the bar is busy, but not hyper. Monsieur sits at his table, now USR, while USL a guitarist and accordianist/bongo player alternate between French folk songs and Caribbean beat insturmentals. Steve and Celeste converse at the bar.

Celeste: Vraiment? Gil has the cancer?

Steve: Oui. He's pretty shaken. Goes between bravado and doom—mostly doom.

Celeste: When not doom, he will beat it?

Steve: No, when not doom, he says it doesn't matter; “You just live with the hand your dealt” and “everyone dies” that sort of thing.

Celeste: That sounds like doom too.

Steve (shrugs): For Gil that's the up side. (He departs with drinks to take to customers out front.)

(Monsieur raises a hand)

Celeste: Un moment, Monsieur. (He pours a glass of red wine and takes it to Monsieur, there is a brief conversation. He returns.)

Jeanette (entering and stands at the bar): Allo, Celeste. Dos Equis. (He opens a bottle and pours it into a glass). Mostly tourists tonight?

Celeste: It's always mostly tourists, except when there's a hurricane.

Jeanette: (laughing) Wimps. You going to the launch?

Celeste: Can't miss it from here. Can't see much more up there.

Jeanette: I suppose, but there's a certain rush when you're in a crowd that's in one place for a purpose—there's an energy...

Celeste: I guess I don't like crowd energy.

Jeanette: And you tend bar?

Celeste: I run the bar. If I don't like the mob, I can do something about it.

Jeanette: Really? You just run out and get a different clientele?

Celeste: You're argumentative tonight.

Jeanette: (shrugs) May be. I'm on the prowl.

Celeste: Ah...some Languedocs out there comparing the Caribbean and Mediterranean—you could give them a baseline.

Jeanette: (smiles) C'est possible. (she wanders off).

Steve (returning): How's Jeanette?

Celeste: She is Jeanette.

Steve: What else does one need to be? (Celeste smiles)

Gil (approaching bar, just noticeably drunk): Celeste, Steve, ça va?

Celeste: It goes. You?

Gil: Not heard? I'm a dead man.

Celeste: You are here. You are talking. I have never talked to the dead before.

Gil: You are like a beast. You know only the present, so you mistake it for the continuum of life.

Steve: I've got customers (departs).

Celeste: You underestimate beasts. Maybe the beast it does not know the consequences, but it does not ignore its wound. And if in its ignorance it does not mistake its current condition for some other possible condition then it is wiser than you.

Gil: Oh, very wise. We'll see how wise you are when you're world is turned inside out.

Celeste: (somewhat testily) You see Monsieur over there? (we see just a bare reaction from Monsieur—enough to let us know he hears—as he does all things in the bar--Celeste catches himself on the edge of saying more than he wishes and stops.)

Gil: Yes, I see him. So?

Celeste: Nothing. You want something, or you had enough?

Gil: What? Does he have cancer?

Celeste: No. Drop it. I was going to give an example of people who know better than to mistake one circumstance for another.

Gil (turns and looks at Monsieur's back): Really? Because he seems to be permanently in that circumstance. I can't imagine how he stands it. The same thing every day. Does he ever move?

Celeste: He would tell you it is never the same.

He pours Gil a glass of wine and shoves it to him. Gil continues to look at Monsieur.

Conversations 3

 Conversations 3

Marie and Jeanette at a table

Jeanette: So, find someone new. Between his “work” and dying, you sure aren't taking up much of his mental space.

Marie: Jeanette, have you ever loved someone? I care about him. I care that I'm not “taking up much of his mental space.” Merde. If all I needed was a fuck I'd find somebody new, that's not it.

Jeanette: Maybe it is. Marie, you can “let him be” by getting on with your own life, or you can die while sitting here nobly “letting him be” till he's ready to notice you again. By the time he notices you again, you could be single again anyway, so why sit here and pine away?

Marie: I swear you must never have cared for anyone.

Jeanette: I care about you, but you're deaf. It's that Catholic upbringing. You want to dress in black and be a widow at 23. Well they aren't going to let you join the union because you didn't marry first, so you might as well come the rest of the way into the 21^st century and live for yourself.

Marie departs, Jeanette catches Steve's eye and lifts her glass.

Jeanette: Encore s'il vous plait.

Gil and Steve standing at bar

Gil: I'll do the surgery of course, but I don't want to do the chemotherapy. I'm working like I haven't in ages—ever. I don't want to have to stop because I'm comatose and puking.

Steve: So you'll stop because you're rotted away by cancer?

Gil: Yes, if that means I can work up till then.

Steve: How about working through the chemo and then keeping going?

Gil: You don't get it. When you're doing it, when the..muse...is with you, you don't stop.

Monsieur: There's no goddam muse. (he stands) You. You are your muse. You decide whether to work, to live, to die. Don't blame the chemo, don't blame the cancer, and don't idolize them either. Take some responsibility for your life.

(He walks into the restaurant and disappears; everyone is stunned)

END OF SOME ACT

Conversations 2

Conversations 2

Early morning. Monsieur enters from beach, an old man in swim trunks and a shirt, carrying his towel. He has obviously been swimming. Though the bar is not open, Marie sits at one of the tables.

Marie: You swim?

Monsieur: Every morning for as long as I've been able.

Marie: Sorry, I wasn't quite sure you ever left that table. Why don't you ever swim later, when it's hot?

Monsieur: It is plenty hot now and later the sun is so bright. The sun pains my eyes.

Marie: Oh.

Monsieur: We are not open, but I can get you something.

Marie: Any coffee? I'm sorry, I came here I guess because Gil does. He didn't come home last night.

Monsieur: I will get some coffee—with?

Marie: Cream, thanks.

Monsieur nods and exits. Marie is clearly thinking while she waits—a kaleidoscope of emotions. Monsieur returns with two cups and sits.

Monsieur: You live together then?

Marie: He has an apartment but usually just goes there to work. He paints, some sculpture.

Monsieur: Ah, an artist. Has he been working lately?

Marie: I don't know. Now that you mention it, I don't think very much. It's not like he's professional. He's a clerk in an office.

Monsieur: And you?

Marie: (shakes her head) I don't know. I'm a projectionist at the theater. I was dating the manager and he found out I used to do it and then his man left, so I started. We haven't been together for a long time, but I'm still working.

Monsieur: Used to do it where? (Gil enters)

Marie: Gil, where have you been?

Gil: Working. Sorry. I got started and just kept going...I should have called. (They embrace and Monsieur leaves).

Man and Woman are back both drinking wine.

Woman: Why didn't you just say, I want to go see the first manned launch? Did you really think I'd say no?

Man: I thought you'd come with …. desire …. if it was to go someplace new and fun. And if we saw this too, then you'd say oh, isn't that nice. Otherwise you'd have just come along.

Woman: Matt. Could you just trust me? I actually like your company. No I don't give a damn about spaceflight per se, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching a launch with you. It's beautiful here, so let's enjoy it? Let's swim today, have a good dinner, and ... mess around?

Matt: (laughs) I love you. I don't know why it gets the way it does.

Woman: Routine. Routine kills everything. When you date, the other person is the thing that makes things special. When you marry, they're just part of the everyday.

Matt: Anne, I promise to try, no to stop trying, and just let us be. Ok?

Anne: Ok. Let's go for that swim.

Celeste (the bartender): Steve, (confidentially) when I came in this morning Monsieur was out front talking to Marie. Sitting with her and talking.

Steve: Seriously?

Celeste: They had coffee and were chatting away. Gil showed up and Monsieur left, but...never seen the like.

Steve: He talked to me about Gil when we closed last night. Not a lot, but he asked about him. He's never asked about me.

Celeste: Maybe he's going crazy. He must be a 100.

Steve: I don't think that much....but who knows. He said last night that people just assume staying alive is automatic, or something like that. As if somehow you got up every morning and made a choice to hit the on switch for another day.

Conversations

What will follow for several days are conversations between various characters. Some of these may find their way into the play. However, their main purpose is to allow characters' voices to develop.

Evening, Gil and Marie sit at an outdoor table. As always Monsieur is in the background at his table. Tonight he is playing solitaire.

Marie: It's awful, but it's not the end. I don't understand why you seem intent on just giving up.

Gil: I've got a deadly disease and whether they cure it or not, I get gelded in the process. What's the upside?

Marie: Maybe that I'm still here. We're still here. Lance Armstrong won most of his Tours after he had it and he became a dad. Gil I love you, why are you quitting?

Gil: Armstrong used dope. He didn't get that baby the old fashioned way. I don't want to take up biking.

Marie: (standing) I'm glad I wasn't in that response. I'm here Gil, but (sits) Gil, I don't think this is about cancer.

Woman: You always think I'm so stupid. Okay, so I never paid attention that Europe had a space program. All my life it's the US and the Russians. It wasn't something I cared about anyway.

Man: I don't think you're stupid, but you don't pay attention to the world. I don't get that. How can you not know these things, that's what I don't understand. They're on the news, in the papers.

Woman: Do you know who Kendra Petersen is?

Man: Who? No?

Woman: She's the latest runner up in American Idol. She's been talked about on TV, in newspapers, there are constant references to her by Djs on the radio stations you listen to.

Man: That's different. That's gossip news.

Woman: No. You're interested in rockets. So when you hear something that refers to space you listen. I like music; I listen when people talk about it. It's not because one is more important than the other.

Steve: Monsieur, it's late no one is in, shall we close?

Monsieur: (glances up from his cards and looks around) If you wish.

Steve: It's your call. It's your bar.

Monsieur: For now. Probably not much longer now (pause) though I've thought that before. You're friend Gil, he is not well?

Steve: Testicular cancer.

Monsieur: That is a disease. I mean he's not …. responding well.

Steve: They haven't started treatments yet. The surgery is Friday.

Monsieur: No. I'm sorry. I meant he thinks he's dead.

Steve: Oh, yeah. Yeah, even Marie can't seem to get him to be even a little optimistic.

Monsieur: It is perhaps because he is already dead.

Steve: Pardon.

Monsieur: Deciding to live. It is not as easy as everyone seems to think. Everyone, they seem to think it is inevitable.

Take two Act 1 sc. 1

A STRANGER SEQUEL

ACT I

Setting: coast of French Guiana just north of Cayenne. It is a small seaside bar. The kind of place that's upscale enough that locals go there for something special and local enough that tourists love to “discover” it. It's especially popular with the rare Anglo toutists as the waiter is “Steve” an American. There are sidewalk tables and an inner bar—typically French, it's for standees only. “Monsieur,” an old man, sits at one of two inside tables, just inside the arch that defines inside/outside.

Gil enters and sits alone at an outdoor table—he looks beaten down though not destitute.

Steve (approaching): Mornin' Gil.

Gil: I'm dead. (Monsieur glances up)

Steve: Tough night?

Gil: (pauses) No....cancer.

Steve: You?

Gil: That's why I'm the one dying. Wine.

Steve: Ok. (exits and returns with a glass of red and sits. Gil just stares out.)

Gil: Yesterday. Today. One day you're living forever the next your dead.

Steve: You're not dead. And no one lives forever.

Gil shrugs in that stereotypical Parisian pout. A man and woman enter.

Man: Pardon, Je crier...I mean... Je....parlez vous Anglais?

Steve: Yes, what ….

Woman: You see, I told you this was the place.

Steve: ...would you like?

Woman: Do you have a menu?

Gil: It's the same menu everyone has.

Man: What?

Steve: Pardon. Do not mind Monsieur Gil. He is right, but perdu.

Man: What?

Woman: May we see it?

Steve: You wish to eat?

Woman: I just want to look. (Gil snorts)

Steve gives Gil a look as he walks inside grabs a simple single page paper menu and hands it to the woman. The man looks expectantly.

Steve: Did you wish to look as well Monsieur? (Gil snorts)

Man: (pauses to wonder whether he does and decides not) No, I'll have a beer; it's cold right?

Steve: (heading it to the bar) Konenbourg!

Woman: He didn't ask me what I wanted.

Gil: You got the menu.

Woman scowls

Man: He's got a point. It's what you said you wanted...to just look.

Woman: You can't seriously...

Steve returns with beer

Woman: Do you have a wine list? (Steve flips over the menu). I'll have the Beaulieu Chardonnay, s'il vous plait.

Steve: Oui madame.

Gil: My mother died. (Monsieur glances up)

Woman: (after a moment decides to respond) I'm very sorry. No wonder you're not yourself.

Steve (returning with wine): Don't be fooled. He is very much himself. Are you here for the launch?

Man: No, just for a drink.

Steve: No, the launch, the rocket launch.

Woman: You have rockets?

Man: Didn't know there was a launch. We came for something different from the usual Yucatan/Caribbean thing.

Woman: I thought the rockets were all in Florida.

Steve: This is the European Space Agency's launch site, not the U.S. Tomorrow is their first manned launch.

Gil: It's the start of a new era they tell us. Hope it's better than this one.

Monsieur: (speaking quietly but absolutely) All eras are the same. Only the people differ.

A STRANGER SEQUEL

ACT I

Setting: coast of French Guiana just north of Cayenne. It is a small seaside bar. The kind of place that's upscale enough that locals go there for something special and local enough that tourists love to “discover” it. It's especially popular with Anglos as the waiter is “Steve” an American. There are sidewalk tables and an innerbar—typically French it's for standees only. “Monsieur,” an old man, sits at one of two inside tables, but it is just inside the arch that defines inside/outside. “Gil” sits alone at an outdoor table—he looks beaten down though not destitute. A couple enters and sits at another outdoor table.

Steve (approaching the couple): Bon Jour.

Man: Pardon, Je crier...no, I mean... Je....parlez vous Anglez?

Steve: Yes, what ….

Woman: You see, I told you this was the place.

Steve: ...would you like?

Woman: Do you have a menu?

Gil: It's the same menu everyone has.

Man: What?

Steve: Pardon. Do not mind Monsieur Gil. He is right, but perdu.

Man: What?

Woman: May we see it?

Steve: You wish to eat?

Woman: I just want to look. (Gil snorts)

Steve gives Gil a look as he walks inside grabs a simple single page paper menu and hands it to the woman. The man looks expectantly.

Steve: Did you wish to look as well Monsieur? (Gil snorts)

Man: (pauses to wonder whether he does and decides not) No, I'll have a beer; it's cold right?

Steve: (heading it to the bar) Konenbourg!

Woman: He didn't ask me what I wanted.

Gil: You got the menu.

Copyright

A Stranger Sequel by George Sebastian-Coleman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at gsebastiancoleman.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://gsebastiancoleman.blogspot.com/.

Work-in-progress

I'll be writing a play over the 100 days with the goal to complete the full work (at least an initial draft) by the end of the session.