365 Days / 365 Plays

Suzan-Lori Parks

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2006
• Print ISBN: 9781559362863
• eBook ISBN: 9781559366335
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

“Suzan-Lori Parks is one of the most important dramatists America has produced.”—Tony Kushner
 
“The plan was that no matter what I did, how busy I was, what other commitments I had, I would write a play a day, every single day for a year. It would be about being present and being committed to the artistic process every single day, regardless of the ‘weather.’ It became a daily meditation, a daily prayer celebrating the rich and strange process of a writing life.”—Suzan-Lori Parks
 
On November 13, 2002, the incomparable Suzan-Lori Parks got an idea to write a play every day for a year. She began that very day, finishing one year later. The result is an extraordinary testament to artistic commitment. This collection of 365 impeccably crafted pieces, each with its own distinctive characters and dramatic power, is a complete work by an artist responding to her world, each and every day. Parks is one of the American theater’s most wily and innovative writers, and her “stark but poetic language and fiercely idiosyncratic images transform her work into something haunting and marvelous” (TIME).

365 DAYS/365 PLAYS

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November

13 START HERE

Krishna: We start here. Come on.

Arjuna: Where to?

Krishna: Does it matter?

Arjuna: Yeah. Because I have a choice in the matter and if we’re going somewhere I dont like, I may choose not to go. Because I have a choice.

Krishna: You have a choice?

Arjuna: Yeah.

Krishna: Are you sure?

Arjuna: This is a free country.

Krishna: Is it?

Krishna

Arjuna

Krishna: Yr sitting down.

Arjuna: No Im not.

Krishna: Yr legs are folded underneath you and yr bottom is resting. On the ground. Where I come from we call that sitting.

Arjuna: All I know is that my legs folded and my mind stopped. And now I have a great need to cry.

Krishna: Cry? Who for?

Arjuna: Myself. My country.

Krishna: Yr free country.

Arjuna: Yrs too.

(Rest)

It was such a great idea. In the beginning. When they were all starting out. They had no idea that—that—. That it would end up like this.

Krishna: It hasnt ended up like this. It is like this. This isnt the end, its—

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Arjuna: The beginning?

Krishna: Thats right. Come on.

Arjuna: Mmmm.

Krishna: Dont hold back.

Arjuna: Eeeeeee.

Krishna: Lets go.

Arjuna: Ooooooo.

Krishna: Yr having 2nd thoughts. I understand. Everything you own, everything you are, everything you know is back there, right? Yr not prepared, you think. You forgot to pack yr toothbrush. You forgot to lock the front door. You forgot to turn on the machine. You forgot to turn off the stove. You may have left the bathwater running. You dont speak the language of—wherever it is we’re headed.

Arjuna: Right.

Krishna: Hear that sound?

Arjuna: Sounds like leaves moving in the wind.

Krishna: Its the sound of writing. Theyre writing yr name in the Book.

Arjuna: My name?

Krishna: Why not yr name?

(Rest)

Arjuna: Im afraid. A little.

Krishna: Good.

(Rest)

At the start theres always energy. Sometimes joy. Sometimes fear. By the end, youll be so deep into the habit of continuing on, youll pray that youll never stop. Happens all the time. But dont take my word for it. Lets go and youll see for yrself.

(Rest)

Get up. There you go. Breathe. Ok. Come on.

Arjuna: Where to?

Krishna: For me to know and for you to find out.

Krishna & Arjuna: Hahahahahahah.

Krishna: Come on. Not to worry. Walk with me. Keep the feet moving. And, with any luck, we’ll get there.

They start out.

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14 FATHER COMES HOME FROM THE WARS (Part 1)

Father: Hi honey, Im home.

Mother: Yr home.

Father: Yes.

Mother: I wasnt expecting you. Ever.

Father: Should I go back out and come back in again?

Mother: Please.

He goes back out and comes back in again.

Mother: Once more.

Father: Yr kidding.

Mother: Please.

He goes back out and comes back in again.

Mother: Yr home.

Father: Yes.

Mother: Let me get a good look at you.

Father: I’ll just turn around.

Mother: Please.

He turns around once. Counterclockwise.

Mother: They should of sent a letter. A letter saying you were coming home. Or at least a telephone call. That is the least they could do. Give a woman and her family and her friends and neighbors a chance to get ready. A chance to spruce things up. Put new ribbons in the hair of the dog. Get the oil changed. Have everything running. Smoothly. And bake a cake of course. Hang streamers. Tell the yard man to—tidy up his act. Oh God. Long story. Oh God. Long story. I woulda invited the neighbors over. Had everyone on the block jump out from their hiding places from behind the brand-new furniture with the plastic still on it and say—WHAT? Say: “Welcome Home” of course. And then after a few slices of cake and a few drinks theyd all get the nerve to say what theyre really thinking. For now itll stay unthought and unsaid. Well. You came home. All in one piece looks like. We’re lucky. I guess. We’re lucky, right? Hhhhh.

Father: They sent a letter saying I was c...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Dedication
• From the Author’s “Elements of Style”
• THE 3 CONSTANTS
• 365 DAYS/365 PLAYS
• THE 365 NATIONAL FESTIVAL
• Copyright Page