A Case for Science Fiction...

Or, a thought on why we might consider how extremity of situation/imagination can bring us closer to the human element we are craving. From Yann Martel's Beatrice & Virgil.

..if I tell a story about a dentist from Bavaria or Saskatchewan, I have to deal with readers' notions about dentists and people from Bavaria or Saskatchewan, those preconceptions and stereotypes that lock people and stories into small boxes. But if it's a rhinoceros from Bavaria or Saskatchewan who is the dentist, then it's an entirely different matter. The reader pays closer attention, because he or she has no preconceptions about rhinoceros dentists -- from Bavaria or anywhere else. The reader's disbelief begins to lift, like a stage curtain. Now the story can unfold more easily. There's nothing like the unimaginable to make people believe.

I think we can consider the possibility of one or two big, imaginary ideas and how we can establish ideas as given truths quickly and undoubtedly in the early moments of the play. We have such a great opportunity with theater: there is a (hopefully) captive audience who are ready to believe what we tell/show them. This is what makes me hate the theater and love it at the same time. None of this is to say that the belief we hope the audience has is based on a replication of a variety of reality, rather that the world or scenario we present is unlikely enough to lodge them firmly in their imaginations from where they will, as Martel writes, pay attention to what is happening. Here we can think of the audiences' attention/imagination as a veil or window through which they watch Uncanny Valley; they enter the space, see the scenario exists outside the world/physics they know and expect, engage their imaginations in an unexpected way, and are then surprised (perhaps doubly so) to find a deep emotional engagement and attachment to what is happening. I think this is why we cry when Bambi's mother is shot.

I think the much discussed idea of how much science fiction to use or not use can be considered a detail oriented and aesthetic question. Are there beeps and protocols for two scenarios or 12? My question, and my hope, is we find a way to use fiction, may of a scientific bent, to create a bigger space for the imagination. This fiction may exist in script/text, situation, movement, relationship and is a huge possibility. I think we've just started to touch on it. Excited to dig in for more and to consider and create fictions we have yet to conceive.

Star Trek lingo

Engage / engaging / engaged
Mister xxx
Yes sir
Captain/ seargeant/ lietenant, First names for serious moments
Aye aye
Commencing
Set a course / plot an intercept course
Stand by
I'm getting something on the distress channel
Your message is breaking up
Can u give us your coordinates? My position is gamma hydra sector 10
I've lost their signal
Alert!
Audio.
Activate shields/photons/etc
The frequency is jammed
Get em out of there!
Damage report
Main energizer down / out
Try/ Engage auxiliary power
All hands on deck
Permission to speak candidly?
Granted
Carry on
On approach to...
Any change in the surface scan? Negative
Limited atmosphere dominated by craylon gas, sand... High velocity winds
Incapable of supporting life forms
We've picked up a minor energy flux on one dyno scanner
Maybe the scanner is out of adjustment
Please respond / respond please
Let's give it a little more time
Open the airlock
Permission to come aboard? Granted
Aye sir
Ahead one quarter impulse power
Regulation
Prepare speakers
Try the emergency channels
General order 12 states that when...
Yellow alert
I can't get power sir
Damage report
Visual / on screen
Indeterminate life signs
Impulse power restored
Full stop
No response
Time from my mark

Great quote from an episode: "I don't pretend to tell you how to find happiness in love, especially when every day is just a struggle to survive. But I do insist that you do survive, because the days, and the years ahead are worth living for. One day, soon, man is going to be able to harness incredible energies - maybe even the atom. Energies which could ultimately hurl us to other worlds, and in some sort of - spaceship. And the men that reach out into space, could find ways to feed the hungry millions of the world, and to cure their diseases. They would be able to find a way to give each man hope, and a common future. And THOSE are the days worth living for."
Kirk giving advice to a woman on a 'past Earth' that they visited.

I love that our show would 'be able to find a way to give each man hope, and a common future.'

Proust Questionnare

This text came in last week in an etude and then popped up in improv. To me it proves that M. Proust was wacky and self-obsessed/reflexive (in a terrific way) from the very begining.

"The young Marcel was asked to fill out questionnaires at two social events: one when he was 13, another when he was 20. Proust did not invent this party game; he is simply the most extraordinary person to respond to them. At the birthday party of Antoinette Felix-Faure, the 13-year-old Marcel was asked to answer the following questions in the birthday book, and here's what he said:"


What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
To be separated from Mama

Where would you like to live?
In the country of the Ideal, or, rather, of my ideal

What is your idea of earthly happiness?
To live in contact with those I love, with the beauties of nature, with a quantity of books and music, and to have, within easy distance, a French theater

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
To a life deprived of the works of genius

Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Those of romance and poetry, those who are the expression of an ideal rather than an imitation of the real

Who are your favorite characters in history?
A mixture of Socrates, Pericles, Mahomet, Pliny the Younger and Augustin Thierry

Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
A woman of genius leading an ordinary life

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Those who are more than women without ceasing to be womanly; everything that is tender, poetic, pure and in every way beautiful

Your favorite painter?
Meissonier

Your favorite musician?
Mozart

The quality you most admire in a man?
Intelligence, moral sense

The quality you most admire in a woman?
Gentleness, naturalness, intelligence

Your favorite virtue?
All virtues that are not limited to a sect: the universal virtues

Your favorite occupation?
Reading, dreaming, and writing verse

Who would you have liked to be?
Since the question does not arise, I prefer not to answer it. All the same, I should very much have liked to be Pliny the Younger.


Seven years after the first questionnaire, Proust was asked, at another social event, to fill out another; the questions are much the same, but the answers somewhat different, indicative of his traits at 20:


Your most marked characteristic?
A craving to be loved, or, to be more precise, to be caressed and spoiled rather than to be admired

The quality you most like in a man?
Feminine charm

The quality you most like in a woman?
A man's virtues, and frankness in friendship

What do you most value in your friends?
Tenderness - provided they possess a physical charm which makes their tenderness worth having

What is your principle defect?
Lack of understanding; weakness of will

What is your favorite occupation?
Loving

What is your dream of happiness?
Not, I fear, a very elevated one. I really haven't the courage to say what it is, and if I did I should probably destroy it by the mere fact of putting it into words.

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
Never to have known my mother or my grandmother

What would you like to be?
Myself - as those whom I admire would like me to be

In what country would you like to live?
One where certain things that I want would be realized - and where feelings of tenderness would always be reciprocated. [Proust's underlining]

What is your favorite color?
Beauty lies not in colors but in thier harmony

What is your favorite flower?
Hers - but apart from that, all

What is your favorite bird?
The swallow

Who are your favorite prose writers?
At the moment, Anatole France and Pierre Loti

Who are your favoite poets?
Baudelaire and Alfred de Vigny

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Hamlet

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Phedre (crossed out) Berenice

Who are your favorite composers?
Beethoven, Wagner, Shuhmann

Who are your favorite painters?
Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt

Who are your heroes in real life?
Monsieur Darlu, Monsieur Boutroux (professors)

Who are your favorite heroines of history?
Cleopatra

What are your favorite names?
I only have one at a time

What is it you most dislike?
My own worst qualities

What historical figures do you most despise?
I am not sufficiently educated to say

What event in military history do you most admire?
My own enlistment as a volunteer!

What reform do you most admire?
(no response)

What natural gift would you most like to possess?
Will power and irresistible charm

How would you like to die?
A better man than I am, and much beloved

What is your present state of mind?
Annoyance at having to think about myself in order to answer these questions

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
Those that I understand

What is your motto?
I prefer not to say, for fear it might bring me bad luck.

Text-to-Voice translator

Automated text2speech translation to be featured in Marc's etude tonight! Here are some links to different sites that allow you to hear text spoken. They each have multiple options for the speaker.  We can layer on some effects as well to create crazy pan-Latino robots reading Proust in space.
http://text-to-speech.imtranslator.net/
http://www2.research.att.com/~ttsweb/tts/demo.php
http://www.cepstral.com/demos/

Questions (On a New World)

Questions

What do you see?

Have you been here before?

What does the air smell like?

Can you smell anything else?

What does that smell remind you of?

Can you see anything now?

What do you want to do?

Do you want to be somewhere else?

What does this place remind you of?

What does your skin feel like?

Do you like this feeling?

Have you felt like this before?

What do you hear?

Do you like the sound?

Can you see what's making the sound?

Where do you wish you were?

Is it dark outside?

Where are you? What's beneath your feet?

Tell me what you hear.

Can anyone see you?

Can you hear the wind? What's it saying?

Are you happy where you are?

What do you feel against your skin?

What do you see in front of you?

What do you taste inside your mouth?

What do you hear?

What do you smell?

What are you remembering?

What do you see when you close your eyes?

How does the air feel against your nostrils?

Describe the sensation on the back of your hand.

Where does that sound take you?

Why are you afraid to open your eyes?

Can you feel any sounds? Pulsations?

Can you move your body? Your hands? Can you smile?

What tension is it creating?

Can you leave?

Are you alone?

Describe your emotions. Are you frightened? Anxious?

What colors are present? What shapes?

Can you see any symmetries?

What is in the distance?

Can you see the color of the objects around you?

Does your body feel strong?

What can you taste in the air around you?

Are there smells there? Are they familiar?

Can you feel the surface around you?

What is the sound that you are hearing?

Where is it coming from?

Is it triggering a reaction in you?

How do you feel your weight?

Can you breathe deeply?

What does your pulse feel like as it passes through you?

Can you feel what is behind you?

How far can you see through the dark?

I Remember

“I Remember”

It's cool and the air smells like ocean. The moon is shining and everything is cool and beautiful. I can feel the sand on my feet. I shine a light on the sand and suddenly I can see tiny crabs everywhere- they move out of the way so quickly you almost can't see them. They are surrounding me on the beach.

It's so cold I'm losing feeling in my thighs. My pants are too thin and I can feel the wind through them. I have so long to walk and I feel like crying, but its too cold. Traffic sounds everywhere and its gray and dry and my lips are cracked.

I'm standing on grass and its nighttime. I can hear the crickets and sounds of dishes softly clinking. People washing up. There's a tiny window of light and everyone looks so calm and happy in there. No one knows I'm standing here. The wind is warm, the air is thick and dark and silent.

I remember the tree outside my house. It was a magnolia. And the blossoms were so fragrant that you could smell them inside the house.

I remember eating push ups from the 7-11. They would melt so fast that I had to lick the ice cream off my arm.

I remember my grandmother's funeral. Mom made me kiss her dead body in the casket. Her skin felt like paper on my lips.

I remember her swimming in the public pool and then getting into the hot car and sweating.

I remember hiding behind the big chair in the living room and eating dog treats. They were crunchy and salty.

I remember biting my arm until I left a mark. It felt good to my jaw.

I remember the plastic animal toys that grandpa would buy me at the zoo. They came out of the machine so hot that you had to hold them with a napkin.

I remember getting sick on the drive to the mountains. I would lay in the back seat and pray for it to be over.

Turning over the pillow to the cold side. It's against August and the air is thick with insects, even in the middle of the night.

Waking up before dawn and walking to the ocean. The sand cold beneath my feet, and the salt of the air stings my eyes and leaves a residue inside my mouth.

Sitting under the honey suckle bush in the front yard. When the flowers were looming I would let the bees crawl over my arms and face. Their tiny legs on my lips.

I remember the sun, shining, striking my face and body. Yellow beams, flowing energy.

I remember the song, the playing. Dancing people singing with me and around me. Everyone together I did not feel alone.

I remember running, playing, teams, a ball. Green grass and mud. Laughter, sweat. I remember the pure joy of fatigue.

I remember the sticker burrs, jammed into the sides of my feet after walking barefoot in the grass.

I remember the sound of the locust during the hottest part of the day. Coming from the trees in the front yard.

I remember chasing lizards into the hillsides where they lived under the green plants. Catching them when they were warming themselves in the sun.

I remember eating home made ice cream just after the lid was taken off. And my teeth aching, rushing to eat it before it melted to slush.

I remember walking in the forest on a cold fall day and a trough of running water. Drinking the cold water with my hands.

I remember falling off a wagon, in the Pioneer Village, I skinned my knee, completely clean. My mother held a wet paper towel to it and I would alternate between cool relief and burning pain.

I remember creosote after the rain. A city of concrete and glass and metal, momentarily transformed back again to the open desert.

I remember waking in the middle of the night. Charging down the long hallway to my mother. An impossible distance to close; with my nightmares streaming along behind me.

tark text from rehearsal~

What's your name?
I don't know anymore.
But of course you don't understand.
I dreamt of familiar surroundings.
Where are you from?
I don't know anymore.
And you're here by yourself?
My mother couldn't come.
But of course you don't understand.
I remember my mom's daphne.
That is NOSTALGIA you are experiencing, but of course you don't understand.
What's your name?
All: I have forgotten.

"In Search of Lost Time" Excerpts

Here are all the excerpts I've brought in from In Search of Lost Time.

Note: Roman numerals after each excerpt refer to the individual books within In Search of Lost Time (e.g., Sodom and Gomorrah is the fourth book, so IV).

The first very long excerpt is the famous “madeleine episode” from the end of the first book, Swann’s Way, but reformatted by Charles Mee.

I believe that all of these excerpts are from the older C.K. Scott Moncrieff translation, not the newer Lydia Davis translation.

Excerpts after the jump...

Faith's source material

[NOTE: as people post their source material on the blog, let's use the label "SOURCES" at the bottom.]

Here are some sources I'm thinking about:

Elie Wiesel: Night

Ursula K. LeGuin: Lathe of Heaven. You can watch a clip from the 1980 PBS movie here.

Andrei Tarkovsky: Solaris, also maybe Mirror/Zerkalo... check out this triiiippy clip:



Guy Madden: Twilight of the Ice Nymphs (wish I could find a clip of this)

Madeleine L'Engle: A Swiftly Tilting Planet. Ooh, listen to this NPR interview with Madeleine L'Engle about A Wrinkle in Time.

Joni Mitchell: Amelia

How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later

Essay from 1978 by Philip K. Dick. Can we channel his spirit and ask him to be a collaborator?

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2e5a2A/www.deoxy.org/pkd_how2build.htm