Digging through an older hard drive, I found a play I had written awhile ago. It was meant to be in the Fringe Fest, but things didn’t work out. So for you, gentle reader, I’ll post some of it here. I actually think it’s fairly good for a first attempt, no? Forgive the formatting, it isn’t very easy to format a play inside of a blog post, but I’ve done my best. Perhaps I’ll post more, if it is received well. Oh, and Queen Achtland is from an Irish Myth.

Dating Achtland

A play by Jeremy D. Pavleck

Cast of Characters

Achtland - An urban harried mid/late 30s divorced mother. Intelligent and stressed.
Felicis - The ‘manic’ personification of Achtland, as seen by Dante
Tristis - The ‘depressive’ personification of Achtland, as seen by Dante
Dante - a 28 year old man, intelligent but scared of what 30 will bring
Animus - The mind, or analytical side, of Dante
Pectus - The heart, or emotional side, of Dante

The play takes place over several months in various suggested settings of Minneapolis and St. Paul

SCENE 1

At RISE:
(A coffee shop somewhere in St. Paul. Early evening. Light shines
through dirty windows. Local art for sale hangs on the wall.
Hipsters man the counter, one hand grinding coffee - the smell permeates.
DANTE is sitting in the corner opposite the door, a large glass of
coffee in front of him. He fiddles with a camera he has brought,
attempting to make it look as though he isn’t waiting for someone)

DANTE:
(Sighs loudly. Beat)

(Lights dim, Animus enters left, spot on. He approaches center with an
aggitated gait. He runs his fingers through his hair and paces a moment
before facing the audience)

ANIMUS:
(Spitefully)

Ah! And there we begin. Look at me. Sitting there pretending to pay attention to that camera.
I’ve been here forty-five minutes already, my own damn fault for leaving so early. I was so
broke, I had to cash in my change to buy this flower for her. Hell if I would of known then
what I know now I’d –

PECTUS (Off):

You’d what?

ANIMUS:

I would have stormed out of there and saved myself a lot of frustration!

(Pectus saunters in right and stands before Animus)
PECTUS:
(Calmly, soothingly)

You would have done no such thing. I wouldn’t have allowed it to happen.

ANIMUS:
(Hotly)

And who the fuck do you think you are, that you can tell us with such certainty that we wouldn’t leave.
You were the one most affected by this whole thing, and yet here you are, saying you would do it again!

PECTUS:

Indeed, I was. And indeed, we would. My friend, as intelligent as you are, some lessons are better learned
by actually doing, as opposed to actually reading about it. In time, you’ll see it my way.

ANIMUS:

That’s such utter bullshit!

(Produces a notepad, flips through several pages)

Just listen to these grievances! I’ve written each one down in detail, and you would be a fool to continue on
after but a third of this list has been read!
First and foremost, she –

PECTUS:
(Holds up his hand palm out towards Animus, Chuckling)

Ah, mon ami, you know as well as I do that I don’t listen to such things

(Pectus Off. Animus off. Lights rise as Dante sets the camera down
and begins to drum his fingers habitually against the table)

ANIMUS: (Off)

There is still time, let’s end this before it starts!

PECTUS: (Off)
(Reassuringly)

Hush, old friend. It’s time you let me take over. Here

(SFX: Rustling bag)

take this.

ANIMUS: (Off)

Oh! A rubik’s cube! I can handle this no problem!

(Dante stops drumming his hand against the table. He straightens up in his chair,
and a look of quiet confidence comes over him)

Guilty of being a romantic. No, not the flowers kind, the other. The one that’s defined as “a soulful or amorous idealist”.

I read books with characters I can relate to, ones I associate with. Bean from Ender’s Shadow, with his high intelligence and deplorable life. Shadow with his quiet intelligence and cool, calm demeanor. Hiro Protagonist from Snow Crash, with his weird ability to be in the right place at the right time - always “this close” to being the next big thing, yet somehow messing it up. And my newest love, Bukowski’s hard-drinking, fighting, womanizing alter-ego of Henry Chinaski.

I read those stories, and romanticize them. I can feel what they are going through - I know what they feel. I was them. I am them? I know of a life of hard times - living in my car, in a dumpster behind a carpet factory. I know the thrill of being rick on paper, then squandering it all away due to lack of foresight.

I know what it’s like to live hard. My father died when I was 6 weeks, raised by a bipolar mother who refuses to get help or acknowledge her problems. I know what it’s like to have to beg for $20 to be able to buy antibiotics for a double pneumonia from not taking care of yourself. I know what a soaring high, were you feel in control of everything. And crushing lows, where the only sensible way out if a bullet between the eyes.

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I’m feeling pretty sick right now, a weird stomach flu thing going on - destroying my creative urges. I still wanted to leave a post today, and I thought I’d pull up something from the past.

For those that don’t know, I had cancer when I was 28. It came, it went, the world kept on turning - but my life was never the same again. I posted the below to Craigslist.org’s “Rants & Raves” section under Minneapolis on March 16th, 2006. It was a pure act of depression, as I had no idea how I was ever going to recover from it. People liked it, voted it up, it ended up on the “Best Of” list, and was then published in a few cancer-related magazines.

It’s been almost 2 years since I wrote it. And a lot has changed. I’m no longer depressed, I’m healthier, and my life in all aspects is much better then what you’re about to read.

But now I have a burning desire to find a ‘purpose’. To leave my mark on the world. You never truly die if your memory lives on, so I should do something that people remember. But was it that?
And I no longer know what I want to do when I grow up - I’m tasting everything I can in life and trying to find the right fit. It’s been fruitless thus far, but there you have it.

Anyway, read on to see what I wrote in an act of desperation to Craigslist years ago.

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I watched him smoke as I stood with him outside restaurants and, when I relented, in my own yard. This was before I’d smoked a single cigarette myself. I saw that smoking altered him just slightly, like a course correction at sea, one degree toward a new point on the horizon. His face grew softer as the cigarette seemed to dull the razor’s edge of unhappiness that sometimes dragged through his life. I remember realizing that it really worked for him, thinking: That shit is inside him. It did something to him. Lord. I was sad, pissed, and a little bit jealous. I told him he was a fool, once, but after that I bit my tongue. Make no mistake, smoker or not, it sucks to watch your son draw on a cigarette like it means something to him. That’s when a smoke looks less like a casual comfort in a cold world and more like an abyss, a dark deception. I’m responsible for my own stupidity. This. This is my boy, and in some way I can only bear witness to this. My boy, smoking like some barfly. That’s when you feel like strangling a tobacco executive. - Learning To Smoke, Esquire Magazine

The above passage is from a recent piece Tom Chiarella did for Esquire magazine. Tom is 46 years old. He also decided to start smoking. Within 30 days, he got himself up to a pack a day, trying over 3 dozen brands, before he quit. Why? He wanted to see what it was like.

And with the way he wrote, it makes me think about smoking once more. It’s quite interesting that I read this piece today, as I also received a congratulatory email from QuitNet, telling me it has been 184 days, 5 hours, 21 minutes and 4 seconds without a cigarette. I have not smoked 3684 cigarettes, which saved me $864.80 and 28 days, 3 hours of my life.

And I miss smoking.

I didn’t quit on my own volition. No, it was the meds¹  that did it - in particular the one I use to put me to sleep. It has properties which, after long term use, seem to break addictions. They aren’t sure how or why - but it causes people to start to dislike what they’re addicted to.

Granted, I fought it fairly hard. I diligently bought my smokes and trudged outside, lighting up and feeling…. Well, nothing. It didn’t taste good anymore. It felt less of a freedom, or time to reflect - and more like going to Mass - you did it because you were raised to do it and it’s just what you did - so I quit.

But man, I miss smoking.

I still have one, every now and then. Only now I can taste the sickly sweet taste of the tobacco. I can feel the smoke entering my lungs, feel its warmth and thickness on the coldest bitter night. I can enjoy it. But not often.

Man, I miss smoking.

1. Temazepam, AKA Restoril [↩]

Yesterday I received an email accepting me into the private beta phase of Skribit.
What’s Skribit? Created during the Atlanta Startup Event, Paul Stamatiou’s software is a way to let people have more control over topics that are talked about in a blog. You suggest topics, and others vote on them - the ones that make it to the top are the ones I’ll write about - usually.

I’ve embedded the widget front and center - you will see it to your right. Right now, there isn’t much in the way of suggestions - how about adding something you’d like to see written about? Simply click in the widget where it says “Click here to suggest a topic”, type in something that interests you, and hit submit - that’s all there is to it!

So how about it? What would you like to see me talk about? I’d love some suggestions so I can properly test drive this bad boy of Web 2.0.

For many years, my favorite author was Neal Stephenson. He wrote huge cyberpunk and steampunk books such as Snow Crash and The Diamond Age as well as his his Cryptonomicon. All excellent books which I’ve read many many times.

My current favorite, however, is another Neil entirely - Neil Gaiman.

Why? After reading American Gods, I was hooked. I’ve read it many times since then, it’s such a novel concept - quite refreshing in this age of ‘Monkey See, Monkey Do’. Anansi Boys and Neverwhere just hammer that message home. In my opinion, he’s one of the most prolific writers of my time.

But there’s more to him then just his writing style. For one thing, he’s local - he lives less then (or about) an hour away from me¹. If I knew where he was, I could go see him.

Secondly, but more important, is he’s so accessible. He really opens up online. He keeps a wonderful blog which he actually updates himself, and shows you how he writes - such as the notebooks he used for American Gods²

With that in mind, I’ve stumbled upon an amazing version of my favorite novel, American Gods.
It’s signed, as you would expect, but the most wonderful thing is it looks completely different from any current revision -

The author’s preferred edition, with over 12,000 additional words. Text printed in dark purple and blue. Bound in purple Japanese silk, with silk-covered slipcase featuring a die-cut front panel. Signed and numbered of 750.

Wow. And it’s only $200 - but it takes 2-3 months to arrive. I think I’ll buy it next month, be a sweet addition to my swelling library! Just look at it! Bound in Japanese purple silk! It shall be mine!

So who are your favorite authors, and why?

1. Most places just say he lives ‘outside Minneapolis, MN’ but it’s know that he owns some land in Wisconsin as well [↩]
2. And the links he used to research the novel, too! [↩]

The last time I had a girlfriend that I didn’t meet online was 1994. Ever since then, the women I’ve dated have been met through the internet - whether via accidental means or through personal ads. In those 13 years of reading and writing ads, I’ve come to learn a few things about dating and people in general. I’d like to share a few of them with you if I could. It could save you a lot of pain and heartbreak - if you listen to them. Read on for the tips!

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When I was in the midst of the Dot Com Bust, being self-employed/unemployed, I worked a variety of jobs; painter, light industrial, mechanical, physical labor, etc etc. But by far my favorite job during that time was an Over the road truck driver.

I really got to see the country, the places and people that truly make up America. It’s not the greatest place, but man it surely isn’t the worst.

During my year or so driving, I had many ‘temporary best friends’.

Truckers, by and large, are a social animal. True, we reside inside a cramped cab for weeks on end with little else between us and the long stretch of tarmac then the alluring sexy glow of the CB radio; a radio which was usually monopolized by the 3% of all drivers that you naturally assume all of us are (were); rude, fat, bald, with very little education and no regard for human safety - surviving on BO and speed.

But every now and then you’d run into someone at a truck stop somewhere, get to talking with them and really like what they offer. Then you learn that you’re both picking up a load at the same yard in New Jersey, and you’re both dropping off that load somewhere on the West Coast, usually LA.

So for the next week it’d be you and him 24×7. We’d hop up to an unused channel on the CB (And in this day and age, it’s the majority of them) and shoot the shit for hours upon hours. You’d stop at the same stops, shut down at the same areas; you were best friends.

Then, 4-5 days later when we’d see San Bernadino you knew you were going your seperate ways. You’d feel a bit bummed about it, talk about hooking up again eastbound, but you know it would never happen. It was just another temporary best friend. Another ‘average joe’ supplying you with your goods.

Although a majority of the trucking industry employs ex-military grunts, I did meet and have as a temporary best friend a huge swath of society - an Astronomy professor for Purdue, someone with a PhD in mathematics, other IT professionals, born nomads, anti-social punks, your average Dad with a wife and kids back home, doing the best he can, all kinds.

I’m impulsive by nature - I like to take chances, to do what others tell me I can’t. And I’m happy to say that I regret none of it, for I wouldn’t be the person I am now if it wasn’t for the people I met on the road of life.

Sometimes on that road, you need to stop and get out - stretch your legs. Take a leak on the median. Take that road without a sign, the one your map doesn’t show.

You may be surprised by what you find - I know I have.

“She’s bi-sexual, bipolar, over-educated, under-medicated, and she’s dating you“

How’s that for a tag line? Draws you in, doesn’t it? I certainly hope so
According to WalkScore (Site might not work, it was digg’d so there’s a ton of people hitting it) , our new address is listed as ‘Best’ - meaning we have restaurants, art, movies, theater, museums, grocery stores, and more - all within a mile or so of where we live. Within walking distance as it was :).

Today my department is out having a little picnic. Since I’m a dirty contractor, I’m not invited to most of the team outings, this one included. So I’m basically running the show here, which is fun - except I keep having this problem that’s driving me crazy and there’s no one around to ask about it. Oh, also about work - they’re trying to find someone who knows MS Operations Manager - it’s a system and application monitoring tool. I happen to know this tool very well having worked with it exclusively for the past several years. There’s about 5-6 people in Minnesota that know it well enough, maybe 3-4 dozen in the entire midwest. So I might be making a move to their MOM side in a few weeks - with a $10/hr raise too :).
Anyway, since IT went to a picnic, the consultants decided to have a consultants potluck here. I went over there, I looked over the food. I went to Jimmy Johns instead. Nothing quite as interesting as a potluck dinner in Minnesota. You never know what you’ll get; sloppy joes, loppy joes with rice, hot dish, hot dish, 37 more different varieties of hot dish, chips. Yeah, I passed.

August 23rd Mishka and I will be going to Studio Vincent, a jewelery designer, for their ‘How to design your own ring‘ class. It goes from 5-9pm, and runs through all the aspects of creating a one-of-a-kind custom ring. Why would I want to do that? Ohhhhh I dunno

Small update for now, horribly written - many things going on, will try to update later.

JDP

I have to admit, I’m really falling in love with google’s Docs and Spreadsheets. It allows me to work on multiple articles, concurrently, wherever I can get an internet connection. Right now, I’m working on 3 articles

• On Internet Personals - I’ve dated a lot of women I’ve met online, and this is all I’ve learned from it.
• On Temporary Friends - I used to drive a semi truck, and along the way you’d have temporary friends - people you would ride along with for 4-5 days, then never see again.
• Cell Phone Jamming - An article about the effects of drivinf whilst chatting and should we be allow to jam those signals under the umbrella of safety.
• A copy of my resume, which gets updated on the fly.
• Copies of various other writings which were deemed to be important.

I’m also keeping several spreadsheets with cost/part information for a few projects I’m working on. It’s an amazing product. Everyone, go use it. Now.

Other then that, there really isn’t much going on now, except for packing. I’ll be at the Guthrie this Saturday and next to volunteer my shifts, then I have the Fringe Festival coming up, of which my participation will be light due to the fact I’ll be moving for half of it.

And I want my new bed NOW, damn it.