six lines #13.

I feel like I've effused so much about the following playwright that introducing him will be redundant, but what the H. I've been made redundant before, and I've also repeated myself.

Damon Kiely is a theater director, teacher, great father to his two beautiful children, awesome son to his awesome parents, a dear dear friend, amazing collaborator and inspirator, etc etc etc. He was my boss when we worked at the ol' American Theater Company, back in the early aughts, when he was Artistic Director, I was "Audience Services Manager" and the old ensemble was still intact. Damon's always been a fantastic, no-bullshit kind of guy which was tough when I was constantly trying to prove myself (to myself, which I didn't know at the time).

I always liked it when Damon liked my writing, and I especially liked it when he had temper tantrums, which were saved for the rare and noble occasion. My favorite example:

It's a quiet day at the theater and he's meeting with an aspiring yet timid playwright, just 20 feet from my desk. All of a sudden I hear yelling, screaming and fist-pounding on the filing cabinets as if they're rehearsing the climax of a Miller play. I find out later (and Damon correct me if I'm wrong, please) that they'd been discussing this woman's play, and Damon flew off the handle because she was obsessing over what/how others thought she should be writing. He was livid about the idea that she was not committed to her story/writing from her guts/giving a glorious fuck-you to anyone who was going to tell her how to craft a story that should have been coming from the grand insides of her soul. I paraphrase, but this is the essence I remember.

Damon led lots of great people in great casts (the brilliance from Orpheus Descending, the graceful brawn of The Hairy Ape) and now teaches a whole boatload of crazy kids at the Theatre School at DePaul. And, I certainly credit him with inspiring me toward more honorable artistic tantrums-- ha! Perhaps better said: I credit him with inspiring me to speak my mind about what I value, both artistically and personally.

[I was not given a title for this]
by Damon Kiely

An Apartment.

SALLY
Why are we packing again…Why are we leaving again?...This is the third move in six weeks…So if we keep going at this rate we’ll move, uh, what, thirty times in this year alone.

JIM
Seventeen.

SALLY
WHATEVER. You get the idea. I am not moving seventeen times in a year. In fact, I’m not moving today either—I’m staying right here. I didn’t sign up for this flapdoodle, it wasn’t part of your selling points if I recall. If I recall you promised saunas. Yeah I specifically remember that you fucked me after a long description of a sauna—I’ve still never even seen one—I’m not sure they even exist—why anyone would want to get in the stupid heat anyway—I’m hot right here with no air conditioning for the love of pete.

JIM
It’s a dry heat in a sauna.

SALLY
I don’t care about the frenching sauna. I want to know why we are moving again.

JIM
Because you can’t lie very well.

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