Josh Rouse and Avant-Garde Plays

Daniel Nester, god bless him, gives mad props to Josh Rouse's stellar album, 1972, named after the year I was born.

He also wrote a short play.

*

For those who don't read comment boxes, here's my latest "Clash of the Titans" mini-play:



(CALIBOS standing in an alley behind a pornography store, holding a leather mask aloft)

Calibos: I can't believe I used to bang Andromeda. She had a great can. (Shakes head.)

Hobo: Hey, brother, can I ask you a question?

(CALIBOS pulls a studded leather whip from his belt and repeatedly lashes the HOBO.)

Hobo: Whimper. Whimper. Hic.

Calibos: Judi Bowker's callipygian beauty knows no bounds! Ah Hera, return her to my satyr-like clutches!

Bubo: Whirr…wheet…toot.

(Door opens into alley, cheesy porn music can be heard from inside building. PORN STORE CLERK emerges with a telephone receiver in his hand.)

Clerk: Hey, Cal, your mom's on the phone.

(CALIBOS takes phone and walks behind a dumpster.)

Calibos: (Nodding head.) Mm-hm. Yeah. Yup. Yeah. Mm-hm. Not that I know of. No. I mean, yeah.

(Disheveled, neurotic-looking man in three-piece suit and dirty loafers appears. It is ROBERT LOWELL.)

Bubo: Whirr…wheet…toot.

Robert Lowell: (Extending hand to CALIBOS.) Hi Cal, I'm Cal.

Calibos: Mom, I gotta go. There's a cake in the oven.

Exeunt.