This little play was written in response to a real news story--a love triangle gone wrong. One man who had survived September 11 took the lives of another man and woman, and then himself almost one year to the day from the terrorist attack. It seemed that he had a crush on the woman, and believed the other man was his rival.

I wrote this short play in late 2001, as a response to just how weird living in New York feels after September 11. Nothing's the same anymore, for better and worse. I'm not sure how long this strange feeling is going to last... probably until the memory of the excesses of the late 1990's fade completely.

This is dark and I like it. An old literary recluse in New York City is paid a visit by his estranged daughter.

This play was selected as a finalist in a recent 10-minute play contest. Like Joan of Arc in reverse, this play is about a woman who is God's reporter here on earth.

Loosely based on a family I knew a long time ago.

This is a cute little play that takes its cue from "guy walks into a bar" jokes. Looking back, I really like this play. It's a transition for me from some of the earlier, wordier stuff. The play is about what happens between the lines, not in them. 

A robot that could think like a human would be expensive, even if we knew how to make it.  Humans themselves are dirt cheap.  It's simple economics.  Why replace the self-propagating fountain of cheap human slave labor with expensive electronic slave labor?  To improve the quality of our lives?  To ensure the equality of opportunity for all mankind? 

Let's get one thing straight. Before I start. This is not art. This isn't even entertainment. This is terrorism.

Shopping at Colonus was the second ten-minute play I attempted to write. The play is loosly based on Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus. My idea is that Oedipus, an old blind Theban prophet, wanders around a shopping mall in the suburbs, looking for a good place to park himself for eternity. His daughter (Antigone, here Virginia) leads him around. A mall security guard is a stand in for Theseus, the King of Athens, who agrees to allow Oedipus to curl up and die in his domain.

NO MORE BEETS (1995)  

At first I thought they were maybe some special kind of beets.  You know.  That can grow and reproduce really fast.  Maybe radioactive or something.  Or some kind of beet-yeast hybrid or something.  There had to be some kind of scientific explanation.  But then, when I tried emptying the pot totally.  I realized that this was, in fact, a pot of unlimited and infinite beets. 

No More Beets was first performed in Dublin, Ireland, in January of 1997, in a new writers festival at Trinity College. I played Mark, the first time I've ever performed in a production of my own work. The play won the festival.