Before They Were Night Vale: FAIL

The play (monologue) below I wrote in 2008. Thirteen years later, I still appreciate some of what I was saying back then. I think Peachum's advice in The Threepenny Opera, is good... the bit about knowing your limitations and trying to work within those boundaries. I still live by that. Though I also think you have to push those boundaries some. 

I like the hula hoop, too. It was a good visual. As I'm talking to the Neo-Futurist audience, I'm trying to actually spin a hula hoop around my waist. But I'm terrible at it. Fellow Neo Joe Basile was amazing at hula hoop. He could twirl that thing on his neck, on an ankle, 4 at once, whatever. So the juxtaposition of my comically bad attempts next to his expertise was solid. Though reading through this now, I wish I had pushed the visual metaphor a bit farther. I don't know what that metaphor would be. Maybe the hoop is too limiting. 

But the part that I really stray from, 13 years later, is the tone. The overall message isn't bad, but this feels a bit didactic to me, perhaps even cynical. Like, the only way to learn something is to have your ass kicked up and down the field? I disagree with that sentiment now. Certainly failure is a learning experience and a motivator for most, if not all, people. But embarrassment doesn't have to be.

In the opening anecdote of this play, I reference a football team getting pantsed on national television. And I'm sure Missouri found many lessons in this romp, but I'm also pretty sure "you're bad at football" shouldn't have been one of them. They're were - still are - a major college football program. They got beat handily by a better team that day, but that's nothing to do with their overall ability. They're very good at football, as a matter of fact.

And this idea is anathema to a creative field like writing - which is what I often apply this logic to. Because I will readily admit that, say, Michael Chabon is a superior writer to me. But at no point in time do his accomplishments diminish mine, nor make me feel inferior as a person, let alone want to quit writing. Quite the opposite. I read Chabon and think, holy crap this is great. I want to improve myself, not to best this guy, but to make myself better. 

And that's really what it's all about. We all have limitations. Understanding them are vital. I still hold fast to that. But I don't think those boundaries are fixed. Thirteen years later, I hope I am giving myself (and my audience) more credit than I used to.

-Jeffrey Cranor

FAIL
© 2008, Jeffrey Cranor

[ Joe Basile stands SL; Jeffrey Cranor stands SR; both have a hoola hoop; Joe does tricks with the hoola hoop, and Jeffrey tries to replicate these moves. ]

JEFFREY: In September 1993, Texas A&M defeated Missouri 73 to nothing. 73 to nothing.

And righteous football pundits preached poor sportsmanship by the Aggies.

In Connecticut high school football, you're not allowed to win by more than 50 points.

But just like the Missouri Tigers 15 years ago, crappy high school athletes have to learn the truth about life the hard way. 73-0 is sometimes a positive lesson.

Look, this isn't about the Super Bowl. Or football, really.

It's about you.

Have you seen The Threepenny Opera? In the Song of the Insufficiency of Human Endeavor, Mister Peachum sings "Know your limitations. Formulate a better plan. Modify your aspirations. Be a happier man."

And that's important to note. Sometimes you're just not physically or mentally capable of doing something.

Peachum is telling you that you suck at that something.

I don't know.

I'm sure you're pretty good at other things.

But whatever that "something" is… you suck at it.

And you should admit it. Try to get better. Sure.

But know what you cannot do, and choose your path from there.

73-0. It seems unnecessarily brutal, but sometimes the underdog needs to be put in his place. Told "You can't compete. Maybe you should take up badminton or become a librarian."

[ Jeffrey stops, hands his hoop to Joe ]

Determination in the face of impossibility is overrated. Competence is underrated. Remember: When that proverbial football is placed in front of you, you're not Eli Manning. You're Charlie Brown.

[ Chorus of Lied von der Unzulänglichkeit Menschlichen Strebens plays; Joe capably twirls both hoops - one around waist, and one around neck; Jeffrey exits. ]

CURTAIN