3 Brief Encounters with Spalding Gray

Seven years ago today, Spalding Gray, the great monologist, took his own life by jumping off the Staten Island Ferry. He was a personal hero of mine. Often times meeting the person you most admire will turn out a lot differently than you could ever imagine. Over a span of a decade, I had three painful experiences with Mr. Gray.  I wrote this short play especially for Sundog Theatre’s Staten Island Ferry Festival. It’s still a little rough around the edges, but I thought I’d share a few pages. I hope your soul is at peace, Mr. Gray.

IMPERFECT MOMENTS or THREE BRIEF ENCOUNTERS WITH SPALDING GRAY

SPALDING GRAY, a tall, thin man with a wild wave of grey hair. Seated, he wears a well-worn flannel shirt. In this first encounter, GRAY is in performance mode: confident, manic and full of life. He is seated in a simple chair.

GRAY
I hadn’t had a perfect moment yet. And it’s very important for me to have perfect moments in exotic countries. I always have to have them, because it gives you a good sense of closure. It lets you know when it’s time to go home. They’re best had alone and you never know when you’re going to have one.

R., a man in his late 30s, early 40s is joined by FRIEND (Same age, envisioned here as a woman, but could be played by a man), walks from the audience to start in the moment GRAY finishes. R and FRIEND stand. GRAY walks back, joining the audience. The play should move fluidly from segment to segment, with no lags in-between transitions, if at all possible.

R
Every time I’m on the ferry, I think about him.

FRIEND
The water must’ve been so cold.

They both shiver.

FRIEND
Can’t imagine what was going through his mind.

R
I think he was in a lot of pain.

FRIEND
You’d have to be.

R
Can you believe it’s been seven years?

FRIEND
I remember when we met Spalding Gray. Feels like it happened a week ago. I felt so bad for you that day.

GRAY enters from audience.

GRAY
I fantasize about going back to high school with the knowledge I have now. I would shine. I would have a good time, I would have a girlfriend. I think that’s where a lot of my pain comes from. I think I never had any teenage years to go back to.

R
Do you remember the story?

FRIEND
It was so horrible, how could I forget? Well, I remember that you idolized Spalding Gray. You would watch his monologues over and over again. Knew them by heart.

R
Yes.

FRIEND
Then, it turned out he was coming to our school for a visit, to give a storytelling workshop. You couldn’t get in for some reason.

R
The workshop was restricted to Acting Majors. I was in English, so they said I couldn’t go.

FRIEND
But you wouldn’t take no for answer.

R
This is back when I had drive and ambition.  I took matters in my own hands: I decided to petition the man himself. I wrote him an honest, but really effusive letter, letting him know how much his work influenced me. I asked him if I could attend the workshop. I found out which hotel he was staying at, and left the message with the concierge.

FRIEND
So, you basically stalked him.

R
I don’t think it would meet the legal criteria of stalking, but almost.

Later that day, my phone rang.

GRAY has stepped into the scene at this point.

GRAY (Deadpan)
Hello. Is Ruben there?

R
Yes.

GRAY (Deadpan)
Ruben, this is Spalding Gray.

Long Pause

R (To FRIEND)
I took the time to write him a letter. I left him my contact information. I went through great pains to make sure the message reached his hands. But for some reason, I hadn’t anticipated this moment.

(To GRAY)
Yes! Um, hello Mr. Gray!

GRAY (Deadpan)
I got your letter. (Beat) I just wanted to let you know that you are welcome to attend my workshop.

R
Thank you! Thank you so much. I really, really appreciate this! It means a great deal to me. (Trying to find something to say:) I sincerely hope you’ll find a perfect moment here in Wisconsin.

Long Pause

SG
Okay. (Takes a deep, audible breath) Well. (Beat) See you there.

R
I was elated. Even though I kind of bombed at the end, hell: I had just had a conversation with Spalding Gray!

FRIEND
When the day of the workshop arrived, you were like a kid at Christmastime. I think the other actors in the room were getting giddy just from the ambient excitement that you were radiating.

GRAY (Deadpan)
Alright. I’d like start with an exercise. I want you to tell me everything you can remember happening today. From waking up, to the moment you arrived here. Every detail you can recall. Who would like to go first?

FRIEND
He picked me. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. I felt better when other people tried and everyone else’s day was just as boring as mine.

R
An unabridged day in the life of a Midwestern undergraduate is a far cry from Swimming To Cambodia.  After a few lame attempts, we took a short break. Spalding Gray and I both ended up in line at the cafeteria. A TV set hovered above us, as usual, they were forecasting snow.

SG (Gravely)
Weather seems to be a big deal around here.

R
Finally. Fatally. We reconvened. There was the Q & A.

KAREN
I hate Q&A’s.

R raises his hand.

SG
Yes. Ruben?

R
Well, Mister Gray….I’ve noticed that your monologues often deal with very painful, personal topics. I was curious to know if telling these stories helps you deal with these traumas. Do you experience a catharsis while performing?

Long Pause

SG (Angry)
Are you suggesting there aren’t cathartic moments in my work? How can you even ask me that? It’s ridiculous. You obviously don’t know anything about my writing. There are always moments of catharsis in my monologues! If you had ever taken the trouble to pay attention to my writing, you would know that. You clearly know nothing about me or my work!

R and FRIEND should pause for a moment to let it sink in. GRAY should rejoin the audience.

R
It was awful. He misunderstood my question. In a calmer moment, I could’ve cleared up everything. One thing Spalding Gray often spoke of was finding the perfect moment: fleeting fragments of life where you are acutely aware of the beauty of pure existence. If I hadn’t been so rattled, I might have been able to express to him that his performances, the way he transformed the raw pain of life so candidly, so cleverly and so creatively, into works of art full of so much humor and insight, were not only cathartic, but perfect moments in and of themselves.

He taught me that life, if carefully crafted and considered, could be made into art that transcended all the suffering and misery and confusion that went with it. That’s no small thing.

But instead…