Pat Candaras began questioning authority at a very early age. Growing up in the Midwood Section of Brooklyn, she was the only one of seventeen brothers and sisters to be shuttled off to live amongst an extended family that included an uncle the same age as his one-eyed stepdaughter and an aunt's brother who holed up in the basement when he wasn't being periodically checked into the hospital for "rest."
Outside the Playwrights' Center in Minneapolis, I have exactly one hour to talk to the Obie-award winning combo of Lisa DAmour and director Katie Pearl (who were recognized this spring, along with fellow collaborator Kathy Randels, for Nita & Zita). Weve known each other for a while and share common theater roots in Austin, Texas; theyve worked together extensively. We are all working on projects at PlayLabs: theirs is Lisas new play, Cataract; mine is as dramaturg for Laurie Carlos.
A playwright/actor friend, KK, dips our dim-sum into the pitcher of beer.
"Why the glum face?" I ask, as I towel off my dumpling.
"You ever get that feeling that the highway youve been cruising on has ended and there aint nothing on the other side but a deep dark cliff? That you can keep driving off the cliff or you have to turn left and take that road that leads to your step-mom in Pensacola? Well I feel as if Im at that cliff and I dont want to make that left turn."
I had a dream about my genitals
sliding out like a piece of chewing gum
Plop into a toilet’s swampy waters
Imagine my surprise as I stood there
Naked since my underwear had been complex
Necessary to remove and my dress