"The Dogs of Foo" et al.

A nice photo from a newspaper feature about my play "Unreliable Witness," directed by Raleigh Ensemble Players co-founder Roy C. Dicks. That's me with the gifted Nancy Watkins, who performed my monodrama with exquisite grace, passion and no histrionics whatsoever. Roy did a lovely job of it; my piece was paired with the moving Harvey Fierstein one-act "On Tidy Endings." We ended up as the lowest-attended REP show on record. That's a distinction I could have done without.

The author incognito, below the marquee announcing the first production of "The Dogs of Foo." Not blind (as we used to say before we used the more unwieldy neologism "unsighted") merely sensitive to light. I think these wrap-arounds were from my father's brief motorcycle days.

Micah Cover and the late Mike Roark in the NCSU production of "The Dogs of Foo." It's a kind of drama a clef that re-creates the Hollywood of the 30s, juxtaposed against one man's memory of the era 40 years later. The main character is a semi-closeted movie director "suggested," as they say, by George Cukor. The framing device is a young gay journalist's contentious interviews with the director. What the Cukor figure obfuscates, or won't elaborate on, the audience sees, re-enacted in a kind of flashback. Mic was an absolute joy to work with. Aside from his own personal charm, he's one of the most natural actors I've ever seen on a stage; you believed everything he said or did and even the author had the feeling this gifted young man was making it all up as he went along. That's craft.

The other side of “Foo”: the aged director's younger self (Martin Thompson, left) with his assistant and lover (Linh Schladweiler). Martin was superb, but Linh, who had very little on-stage experience, was revelatory. He performed a difficult role with beguiling grace, psychic pain and a barely-suppressed fury that was utterly right. The production was directed with a deft and beautifully understated touch by John C. McIlwee. It remains my favorite production of any play I've written.

This is a Foo Dog. In fact, it's one of THE Foo Dogs at Grauman's (now Mann's) Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles. According to legend, the Foo Dogs served as sentinels whose purpose was to reward the righteous and terrify the wicked. A perfect metaphor in reverse for Hollywood in the 1930s, the setting of my eponymously titled play. Thanks to Rox, the Second Greatest Roddy McDowall Fan Who Ever Lived, for the photo.

Nothing theatrical here. This is Mercer Ross, the little dog who may have saved my life. A year-old, abandoned pound-puppy when I adopted him from the animal shelter, he gave my sometimes despairing emotions a focus by providing a vessel in which to pour my love. Since Mercer arrived in my life I have often been alone, but never lonely. No one can ask more of any animal.