The Last Days of Judas Iscariot: A Play

by Stephen Adly Guirgis

I’ll tell ya—it was like peaches and dynamite

“God may reduce you on Judgement Day to tears of shame, reciting by heart the poems you would have written, had your life been good” … She was my poem, Mister Iscariot. Her and the kids. But mostly … her … You cashed in Silver, Mister Iscariot, but me? Me, I threw away Gold … That’s a fact. That’s a natural fact.

Lastly and most important: God. I struggle with God. I struggle with Life. I want simple answers and easy solutions. I want to do it on my own and always be in control. Mostly, I want to avoid the uncomfortable, which only leads to more discomfort. God is, I think, perhaps, The Unavoidable, and writing, for me, is the curse that brings me a little bit closer to that Unavoidable entity that ultimately allows me freedom and access to my work and to my life. Some people are curious about a writer’s “creative process.” I can’t explain mine except to say that God is the starting point and the finish line. In other words, when all else fails—and it always does—I pray.