The two one-act plays now at Marks Garage are meandering, probing early works with the pseudo-profound quality of undergraduate bull sessions after too many beers.

The playwright and director is Alan Shepard (not to be confused with Sam Shepard, creator of "Buried Child," "Curse of the Starving Class," "True West" and others) and his one-acts are "Two Mufukas, Some Sex and A Crab" and "Bit Parts," presented under the collective title, "Love, Life, and other 4-Letter Words."

Together, they reflect a groping point of view that has only begun to dip into love and life. But if that preliminary dip was sudden, full immersion, it could explain why the dialogue has come up spluttering four-letter words. While obscenities and vulgarities overload the script, their sheer excess provides much of its humor.

The opening work is primarily a collection of monologues with a common theme but no connecting action.

Nicole Brilhante appears as a sex professional whose adolescent, angelic looks clash violently with her garbage mouth and amoral perspective on her trade. Peter Ruocco delivers a matching monologue as a man comically addicted to masturbating over Internet pornography.

But when these two characters hop into bed together, they are unable to rise above psychobabble so bland it makes us all want to roll over and feign sleep. But maybe that's the point. Prolonged exchanges such as (paraphrasing):

"How did you feel when you said it?"

"How do you think I felt?"

"How did you feel when you asked me how I thought you felt?"

Similarly, Savada Gilmore delivers a skyrocketing monologue diatribe as a man unable to keep a roommate, but can't sustain a two-character exchange with a stranger who hits him up for a dime. Another failed attempt to communicate occurs between a man — obviously stoned — and an articulate crab (Jordan Savusa, wearing oversized claws and scuttling sideways on a rolling chair.)

Shepard's second play is "Bit Parts," in which a group of supporting players drop in and out of a break room when they're not on stage. Their discussion soon inflates into an analysis — again sophomorically grand — of the actor-audience experience.

The best part in "Bit Parts" is truly the tiniest one. It goes to Marcus Lee, who gets the fascinating opening ("Will you sell your soul to me — for a penny?") and closing ("I love that word — visceral") lines.

Unfortunately the character disappears for the rest of the play, leaving us with bland characters who say bland things. Again, maybe that's the point.

If it is the point, it — sadly — isn't enough to hold an audience.

"Love, Life, and Other 4-Letter Words" is an exercise best tested in front of a live crowd. If you're up to it, the test continues for one more weekend.