THE STAIRCASE
He opened the door for access to the bottom of the staircase, he stopped at the first step, a look of feverish complication struck his face with the urgency of a sledgehammer blow, he looked upwards eyes wide yet vacant jaw dropped but slightly, tongue froze in a pointing towards the roof of the mouth position, he held this pose for at least five seconds but no more than ten, his head shifted direction now staring leftwards, in front of his eyes was the wall that followed the staircase, it it was much the same as any other wall, a few chips in the paint work here and there, a slightly darker strip leading up the staircase at the height where peoples hands would follow it in support of their balance, if fact it was almost the mirror image of the wall to the right of the staircase which he now suddenly jerked his head angrily to face, but though his eyes were open and looking in the direction of the wall he did not see it, his mind for the moment was not paying any attention to what his pupils were taking in as though it were of no importance, ÔGerry...Geraldine...Janine..Jude...Jan..Julie,Õ he felt as though something had suddenly been taken from him, he hadn't paid attention to the fact that it had gone missing until that exact moment, and now all that plagued his whimsical pesky soul was how to retrieve this information, ÔMaybe its not G nor J at all...L!..Lu..Lu..Louraine! it must be Loraine!Õ his eyes looked upward and his face relieved itself of all grimace, like the feeling of relief when you see a car heading towards a young child collecting its rubber ball from the road, as the child bends to pick it up you almost see the car hit the little brute and send it airborne towards a pavement waiting to scrape the skin from its face upon impact, and then at the last second or maybe a few seconds before the last second, but close enough to bring you to the point of almost shrieking, the car stops with a sudden pull-up, he began the assent of the stairs, within his now unhampered mind, he began to act out the scenario, he pictured himself open the office door and walk into the room, he knew her desk would be the one second on the right, the photocopier would be to the left and ahead of her desk and there was equal chance she would be there, so he would check that direction first, then the desk, he would see her suddenly look up and break into smile, he would smile in response and say, he stopped one step from the top, ÔIts Not Loraine!Õ
Friday, 13 February 2009
Thursday, 1 January 2009
The Unplayable Play by William Wren extract: Opening Scene
opening scene
a boy of about 18 sat on a bench in a park, the sun is on and the grass is ready, trees are doing what trees do best and all noise is silent except for that which remains noise. The boy who may very well be a man or a child, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story, whilst sat on the bench which may very well be a log, rock, sofa or mound of earth, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a mobile phone, that is unless it is the time before mobile phones, in which case he pulls out a pocket watch, unless it is the time before pocket watches, in which case he pulled out a stone, unless it was the time before stones in which case he pulls out a handful of air, but the time before stones was the time before boys so he could not hold a handful of air as he was not there to do so, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story. A dog walks past from left to right or maybe from right to left, either way is irrelevant for the time being, the appearance of the dog being also irrelevant for the time being.
boy: what time is it
watch: what time is what
boy: what time is it now
watch: what time is it now where
boy: what time is it now here
watch: where are we
boy: I dont know
watch: then how could I possibly tell you
boy: could you guess
watch: I was not made to guess
boy: then what were you made to do
watch: tell you what time it is
boy: then tell me what time is it
watch: tell you what time is what
boy: thats right, it was stupid of me to assume
watch: assume what
boy: that you know the time
watch: I do know the time
boy: then tell me
watch: no
boy : then what is the point in owning you
watch: why do you not think that it is me who owns you, does a master own the slave or the slave own the master, the factory the workers or workers the factory, for what is a master without a slave or a factory without workers
boy: I dont know
watch: then what is the point in owning you
( watch is phone, phone is stone stone is air; boy is man , man is child, child is nothing; bench is log, log is rock, rock is mound of earth; park is garden, garden is street, street is bedroom; dog is pigeon or magpie, pigeon and magpie are squirrel and squirrel are people; depending on how you would like to read it ) The boy was alone always except when with people and sometimes even then, he had an obsession, he specialised in production of his obsession, an obsession to discover what this obsession might be, he was angry at the truth, hated the fact that people lie and obsessed by the fact, when he slept he dreamt of being awake, when awake he dreamt of being asleep dreaming of being awake, so far these qualities had not exposed themselves of any particular use to either himself or others but he would detest the thought of becoming useful as he would therefore be relayed upon and therefore capable of failure, failure was unacceptable he had once decided but ever since doubted that he had made the correct decision
He suddenly wondered if he should make a decision about something but quickly remembered that he had not yet come to a conclusion as to what it is that this something should be, he often wondered this and always came to the same conclusion thustly decided never to wonder it again, maybe this was the something that he wondered about making a decision about, but since he was no longer to wonder about such things, never reached a reasonable conclusion. this angered him. The dog now becoming relevant never wondered such things, or maybe it did, but nobody knows this other than the dog itself, so the statement is irrelevant, which calls into question whether the dog is in fact relevant at this point in time, whatever the time may be, which is also irrelevant. the sun being the sun did not care, the grass being the grass was not interested and the trees being the trees would not let on whether they cared or were interested or not, as for everybody else including the dog , they did not even know that such events were taking place. or so they made out.
watch: why did you ask me for the time
boy: because you are a watch
watch: and what if I told you
boy: then I would know
watch: why do you want to know
boy: I dont know
watch: then what is the point in owning you
Whether relevant or not the dog passes from left to right or maybe from right to left or maybe not at all, but does so indeed. the boy having noticed the dog, and for reasons unknown to himself, the dog, the sun, the grass or the trees, decides to confide in it.
boy: if I had somewhere to go, would I really want to go there and for what reason
the dog looks at him with enthusiasm but has no answer
boy: and where would this place be and how would I know it was somewhere that I was to go
the dog became bored of questions and left, to either the left or to the right or not at all but did so indeed. the boy was left with himself and his watch and his questions, until he threw his watch to the floor and was left with himself and his questions until he threw his questions to the floor and was left with himself until he threw himself to the floor and was left. this angered him. Time decided not to pass for very long until the boy stood up, why he stood up nobody knows, he looked from left to right or right to left, either way round is irrelevant, but his eyes did see the results of millions of years of evolution, his eyes did see the remains of hundreds of centuries of war, his eyes did see the consequence of microscopic chemical combinations and neutrons and electrons, his eyes did see all this and was bored, he did not think to understand how his eyes did see or how his brain did compute, or how his heart worked his brain or how his lungs worked his heart or how the trees worked the lungs or how the sun worked the trees, but he did feel hungry. and what is food, something that was alive before, passing on its life to the eater, the eater one day becoming food, for something that will be eaten by something that will become food, maybe I wont eat, thought the boy, become food quicker, miss out all the in-between part, then what would I have achieved, why achieve anything, those that contributed the most to mankind, those that we read the words of, those that defeated an army, lay in the stomach of an ant or a fly or in the trunk of a tree, buzzing round me, watching me, without being there, or the ability to care.
a boy of about 18 sat on a bench in a park, the sun is on and the grass is ready, trees are doing what trees do best and all noise is silent except for that which remains noise. The boy who may very well be a man or a child, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story, whilst sat on the bench which may very well be a log, rock, sofa or mound of earth, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a mobile phone, that is unless it is the time before mobile phones, in which case he pulls out a pocket watch, unless it is the time before pocket watches, in which case he pulled out a stone, unless it was the time before stones in which case he pulls out a handful of air, but the time before stones was the time before boys so he could not hold a handful of air as he was not there to do so, the answer to which nobody knows as the question had never been asked before, and is irrelevant to the story. A dog walks past from left to right or maybe from right to left, either way is irrelevant for the time being, the appearance of the dog being also irrelevant for the time being.
boy: what time is it
watch: what time is what
boy: what time is it now
watch: what time is it now where
boy: what time is it now here
watch: where are we
boy: I dont know
watch: then how could I possibly tell you
boy: could you guess
watch: I was not made to guess
boy: then what were you made to do
watch: tell you what time it is
boy: then tell me what time is it
watch: tell you what time is what
boy: thats right, it was stupid of me to assume
watch: assume what
boy: that you know the time
watch: I do know the time
boy: then tell me
watch: no
boy : then what is the point in owning you
watch: why do you not think that it is me who owns you, does a master own the slave or the slave own the master, the factory the workers or workers the factory, for what is a master without a slave or a factory without workers
boy: I dont know
watch: then what is the point in owning you
( watch is phone, phone is stone stone is air; boy is man , man is child, child is nothing; bench is log, log is rock, rock is mound of earth; park is garden, garden is street, street is bedroom; dog is pigeon or magpie, pigeon and magpie are squirrel and squirrel are people; depending on how you would like to read it ) The boy was alone always except when with people and sometimes even then, he had an obsession, he specialised in production of his obsession, an obsession to discover what this obsession might be, he was angry at the truth, hated the fact that people lie and obsessed by the fact, when he slept he dreamt of being awake, when awake he dreamt of being asleep dreaming of being awake, so far these qualities had not exposed themselves of any particular use to either himself or others but he would detest the thought of becoming useful as he would therefore be relayed upon and therefore capable of failure, failure was unacceptable he had once decided but ever since doubted that he had made the correct decision
He suddenly wondered if he should make a decision about something but quickly remembered that he had not yet come to a conclusion as to what it is that this something should be, he often wondered this and always came to the same conclusion thustly decided never to wonder it again, maybe this was the something that he wondered about making a decision about, but since he was no longer to wonder about such things, never reached a reasonable conclusion. this angered him. The dog now becoming relevant never wondered such things, or maybe it did, but nobody knows this other than the dog itself, so the statement is irrelevant, which calls into question whether the dog is in fact relevant at this point in time, whatever the time may be, which is also irrelevant. the sun being the sun did not care, the grass being the grass was not interested and the trees being the trees would not let on whether they cared or were interested or not, as for everybody else including the dog , they did not even know that such events were taking place. or so they made out.
watch: why did you ask me for the time
boy: because you are a watch
watch: and what if I told you
boy: then I would know
watch: why do you want to know
boy: I dont know
watch: then what is the point in owning you
Whether relevant or not the dog passes from left to right or maybe from right to left or maybe not at all, but does so indeed. the boy having noticed the dog, and for reasons unknown to himself, the dog, the sun, the grass or the trees, decides to confide in it.
boy: if I had somewhere to go, would I really want to go there and for what reason
the dog looks at him with enthusiasm but has no answer
boy: and where would this place be and how would I know it was somewhere that I was to go
the dog became bored of questions and left, to either the left or to the right or not at all but did so indeed. the boy was left with himself and his watch and his questions, until he threw his watch to the floor and was left with himself and his questions until he threw his questions to the floor and was left with himself until he threw himself to the floor and was left. this angered him. Time decided not to pass for very long until the boy stood up, why he stood up nobody knows, he looked from left to right or right to left, either way round is irrelevant, but his eyes did see the results of millions of years of evolution, his eyes did see the remains of hundreds of centuries of war, his eyes did see the consequence of microscopic chemical combinations and neutrons and electrons, his eyes did see all this and was bored, he did not think to understand how his eyes did see or how his brain did compute, or how his heart worked his brain or how his lungs worked his heart or how the trees worked the lungs or how the sun worked the trees, but he did feel hungry. and what is food, something that was alive before, passing on its life to the eater, the eater one day becoming food, for something that will be eaten by something that will become food, maybe I wont eat, thought the boy, become food quicker, miss out all the in-between part, then what would I have achieved, why achieve anything, those that contributed the most to mankind, those that we read the words of, those that defeated an army, lay in the stomach of an ant or a fly or in the trunk of a tree, buzzing round me, watching me, without being there, or the ability to care.
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
dispomania
DIPSOMANIA
Finally the old man halted, he knew now that escape was impossible, his decrepit eyes scanned the floor best they could, the twiggy floor, the weed infested floor, the brambled floor, he stumbled with a degree of calculation arms outstretched in apprehension of contact, there as predicted, his numb fingers clasped the cold branch, felt along the object hidden by the darkness that surrounded the scene, a picture was concluded within his frail troubled mind, and turning with the precision of an articulated lorry reversing up a narrow alley, parked his fleshless buttocks onto the makeshift furniture, to his right a stick thrusted upwards from the main body of the branch he was sat upon, and with all the intellectual convenience nature presents us with from time to time, the stick forked at the end in the shape of a Y, this he hung the carrier bag he had been clutching with conflicting panic since he could remember, for a moment he leaned his forehead into his hands, leaned his elbows into his knees and leaned hid feet onto the floor, he cursed the joyful hoots of the forest around him, the clouds once again let the moon take a glimpse of our wonderful planet, the old man was able to visualise using this limited light source, the outlines of the bloodless objects alive all around him, he turned to the plastic bag hanging innocently at his side, despite the cold he had no desire to return to his room, the walls that surrounded his dwelling would mock him incessantly, and at some moments gather such momentum that he would hear an angry tempest rant at such powerful force that he would feel himself be crushed smaller and smaller until he was no larger than a full sized apple, a rotting maggot infested fruit, this is why he was out of doors, his critical sentiments would be free to dart out in all directions like the sonar of a bat with little rebounding, but still, to be sat alone, in a cold night, in a pitiless wood, with a companion that you tried to leave behind but were too frightened of the consequences, was not the most fantastic of situations either, with this in mind, the old man raised himself to his feet, he listened and car engines ever propelling themselves along the wind, a constant reminder that that what was known as civilisation was never too far away, he plucked the carrier bag from the branch, he herd it gulp in the movement, his eyes once more found the path that brought him here, that would return him home once more, and sucking inward through his nostrils the whole of the forest around him, he proceeded onwards to re insert himself into the box that all those people led him towards and pushed him into, although he knew it was all his own fault
.
Finally the old man halted, he knew now that escape was impossible, his decrepit eyes scanned the floor best they could, the twiggy floor, the weed infested floor, the brambled floor, he stumbled with a degree of calculation arms outstretched in apprehension of contact, there as predicted, his numb fingers clasped the cold branch, felt along the object hidden by the darkness that surrounded the scene, a picture was concluded within his frail troubled mind, and turning with the precision of an articulated lorry reversing up a narrow alley, parked his fleshless buttocks onto the makeshift furniture, to his right a stick thrusted upwards from the main body of the branch he was sat upon, and with all the intellectual convenience nature presents us with from time to time, the stick forked at the end in the shape of a Y, this he hung the carrier bag he had been clutching with conflicting panic since he could remember, for a moment he leaned his forehead into his hands, leaned his elbows into his knees and leaned hid feet onto the floor, he cursed the joyful hoots of the forest around him, the clouds once again let the moon take a glimpse of our wonderful planet, the old man was able to visualise using this limited light source, the outlines of the bloodless objects alive all around him, he turned to the plastic bag hanging innocently at his side, despite the cold he had no desire to return to his room, the walls that surrounded his dwelling would mock him incessantly, and at some moments gather such momentum that he would hear an angry tempest rant at such powerful force that he would feel himself be crushed smaller and smaller until he was no larger than a full sized apple, a rotting maggot infested fruit, this is why he was out of doors, his critical sentiments would be free to dart out in all directions like the sonar of a bat with little rebounding, but still, to be sat alone, in a cold night, in a pitiless wood, with a companion that you tried to leave behind but were too frightened of the consequences, was not the most fantastic of situations either, with this in mind, the old man raised himself to his feet, he listened and car engines ever propelling themselves along the wind, a constant reminder that that what was known as civilisation was never too far away, he plucked the carrier bag from the branch, he herd it gulp in the movement, his eyes once more found the path that brought him here, that would return him home once more, and sucking inward through his nostrils the whole of the forest around him, he proceeded onwards to re insert himself into the box that all those people led him towards and pushed him into, although he knew it was all his own fault
.
Monday, 22 September 2008
MR ASPIRATIONAL
His name was Mr Aspirational, so that is what we, I, you, they, shall know him as. The story begins with Mr. Aspirational finishing a cigarette before entering the post office to join the que. He stood in such a fixed stare so as to envelop eye contact with anybody, he did not know the reason for this. Every so often the loudspeaker would call, ÔCashier number six please,Õ or, ÔCashier number three please,Õ or, ÔCashier number four please.Õ There were twelve cashier points in the post office facade yet only 6,3, and 4 were in service. As the time drew itself closer towards the moment he would be face to face with the cashier at either 6,3 or 4, Mr Aspirational became slightly more agitated, he had within his mind rehearsed exactly what he would say and was keen to get it over with so as to conclude this task and continue with all else he must do with the remains of this day. Two women behind him were talking;
WOMAN 1: I don't understand why he never opens up to me, he is holding back valuable personal information, IÕm sure its to do with that problem I was talking about before, its all playing on my wits.
WOMAN 2: Yes, his inferiority complex is rather complex.
Mr Aspirational kept his opinion to himself, but if he were to share his mind he would have said something smugly; though he had no reason to be smug; such as;
MR ASPIRATIONAL: The reason he keeps from you his private thoughts, my dear, is that you blab them uncensored amongst friends and in public!
Mr Aspirational finally made it to the till and asked the turbaned man the cost of posting his parcel.
TURBANED MAN: Sixty-five pee.
MR ASPIRATIONAL: Thanks.
TURBANED MAN: Thanks.
Mr Aspirational leaves the post office and walked through the crowded footpath towards the supermarket, the frustration boiled as he dodged his way through the people all balancing on the designated walking area, the fact that people are second class citizens in favour of cars when town planners plan towns never failed to make our hero erupt out at the top of his raged voice some form of insult towards the world. Once inside the supermarket he picked up a basket which gradually became more and more full as he added more items which were required if he expected to continue living. He joined the que. There were four available tills but only one was being operated. In front of Mr Aspirational were three fellow customers, one, a woman shopping for a large family whose diet seemed mostly to consist of biscuits, fizzy drinks and packets of flavoured fat. The other two people were a young man and woman who spoke another language than Mr Aspirational, they appeared to be of intimate experience between each other. He reached the till and the young girl put his items over a barcode reader whilst simultaneously avoiding eye contact with him, he did not know the reason for this.
YOUNG GIRL: Ten pounds-forty-eight please.
Mr Aspirational produced a card from which the amount could be extracted, she put the card in the machine and he tapped in his pin code, transaction completed.
YOUNG GIRL: Thank you
MR ASPIRATIONAL: Thank you
He put into plastic bags the items which he had purchased and began to walk out with one filled bag in each of his two hands, back along the crowded pedestrian walkway he walked in his way, on several occasions the person walking in front of him stopped for no apparent reason blocking his way and without room to pass from the oncoming commution, he stepped out onto the road in order to continue. The rest of the journey home was mostly uneventful and for this reason he eventually arrived home, made his way towards the kitchen, put the bags of shopping onto the table, he looked in the direction of the cupboard, then towards the fridge then towards the shopping, then towards the camera and says;
MR ASPIRATIONAL: I cannot communicate this doom feeling of being trapped in an existence of ever repeating loss, of unescape, of mundane, of tragic self-examination, I walk around the afore mentioned block, as best as I can so as to not explode with misery (He then reaffirms his eye contact with the camera). And you don't even give a shit do you! (He sits at the table reflectively) I play a character named the human beast, the story never quite takes off and the overall direction is flawed, an enigmatic character, a person of duality, intuition developed to the point of genius, and yet all that becomes is a silent monitoring of the world around me (Pauses for a moment)...(considers his options).
Mr Aspirational then stands himself up and begins putting the shopping away into the cupboard and fridge and the plastic bag binward, then he leaves the kitchen.
His name was Mr Aspirational, so that is what we, I, you, they, shall know him as. The story begins with Mr. Aspirational finishing a cigarette before entering the post office to join the que. He stood in such a fixed stare so as to envelop eye contact with anybody, he did not know the reason for this. Every so often the loudspeaker would call, ÔCashier number six please,Õ or, ÔCashier number three please,Õ or, ÔCashier number four please.Õ There were twelve cashier points in the post office facade yet only 6,3, and 4 were in service. As the time drew itself closer towards the moment he would be face to face with the cashier at either 6,3 or 4, Mr Aspirational became slightly more agitated, he had within his mind rehearsed exactly what he would say and was keen to get it over with so as to conclude this task and continue with all else he must do with the remains of this day. Two women behind him were talking;
WOMAN 1: I don't understand why he never opens up to me, he is holding back valuable personal information, IÕm sure its to do with that problem I was talking about before, its all playing on my wits.
WOMAN 2: Yes, his inferiority complex is rather complex.
Mr Aspirational kept his opinion to himself, but if he were to share his mind he would have said something smugly; though he had no reason to be smug; such as;
MR ASPIRATIONAL: The reason he keeps from you his private thoughts, my dear, is that you blab them uncensored amongst friends and in public!
Mr Aspirational finally made it to the till and asked the turbaned man the cost of posting his parcel.
TURBANED MAN: Sixty-five pee.
MR ASPIRATIONAL: Thanks.
TURBANED MAN: Thanks.
Mr Aspirational leaves the post office and walked through the crowded footpath towards the supermarket, the frustration boiled as he dodged his way through the people all balancing on the designated walking area, the fact that people are second class citizens in favour of cars when town planners plan towns never failed to make our hero erupt out at the top of his raged voice some form of insult towards the world. Once inside the supermarket he picked up a basket which gradually became more and more full as he added more items which were required if he expected to continue living. He joined the que. There were four available tills but only one was being operated. In front of Mr Aspirational were three fellow customers, one, a woman shopping for a large family whose diet seemed mostly to consist of biscuits, fizzy drinks and packets of flavoured fat. The other two people were a young man and woman who spoke another language than Mr Aspirational, they appeared to be of intimate experience between each other. He reached the till and the young girl put his items over a barcode reader whilst simultaneously avoiding eye contact with him, he did not know the reason for this.
YOUNG GIRL: Ten pounds-forty-eight please.
Mr Aspirational produced a card from which the amount could be extracted, she put the card in the machine and he tapped in his pin code, transaction completed.
YOUNG GIRL: Thank you
MR ASPIRATIONAL: Thank you
He put into plastic bags the items which he had purchased and began to walk out with one filled bag in each of his two hands, back along the crowded pedestrian walkway he walked in his way, on several occasions the person walking in front of him stopped for no apparent reason blocking his way and without room to pass from the oncoming commution, he stepped out onto the road in order to continue. The rest of the journey home was mostly uneventful and for this reason he eventually arrived home, made his way towards the kitchen, put the bags of shopping onto the table, he looked in the direction of the cupboard, then towards the fridge then towards the shopping, then towards the camera and says;
MR ASPIRATIONAL: I cannot communicate this doom feeling of being trapped in an existence of ever repeating loss, of unescape, of mundane, of tragic self-examination, I walk around the afore mentioned block, as best as I can so as to not explode with misery (He then reaffirms his eye contact with the camera). And you don't even give a shit do you! (He sits at the table reflectively) I play a character named the human beast, the story never quite takes off and the overall direction is flawed, an enigmatic character, a person of duality, intuition developed to the point of genius, and yet all that becomes is a silent monitoring of the world around me (Pauses for a moment)...(considers his options).
Mr Aspirational then stands himself up and begins putting the shopping away into the cupboard and fridge and the plastic bag binward, then he leaves the kitchen.
Friday, 22 August 2008
interlude
INTERLUDE
From his bedroom he walked down the stairs, all twelve of them, turned 180 degrees at the bottom whilst simultaneously stepping around the vertical post which holds the bannister placed, and along the hallway towards the kitchen, the door was open so he walked through; had the door not been open then he would have had to put to the floor the three dinner-plates in his left hand which clung to the remains of the last three meals he had consumed, using his newly freed hand to turn the handle that opens the door, repick the plates from the floor and proceed into the kitchen, alternatively he would have had to put to the floor the oversized teacup; everybody commented on the size of his teacup but to his eyes it seemed of perfectly reasonable dimensions; clinging to the remains of the last two hundred cups of tea he had consumed which was held in his alternative hand; he therefore entered the kitchen hindrance-free and proceeded with the accuracy of routine towards the kitchen sink which he would leave beside his dinner-plates followed by a direct projectory to the kitchen kettle which he would leave beside his semi-notorious teacup. The commissioning of this action helped him grasp the fact that he had indeed forgot to bring with him the dinner-plates from his bedroom and if that wasn't unfortunate enough, he had also forgotten the teacup! So in order to fulfil his task he exited the kitchen and refolded his steps along the hallway and up the twelve stairs towards his bedroom, six steps up he stopped, cursed the occurration that to have set the kettle boiling before returning to his room would dramatically cut the dead time waiting for the plastic electrically charged animal to perform its job, he thus returned to the kitchen using the usual route; as any non-usual route would involve leaving the house through the front -door, walking around to the back of the house negotiating a four-foot-high wooden fence, crossing the backyard and re-entering using either the back window or the back door as portal; this was highly unpractical as he was bare-foot and suffered from agoraphobia; the kitchen door however was now closed, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, thankfully he had neither plates nor teacup in hand so negotiation of the door-handle was relatively uncomplicated. In preparation of setting the kettle to boil he plucked the kettle from its seat, walked it accross the kitchen to the sink, where he stood holding the kettle with opened lid under the tap which inevitably would be turned on in order that the water be able to escape, the kettle returned to its seat and was switched on at the socket and on the instrument, he opened the cupboard at head-height to take from it a tea-bag, halting instantly as remembered the cup was yet to be recovered, from his bedroom he collected teacup and dinner-plates and was confronted by a closed kitchen door, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, he put the dinner -plates to the floor, turned the door-handle with his newly freed hand, opened the door, re-picked the plates from the floor, re-entered the kitchen putting plates and cup in relevant positions, he waited, then remembered what he was waiting for, he was waiting to remember the next job to bring about conclusion to the task at hand, he then remembered, opened the cupboard at head-height to take from it a tea-bag, he could not see any, his eyes were open, then why, of course, the light-switch had yet to be activated, he walked across the kitchen to the light-switch which was directly opposite the cupboard at head-height which was directly opposite the light-switch which enticed the electricity to perform the necessary circuit, he, enlightened, walked exactly half-way across to kitchen towards the cupboard at head-height when to his left he noticed that the arm of the tap had been swivelled to a 58 degrees angle from the edge of the sink and not the 44 degree angle as he had previously assumed, therefore, he deduced, the water had in-fact not filled the kettle but fallen into the sink to be deflected down the plug-hole, this suspicion confirmed as he turned to the kettle which was directly opposite the sink and opened the lid to see inside, the obvious action to be taken, situation as it now was, would be to fill the kettle making the requisite adjustments to the position he held it beneath the tap, so this is what he did. The kettle now filled; was always full, but for his purposes he found water a more appropriate element than those found in air; was placed on its seat and set to boil, he waited, then remembered, he turned to the cupboard at head-height, opened it but saw no tea-bags, he crouched to look inside the crouch-height cupboard and saw a tea-bag, pinched between thumb and pointing finger he took the tea-bag, uncrouching, adjusted his arm till it hovered above the teacup, released the pincers and his calculations were correct, the tea-bag fell into the teacup, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the window, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the floor, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the door, he waited, walked towards the door, through the door, along the hallway, up the stairs towards his bedroom, six steps up he stopped, cursed the occurration that he had left the kitchen without a cup of tea, returned to the kitchen, the door was closed, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, he approached the kettle with a definite plan, he poured the now boiled water over the tea-bag, picked up the spoon he had found in the fourth drawer he checked in, used it to remove the tea bag whilst also giving it a gentle squeeze against the side of the cup to extract the maximum teaness, threw it binward, waited, I should have made coffee he thought, still can, he waited. No. I don't fancy it.
From his bedroom he walked down the stairs, all twelve of them, turned 180 degrees at the bottom whilst simultaneously stepping around the vertical post which holds the bannister placed, and along the hallway towards the kitchen, the door was open so he walked through; had the door not been open then he would have had to put to the floor the three dinner-plates in his left hand which clung to the remains of the last three meals he had consumed, using his newly freed hand to turn the handle that opens the door, repick the plates from the floor and proceed into the kitchen, alternatively he would have had to put to the floor the oversized teacup; everybody commented on the size of his teacup but to his eyes it seemed of perfectly reasonable dimensions; clinging to the remains of the last two hundred cups of tea he had consumed which was held in his alternative hand; he therefore entered the kitchen hindrance-free and proceeded with the accuracy of routine towards the kitchen sink which he would leave beside his dinner-plates followed by a direct projectory to the kitchen kettle which he would leave beside his semi-notorious teacup. The commissioning of this action helped him grasp the fact that he had indeed forgot to bring with him the dinner-plates from his bedroom and if that wasn't unfortunate enough, he had also forgotten the teacup! So in order to fulfil his task he exited the kitchen and refolded his steps along the hallway and up the twelve stairs towards his bedroom, six steps up he stopped, cursed the occurration that to have set the kettle boiling before returning to his room would dramatically cut the dead time waiting for the plastic electrically charged animal to perform its job, he thus returned to the kitchen using the usual route; as any non-usual route would involve leaving the house through the front -door, walking around to the back of the house negotiating a four-foot-high wooden fence, crossing the backyard and re-entering using either the back window or the back door as portal; this was highly unpractical as he was bare-foot and suffered from agoraphobia; the kitchen door however was now closed, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, thankfully he had neither plates nor teacup in hand so negotiation of the door-handle was relatively uncomplicated. In preparation of setting the kettle to boil he plucked the kettle from its seat, walked it accross the kitchen to the sink, where he stood holding the kettle with opened lid under the tap which inevitably would be turned on in order that the water be able to escape, the kettle returned to its seat and was switched on at the socket and on the instrument, he opened the cupboard at head-height to take from it a tea-bag, halting instantly as remembered the cup was yet to be recovered, from his bedroom he collected teacup and dinner-plates and was confronted by a closed kitchen door, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, he put the dinner -plates to the floor, turned the door-handle with his newly freed hand, opened the door, re-picked the plates from the floor, re-entered the kitchen putting plates and cup in relevant positions, he waited, then remembered what he was waiting for, he was waiting to remember the next job to bring about conclusion to the task at hand, he then remembered, opened the cupboard at head-height to take from it a tea-bag, he could not see any, his eyes were open, then why, of course, the light-switch had yet to be activated, he walked across the kitchen to the light-switch which was directly opposite the cupboard at head-height which was directly opposite the light-switch which enticed the electricity to perform the necessary circuit, he, enlightened, walked exactly half-way across to kitchen towards the cupboard at head-height when to his left he noticed that the arm of the tap had been swivelled to a 58 degrees angle from the edge of the sink and not the 44 degree angle as he had previously assumed, therefore, he deduced, the water had in-fact not filled the kettle but fallen into the sink to be deflected down the plug-hole, this suspicion confirmed as he turned to the kettle which was directly opposite the sink and opened the lid to see inside, the obvious action to be taken, situation as it now was, would be to fill the kettle making the requisite adjustments to the position he held it beneath the tap, so this is what he did. The kettle now filled; was always full, but for his purposes he found water a more appropriate element than those found in air; was placed on its seat and set to boil, he waited, then remembered, he turned to the cupboard at head-height, opened it but saw no tea-bags, he crouched to look inside the crouch-height cupboard and saw a tea-bag, pinched between thumb and pointing finger he took the tea-bag, uncrouching, adjusted his arm till it hovered above the teacup, released the pincers and his calculations were correct, the tea-bag fell into the teacup, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the window, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the floor, he waited, his eyes were in the direction of the door, he waited, walked towards the door, through the door, along the hallway, up the stairs towards his bedroom, six steps up he stopped, cursed the occurration that he had left the kitchen without a cup of tea, returned to the kitchen, the door was closed, he must have done this out of habit when last exiting, he approached the kettle with a definite plan, he poured the now boiled water over the tea-bag, picked up the spoon he had found in the fourth drawer he checked in, used it to remove the tea bag whilst also giving it a gentle squeeze against the side of the cup to extract the maximum teaness, threw it binward, waited, I should have made coffee he thought, still can, he waited. No. I don't fancy it.
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
consider a consort
CONSIDER A CONSORT
Dressed up in her going-out frock; one of many; only she alone knew the difference between them; she would have been friendlily greeted whichever frock she happened to wear, as much so had she not worn a frock at all! What she did not realise and what her magazines; due to their funding providers mostly slithered amongst the psychological brutality that is the fashion industry; failed to inform her was that the people who didn't like her wouldn't ever tell her and those that did were usually only interested as to obtain some personal gain such as company or social interaction; the frock mattered not except to other frock wearers which happened to be the majority of people she was inclined to meet, this was a pure accident of geography of course, had she been born in another era a completely different style of frock would be appropriate and at some locations it would be expected to wear no frock at all! this however didn't even occur to her as she left the house. Good morning, he said to the squirrels he could see making use of the tree making use of the ground in almost direct view of his kitchen window, it was in-fact just gone afternoon, what a fool he would have felt had he known! See I am good at conversation as long as I don't have to participate in the talking, I am especially good when there is more than one other person taking part and I ned not even get involved at all, Right then, all my wits gathered and outside we go! He asked the question knowing that the answer would be of no use to him whatsoever, but hearing her speak in his direction was probably the desired effect,There should probably be one along any minuet now, she shrilled, However long it was to be, still I would have to wait till it arrived and knowing how long it would be would not change this situation. Puddles were everywhere, lying in wait for someone to fall into or for a car tyre to deflect them onto a pedestrian but the people were cunning and came prepared with umbrellas and waterproof overcoats- But try telling the puddles this! He felt wind building up near the exit point of his large intestines amongst the residue together with waste pigments, dead cells and bacteria pressed into faeces and stored for excretion; he knew from experience that to let it out would produce a funny smell so he held it within so as not to cause her disgust, he also thought it more polite not to playfully clap her rump or to grasp her from behind with his hands cupping her breasts; aren't manners so alien to us! I must have that look upon my face that says I have no need of want for her to suddenly stick her tongue in my mouth! How to change this particular expression he knew not, he found himself considering and confirming how attractive she is, he imagined she would be a suitable companion to share perhaps a meal with or to walk with or to sit with, on a park bench or similar place, maybe if the opportunity came up to share experiences of visiting exciting new countries, Yes to be crouching in the Ugandan Jungle witnessing gorillas playful in their natural habitat then turning to her and being witness to her face of adulation, that would be nice, yes after all this time of isolation such company would be most welcome. A lifetime of horrors awaits me if I do not gain her this day! I should be so glad to discompose myself of the exhaustion of engraved melancholic mediations. His own thoughts habitually playing new tricks upon himself for their own amusement, he set about the mechanisms to turn simultaneously his neck and eyes to face leftwards; as this was the direction she was standing; he noticed the tiniest of freckles perched on her top lip, My pupils must be huge to take in such detail! again he confirmed she is indeed beautiful, perhaps the most ever of all the... Oh What Difference Does It Fucking Make! he found himself shouting at this compilation of thoughts, his head returned forward facing as he knew it would. Then it parked up. She got on first. He watched her step up with his x-ray eyes. Before approaching he farted then calmly boarded the bus, his life was littered with romantic instances such as this.
Dressed up in her going-out frock; one of many; only she alone knew the difference between them; she would have been friendlily greeted whichever frock she happened to wear, as much so had she not worn a frock at all! What she did not realise and what her magazines; due to their funding providers mostly slithered amongst the psychological brutality that is the fashion industry; failed to inform her was that the people who didn't like her wouldn't ever tell her and those that did were usually only interested as to obtain some personal gain such as company or social interaction; the frock mattered not except to other frock wearers which happened to be the majority of people she was inclined to meet, this was a pure accident of geography of course, had she been born in another era a completely different style of frock would be appropriate and at some locations it would be expected to wear no frock at all! this however didn't even occur to her as she left the house. Good morning, he said to the squirrels he could see making use of the tree making use of the ground in almost direct view of his kitchen window, it was in-fact just gone afternoon, what a fool he would have felt had he known! See I am good at conversation as long as I don't have to participate in the talking, I am especially good when there is more than one other person taking part and I ned not even get involved at all, Right then, all my wits gathered and outside we go! He asked the question knowing that the answer would be of no use to him whatsoever, but hearing her speak in his direction was probably the desired effect,There should probably be one along any minuet now, she shrilled, However long it was to be, still I would have to wait till it arrived and knowing how long it would be would not change this situation. Puddles were everywhere, lying in wait for someone to fall into or for a car tyre to deflect them onto a pedestrian but the people were cunning and came prepared with umbrellas and waterproof overcoats- But try telling the puddles this! He felt wind building up near the exit point of his large intestines amongst the residue together with waste pigments, dead cells and bacteria pressed into faeces and stored for excretion; he knew from experience that to let it out would produce a funny smell so he held it within so as not to cause her disgust, he also thought it more polite not to playfully clap her rump or to grasp her from behind with his hands cupping her breasts; aren't manners so alien to us! I must have that look upon my face that says I have no need of want for her to suddenly stick her tongue in my mouth! How to change this particular expression he knew not, he found himself considering and confirming how attractive she is, he imagined she would be a suitable companion to share perhaps a meal with or to walk with or to sit with, on a park bench or similar place, maybe if the opportunity came up to share experiences of visiting exciting new countries, Yes to be crouching in the Ugandan Jungle witnessing gorillas playful in their natural habitat then turning to her and being witness to her face of adulation, that would be nice, yes after all this time of isolation such company would be most welcome. A lifetime of horrors awaits me if I do not gain her this day! I should be so glad to discompose myself of the exhaustion of engraved melancholic mediations. His own thoughts habitually playing new tricks upon himself for their own amusement, he set about the mechanisms to turn simultaneously his neck and eyes to face leftwards; as this was the direction she was standing; he noticed the tiniest of freckles perched on her top lip, My pupils must be huge to take in such detail! again he confirmed she is indeed beautiful, perhaps the most ever of all the... Oh What Difference Does It Fucking Make! he found himself shouting at this compilation of thoughts, his head returned forward facing as he knew it would. Then it parked up. She got on first. He watched her step up with his x-ray eyes. Before approaching he farted then calmly boarded the bus, his life was littered with romantic instances such as this.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
abstinance
Abstinence
Peace time drove him mad, he didnÕt know what to do with all that excess energy drooling out of him, heÕd roll thus and like that clinging to his ball of bed sheets. Immediately trying to get to his feet and bury himself into the ground within the same thought, neither made sense enough to try with any conviction and time dwindled itself into knotted heaps of useless twine. All myths and truths did battle amongst the trenches of his memory and yells and cries became infiltrated with stories and pictures, which, although as real as his backbone, somehow mystified and strange, eerily shifting as the sand under winds. He imagines all the world, ear to his door interpreting every sniffle and creaking movement, predicting, placing bets upon what his fever will cause him to do next, ever one step ahead of the bastards he out foxes them all and does no more to continue this existence of twilight, of no -mans-land, of neither off nor on - on standby, a whisper with no words attached. His eyes wee too heavy for reading, mind too heavy for music, television had become like sharing a room with an insulting machine; insulting intelligence and tolerance for crapness, to swallow hurt, to think thundered, to just lie and do nothing was a constant reminder of his situation.
In all he was beginning to wish that maybe he hadnÕt decided to stop drinking.
The financial realities were unavoidable, to continue the drinking habit would mean homelessness, to keep enough money to pay the rent meant mental collapse, and he couldnÕt help wondering if this was due to coincidence that the fever found him on the day of his conversion to sobriety. Has he been forcibly removed a staple part of his diet,known since antiquity as Ôliquid breadÕ, tamer of wild mindsets, yoga class and psychiatrist in one form, substitute wife and confederate. What have these villains taken from me! He thought back to the 1756-63 Seven Years War, he had heard of an experiment conducted by John Clephane, physician to the English fleet, in volving three ships; the Grampus, the Deadalus and the Tortoise; on a voyage from England to America; only the Grampus was supplied with the sailors allowance of eight pints of beer per day and after a particularly weather-beaten long journey arrived with 13 sailors needing hospitalisation. The other two ships, with but the common allowance of spirits arrived at the end of the same clinical trial with 112 and 62 men requiring treatment. It seemed he was being denied a valuable product vital for existence in his tragic world but nobody was listening no matter how furiously he wringed his fists.
Never a days illness whilst on the sauce.
Another mobile phone call announced itself through the speakers, the recognisable intrusive, ticking before the dreaded box shrieks at you, but relief, it was radio-waves passing through to someone else's life, threw your skull to their ear, a radioactive minefield of phonecalls and text messages zooming past, mostly chatting nonsense, mostly expensive blather, like the success of bottled water in a land of drinkable tap water and ludicrous price designer handbags, these people would buy anything that the billboards announced was new and cost money to own.
Well each to their own addiction.
And in years to come we shall join hands and look back and sing songs about that wonderful year 2007.
Peace time drove him mad, he didnÕt know what to do with all that excess energy drooling out of him, heÕd roll thus and like that clinging to his ball of bed sheets. Immediately trying to get to his feet and bury himself into the ground within the same thought, neither made sense enough to try with any conviction and time dwindled itself into knotted heaps of useless twine. All myths and truths did battle amongst the trenches of his memory and yells and cries became infiltrated with stories and pictures, which, although as real as his backbone, somehow mystified and strange, eerily shifting as the sand under winds. He imagines all the world, ear to his door interpreting every sniffle and creaking movement, predicting, placing bets upon what his fever will cause him to do next, ever one step ahead of the bastards he out foxes them all and does no more to continue this existence of twilight, of no -mans-land, of neither off nor on - on standby, a whisper with no words attached. His eyes wee too heavy for reading, mind too heavy for music, television had become like sharing a room with an insulting machine; insulting intelligence and tolerance for crapness, to swallow hurt, to think thundered, to just lie and do nothing was a constant reminder of his situation.
In all he was beginning to wish that maybe he hadnÕt decided to stop drinking.
The financial realities were unavoidable, to continue the drinking habit would mean homelessness, to keep enough money to pay the rent meant mental collapse, and he couldnÕt help wondering if this was due to coincidence that the fever found him on the day of his conversion to sobriety. Has he been forcibly removed a staple part of his diet,known since antiquity as Ôliquid breadÕ, tamer of wild mindsets, yoga class and psychiatrist in one form, substitute wife and confederate. What have these villains taken from me! He thought back to the 1756-63 Seven Years War, he had heard of an experiment conducted by John Clephane, physician to the English fleet, in volving three ships; the Grampus, the Deadalus and the Tortoise; on a voyage from England to America; only the Grampus was supplied with the sailors allowance of eight pints of beer per day and after a particularly weather-beaten long journey arrived with 13 sailors needing hospitalisation. The other two ships, with but the common allowance of spirits arrived at the end of the same clinical trial with 112 and 62 men requiring treatment. It seemed he was being denied a valuable product vital for existence in his tragic world but nobody was listening no matter how furiously he wringed his fists.
Never a days illness whilst on the sauce.
Another mobile phone call announced itself through the speakers, the recognisable intrusive, ticking before the dreaded box shrieks at you, but relief, it was radio-waves passing through to someone else's life, threw your skull to their ear, a radioactive minefield of phonecalls and text messages zooming past, mostly chatting nonsense, mostly expensive blather, like the success of bottled water in a land of drinkable tap water and ludicrous price designer handbags, these people would buy anything that the billboards announced was new and cost money to own.
Well each to their own addiction.
And in years to come we shall join hands and look back and sing songs about that wonderful year 2007.
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