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Thursday, April 10th, 2003
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9:21 am - thoughts
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So i'm thinking...what about a whole family of them?
a pre-pre-pre draft, don't expect too much.
A dining room; as ordinary as one can get it, is placed stage left. A door is clearly seen at extreme left. Stage right is empty.
The lights gradually come on as Mother reads her passage. We see that she is sitting at a dining table with her 1st Daughter. They are both reading, and in front of them there is a pot, and two cups, of tea. 1st Daughter looks up from her reading as her mother reads this passage out loud. She is attentive, surprised, and perhaps a little worried.
mother:
When you're dressed for a party
And are going downstairs, with everything about you
Arranged to support you in the role you have chosen
The sometimes, when you come to the bottom step
There is one step more than your feet expected
And you come down with a jolt. Just for a moment
You have the experience of being an object
At the mercy of a malevolent staircase.
1st daughter: Is that for one of your students?
Mother nods, apparently engrossed in marking out a passage.
1st daughter: (somewhat persistently) Where's it from?
mother: The Cocktail party, by T.S. Eliot.
1st daughter stiffens, remembering something. There is a long and slightly uncomfortable silence. 1st daughter has apparently gone back to her reading. Seconds later, she tries again.
1st daughter: And she's coming over, isn't she? Later this evening, I mean.
mother: (not looking up)Who is?
1st daughter: Your student. The one who was going to do 'The Cocktail Party'.
mother: The student? Oh...oh yes, her. Yes, she's coming.
1st daughter: Today?
mother: (firmly): Today.
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, April 4th, 2003
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9:05 pm
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"...willingly
Would I speak with those two that go together,
And seem so light upon the wind.”
- Inferno, Canto V: v. 73 - 75
as i would speak to them, who with
still-closed eyes have painted
all our lives, and into all our lives
some rough semblance of meaning,
this rising-light descent and
the consequent unknowing; if
my eyes and yours were
turned always lightwards,
then why are we cast
in this darkness.
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| Thursday, April 3rd, 2003
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9:21 pm - dimple, horseradish, wipeout, organic, cell
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to sing the body organic,
one requires the calm assurance
that every cell is a symphony.
that grandfather didn't make
his blood redder by eating
too much horseradish (and
even if he did it wouldn't
have kept him alive through
two world wars), that
old mrs. steele from
across the river died of
a complete wipeout
of her cd4+ cells, and
not because she took the
name of the lord in vain,
that the dimple inscribed
upon grandmother's cheek
as she lay smiling is a
birth deformity that will, in
all probability, be present
in your children.
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| Wednesday, April 2nd, 2003
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6:09 pm - notes on personality
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As a matter of fact I was feeling rather what-shall-i-do, because of my upcoming examination. I'm a year underage and heard that they'd be strict, and so I'm just wondering whether, you know, I should go through with it or not. The other thing is that I can't sing, which isn't relevant here and now but...perhaps I think too far ahead. To summarise, I'm Viola this year and my passage is probably too short, and I want things to go fine.
I will try to be sensible, coherent and semi-intelligent, I will
current mood: here.
current music: the faint humming of a cpu
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