Reflective Practitioner: Much excitement

Two things to discuss really: the first rehearsal and some new writing.

The first rehearsal was a great success and a lot of FUN! Everyone threw themselves into it. Debbie, Phil, Ruth and Andy were the only performer’s who actually showed up but they generated incredible amounts of energy and really seemed to respond to each other. Debbie and Andy are very intuitive, whereas Phil and Ruth like to play for laughs. I am now really looking forward to getting down to devising. I wonder how the dynamic will shift when Felix, Adam and Danielle are added to the mix. Too many maybe?

The student that I have been corresponding with for a while now sent over some new writing for the tape texts that I wanted to share with you:

Voicemail: Forgive?

Hey, hi, how you doing? Um yeah, never thought you’d hear from me again right? You sound really good on your machine, you know, healthy…Well there was another reason I called…Um yeah I owe you…about £120, once I’m outa here and workin’ again, I’ll send it to ya. Still at the same address? Well hope so you know ‘cus well I will come see yah.
[Long Pause]
I still meant what I said the other day, when I was fucked up I treated you like shit but now I’m getting clean so that is all gonna change. Obviously I can’t drink again but I’ll take you for a pint when I’m out just as a, you know, thanks for bein’ a mate sorta…yeah you get the idea…Anyway, just leaving a message and well, I will see you in a few weeks, knock on wood.



Voicemail: Forget.

It’s your mother. That toaster we bought you has been supposedly been recalled because old age pensioners keep getting electrocuted from it. Personally I think it’s silly business but then again what do I know? You still haven’t written to your grandparents yet for their 50th…Just send a care if you’re soooo busy. Nag nag nag. Call you later.



Voicemail: Lost.

Hi, is this where Patrick lives? I’m looking for Patrick Murphy, he’s having a birthday bash tonight and I’ve completely lost directions to his place. I’m driving a white Volvo and I’m going up and down State Street ‘cus I know that is where the party is, just don’t know which house. If you get this message Patrick, run outside and flag me down ok? Ok Patrick? Anyway, love you and sorry for being late. See you soon, buh bye.



Voicemail: Found?

Shit…is it you? Is it really you? My god…you sound so, Jesus, I thought maybe…I thought maybe you would be much older, well…sound much older. Shit I have your voicemail, not a good start. Listen, Caroline gave me your number as she thought it was about time we met as I’m in England for a few days. Wow, I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe that I’m actually inches from meeting you, well that is if you want to. I’m sure it comes as a shock as it did me when I found out I had a cousin…Well I shouldn’t tie up the line. Take care…Call me back?


Voicemail: Cat

Hello there, I’m calling from the Westgate Veterinary Centre to remind you that it is time for your cat’s yearly check up. We advise you to make an appointment with us as soon as you can. You can email us on appointments at Westgate pets, that is all one word, dot com or you can phone us from 8am till 6.30pm on weekdays on 01964-320-320. Thank you.



Voicemail: Invitations

[Heavy breathing for a long while] – Hey, we are going out for drinks tonight you silly bint! Trust you to forget. We’ll be in the Bell and Hammer ok? Love ya, see you soon.
[Next voicemail message, same voice as before but sounds of pub in the background] Where are you? Hun, I left you a message ages ago…Don’t tell me you’re with him right now…Yeesh, ok well we are still in the Bell and Hammer and you know how is trying to come onto Janine. Get your arse down here so we can save her. Ok, love ya, bye.



Voicemail: Possessions

Good morning, this is Ben calling from DIBA to remind you that tomorrow the car insurance policy you have with us will expire and we would advise you to renew it. You can call us back on this number at any time and one of my colleagues will be able to help you. Thank you.



Voicemail: Celebrating?

I’m drunk and I’m in the clear. Ms Mush for Brains finally came to her senses and I’m heading towards a lot of cash. Who says accident help-lines aren’t a pile of shit eh? Ha ha, we did it! Twenty-five grand in hang and now I’m covered. So great. I’m in the Oak Room if you want to join. Speak to you soon. [Long kissing noise]



Voicemail: Family Protocol

It’s your mother. Richard has had a heart tremor. He is in surgery having his pacemaker checked, just thought you’d like to know. I’m not going to call your father as why should he care but I thought you would want to know. We are in the hospital at the top of the hill, just upstairs from the A&E. Give us a quick text love? Bye.

The Room and the Champagne

We had finished our exams and were starting the new year. We were in my room fooling around as we used to. She had brought over some Champers that She anxious to down but I just wanted a small glass of it to make Her effort seem worthwhile.
She peeled away the film and undid the metal tie. She was so pleased with Herself when the cork popped in Her hand.
She filled a plastic flute, one for me and a large one for Her. I think She loved the lingering sound of the fizz as it rose then settled down. As we drank the juice of the Widow Clicquot, I tumbled slowly into a deep sleep whilst She gave me head. The bottle was empty when I came to, and the room was breezy cold with all the windows flung open like when She would expose Herself on impulse, only She had gone. Her old school blouse hung on the back of the door. Her skirt was still around Her waist.
She was perched out the large window, trying to unscramble the mood but the trees refused to move so She could not tell if it was half or full.
That night She did not sleep with me, that night She sat up in a chair, smoking and writing in the clouds She billowed.



Interview

[All spoken by the same person]
Interviewee Number one, try to describe Her…

She is an angel, a saint, Mother Teresa and Lady Di, Godzilla, Juliet, Tamora and Boudicca, a hound, a jackal, the eyes that Gloucester lost, the wicked fiend, the bloody tyrant, the carnivorous lamb.

How so? How so? She is all these things yet not! Make sense man!

She is Narcissus and Hades; vanity and death.

Imagination and thematic thinking, surely? Come, come, set it all straight!

She is the apple of God and of my eye, a writhing metaphor in a snake pit, a laughing babe in a warm soft crib, bearing her fangs in order to seek approval and loving coos.

So you say She is a problem then?

Nay. She is the all-glorious white light of doom.





Temper

She resides in a hothouse,
Her ghosts and she
But this sauna is where she would rather be.
She drinks glasses of ice and boiling cups of tea,
She exercises rigorously
Yet brushes her teeth.
Yet her ghosts are not temperate to her humid home
So to her displeasure,
They come and go.
It is possible she is reptilian
To some degree,
She has to live in this hothouse
And this hothouse is She.


Decisions over Breakfast Toast

Love me, hate me, chose between me or the gun.
That is what She would say to me every morning,
Usually over Toast and raspberry jam or butter.
You can tell a lot about a person by their spread;
She liked it smooth, not bitty, no nonsense abut it,
Even if Her words contradicted that idea sometimes.

Just like Her breakfast, She never let anyone touch it or Her love but you wouldn’t hate Her for that yet She never let you have bitterness or curiosity as emotions of choice.
It all boiled down to love, hate, Her or the gun.
I was never certain if I did in fact pick the best option of the three…



The Beginning of Womanhood?!

At the age of 11 on a field trip, she noticed blood spots in her knickers whilst using the toilet by the ice cream stand. When she emerged, knickers in hand, She had the distinct feeling that She was dying. Then when She noticed how the ice cream man put strawberry sauce on some of the ices, She then thought that perhaps Her stomach had popped and She was leaking strawberry out of Herself and into Her knickers.
No tears stung Her eyes but vomit rushed out of Her mouth as She ensured the rest of her ice was fully regurgitated beside the school bus. That day, She threw away her animal print knickers, and spent the rest of Her time worrying if maybe she would need a cork for whenever she had food, especially come dinner-time. She never said a word about the incident and never touched strawberry ices again until she turned 15 and attended her first Sex Ed class.