Talking head challenged a stroke

*Things/thoughts society urge people not to talk about or write about*

If you believe everything you read then I should have gone into the media business.

 Meg!

 thanks for this.  Meg is highly artistic and creative lady who only sees a hint of her talents.

She is a friend and the reason I’m writing this post.

song inserted to listen/lyrics at end of post  (optional) – It all ties up at the end……

 

DISSIDENT DAISY THOUGHTS

How to know if you are not a weakling sap?

You do everything wrong.

starve yourself, stay in bed, pretend everything is okay, hoover crap up your nose, watch and wait for your grandma struggle with death for 3 days.

Forget about what makes you well and happy.

Fallout with everyone you would die for

Think you have ignored your daughter’s needs  and are dismal parent

then, still say

N0.

I’m sorting out my priorities.

H20 AND O2  🙂

moment by moment

I tumbled a fair way -off the waggon wheel.

This is not just about drugs – in fact, drugs are probably the only dysfunctional part of me that looks so horrific and doomed because it is so visceral.

People can’t see my other issues.

Okay, maybe a bit of weight loss- not so shocking that people turn around and gawp. I cover it up well.

I slipped off the waggon – mentally and physically many months before I decided to reach out for coke.

Point is, I did a three-week drug binge – hated every moment of it.

It took the announcement of my Gran being given the short straw of life to stop fucking about.

She may or may not be in heaven. I hope she is.

This may or may not be a piece of fiction.  I hope it is.

Research for my EMA?   ( one of my characters is addicted to drugs and is homeless)

well, he was when I last looked at the script back in November…..

I told the supplier not to supply me. He respectively hasn’t and I respectively haven’t had the desire to ask.

I  don’t like the way drugs or alcohol make me feel or act. I don’t like how denying myself food I like and love makes me feel.

I don’t like what the symptoms of my issues does to my personality, how I behave when caught up in it.

People slip everyday.

How many accident claim adverts have you seen lately?

Slip up, is what meant. 😉

Most people don’t talk about it.

What have I got to lose?

I have everything to gain.

My integrity.

War is peace

Truth is Freedom……….

Ignorance is strength ? 

ha! got you 

George Orwell is a pseudonym  😀 

My family…….

bloggers who know the real me – bloggers like Meg.

People in my real life may read this and go………………

I’m not telepathic and I never ever want to be.

I DON’T GIVE A FUCK, WHAT YOU THINK. EXCEPT TO THE ONES, I SPEAK TO BUT I ONLY SPEAK TO PEOPLE WHO GET ME.  ( maybe that would sound better in a ghetto lingo)

I’m on the mend. I still have issues – just cos I’m not hoovering shit up my nose doesn’t mean I’m  100% healed.

What about your business Daisy?

Business is growing.

How did you support your habit?

I rented out my body …

(FACT OR FICTION )

does it matter?

I have a personal account and a company business that is separate and I have another issue where what I would spend on food gives me overflow money to spend on prostitutes, porn, dunking doughnuts, Cider, cars, gambling, clothes, shoes,  drugs – illegal and legal self-medicating.

Yes, love a bit of Erotica   – Anais Nin 😉

 

The point is the waggon is not electric and it is in sight. I’m running alongside it.

What about your Master’s degree, Daisy?

Doing it. On track.  One more scipt to write and year one down.

I can tell you -100% truth that having mental health issues and reverting to my default coping mechanism has done NADA for my creativity.

Me being me and writing from my heart and keeping my head just about screwed on is why I have managed to come out of this with flowers blooming out my ass.

I digress.

Bit of a rant…

Thank you,

Meg

for the tag.

I TAG (optional)

BROOKE @ THE UTOPIA UNIVERSE

CHARLIE@ CHARLIE ZERO THE POET

I LOVE A CHALLENGE.

I LOVE MUSIC.

Combine the two together and I have put myself up for a HEALTHY CHALLENGE.

It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks sorting out the funeral with my Ma.

I need to help others to dig myself out of my own shit storm.

I’m committing myself to this challenge because I can.

A song I currently love is this

It gives me hope that the youth of today are thinking like this young lady.

Enjoy…..

 

[Verse 1]
My quiet observations on the bus city people lost trust
Maudley’s out patients are shouting with the pavements
They looking rough can’t get to grips so they end up looking worse than shit
Maybe if I can see who there talking too I might talk to them to so they can prove
The spirit never lies but before I get to try the clouds open up and let god cry
Why is this white lady nervous cause 3 black youths come on so she checking were her purse is
Make me feel nervous like they ain’t my country like they don’t really want me
But mummy always love me I never had a daddy it was me and my mummy
Mummy was my daddy I can either cry or see it as funny
How you can have a child and then just leave
Now I’m walking around with my heart on my sleeve cause I’m effected anytime anybody leave
You can see my scars and hear my silent screams
I been reading books to analyse my dreams and to me it seems
The only chance we get to make sense of it is when we put our heads down a little bit
That’s why I’m spitting it cause each one teach one and you can take it how you want don

[Hook]
Right now I got a lot of work to do
I gotta smooth out my edges
Eat more veges
Listen to my elders
Vibe with my peers
Confront my fears and
Finish this album
Right now I got a lot of work to do
I gotta represent the youth
Speak more truth
Eat more fruit
Get wise with my years
Confront my fears and
Finish this album

[Verse 2]
But it seems I get side tracked it’s like a mind trap I get a call real late bout were the foods at
Cause certain man a certain place got certain food to taste so my Nikes are laced
And I was never really one to stay awake through a working day for them little bit pay yo
This nine to five is just killing me slowly but quitting is for quitters so I wait until they fire me
But now no one will hire me cause I got more lies in my CV than a pro’s had STD’s
When will they see I was born to reign entrapment is my pain I need to feel alive again
I need a man that compliments my style overstand I’m this way until I die
Has ambitions of his own so ovastand i don’t wanna be alone I just need a little time in my zone
This one goes out to my shotters in the alleys were all brothers and sisters were all family
All my sisters trying to raise there babies all the youth man with court cases crazy
It’s like the smarter you are the bigger your worries stupid people are lucky trust me
This one goes out to my people with ambition I’m still learning I’m still trying but for now

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Honesty is courage and since I got the heart of a lion then there’s no sense in lying
I portray my life over violins no matter what it brings least I’m being real
When I look at my future I fear failure I fear the fact that you might not like me
I know I’m skilled but just maybe slightly what if my light don’t shine so brightly
I’m scared of that I’m telling you the truth I’m scared of that
What if the doctor said you couldn’t have children
What if the system they tried to topple what I’m billing better living for all my ghetto children
And I don’t mean were you live I mean your state of mind
Cause ghettos not just a place ghetto is a vibe
And I don’t need no boastie words or complicated flows
If I know what I gotta do then I flow
But sometimes I get tired sometimes I lose faith I guess that’s the reason that we got to church
Cause when you at the bottom of the barrel it hurts need something to believe in and God works You think spiritual is just hocus pocus what you really saying is you have not noticed
Inside us all is a silent protest you can acknowledge or ignore but me

SPEECH DEBELLE – FINISH THIS ALBUM

ANAIS NIN IMAGE CREDIT

Panacea TMA 3 update.

I always used to think I was a bit loopy because I created characters in my head and-and acted them out. My family teased me and people must have thought I had multiple personality disorder (it was the 80s/90’s). My daughter does the exact same thing and I now realise that my mind creates stories and the best way to reveal those stories is by writing them down.

Here is the second draft for my TMA 3. I’ve finished the entire second draft this morning. YAY!

I’ve taken inspiration from the morality plays that were popular in medieval times. I hope that my tutor will see the relevance this play has in the message it sends out despite setting it nearly 90 years ago.

I think that all three characters have a bit of me inside them. I’m working on making the characters more well rounded. The next two scenes I’ve written shows a different side to the characters.

The play is set in the  mid-1920’s -after the World War one and the Russian revolutions.

I want to thank Clarissa @  POETURJA for helping me develop an intriguing plot with her grimoire and insight into her ancestry of being a descendant of the misunderstood Roma Gypsies.

There is still a lot to polish and make it submission and MA worthy

Let me know what you think.

CAST LIST: (so far)

EVE

VLADIMIR- always wears gloves 

PANACEA

THE CROWD- actors and the audience

AMERICAN MAN

AMERICAN WIFE

EUROPEAN WOMAN

LOCATION: Paris, 1925

SUGGESTED STAGE DIRECTIONS (my undeveloped vision) bare stage – (audience act as the crowd for further scenes) are seated in a circle. All action takes place in the centre of the audience. Characters sit amongst the audience or come from behind to enter the performing stage. All props are simulated by actor’s mannerisms and minimal props. A box can be at table, piano, bench.   To evoke sensory surroundings multimedia like audio-piano music/ screens/ lightening etc. used to set the scene example to create the illusion of shadows, or people, to set the mood of the scene.

EVE is already playing as the audience find a seat.

NOTE TO SELF: BE VISUAL include all people who will be in the each scene setting. Hot seat 20 question for characters

SCENE ONE

EVE sits playing the saddest most melancholic piece of music at an old piano, in the jardinière outside. She sits in the centre of the room.THE CROWD sit and stand around her forming a circle. EVE plays on as the audience find a place to sit. EVE is absorbed in playing her music. After some time EVE stops playing. Bangs on the keys of the piano and begins to cry. EVE cries and cries and cries. Nobody comes to her. EVE stops crying.

EVE: Who’s there?  I know someone there is there. Show yourself.

(EVE seems to gaze through the audience. A spotlight comes up and sweeps across the audience illuminating them. The room goes dark. EVE begins to play again –a wild angry, jazzy piece of music.EVE plays until she falls off her chair. From out of the audience PANACEA, plainly dressed in dark colours approaches EVE. PANACEA attempts to help her up)

EVE:      Who are you?

PANACEA:  Hush, I am but an old dear who admires your music.

EVE:      How did you get in here? This is private land. If you are Vladimir’s friend…

PANACEA:  Who? I was merely directed to your playing.

EVE:      I tell you what I told him. No. I won’t do it.

PANACEA;  Do what, dear?

EVE:      You don’t know?

PANACEA:  No. I found the gates open and was guided by your playing.

EVE:      Oh.

PANACEA:  You seem almost… disappointed.

EVE:      I made the right choice. It doesn’t matter.

PANACEA:  A problem halved and all that.

EVE:      Yet I feel so guilty

PANACEA:  You seem /quite

EVE:      I don’t even know who you are. I can’t even….

PANACEA:    As you can see I’m rather old, nothing special – just a mere human – an old lady –nondescript

EVE:      You blend in with the crowd.

PANACEA:  Almost like I don’t exist.

EVE:      But people can see you and you –you can see them?

PANACEA:  Yes. I do and I suppose seeing they do. It is not the same as looking

EVE:      All I want is to be see the people Vladimir says we help.

PANACEA:  You have such a gift. The world must hear this and your face is –

EVE:      He did send you! Times have changed. These new admirer’s talk so strange. So many people are poor. I wonder how we can maintain our standard of living just because I have a gift. How can they just ignore and approve?

PANACEA:  Approve?  I don’t see many who wouldn’t. We do have mirrors nowadays.

PANACEA:  They don’t do me any good.

EVE:      they aren’t much good to me either.

PANACEA:  Who is Vladimir?

EVE:      Someone. Someone who wants the best for me.

PANACEA:  You have had a disagreement?

EVE:      I can’t shift this feeling -Something doesn’t add up. How can one girl ease the suffering of a nation- a world trying to make sense of all the lives lost? All those men dead.

PANACEA:  Is he ONE of those sorts of men?

EVE:      What? A soldier, oh no.

PANACEA:  The Don Juan types.

EVE:      Don Juan? I can’t even visualise what that looks like

PANACEA:  You know- charming, good looking. A bit of a lothario. Gets the blood rushing to the ears.

EVE:      Oh no, nothing like that. (blushes) He’s more of a guardian- a brother of sorts.

PANACEA:  Well, has he hurt you, dear? Roughed you up?

EVE:      No, nothing like that. He cares for me. I owe him all this. I should be begging in the streets for my bread like the rest of them.

(Silence)

EVE:      Hello?   Are you still here?

PANACEA:  Yes dear. I will sit next to you then perhaps you can see better.

EVE:      That is part of the problem.

PANACEA:  Well, turn your face to me. I’m not exactly beautiful as yourself. I get that reaction all the time.

EVE:      I can’t see you.

PANACEA:  You are…

EVE:      Yes. I am –that is why I’m so flaming mad. How can he expect me to be on show? (takes on mock man’s voice) Entertainment is what the new World needs. The old world’s need. We are doing A service to our people, he says. I feel privileged -far too privileged.

PANACEA:  I wish I could feel the world the way you do. It’s unique.

EVE:      That’s the problem. Everyone always goes on about how unique I am. How lacking in sight makes me special. Everyone wants to take my picture with me or listen to my music, but then, soon, people seem to grow weary and they just disappear, and I’m left alone in the darkness again.

PANACEA:  Some people only come out when it’s dark, child.

EVE:      How would I know? My darkness is my light and I have nothing to compare it to.

PANACEA:  I blend in with the world. Just another face in the crowd

EVE:      You sound saddened by it?

PANACEA:  No, it’s just normal.

EVE:      That’s what I want. Normal. I feel everything.

PANACEA:  To see is not-to-not feel.

EVE:      Yes, but there are these things – filters. If I could see maybe, my other senses would be diluted. Not so overpowering. Not so smothering, I feel unbalanced.

PANACEA:  Yes, a woman at odds with her world. I’ve seen years of the world. Felt it too. I often wonder what it would be like if I lacked in sight and well……

EVE:      It’s frustrating. I feel the need to increase all my other senses to make up for what I lack. If I could only see with these eyes, what other people see-

PANACEA:  What will you do about Vladimir?

EVE:      I trust him but he doesn’t understand.  He believes if I could see this world that my beauty would be lost. That me not seeing what I look like and the world looks like is what makes me- this “unique” word. I hate it.

PANACEA:  So, he saved you….

EVE:      from a life living on the streets, from the orphanage. With his business acumen, we are still able to afford all after all the devastation.

PANACEA:  Doesn’t sound like such a bad fella.

EVE:      He’s not. He just doesn’t understand how much I long to see Miss, Mrs?

PANACEA:  Call me Panacea.

EVE:      …Like the word? How droll.

PANACEA:  Yes, I was born with a gift to help those at odds with themselves.

EVE:      You can give me the sight I crave?

PANACEA:  It’s not a simple process. It requires/

EVE:      I don’t care. Name it. I have money. Anything. What is your price?

PANACEA:  Money is useless. The elixir needed to seal this contract is what is known as trading your essence.

EVE:      Essence? my soul?

PANACEA:  Not quite. I’m not the devil. Think of essence as an ingredient. If you barter, your unique essence say- to me. What makes you taste different from the other cookies of the world is your flavour- your essence. You want vanilla. You inherit my essence, I yours

EVE:      I wouldn’t even know where to find my essence. What would I gain?

PANACEA:  you could gain your sight.

EVE:      And you would want to lose yours! why?

PANACEA:  I’m an old dear. I’ve seen enough of the world. You, however, have so much living to do. You have these unique gifts yet you are not happy with them because you can’t see them like the others.

EVE:      You make me sound ungrateful.

PANACEA:  Now that is what you said. Not I.

EVE:      Forgive me. DO you have all your senses?

PANACEA:  (laughs)I can hear you. Your music. I see your apparent beauty. I feel your soft skin, smooth – no wrinkles. Untouched by sunshine. (breaths in to smell EVE)

EVE:      Why are you smelling me?

PANACEA:  I long to use my other senses more…I’m not going to eat you, this is not a fairy-tale

EVE:      I’m sorry. I feel so stupid.

PANACEA:  Never mind, it shows you have a highly active imagination. Much sought after in the world where vision is so vital to be a part of this world.

EVE:      How could you possibly have had enough seeing?

PANACEA:  Maybe it is because I met you. You captivate me.

EVE:      I wish I could see what you mean.

PANACEA:  Maybe your male friend is right. It would ruin you to see the world. (begins to get up)

EVE:      Where are you going?

PANACEA:  Leaving you to work things out. All feelings pass (small pause) eventually.

EVE:      No, that is an untruth. Mine grow. Intensify. Mine never leave. They haunt me day and night. Please don’t leave me alone.

PANACEA:  (sits back down) Will you play again and let me consider your eyes.

EVE:      I can’t see you, though.

PANACEA:  (frustrated)I know a way to access your essence.

EVE:      Panacea you can give me sight?

PANACEA:  If you want it as much as you claim, then perhaps it may work in your favour.

EVE:      Why?

PANACEA:  You question far too much and believe in far too little.

EVE:      Okay, I will play. What do you/ want?

PANACEA:  Play me a song that reveals everything about you to me

(EVE begins to play, looks at PANACEA. PANACEA touches EVES face, her lips and leans into EVE as if to kiss her. EVE stops playing.?

EVE:      What are you doing? You ‘re not one of those Lesbians are you/?

PANACEA:  Does it matter? (laughs) More a Thespian.

EVE:      what does kissing me must do with giving me my sight? I may be blind but don’t mistake that for being a fool.

PANACEA:  Me? Mistake you for a fool. (long pause)

EVE:      I apologise. I /just want….

PANACEA:  Have faith that what we do on this day will give you what you say you desire.

EVE:      I’m scared.

PANACEA:  Scared didn’t win the war.

EVE:      I never thought of it like that. Could we try again?

PANACEA: One more chance. In hindsight, I may change my mind and decide to keep my sight at this rate.

EVE:      No! I mean, it’s yours of course, but I really want to see.

PANACEA:  Let me taste your tears. (leans in to lick EVES tears) Such melancholy. Such innocence…. Play on, child. I must know your name.

EVE:      I can tell you. My name/is…

PANACEA:  (shouts) Don’t speak it. I will find your name. That is how I will find your essence. Now play.

(EVE begins to play, looks in the eyes of PANACEA. While EVE plays, PANACEA licks the tears from her face and begins to suck on the air of EVES parted lips. EVE falls to the floor. PANACEA looks down at her, PANACEA sits at the piano, begins to play a neurotic piece of music. PANACEA finishes the piece, gets up, nudges EVE with her foot.)

PANACEA:  I dedicate this piece to you. The essence of Eve – foolish. foolish Eve. (gets up leaves pushing past the crowd)

(Lights down)

SCENE TWO

(Outside in the garden, EVE sits at the piano playing – she keeps making mistakes. Stops and starts. VLADIMIR paces up and down wears gloves)

VLADIMIR: No. That is not it? Where is the haunting draw, the sweet enchanting forest where we forget all pain? Start again.

EVE:      (hesitates) Can you just listen, please.

VLADIMIR: I am. This is not good enough. (realizes) How many times, Cherie?  You are already behind and the show starts in less than a fortnight.

(EVE begins to play. EVE stops and puts her hands to her forehead. VLADIMIR stops pacing and rushes to EVE)

VLADIMIR:     I know I push you. You know I want the best for you. You have another headache?

EVE:           yes.

VLADIMIR:     (takes a bottle from his jacket) Here take one as precited. This is all nerves. The mind plays horrible tricks on someone who is utterly gifted.

EVE:           But don’t you find it most peculiar? What an unusual woman. It felt so real. Are you sure you didn’t see/her?

VLADIMER:      Mon Cherie, no more with this talk of absurdness’ have a duty to provide for our community. (motions to ENTOURAGE to make EVE presentable) ah, here come the publicity people. (to EVE) Not now, Cherie. Performance face – smile –a little more- higher. Manifique (ENTOURAGE fix makeup and hair, take pictures. Flashes of light and voices commanding EVE what to do. EVE poses then frowns)

PHTOPGRAPHER:  Turn left. No left. Chin up – Aliyah fix her make up. Liberty her hair is not staying static. Eve, place your hands just so. More delicately. Girl, move her into position.

EVE frowns, VLADIMIR with a wave of his hands clears away the entourage. Everything is quiet again.)

VLADIMER:      Cherie, what do you want me to tell you? An untruth. I saw you were fatigued, I found you at the foot of your piano. I picked you up and called on Doctor soigneur immediately.

EVE:           Please, Vlad. I haven’t stopped having nightmares. I don’t feel myself. The boy…He is Everywhere.

VLADIMIR:      And that is precisely why you were to take the prescribed pills for your disorder. We’ve all been through a lot (more patient) I can’t collude with these fantasies.

EVE:          I feel lost. No – I misplaced. Since Panacea, all I see is this boy. I feel more sickness in my heart/than ever.

VLADIMER:      Ha! What a perfect name for someone to help you regain your sight. (laughs) I love your imagination. You cannot grasp how important this next performance is. People ae coming seeking for jubilee, peace, coming from afar, the Americas, England. Important writers, artistes. Don’t you see?

EVE:           No, Vlad, I don’t.

VLADIMIR:      Come repose with me on our favourite bench in the jardinière. We can play our favourite game. (helps EVE up and walks to the bench in the garden both sit down)

EVE:          I don’t want to guess what the colours look like. Everything has become so triste. I know you want the best for me.for our community I – can we stop for today/ I..

VLADIMER:      (Sits EVE down on the bench/VLADIMIRE sits down and admires the Garden) Feel the wind. Smell the fleurs. This always lifts your spirits.

(EVE puts her hands to her cover her face and screams out)

EVE:           Don’t touch me!  (lights flicker in multi colours- EVE stands up and stumbles backwards. VLADIMIR rushes to catch her) Eve, what is it? Control your senses.

(Sounds of houses exploding. Windows shatter, Gun shots. Screams of men, children and women.EVE points to a war zone. EVE starts to run towards the noise of screams)

EVE:           The war. It’s started again. Run. Vlad.

VLADIMIR:      looks around to where EVE is running. Looks confused)

VLADIMIR:      Cherie, calm yourself. There is nothing there. Let’s get you back to your room.

EVE:         It’s happening. I have sight. Can’t you see? Hear?  What is wrong with you? They are shooting innocent people (A woman’s voices cries out as she is being raped. EVE runs to towards the attack, VLADIMIR stops her. There is a struggle, the cry of people burning alive and dying. Silence and then a BOY starts to howl in pain. EVE cries) That boy, he’s in pain. He’s oh – Mon Dieu -is ablaze

VLADIMIR:      Enough! (picks up EVE and attempts to take EVE back inside)

EVE:           There is a boy. He’s on fire. You can’t leave a child. (to DISFIGURED BOY) What is your name child?

VLADIMIR:     (firmly)There is nothing there.

EVE:           Look! That poor boy. (to BOY) It’s okay, we’re getting help.

VLADIMIR:      (looks back and puts EVE down on the piano chair.) Take these. Now.  You need to stop this. You want people to talk. Say how you are a crazy fool.

EVE:           Talk? About what? People dying. Innocent people. We are at war, again. Why did you not summon the staff to help? We were the closest to -that boy.

VLADIMIR:     There is no one there. (shouts). Nothing. No boy on fire. No war, you are hallucinating. Shut up!

EVE:           That boy. (looks up and past VLADIMIR’S shoulder. Frightened she points) There he is, right behind you. His face. (walks towards the DISFIGURED BOY) How can you be alive, child?

VLADIMIR:     Enough! I’m trying to look after you.

EVE|:        (EVE touches VLADIMIR’S face) You know I wouldn’t ever lie to you. The boy is a mess. Disfigured for life. Who will look after him if we don’t? (to the DISFIGURED BOY,in  darkness) Don’t be afraid- We can help you.

VLADIMIR:    (slaps EVE across the face) How dare you! You vexed wrench

EVE:           I’m not crazy. I’ telling you the truth.

VLADIMIR:     Who have you been talking to? Tell me now.

EVE:           Nobody, Panacea. She gave me. I can see…

VLADIMIR:      She must be some spy. I get it now. Oh Merde, alors!

EVE:           A spy? Why would you have spies? That is irrational.

VLADIMIR:      What witchcraft is this? (Grabs EVE’s arms) close your eyes, wretched girl. You ungrateful wretched girl. Everything I’ve done. For you.

EVE:           Why can’t you see him. He’s right behind you.

VLADIMIR:      I forbid you to speak. Spies trying to plot my demise. You see nothing – only what you have ever felt. You see the real me. (places EVES hands on his face)

SCENE THREE Pain

(It is the day of the concerto. EVE is led by VLADIMIR to her piano in the centre of the courtyard. It is a bright day. EVE sits down to play. EVE starts and stops. Composes herself. A collective intake of breath from a crowd. Silence. EVE looks around and then begins to play a song so painful tears stream down her face. There is the wail of cries from THE CROWD. They are being drawn into EVE’S song. The song takes on a hauntingly melancholic tone. MAN cries out from the darkness of the crowd)

MAN:      I thought you were here to light our sorrows not waddle in them

(THE CROWD murmurs in agreement. EVE continues to play. The melody grows more and more melancholic. Then furious and choppy)

MAN:      (to VLADIMIR) What’s wrong with the ole girl, Scar?  I want my heart to forgot about all my woes, little dove. Play something else. Play something else.

CROWD:    (whispers and chants over and over) play something else.

(EVE carries on Tears streaming down her face. VLADIMIR comes into the arena and whispers in EVES ear. EVE changes the tune to a more upbeat piece –one with more cheer and spirit. The crowd cheers- shadows draw closer to her like a moth to a flame. EVE bangs hard on the piano. EVE stands up. She looks to the crowd – the audience and points out at the AMERICAN MAN)

EVE:      How can you delude yourself – when last night your honest and loyal wife questioned you about your whereabouts/ You beat her. That is why she has pain around her eye. (All lights focus on AMERICAN MAN and his WIFE.   WIFE takes a hand to her battered eye to hide it.)

MAN:      What would you know about my whereabouts when you can’t even see?

EVE:      Your wife knows the truth, you should leave her to get on without you.

MAN:      You leave my business to me and you concentrate on yourself on entertaining us. Don’t need some woman thinking.

EVE:      (to WIFE) You know he’s with another. Day and night. He beats you because he knows she will never leave her husband. You don’t have to live like this. You don’t have to live with this abuse.

MAN:      (shoves  WIFE behind him) how dare you speak such lies.  You are a witch.  A temptress. An evil mark shows itself on you. You may be fair but those exotic features.

EVE:      No. the evil mark likes on you.

MAN:           You are supposed to be blind. What a charade – looks at this trickster (to THE CROWD) How would she know I am in the crowd if she has no sight?

EVE:          I’ve been cursed with sight.

THE CROWD:     (CHANTS) Gypsy! Gyspy! Gypsy

EVE:           I’m not a Gypsy! France is my home. You flock to me to forget about your vices, your impulses, your humdrum existence. I am not your remedy. I play from my heart. My heart sees what it sees.

VLADIMIR:      Eve! Enough, Sit down and play for your welcoming audience. (softer) Now.

EVE:           In my heart, I see your old man and you (she points to EUROPEAN LADY in the crowd)

You! that sparkly watch that doesn’t fit your wrist is from a day haggling at the market. Ripping off fancy men. After this show, you will sell all you have – including your flesh to escape from the world you despise.

LADY:          Trollope- we’ve heard the rumours Gypsy girl .

VLADIMIR:      My esteemed friends. – this is but part o the show. An experimental piece, if you like. Our eve here is tired. the gifted do sometimes have a bit of those head malaises, non?

EVE:           You all pour your sorrows into me-I can only play what I see and feel and this is what you will hear tonight.

VLADIMIR:      sit down (THE CROWD jeer at EVE. VLADIMIR forces EVE down into her seat.) Play. Do your job.

(EVE sits still, the light is dim, so dim and when she begins to play again she pounds at the keys with anger, cholere. EVE cackles sneers – kicks at the piano in rage)

EVE:           Damn you  – all of you!   I’m not your plaster. I’m not your cure. I am a young woman who absorbs all your pain. I want to be free. free. Go all of you.

(Silence)

VLADIMIR:      apologies friends.  You heard of her fall. The accident? she has been unwell. (EVE doesn’t look at him or the crowd – she walks out of the circle of the crowd and into the dark. A moan comes out that doesn’t sound human.  An animal sound of a cow being slaughtered. EVE stands and looks past VLADIMIR’S shoulder)

EVE:           Panacea!   You. What did you do to me?

VLADIMIR:      (carries on trying to calm the crowd) Please, apologies. She is ill. She – I will make sure you all are reimbursed for this terrible, I mean uneventful experimental performance.

EVE:           Don’t just stand there. You lied to me. You lied. What is this curse you give me? Why?

(PANACEA comes out from the shadows and walks through the crowd and past VLADIMIR and EVE and sits down at the piano and begins to play that frenetic piece of music – ‘Eve’s Essence’. VLADIMIR freezes and goespale. The CROWD quieten.)

VLADIMIR:      How?

EVE:           My song. (runs towards PANACEA) Give me back my essence-evil woman.

VLADIMIR:      (catches hold of EVE by the arm) How can you know this song?

EVE:           Now? Now you can hear what I hear. Why not what I see, your stupid fool of a man. Look! I implore thee.

VLADIMIR:      (To EVE) Enough with these games. What is it you want from? Tell me. Who corrupted you?

EVE:           That is my song. My essence. She is playing my song.

VLADIMIR:      Your song. Ha!  Who told you? Don’t make me strike out at you again.

EVE:           You know this song?  I’ve tried to remember since Panacea stole it from me. Sight she promised. A gift. A trade off. I’ve been bamboozled.

VLADIMIR:      Don’t make me turn around and march over to that damn piano and chop it up then burn it. I gave you everything. After everything I did for you – for us. This. (THE CROWD is silent. Shadows of THE CROWD draw to PANACEA playing ‘Eve’s essence’.

EVE:           I’m not doing anything. Please, Vlad. I would never hurt you.

VLADIMIR:      Who found you at the orphanage? Took you in? promised to nurture you? Who promised to take care of my blued eyed Fair haired gypsy girl?  you betray me- like this.

EVE:           Gypsy girl?

VLADIMER:      I can never forgive you. This is not the girl I knew. You are ruined.

EVE:           Vlad, (looks over at PANACEA, eyes widen) Why is that boy there?  ( to DISFIGURED BOY) come here. Stay away from her.  (to VLADIMIR) Why is that boy close to her. He is beckoning you….

VLADIMIR:      (begins to cry) You can’t do this to me.

EVE:           Do what? See with your own eyes. Don’t do this to me! Make me out to be a mad vexed woman.

(PANACEA stops playing, abruptly.)

PANACEA:       Don’t be afraid boy. (VLADIMIR jumps in fright) You can’t escape who you are. Don’t worry I can assure you I can’t see. Not even your bloodied parents anymore.

EVE            What are you? What is she talking about?

PANACEA:        You were all I had… you deserted me. And I’m evil? I didn’t choose this gifted curse. I was born with it – Just like Eve except she saw nothing

VLADIMIR:      No, you are not real. I don’t believe it. (to EVE) Stop torturing me. You are playing with me.

PANACEA:       Boy. I don’t blame you for leaving the revolution but to leave a lady to those priggish animals and steal my money.

VLADIMIR:      Shut up You evil wrench. I left you for dead. It’s impossible. That was my family’s inheritance.

EVE:           Impossible? what’s impossible? How do you know this creature? Answer me. Who is she?

VLADIMIR:      No woman in your condition could have survived – in those conditions. I refuse to /believe this.

EVE:           You know her. (PANACEA laughs)

VLADIMIR:      These are… Eve, these are extraordinary circumstances I find myself in. Stop laughing your old cow. Stop it. (PANACEA begins to play ‘Eve’s essence’)

EVE:           These are certainly not circumstances I foresaw.  If you know something about this then spit it out or damn you both to hell.

VLADIMIR:      (quietly)We never spoke of –well, I demanded that when I took you as my own we would never talk about how I found myself in that orphanage.

EVE:          You are an honourable man. Are you not?

VLADIMIR:      You were born in Romaine. The orphanage-  was both of our home’s. Few places like that are kind and they were, especially during those times. Our country was in flames. Blood everywhere. Corpses. Vile acts. There you were- abandoned.

EVE:           No.

VLADIMIR:      We survived. You were a baby. I didn’t know you were impaired. I knew what our people would do to a fair-haired Roma like yourself. We escapNo-one-one would suspect us, they said. They promised freedom, n new life. All I must do was help smuggle in weapons.  You were the only one who wasn’t frightened of me. You only saw the good in me. Your lack of sight was my rebirth- our rebirth

EVE:           Lies. Obsession with fame and my looks and glory and… I thought I was helping people.

VLADIMIR:      You are. You were… The world with eyes is a hell of its own, I tell you. Your greatest gift was to give your heart to those who so desperately needed to forget – what they see- have seen.

PANACEA:       Boy. How long are you going to drag this out? Get on with it. We shall make a man out of you yet.

EVE:           (to PANACEA) Who are you?

VLADIMIR:      (softly)My grand mere – she was – is (turns around see’s PANACEA is horrified) is… but how?

Silence

PANACEA:       No, boy. I’m not a ghost, not a witch just cursed with unusual gift of seeing the past of every filthy boar piggish human. Yes, what are the odds? I should never have been discovered but life has its twists… and magic of sorts.

VLADIMIR:      I didn’t mean to leave you.

PANACEA:       I have been waiting for the right moment. Biding my time.  Waiting to sense what kind of man you become- and Eve was truly a find.

EVE:      you can’t see, Grandmere. Only the.

PANCEA:   Past- I struck a deal with mad Bolshevik. I got more than I bargained for. The senile old man missed his wife –wanted to live in the past and I would settle for the future – we merely wanted it so much –we got what we wished for.

EVE:      What have you inflicted me with?

PANACEA:  How he adores you, loves you. You see Eve. Vladimir for all his grandiose gestures is superficial. Not the benevolent man he pretends to be.

VLADIMIR: Grand’Mere stop. I’m sorry. I was a child…

PANACEA:  (ignores VLADIMIR) The only reason people accept him is because of you. Or what you had. Beauty, innocence, the gift to soothe all pain from others with your playing.

EVE:      No, he has been there for me.

PANCEA:   If you had eyes like I now do or indeed like the rest of this crowd you would see he is a monster. A disfigurement. You were his key to this fickle world accepting him.

EVE:      What is she talking about?

VLADIMIR: Grand’Mere I was haunted by your recantations of my dead family. You terrified me. I still don’t understand this curse.

PANACEA:  Maybe you understand it a little better now – it is your curse too. Life is all about lessons and there is as lesson to be learned here. Something about appearances etcetera etcetera… but what do I know? (starts to play – THE CROWD are lured by PANACEA’S playing, under a spell)

VLADIMIR: You must restore her. Grand’Mere –she is innocent. Please.

PANACEA:   We all are at some point.

EVE:      I wanted it so much. I wanted to see. How wrong was I?

VLADIMIR: give it back. Give Eve what is rightly hers. It’s me you seek to punish

PANACEA:  (stops playing) Stop trying to fight it. You know what you really want to do.

VLADIMIR: She is an innocent

PANACEA:   Used by the likes of you, boy.

VLADIMIR: I can take care of you. I have money, estate everything. Let me make it up to you.

PANACEA:  Doesn’t work like that. I’m not some conjurer. I was merely born into this world with my fate and somehow that fate changed. I haven’t the answers.

EVE:      But I don’t want this sight. I don’t want it.

PANACEA:  Those touched can’t ever be untouched again.

VLADIMIR: But you. You see.

PANACEA:   Keep up. I saw the future. Now I see nothing. Just like Eve. I feel and I play and I have what I want.

EVE:      But if you can see the future, how is it I can see the past?

PANACEA:  Obviously, I should have taken you for a fool. I think you are missing the point. I don’t decide how the universe decides. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I’m merely human after all. (starts playing again)

(EVE and VLADIMIR look at each other)

VLADIMIR: I’m sorry Eve. I was…

EVE:      I can’t bear to live like this.

VLADIMIR: Yes. Life is…. You didn’t have to see that.

EVE:      We can’t undo this? (unwillingly moves towards PANACEA.)

VLADIMIR: I’m sorry, mon Cherie but I can’t stop myself much longer. I must forget. I must forget if only for a while.

(VLADIMIR walks up to PANACEA and strokes her hair, kisses her, then listens to her play.

EVE:      You can’t leave me. I can’t do this. Panacea please! (starts walking closer and closer to soft music) I will never forgive you but alas, I can’t fight this pain any longer. Make it go it away. (slumps at the feet of PANACEA who plays on. lights down.)

IF YOU MADE IT TO THE END. I SALUTE YOU 🙂

 

(copyright Daisy Willows/ Natasha Bodley)

 

Devising- bleeding the genres

3 down -5  more to go.

This has been the best week yet on zee Acting program.

We did a fantastic improvisation inspired by Laban’s 8 efforts and movement.

This technique was originally used in dance performance.

From my ahem “intellectual” reading on post-modern performance. Most contemporary artists prefer to think of the theory part of writing and performance as not prescriptive but fluid and as something to provoke the imagination.

The theories exist to be used to merge into something that is relevant to today.

This program is far away from what I’m learning on my MA and this is my struggle with what I’m doing in my MA because, we as an ensemble – group of amateur actors are working towards devising a performance not based on text.

Back to Laban – the whole purpose of the exercise was to move forward and start thinking more about character development. How many ways can an actor develop their character?

For me, it helped me focus more on my physical body and what I could do with it, to create a character with emotional depth.

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This is  the exercise we did:

THE TECHNIQUE

Laban categorized human movement into four component parts:

  • Direction

  • Weight

  • Speed

  • Flow

Each of those parts has two elements:

  • Direction is either direct or indirect.

  • Weight is either heavy or light.

  • Speed is either quick or sustained.

  • Flow is either bound or free.

Laban then combined these parts together to create The Eight Efforts:

  • Wring

  • Press

  • Flick

  • Dab

  • Glide

  • Float

  • Punch

  • Slash

For WRING

  •  The Direction is Indirect

  • The Weight is Heavy

  • The Speed is Sustained

  • The Flow is Bound

https://www.theatrefolk.com/blog/the-eight-efforts-laban-movement/

I loved how I explored character development using my voice, my body and employing Laban’s technique to create a character.

I chose the movement to ‘wring’  and what stemmed from that incongruent action was a character called -Prushka who ended up in an improvisation scene with another character (his chosen action  Punch) who became my workaholic husband with a temper.

We did a short improv scene in pairs of threes.

Us the couple were arguing about our relationship and where it was headed when the third character (developed from the movement of ‘flick ) interrupted us.

Her drugged up character was stumbling across the streets asking where she was. We ended the scene by my character telling my character’s husband we had grown apart and it was over.

I went to help the drugged up girl get on a bus and get home. Instead of dealing with the confrontation – a stake was thrust into the scene and as a Wring character, I made the decision guided by my body movements to leave the relationship and avoid the angry, punchy husband.

Sounds complicated.

I’m sure there is a much more simplified way to describe all this but I have never been one to simplify anything!

This acting program has got me thinking about finishing my MA somewhere else. Sad but true.

As a group,  we seem to be gelling more and getting to know each other.

It looks like we will be devising a piece to perform to a public at the end of March.

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Sat on the train, typing this post and I  can’t wait to get home.

Weird guy with bouffant hair sitting opposite me and staring at me like I’ve got an abscess growing on my nose. 😂😂.

I’m currently redrafting  TMA 3.  I’ve strayed into morality play /Faustian territory purely by accident.

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The piece is set after the 1918 Russian revolution ,in Paris.

RANDOM FACT-  my great grandparents fled the 1918 Russian revolution changed their surname and went to live in the slums of Paris. That is where my Grandad was born. 

 I have three characters who have some of my character traits and a mish mash of other lovely people’s traits I have come across in my life.

Panacea wants to be accepted by family and society: Vladimir by society.  The other character, Eve -has the love and adoration of the society she lives in because of her talent to play captivating pieces of music on the piano.

She has it all except she lacks conventional sight.

With a wee bit of determination and vengeance, Panacea takes Eves essence (talent) and Vladimir’s only access to power and being accepted by his peers is now in the hands of Panacea.

Eve is left with a second sight not normal sight.

I don’t know how magic works!

She can only see the past.

 Things start getting tense when she starts seeing things:

Horrific things.

She starts seeing people’s past actions. Not the good but all the skeletons that people hide away or try to forget by drugging themselves- insert vice of choice here.

Vladimir- her guardian is clearly hiding something.

How are Eve’s past visions connected to him?

Why won’t he tell Eve?

The climax and resolution of the final scene, see the loose ends of the plot coming together and finally, we see how all three characters fit together.

I’m not saying any more than that.

Both Eve and Vladimir ( who seem like the victims of a salacious act by Panacea)  lose everything they wanted and indeed had.

The music threaded throughout the piece (which initially draws the crowd to adore  Eve and propels her to ‘stardom’ )seems to serve as a metaphor for the vices which society still use today to forget and self-medicate.

The somewhat pantomime-like, sarcastic Panacea, in scene one, is a character, I hope my tutor can sympathize with at the end of the piece- with her revelation.

Her motives are utterly selfish and human.

But finally, she is accepted and her nephew is forced to love and adore her because she has the essence and power to help not only society. but also Vladimir forget who he actually is.

Ha ha!  What a raucous.

 Well, it’s all a been a bit of fun trying out new writing styles. Writing should be fun and not some Herculean labor (which it does seem to be at times)

 As long as I pass I will be happy.

 Daisy- ‘the entrepreneur in progress’ is moving forwards in my business.

 That’s a bit of an update from me. My stop has arrived. I’m tired cold and I want to see my family.

I have blogging awards to accept and nominations to do and look forward to catching up on blogs over the week.

I may barricade myself in my bedroom over the weekend and devour every post/blog  I come across.

Have a great week! 

Always look up

Hola!

‘Always look up wherever you go – those who walk with there eyes to the floor miss out on so much of life’ 

DAISY XOXO

DAISY GOES INTO BUSINESS:

What a palaver!

I spent weeks working on trying to figure out a way to sell my products on a free WordPress template.

A lovely friend of mine suggested – Wix and e -commerce.

I was in entrepreneur, creative business utopia until I had to learn the system …

It’s been challenging. It is still a challenge but I am seeing progress and, I am getting so excited for when we finally go live.

 

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SMALL MOTIVATIONAL REMINDERS 

 

DAISY DOES HER MASTERS:

If you have followed my previous posts on from the start of doing my MA,  you will know it has been an ocean of tidal waves and tsunamis and, high tides and low tides.

These still waters of mine run deep.

My First TMA (tutor marked assignment)   Act one of a stage script about a homeless couple received a CLEAR PASS  of 62%

There were tears, miscommunication, fall outs, despair and I lost confidence in my writing abilities.

TMA 2 ( my second genre -Fiction writing)  I wrote a supernatural piece about a girl who (accidently) commits suicide.

Lat night, my tutor emailed me to say she was having an issue submitting my marks via the online system and she didn’t want me to start worrying, so, she copy and pasted all the feedback and my mark into an email.

She gave me useful and extensive advice on what I propose to write for my EMA ( end of module assignment due in May 2017)

The second act to the homeless couple script.

Eeeeek! 

I do feel more supported, understood, challenged and more confident in achieving what I want to do with my writing for this piece.

Oh, the results for my TMA 2

82%   a HIGH MERIT.

I’m back to the marks I was getting when I was doing my final year of my BA in the Art and humanities.

I need to keep this momentum going. I don’t want to find myself under merit territory again.

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I invest a lot of time in people and the things and causes I dedicate my time to.

 

DAISY DOES VOLUNTEERING:

One thing I have had to put on the back burner is helping to  co-facilitate 12 weeks of WRAP (wellness recovery action plan self-management program) with the EIP   ( early intervention prevention ) team for people diagnosed with at least one episode a psychotic episode

I’m gutted. There were many issues that led me to distance myself from this.

Two being:

Issues of funding and logistics.

I enjoyed meeting up the people I was going to work with. I loved their energy and enthusiasm.

A lot was promised and then not delivered.

 I felt the need to email my colleagues and tell them what I thought about how the course was put together- I was my usual blunt self and not very diplomatic.  Ooops…

I feel that if the NHS ( national health system) in the U.K. expects results from a new therapy or a new way of self-help/lifestyle and illness management program, then scrimping on pounds is not helping promote or inspire that WRAP works.

In the long term WRAP  (run properly) will most likely save the NHS money.

As far as I’m aware- nobody knows what is going on with this current  WRAP workshop. I haven’t fallen out with anyone. I can’t give all my energy into something if everyone doesn’t  have the same vision.

For me, it needs more planning and preparation and I’m not going to be that person who just turns up to volunteer at a workshop to go –

‘Oh look at me, I’m making a difference’ – when I know, in my heart, the results this particular workshop can have on people’s lives if  it is implemented properly.

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I’m currently putting my energy into other charities I work with to see how I can help them.

DAISY GOES TO HER FIRST SESSION AT THE  ACTING PROGRAMME WORKSHOP :

I wasn’t nervous until I got to the place. I arrived early. It was bitterly cold and I hate the cold.

It turned out to be incredible.

We did a few  Actor warm up activities such as being aware of filling the space and being aware of other Actors around us.

We did some improvisation and using our body exercises to convey emotion.  Loads of fun!

What a lovely bunch of people. I am definitely going to the next session next week. We all seem to have common goals and everyone is so unique and interesting.

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UNEXPECTED SURPRISE ALERT:

There is a possibility we may (or may not) put together a little something to perform to students at the university after the 8 weeks.  How awesome is that?

I do try and keep up with you all on here. It has been difficult but the more knowledge and confidence I gain in the above  areas of my life – the more time I will  get to have fun- one being reading blogs and blogging random stuff

DAISY LIFE UPDATE:

 It was my husbands birthday on Valentine’s day. We have a sleigh bed!

hi ho!  hi ho! it’s off to bed I go – ha ha! It’s massive – king size!

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After the mid-term school holidays in February, my Bella – my daughter will be joining Year one ( she is in reception at the moment)  for her reading and writing class.

She has two mates with her who are excelling just like her and she is a bit of a whizz kid at Maths.

DAISY’S MENTAL HEALTH UPDATE:

Long story short. Pushing other people’s buttons to get an honest answer has been difficult -emotionally- to sit with – without trying to avoid the emotions by self-medicating.

I’ve been angry at myself for nearly destroying the best thing  I have in my life- my family – because, I believed ( with help) that someone cared more about me than they actually did.I put a lot of my energy into helping a person when they had a meltdown last year. It all got thrown back in my face.

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I finally know the truth. That is all I ever wanted. Now, it’s time to let sleeping dogs lie.

That’s it – all very boring but it’s all happening

Physically. I’m eating better and I have more energy. I haven’t lost weight which is something that terrifies me equally as putting on weight does.

 

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Be careful what you wish for.

Another deadline has passed. I should get my marks back after the 12 th February. I haven’t had a chance to pause and I’m already drafting my 3rd TMA (due 30th March).

I haven’t been on here much as I’m fighting with Wix online website creator to get my business up and running. I guess when you work with your Mother -you never get to be boss 😦

She’s a slave driver!    slightly kidding.

For those interested in the conclusion to my dalliance in the supernatural genre, it starts where it is underlined.

BEHOLD!  This hopefully makes up for any let downs anyone reading this may have after reading the story. Thank you, Scott @ The Order of the Dog/ Horace, and Winston Churchill, for inspiring the title of this story.

 THE ORDER OF THE BLACK DOG

My family. Here we all are, sitting around the circular dining room table- flecked with bits of gold. Ma sits under a hanging portrait of this Christmas just gone. Three weeks ago. We are all smiling in it including Poppy. Poppy sits playing with her Annabelle doll, on my husband’s lap. Sat opposite from Ma, closest to the electric fire hearth is Gran. I find myself sitting across from Gran. An iciness breathes mist over us. It separates me from them, cloaks me in a fog. I try to swallow. The air is so thick it chokes me, I’m forced to put my hands to my throat. Nobody notices me.  Nobody notices me the way they used to. I tune in to the conversation-taking place.

‘Of course I’m not suggesting this is your fault.  I should have known. Done more…’ Nan bursts into tears. A cry out for:

 I need attention I’m suffering the most.

My skin bristles. Nan pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, and then throws out a familiar comment about it being draughty.

‘You know I could catch pneumonia with my Asthma.’ She coughs. Ma gets up to put on the electric fire.

‘I didn’t take her seriously. You know what Angie was like?’  Ma’s eyes are red as the rosary beads she is thumbing; she looks over to an unusually quiet Poppy.

‘Did she just do it to spite me?’ How could she just leave her own…?’

 My husband throws a warning look at Ma,

‘Marie, for Poppies sake.  Our Angie suffered more than she let on.’ Ma sits back down. ‘Let’s put on a cartoon, luv?’  Poppy shakes her head.

 She doesn’t look at us.  I look straight at her, willing her to leave this table. Leave this conversation. She lifts her head and looks me dead on in the eyes. I instinctively smile. Eddie and me always stood together when it came to Poppy. Her face is pale, her eyes sunken, her skin is drawn in so tight I can see cheek bones protrude. Beneath her eyes-, veiled shadows betray her youthful face. She clings onto Annabelle, still looking me dead on in the eyes.

‘When’s Mummy coming home?’

 Silence. Her words enmesh with the silence. Her question disarms me. Marks me. The arrow leaves its bow splintering my heart. I open my mouth to scream out as many words as I can. Condensation steams the air distilling me into silence. I reach my hand across the table to grab hers. She doesn’t see me. I glare at my family sitting at the round table. They say nothing. Smothering themselves in sorrow, they witheringly curl inwards. I urge to shake them, uproot them from winters glaze.

-Answer her! Answer my daughter.

Instead, Gran succumbs to a puddle of wrinkled tears, mechanically Ma gets off her chair, attempts to console Gran and naturally it’s  up to Eddie to mediate.  My calm, rational Eddie. His eyes read as vacant –his beard is wild and unkempt.  It’s impossible to read his face. He clears his throat,

‘We’re gonna see Mummy when we give her… say a proper goodbye.’

Gran flounders in her anglers net of remorse.  Great splotchy splashes of grief escape. She wails,

‘She’s with the angels –looking down at you, darling!’

 I roll my eyes. Of course I love her!  Lately, she grates my skin more frequently with her, melodramatics.

– Confess how you truly feel. Relieved!

I’m so fixated on evoking a response from Gran; unnoticed, a light flickers with an intensity to match my own.  Eddie carries Poppy over to the sofa, sits her down to watch a cartoon. He covers her with a blanket then kisses her forehead.

‘We’ll see mummy soon? To say goodbye?’

 Eddie nods his head, his voice cracks.

‘Aye, love.’

‘When will mummy come back from saying goodbye? In spring? My teacher says it’s winter – everything goes to sleep like her?’ Poppy points to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on the television.

 Eddie focuses on the image. The Prince is just about to kiss Aurora on the lips. He turns his head away from the television before he can see Aurora wake up to her true loves kiss. He grinds down on his teeth. Poppy’s eyes remain transfixed on the television. Eddie gets up, crosses the dining room table; I’m compelled to follow him, I have to stop him. Tell him I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve so much to tell him.

 -There is no God! We were right all along. Religion is for people who can’t think for themselves.  We were right to take the piss.  

Eddie flinches, puts his hands in his jean pockets. I follow him down Ma’s hallway and into the bathroom. He closes the door on me. It doesn’t ever close fully. I slip through the crack of the door that is always ajar.

 Head down. Still. He sits on the toilet seat.  I kneel down before him; go to lay my head on his knee. He flinches again. Hits himself in the head. Bangs his fist on the wall screams out:

‘Why? We could’ve figured it out, you fucking stubborn mare’ I bring out the best and worst in Eddie. Till death do us part. What are the chances?

He still refuses to let me go. Stubborn.

My symptoms intensify in the days leading up to the funeral. Everything‘s heightened especially emotions that seemingly walk precariously on stilts.  I can’t walk through walls or levitate. Nothing like any of the horrors Eddie and me used to watch together, on the sofa. 

Unheard, I bellow continuously,

-Just let me go!

 Every time I hear my name called reflections of nostalgia flash and beam over and around me. Prompted, I gravitate towards the source. Someone needs me.  These past three weeks, I’ve been teleported from one conversation to another. I find myself in a room; familiar or not familiar, with people I know and people I don’t know.

Today I’m summoned to the usual bickering between Ma and Gran. The familiar sound of Gran’s kettle boils in the background.

‘I want that picture of her on her graduation day and flowers- blown up .With azaleas. And roses – she loved roses- pink.’  

‘She hates that picture! And she loves- loved yellow roses…’ Ma’s wobbly voice mirrors her jelly struck legs propping her up in her work shoes. She staggers backwards. Like the black dog with a bone, Gran won’t give in,

‘No, she’s my eldest grand daughter and I know her – it is… was pink!’

 Ma sits down, doesn’t speak. I go over to her to put my arms around her then she dissolves into tears. Gran bulldozes her way over to us. Intimidated, I move out of her way. Gran holds Ma and Ma lets Gran hug her. Ma calms down, mentions something about pink and yellow roses

Vexed, I shriek

 – don’t back down Ma, I love yellow. Yellow roses. The kettle whistles for attention. My voice is lost to an object.

‘I’ll go make that cup of tea’ Nan retreats to her kitchen.

Another opportunity to get close to Ma again.   I need to hug her, give her some of my energy. As if on cue, Mum’s tear-stained face crumples just like my heart. A poking hot iron burns a hole right through it. Gran re-enters the room I scarper.

‘Here you go, love. Lost three of my own …, as you know, mind, they never got to Angie’s age. Yellow’s more of a quirky colour like our Angie… was.’     They smile at each other. I move back, the distance seems to illuminate their smiles.

Tonight, I beg for there to be a heaven. This has to be hell. The familiar, incongruous, gravitational pull lures me out of my cavernous abyss. I blink my eyes several times to focus: orientate myself. Hung up around the wall are vintage Disney posters. My eyes settle on Poppies bed. Eddie bends over Poppy and kisses her goodnight,

‘Mummy loves you just as much as I do.’ He tucks her in.

He switches off the light before walking out. I stand and watch my worn out daughter in her bed. She sings herself to sleep just as she does every night. She sings our song:  twinkle twinkle little star. With each inflection of her sweet singing voice, the words serve as a needle. Each word stipulates smelting hot ink into my flesh. My neck is ablaze.  Before closing her eyes, she whispers,

 ‘I love you mummy.’

When I reply, scorching chains wrap and lasso me around my neck. My skin swells up in blisters. The familiar sound of her breathing evaporates the pain.  I need to be close to her, I need to smell her, kiss her. Carelessly, I run over to her bed to touch her sleeping head. Startled I lunge backward as Poppy instantly wakes up screaming.

– I’m powerless

. Eddie barges into the room, throws on the light and takes Poppy into his arms. I watch her body stiffen; then relax. I watch him settle my daughter back to sleep. My hands ball into tight fists.

-She must know I’m here.

Before I can touch her face, she wakes up screaming like – like she has seen a- ghost.

-I’m that Ghost! I put my hands to my mouth in horror.

 Envy bubbles inside me as I witness Eddie consoling Poppy again. I’m half hoping he won’t succeed.

What kind of a mother am I?

I’ve been telling everyone to let me go.

Where will I go?

I can’t drive, no one can see me. There are no other lost souls wondering about telling me to join the dead community!

I won’t give up on my daughter. She needs me. I have to be here.

 The stroke of our clock announces its time; a primitive realisation slithers down my very core. Nausea spirals up into my throat. I run into our bathroom, heave over the toilet, nothing comes out. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror; I see vicious V-shaped welts where the noose of the rope has cut into my neck. This is what Eddie came home to.

The cloying black dog of depression haunted me. Its delivered dose of pain was exquisite- nothing took it away. Not drinking, overdosing, drugging myself, talking-nothing. Eventually, I told it to sit down.  I told Eddie repeatedly,

– I just want to disappear.

– How can I help you?  His eyes pleaded for an answer.  I would always lash out,

-Unless you help me disappear, you can’t!

 I remained imprisoned in our bed and he would go back to work and look after Poppy and the house. He could walk away from me. I couldn’t. I resent him for that. I can see myself now, googling the various ways people commit suicide. One article struck my eye ‘Men are more successful at committing suicide’.

  -They don’t mess about with poisoning themselves –they resort to more violent means.

That is the moment I reached out to the wrong Alpha.

The black dog and I began sleeping together. It became my obsession. Up-close, I could analyse it, experiment with it. As a couple, it didn’t take much to find that Alpha rage. One phone call from Ma,

-Just snap out of it. If you’re going to do it, get on with it.

-Fine, I will!  I hung up on her before she could hang up on me.

My impulsiveness finds me trapped within this mirror. It’s cold. Everything I read is back to front. Everything I do is back to front.  It doesn’t reflect my true intentions. When I reach out, in fact, the more I reach out the more pain I inflict. I back away from the mirror until I’m pressed up, with my back against the bathroom wall.

 What have I done? 

 What right do I have trying to tell my family how to deal with their loss?

Eddie will never know that I was messing about; I didn’t know if I could actually go through with it. From a great height in a corner of the bathroom my body feels cut loose from itself. I can see it happen in front of my eyes. Like a rerun episode, I can’t pause. The noose around my neck, in the shower. Steam shrouds the mirror, with slippery feet, I accidently knock myself off that chair and in that moment I realise,

– I don’t want to die.

I can’t scream and tell anyone. I made the decision when I decided to sleep with my enemy. I’ve interrupted the natural course of life. A lost soul in life: a lost soul in death. There are no bright lights to come with this epiphany. I exit the bathroom, stumble down the staircase, out the front door, and walk aimlessly down the street. I sense a familiar pair of eyes examining me; I look up and see the black dog in its true form. It waits for me to catch up.  We walk side by side. I don’t look back.  I am the one preventing people from moving on. I have to let go.

I won’t go into the commentary in this post. I think my reference and citations pages came up to about 15 pages!  Which is nuts!

My next TMA  is about a highly gifted and beautiful girl who plays the classical piano. She is also being groomed by her manager/lover to be a super model. She is adored by her fans around the world. Her biggest wish is to beable to have sight.

The scene begins with Eve playing a melancholic piece of music and a seemingly lovely old lady offers to exchange her sight for Eve’s essence.  The whole script ends in tragedy. Eve soon finds out why people are attracted to her. She can now see the world with eyes and she loses touch with her other senses. People hate that she can see them. They feel exposed, judged.

What makes Eve so special and endearing to people is her lack of sight. She is unable to see the world the way people with sight do.  It is a horrible world we live in, isn’t it?  Oddly enough, I’m inspired by Shakespeare – the play has a somewhat midsummer nights /fantastical dream-like feel to it – the main theme focuses on human conditions and relationships. Something Shakespeare flaunted well.

Guess who becomes the new darling of the music world?  The rest is still being written in my head. It only has to be 18 minutes and then it’s back to the homeless piece.

 It is a horrible world we live in, isn’t it?

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Oddly enough, I’m inspired by Shakespeare – the play has a somewhat midsummer’s night /fantastical dream-like feel to it – the main theme focuses on the human condition and relationships. Something Shakespeare flaunted well.

I’m catching up on blogs. I am missing you all so much.

DAISY XOXO

I will leave you with the words of the inimitable Charles Bukowski. He wasn’t a misogynist! 

 

 

There can be only one.

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS SATURDAY AT LINDA G socsbadge2016-17

* not my usual style of writing*

 

When someone has said to her:

 oh, you’re pretty.

She always gets mad and ditzy and insulted.

Is that all ,pretty?

 not beautiful ,funny, smart, intelligent , dramatic?

Pretty crazy…

that fuels her embers –

I’ll show you pretty. 

Pretty demeaning is how I  would describe her state of mind.

She’s come to that crossroad: hit a right for success or hit a left for back to her ‘usual isle of distress’.

She’s always had this pretty dark quirk in her nature- a dent .

No!

 More like her nature took a key to her brain – triggered it in  the same way a malicious person keys a person with a fine automobile or new car.

That is what she does to her mind. It’s almost like there is another- living inside her . She’s not pretty .

She is ugly .

She says ugly things .

She makes people cry.

She pushes people away.

She isolates herself .

She knows it will end up  wrapped up in stained sheets of her own  self-pity cries .

Ones she pushed for – ones she earned.

She never liked herself – wouldn’t have her own picture taken for a long time.In hatred, she tore up all pictures of herself ,

then sometime in her life she grew confident and started taking lots of pictures of herself -too many .

Maybe she was beautiful stunning,   pretty even ?

  Was it worth the self-damnation she put herself through to achieve a look she deemed is acceptable?

Many people have asked her what it feels like  to be so intelligent and aware of her issues- to have so much insight and phycology into her own problems.

Is it a blessing or a curse?

Let’s try something .

Think of a person coming to her house with a bottle of wine/ cocaine /pills/ bondage style stuff/ comic books – insert vice/ fetish /escapism tool  ………..here.

Let’s make this person -super – pervy -sleazy -gender? unknown.

PERVY PERSON: So,  like ,hey why the long face? ( stream of consciousness brain has become lame)  You , uh … wanna get wasted ?

She does get caught off   guard sometimes not always.

The truth is these days her reply is mostly,

No.

Why?

She’s a stubborn mare .

Truth?

She knows the consequences .

She knows the problem is burrowed deep within her – nothing but her can make it stop.

Pretty lame?

or,

Pretty courageous?

Either way, she has to live with herself.

So ,  she gets the whole escapism psychology .

She has taken countless overdoses, countless drugs, been in various institutions – locked up for being herself -criminal or “just” insane.

It doesn’t work.

Why does she push people away?

Why ?

She knows about her upbringing and she can’t blame them or that or it.

Or the others- this is not a horror movie!

It’s her life.

Yeah, agreed. Pretty horrific.

She is an adult- with her own mind and life and responsibilities.

Her pretty demented reasoning is : eventually –   she will hurt those she loves and she would rather things got horribly ugly-

sooner rather later.

She doesn’t want to draw it out.

Oh, darling , Don’t let her fool you. She loves acting!

She can do one hell of a supernova act if  she wants but she isn’t malicious – something inside her is disturbed.

It may have come with her when she got delivered on a wonky legged stork,

or,

she may have seen something that petrified her into this state of self-destruction.

She loves to sing twinkle twinkle little star to her only child.

Stars are huge.

She knows why people always say before they die or, to someone who has recently  lost someone

There is the person you love – twinkling above – looking out for you. 

Stars have a lifespan of billions of years. It’s pretty amazing to think she  quite  possibly looked at the very same stars that her great grandparents or ancestors looked at many moons ago.

( singing) When you wish upon a star…. know that once she did so same from afar.

Ha – pretty lame as it gets.

Ever thought what it would be like to have a child /ren who are siamese twins?

Say you could only possibly save one.

One was seen as  truly wicked and the other?

Well, the other one could go on to make his/her mark in the world.

 Maybe not with a fancy career but merely by  being human.

 Reaching out to people in need.

It can make a difference!

 Sometimes more than all the money in the world could.

Just knowing someone cares. What does she  know.

I digress, – -in a pretty way – ha ha.

Think of yourself as a mother -as a person with some kind of intellect .

You would reason that no person is born inherently evil or absolutely good.

There are many sides to a person.

 Inside her is her very own siamese twin.

She has to put one down .

 Murder it!

In  that moment,that pretty wicked one has a grip on her heart and her mind – it’s all so terribly confusing and frustrating

So ,she has to make a decision.

 Invasive surgery for, no – on  her siamese twins, in the hope, that the one with the potential to twinkle can be reborn.

Good by, Red dwarf. Be angry.

Good by, white dwarf -cool down.

And finally, ciao ,Black dwarf –   your true composite make up  is on show for all to see.

Your heart is blackened –  not because you are evil.

It’s just the nature of how life (and those who energize and roam  it)  goes.

 

 

 

 

GRADUATION DAY and KAIZEN

What an epic day! I think it is great not to have too many expectations from people and certain events because when that event is experienced in the moment or that person surprises you with something, there is no room for disappointment.  Here is my big moment captured on video

I did it my way!

Graduation day exceeded my expectations. Free drinks. People to robe us. Hat hire (in my case) for £5! The ceremony itself was relaxed and fun. We were reminded how we struggled and persevered to get our various degrees and the challenges we fought to achieve them. We had time to pause and reflect how much the people in our lives helped put up with our tantrums every time a TMA was due. I’ve never felt so proud of myself and I’ve never seen such pride in my family’s  eyes. They spoilt me so much. I got an Open Uni hoodie and a OU graduation T-shirt with my name on it.

I was a tad miffed that my name didn’t appear on the list of the days attendees  with my degree and what I achieved. 

But all was forgotten when we arrived at the restaurant my fiancé chose for us to celebrate. What a place. We were booked on the terrace. YAY! This meant I could eat, drink, talk and vape at pretty much the same time- with a few pauses in between. The seats had pillows and blankets to take the chill away. The food. Oh the food was incredible. I had poached salmon salad  with quinoa, broccoli. The plate and portion was massive. I struggled to finish to be honest. My Nana’s steak was a perfect medium rare. I tried the almond pie and home made ice cream. I felt my self snuggle into my blanket that little bit more. The staff were remarkable. They made a lovely ‘Congratulations’ plate with home made truffles and strawberries. It was the perfect touch. I can’t remember all the food I had and tried. Olives were not oily. My other half had pork in a brioche- He said that the brioche melted in his mouth. 

It is a day I will keep close to my heart forever. My next project apart from the charities I am working with is to get 50 000 words down for a novel with NaNoWriMo by the end of November. I have a mere 7000 words!

I also have plans to help raise money fro a coach to leave from my current home base in Halifax to go to London for this epic event. PLEASE DONATE WHATEVER YOU CAN –CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO

One challenge down and always onto the next. The Japanese call this continuous self improvement – It is quite an interesting back story for those interested in learning more about what they call KAIZEN

So time to get my feet back on the ground and time to reach for another star and another and another.  Oh my! My wedding is in 7 months!  La grand folie that is my life. 

That’s it for now..

Never give up -tell yourself that and I am doing the same. 

P.S. I have discovered skinny mojitos!  

Goodbye and on to the next chapter....

Goodbye and on to the next chapter….