WritingMachinesGroup2

OH LIFE!

Act I:

An eerie studio lit by red strobe-light.

The sharp outlines of a pot-plant’s fronds are silouhetted against the window’s light. There is a spider’s web stretched glistening between the frame.

A figure enters, unsteady on his feet.

A disembodied voice: Mitchell, is that you?!

Unsteady figure (shouting): I’m Mitchell! Who the fuck is that?!

Disembodied voice: It’s Seecum, Mitch. Is something wrong? How was the club?

Mitchell’s face is lit up in the strobe-light. His eyes are popping out of his head and his jaw is grinding mechanically.

Mitchell (shouting): This place looks like a goddamn club. What even is this shit?!

Seecum: Where are you?! What’s going on?

‘Seecum’ emerges from the shadows.

Mitchell: AHH!

(Mitchell wheels around alarmed. Seecum screams as he knocks her backward onto a harpoon-like lead sculpture. She is impaled on the rusty spike.)

Seecum groans for some time and then goes quiet.

Mitchell moves to the lighted square of laptop on his desk, hooks up speakers and switches on loud pop music.

Mitchell (beginning to dance and tunefully singing): ‘Life! Oh Li eef! Ooooh Li - i - i - ife!’.

Seecum lies lifeless on the floor.

Act II

Building: All my life I’ve wanted to be heard, I see so much but have no way and no one to share these experiences with.

(we hear shouting and commotion from within the building)

Building: Oh no, what’s all that grumbling and those pangs in my stomach, it feels like it’s coming room that always smells of rice and coffee. I can feel two little creatures moving about violently and making lots of noise … wait … It’s gone silent, all the commotion has stopped. Now all I hear is groaning … even that’s stopped now. A troubling stillness has taken hold of that fragrant and mysterious room.

(The next thing the building hears is a low maniacal laughter that grows in volume and then turns into a pacing, vibrating sound as the creature holds his head and begins to make sounds that seem to be in sync with the vibrating, pacing sounds.)

Creature: Life! Oh Li-i-fe! Ooh Liiiife!

(The sounds stops after a short while and the creature starts to slowly move around and speaks.)

Creature: Everyone’s gone home for the night. No one knows a thing, no one has seen or heard anything, walls can’t see, the building can’t talk.

Building: Can to!

(The creature freezes, turns white, and speaks in a shivering, whispering voice)

Creature: Who’s there? Who said that?

(Without taking a moment to grapple or rejoice in the fact that one of these oblivious creatures living inside it, has finally heard it speak, it replies quickly,)

Building: I did, I said that.

(Also, without taking a moment to deal with the fact that he is speaking to a building,)

Creature: You saw nothing, and you will say nothing.

ACT 3:

This thing (that I called wind) was blowing strongly northwards in this dark

night. I cast out a floating thread and using its current, I jumped high into the air

and parachuted onto the dark cold ledges of a tall red building.

Building: “Aahh!” I felt the building vibrate and grumble. I scattered along the edges.

Spider: “Hey, come on – I’m the weight of dust. Will you let me take shelter here

for a night? I’m just a transitory visitor – I’ll be gone when it becomes light

again.”

I looked inside to see a momentous occasion. Two tall gangly creatures were

getting tangled up in a dance. Bathed in a red glowing light, they tousled and

rolled around like flies in a coke can.

Building: “Ah no I’m complaining about the thudding happening inside my belly.

These parasites are rolling around inside me, they’re restless. One’s become very

wet just now. Hmm.”

Spider: “Ah what’s that.”

Building: "I don't know. I think this thing is making some sound - it sounds unmusical to me."

Week 2

Mitchell:

Looks to me like a dried piece of fruit Looks to me like a big belly and two long legs Looks to me like a blue river flowing through a desert Looks to me like a clothes pin Looks to me like a key ring Looks to me like a dog’s head that is really thirsty but also a bit sick, as if it’s eaten the wrong piece of garbage and now it doesn’t remember because dogs have such bad short term memories and he only ate it because it was an open trash can and what else can he do but eat it, he’s a dog. It’s not as if he had the capacity to consider his actions and the forthcoming consequences. someone walking by witnessed the eating of the garbage and said the dog looked up while chewing with a bit hanging out of his mouth and had the look on his face as though he was someones dad who realized someone has been watching him scratch his bum for 5 minutes but still hasn’t satisfied his itch so he carries on scratching. You know, the nervous and guilty, but experiencing a good deal of pleasure all at the same moment look.