City lights at a country fair
Never shine but always glare
If I'm bright enough to see you,
You're just too dark to care.
But if crying and holding on
And flying on the ground is wrong
Then I'm sorry to let you down,
But you're from my side of town
And I'll miss you.
- Flying on the ground, Buffalo Springfield
Friday, January 15, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Woman: I love doing this, it's like an exorcism. (Rummages through a box on the table in front of her, mumbling.) Its so refreshing to just get rid of everything. (Singing) 'Honey, honey, don't stop.' (Announcing) Then I shall feel really, grotesquely disgusting and have to go off to the bathroom...the original place of Christ...Christ...where people used to have to go to be Christened because it was against the law, then, for all the Jews and everything...yes. (Defiantly) And then I shall feel cleansed...like a deep cleansing of all the WRATH that's in my soul
Man: Yes. Ok. (Doesn't look up from his newspaper)
Woman: (indignant) Are you even listening to me? (Changes subject, unperturbed) Do you still want the piano? You never play it anymore. I think we should throw it out; use it for firewood or something and have a nice bonfire. (nostalgic, breathes in deeply) I love the smell of burning leaves. It reminds me of when I was a kid.
Man: (sighs, resigned, it is obvious they are going over familiar territory) I was playing it this morning. You told me to stop because you couldnt hear 'Woman's Hour' over the 'din.'
Woman: (Not listening, thinking about something else) What about that old armchair in the corner? Im going to give it to the 'Sally Army - no one really needs this much furniture, and Ive always thought people should be more minimalist, less materialistic, dont you think?
Man: (angering) That's my chair.
Woman: (impatient) Well, I just think that if you were a little less selfish...
Man: (looks up from his newspaper and rises, shouting, his voice dripping with sarcasm) GO ON THEN, WHY DONT YOU BLOODY WELL THROW AWAY EVERYTHING..EVERYTHING. JUST CHUCK IT ALL OUT. BEDS, TABLES, THE LOT! You're right, we dont need those do we? I just cant believe...
Woman: (doent understand his tone, interrupts, excitedly)...see! I knew you'd come round. I think..
Man: (dripping with contempt, even hatred)..furniture is unecessary, isnt it? And the carpet, I suppose that doesnt serve a purpose in your warped mind either?
Woman: (angry and indignant, finally catching on to the insincerity in his voice) No! No, actually it doesnt. And now I come to think of it, neither do you, or anyone else in this fucking family; (shouting) I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF BEING USED AND NEVER HAVING ANY TIME TO MYSELF AND HAVING TO CLEAR UP EVERYONE ELSES SHIT ALL THE TIME....
(the man has stopped listening and with a sigh, slowly rises, goes over to the record player and puts a record on. It is --- He sits back in his chair. The woman is still talking.)
....he goes and makes a great big cock up of his own life and leaves 'muggins here to sort it all out for him. (indignant) Well I'm not going to do it anymore. I just wont. I'll leave him in there to rot and then he'll see how much I do for him. Maybe he'll appreciate it a bit more. Because if they dont let him out, 'madam' won't keep going up there to see him, I'll tell you that now. I know what she's like remember? II saw it all the last time this happened.
Man: (calm, but still visibly distressed) Sometimes I wish you would - and you dont know how much - give yourself, give us both a bit of peace...
Woman: (interrupting) I cant take it anymore, I cant. I swear to God I'll...
Man: (ibid) You wont do it. You know that as well as I do.
Woman: (looks distracted for a moment before exclaiming) Oh! I forgot to see if we've won the lottery! Where did I put the ticket?
Man: Yes. Ok. (Doesn't look up from his newspaper)
Woman: (indignant) Are you even listening to me? (Changes subject, unperturbed) Do you still want the piano? You never play it anymore. I think we should throw it out; use it for firewood or something and have a nice bonfire. (nostalgic, breathes in deeply) I love the smell of burning leaves. It reminds me of when I was a kid.
Man: (sighs, resigned, it is obvious they are going over familiar territory) I was playing it this morning. You told me to stop because you couldnt hear 'Woman's Hour' over the 'din.'
Woman: (Not listening, thinking about something else) What about that old armchair in the corner? Im going to give it to the 'Sally Army - no one really needs this much furniture, and Ive always thought people should be more minimalist, less materialistic, dont you think?
Man: (angering) That's my chair.
Woman: (impatient) Well, I just think that if you were a little less selfish...
Man: (looks up from his newspaper and rises, shouting, his voice dripping with sarcasm) GO ON THEN, WHY DONT YOU BLOODY WELL THROW AWAY EVERYTHING..EVERYTHING. JUST CHUCK IT ALL OUT. BEDS, TABLES, THE LOT! You're right, we dont need those do we? I just cant believe...
Woman: (doent understand his tone, interrupts, excitedly)...see! I knew you'd come round. I think..
Man: (dripping with contempt, even hatred)..furniture is unecessary, isnt it? And the carpet, I suppose that doesnt serve a purpose in your warped mind either?
Woman: (angry and indignant, finally catching on to the insincerity in his voice) No! No, actually it doesnt. And now I come to think of it, neither do you, or anyone else in this fucking family; (shouting) I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF BEING USED AND NEVER HAVING ANY TIME TO MYSELF AND HAVING TO CLEAR UP EVERYONE ELSES SHIT ALL THE TIME....
(the man has stopped listening and with a sigh, slowly rises, goes over to the record player and puts a record on. It is --- He sits back in his chair. The woman is still talking.)
....he goes and makes a great big cock up of his own life and leaves 'muggins here to sort it all out for him. (indignant) Well I'm not going to do it anymore. I just wont. I'll leave him in there to rot and then he'll see how much I do for him. Maybe he'll appreciate it a bit more. Because if they dont let him out, 'madam' won't keep going up there to see him, I'll tell you that now. I know what she's like remember? II saw it all the last time this happened.
Man: (calm, but still visibly distressed) Sometimes I wish you would - and you dont know how much - give yourself, give us both a bit of peace...
Woman: (interrupting) I cant take it anymore, I cant. I swear to God I'll...
Man: (ibid) You wont do it. You know that as well as I do.
Woman: (looks distracted for a moment before exclaiming) Oh! I forgot to see if we've won the lottery! Where did I put the ticket?
Fallen Soldiers
Hundreds of boots that once marched proudly in time,
Now trudge hopelessly, helplessly through faraway fields
Their ambitions and dreams lost in the slime
And only their courage to use as a shield
They are still so young, their lives incomplete,
When they hear the deafening sound of sacrifice,
The wail of defeat
One more comrade has paid the price
Another soldier has fallen
Now trudge hopelessly, helplessly through faraway fields
Their ambitions and dreams lost in the slime
And only their courage to use as a shield
They are still so young, their lives incomplete,
When they hear the deafening sound of sacrifice,
The wail of defeat
One more comrade has paid the price
Another soldier has fallen
She was a Russian princess. As she danced, wearing a tight-fitting dress, a pale man, thin from nerves, put out his cigarette and stood gazing out of his smoked, double-glazed windows; the world outside had become a silent film. The young man's eyes were curiously placid and yeilding; he saw the city as a sea from which a lurid glow spread through his waking hours, as if a record were being played too fast. He knocked over the empty wine bottle, injecting a note of false levity. Something within him had altered, but her expression was quite calm and cold.
'You have lit a flame in me that will not die.'
'For my sins, I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.'
'You have lit a flame in me that will not die.'
'For my sins, I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.'
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