8 AM and the government finally awakes to the worries of working people: telephones ringing unanswered, wallabies roaming Kent, cosmic rays leading to cloud formation, gardens lacking box hedges and the idea of voting only when sober. This calls for radical change. We must enlist British spies a cross between Bond and Hood to partake in textual vandalism, to crowd source and data mash, to identify unknown people on photo-sharing websites. Steinberg believes the revolution is in its infancy but we'll create potholes, broken street lights, rubbish and graffiti then plead for quick fixes @ FixMyStreet.com We've arrived at the dead end of bureaucracy we'll produce another sick comedy starring redneck hockey loving mothers who canoe across the arctic (only to get trapped in ice). Again. Let's take our covered wagons and head West to ignore policies of nasty hysteria, scour the country for libertarian babes keeping armoured vests close to our chests. The PM wants a second chance to give us lessons in happiness to shrug off set-backs and banish pessimistic thoughts. Immunise us all, us all against in depth analysis, size-optimisation and Russian jets. Today art means a few old fish and a restaurant dish of detritus and size-optimisation means putting fewer Pringles in a can. Russia's been negotiating with an impostor but we've been taught how to act positively in seemingly negative situations. The time has come to hand the free world over to strangers, the time has come to create pigs with humanised hearts, the time has come for Republicans to favour women. A philosophical revolution is underway as we anticipate the Nietzschen Ubermensch but all Superman costumes are missing - we're now lost - the doppelgangers continue to leak sensitive info in return for financial benefit and Parisians are soon to be horrified when Paris becomes London's double. The world is a dosh pit with a 50p bonus. We all want cult status like Jackie O and Warhol, we all want to source out US bribes, we all want to spawn new cities then another and another avoid signing off with P.S. It's vulgar! It's too late - forget law forget journalism - scientists have isolated the love rat gene divorce lawyers and female columnists are out of work, however the door will remain open not only for immigration but for slaves to the free market for farmers sowing the seeds of later unhappiness - teach us about happiness! We'll get through a tremendous number of women look back, become o so nostalgic and list all of our bad choices - collisions with beauty queens that echo showers of neutrons where only for a day we see the world differently. Eventually we'll give up the idea that women will only vote for women but we'll never give up our control-freak tendencies even though we yearn a crowd-sourcing democracy. We'll continue West with wagons and Russian jets looking for some cult status for our own doppelgangers, the strangers that lead us there.
7.9.08
5.9.08
30.8.08
12.8.08
"Lights out!"
But there are still things to do -
You see, she'd spent the entire day doing things she didn't need to
Like the writing of lists, and
Like writing lists.
Now as the light fades she decides it's time to do
What she didn't do
But should do
"Lights out!"
I think not.
The glaring headlights,
The flickering streetlights,
Means that she just does what she needs to.
Just.
To tick off things to do
That she should do
But didn't do
Until she had to.
But there are still things to do -
You see, she'd spent the entire day doing things she didn't need to
Like the writing of lists, and
Like writing lists.
Now as the light fades she decides it's time to do
What she didn't do
But should do
"Lights out!"
I think not.
The glaring headlights,
The flickering streetlights,
Means that she just does what she needs to.
Just.
To tick off things to do
That she should do
But didn't do
Until she had to.
10.8.08
8.09 pm
They sit and meet at the same table - the one to the far right (I mean left) in the corner of the diner.
They've smoked silk-cuts for twenty years.
Twenty year smoke lounges comfortably in the fabric of these stools.
Twenty year smoke wanders freely in the air that surrounds
An atmosphere heavy with recycled bottles, music and conversation.
Yes, conversation.
9.33 pm
They order another round. Same drinks they've drunk for twenty years.
I hear them. I hear you.
They talk about their history whilst we talk about our history and outside history is being made.
Outside, it is dark but busy with people entering and leaving shop fronts with neon lights and florescent tubes.
Inside, it is dark but busy with people entering and leaving voices which illuminate the space around me, you, us, them.
Voices that speak of premature policy, credit card junkies, the tragedy of Tokyo Rose and cake.
Pictures, ideas, calenders and memories that speak when I speak to you and I.
Speak.
10.45 pm
I walk past their table.
He puts on his coat, pays the bill and takes one last look around. She exits to the bathroom.
The clinking of glasses and muttering of voices.
Track two plays and we let The Chiffons take our soul.
I return, she returns and they leave to go outside amongst neon lights.
We're inside talking about them.
Inside, I’m talking about you.
Talk.
11.20 pm
They leave their mark behind. Their circular imprints.
Elbow wearage, greasy stains, spilt liquid, floating ash.
Ready for the next crowd.
01.09 am
I pull the stool aside and see her imprint.
They sit and meet at the same table - the one to the far right (I mean left) in the corner of the diner.
They've smoked silk-cuts for twenty years.
Twenty year smoke lounges comfortably in the fabric of these stools.
Twenty year smoke wanders freely in the air that surrounds
An atmosphere heavy with recycled bottles, music and conversation.
Yes, conversation.
9.33 pm
They order another round. Same drinks they've drunk for twenty years.
I hear them. I hear you.
They talk about their history whilst we talk about our history and outside history is being made.
Outside, it is dark but busy with people entering and leaving shop fronts with neon lights and florescent tubes.
Inside, it is dark but busy with people entering and leaving voices which illuminate the space around me, you, us, them.
Voices that speak of premature policy, credit card junkies, the tragedy of Tokyo Rose and cake.
Pictures, ideas, calenders and memories that speak when I speak to you and I.
Speak.
10.45 pm
I walk past their table.
He puts on his coat, pays the bill and takes one last look around. She exits to the bathroom.
The clinking of glasses and muttering of voices.
Track two plays and we let The Chiffons take our soul.
I return, she returns and they leave to go outside amongst neon lights.
We're inside talking about them.
Inside, I’m talking about you.
Talk.
11.20 pm
They leave their mark behind. Their circular imprints.
Elbow wearage, greasy stains, spilt liquid, floating ash.
Ready for the next crowd.
01.09 am
I pull the stool aside and see her imprint.
22.7.08
SCENE 3
Man wearing a mask enters.
Man.
You affix, anchor, attach rope to me.
You're the Nietzschen 'Superman' -
Creator of New Values.
So you batten, bind, bolt, buckle,
Button, chain, clamp me,
Rope to clasp, cling, close me.
You're the solution -
Fix, grip, hitch, hook
To a problem -
Knot, join, lace, lash.
You're the Nietzschen 'Ubermensch'.
It means you strap, tack, tape, tie me.
So you batten, bind, bolt, buckle me,
Button, chain, clamp me,
Rope to clasp, cling, close me.
Exit.
Man wearing a mask enters.
Man.
You affix, anchor, attach rope to me.
You're the Nietzschen 'Superman' -
Creator of New Values.
So you batten, bind, bolt, buckle,
Button, chain, clamp me,
Rope to clasp, cling, close me.
You're the solution -
Fix, grip, hitch, hook
To a problem -
Knot, join, lace, lash.
You're the Nietzschen 'Ubermensch'.
It means you strap, tack, tape, tie me.
So you batten, bind, bolt, buckle me,
Button, chain, clamp me,
Rope to clasp, cling, close me.
Exit.
21.7.08
SCENE 2
Man enters. In his hand he holds the rope.
Man.
Cut a piece of stout cord.
Twist it in your hands.
Pull it tight.
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Fasten and secure
What needs to be fastened.
But remember to secure.
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Enclose.
Mark off boundaries to abide by:
No Entry - No Exit
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Because
To rope, to grope
To tighten the rope
That ties
Means I am.
Because
To rope, to grip
To pull the rope
That binds
Means I am.
Because
To rope means to grope
To tighten, to tie, to grip, to pull, to bind.
Rope you with this rope!
I am.
Exit.
Man enters. In his hand he holds the rope.
Man.
Cut a piece of stout cord.
Twist it in your hands.
Pull it tight.
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Fasten and secure
What needs to be fastened.
But remember to secure.
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Enclose.
Mark off boundaries to abide by:
No Entry - No Exit
This is a piece of rope.
Today I am this rope.
Because
To rope, to grope
To tighten the rope
That ties
Means I am.
Because
To rope, to grip
To pull the rope
That binds
Means I am.
Because
To rope means to grope
To tighten, to tie, to grip, to pull, to bind.
Rope you with this rope!
I am.
Exit.
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