two too much

    

 

       SCENE 1: Early morning.

        ART sits looking at the view, in contemplation

        BART enters and watches him for a while, then draws closer

 

 

BART     You seem disenganged somehow. Not enjoying our trip?

ART         O no, I'm loving it.

BART     But you spent hours on your computer today, when you could have been out and about.

ART         You were out and about …

BART     And engaged! You weren't. The point I'm making.

ART         The point you're making?

BART     Yes, the point I'm making.

ART         Which is?

BART     You're disengaged.

ART         No not at all. It's just that I'm also engaged in something else.

BART     Which is?

ART         That was my line.

BART     I know. This is a different 'which is.' What else are you engaged in?

ART         I'm doing this 'write something every day for a month' thing.

BART     The Literal Challenge? Again?

ART         Well, different from last time. This time I'm writing a play rather than a short story.

BART     A play? Isn't that harder?

ART         I don't think so. You can just write a scene.

BART     Surely a play has to have a beginning, a middle and an end.

ART         Well the beginning is easy. And the middle – well it's just the middle, right?

BART     Isn't it meant to be like – three acts?

ART         O that's just a discredited theory about screenplays.

BART     But still, it's three elements. The beginning is, I guess, the set up. Then the middle is the plot. And the end …

ART         I prefer to think of it as two elements really. Plot and denouement. The set up becomes clear as you go along. That's how I'm thinking of it today, anyway.

BART     So you ARE disengaged from our trip then. Just thinking about this play.

ART         Not really. It won't take up much of the day and I can use the time when we're travelling or down time in the hotel. And I've done all the travel blog, writing up the trip. And the research on where we're going. It's only for the last few days of the holiday. And we're going to be in that spa place anyway.

BART     Well, good luck with it then.

ART         And the timing's quite good as we're nine hours ahead. I'll get the briefs at 7:00am and don't have to submit until 7:00pm the next day.

BART     I see. What about the day we travel back and on the plane for 12 hours?

ART         I can write it on the plane and submit when we get home.

BART     You've got it all worked out then.

ART         Yes, and I'll still have plenty of time to enjoy Japan. In fact, I'll just finish this then off to the onsen. There's only one potential problem.

BART     Which is?

ART         Stop saying that will you?

BART     I can't help it. I'm just the Devil's Advocate, apparently. And you're the Author.

ART         Well, there you have the problem in a nutshell.

BART     Pray explain.

ART         You see, I said I'd swear off meta references this time. But it's hard … I just want to dash off the writing and be done with it, but avoiding the meta references …

BART     Just don't do them then.

ART         I already have.

BART     […] You have, haven't you?

ART         And this is just day one. Think what it will be like by day 29.

BART     Never mind day 29. What about Day 2? […]

ART         Ah, funny you should say that. Because the first play has to be all about TWO.

BART     Two. Yes. So that's why you want two elements to the play, rather than three?

ART         Yes, and why we're having a dialogue – just two characters. And I thought the plot could be along the lines of my anxiety about what the theme would be for Day Two.

BART     Or how about anxiety about what you put in scene two of Day One? The denouement?

ART         Hey, you might have hit on something there!

BART     Yea, not bad for a fictional Devil's Advocate who's only there to create a dialogue.

ART         Well, let's face facts: you're not exactly advocating much that's devilish are you? But still, bouncing this around with a fictional interlocutor does have benefits: two heads are better than one!

BART     Or two cooks spoil the broth.

ART         That's too many cooks – two is just fine.

SCENE 2: Later that same day.

BART and ART are soaking in the outdoor onsen, steam rising around them as they look out to an amazing view of snow capped mountains and, faintly in the distance, Mount Fuji

BART     Ah this is the life!

ART         Yes! I've failed to make a denouement and I've failed to avoid a meta text. But I still feel it's going to be a success!

BART     Two wrongs don't make a right!

ART         True, but then two faults do make a play about TWO. In two scenes.

BART     Two-ché!

zoom poem

 

a covid-19 gnash-up

apologies once more to Ogden Nash

SO it seems we're in the midst of an epidemic, or officially a pandemic,

Though the difference is rather academic.

It just means that lots and lots of us are going to get it,

That is, if you haven't already met it.

The symptoms are a dry cough and high fever

You can get both or you can get eiver

And you can also feel woozy and drowsy and weak as well

(Think the worst party ever where you wake up feeling like hell).

But I should make something of an apology

About the terminology:

I've been calling it coronavirus,

This disease of the coughers and perspirers,

But that's just me being a wise guy

Because that's just the name of a group of viri.

And nor is Covid-19 the name of the disease.

That's what you should call the pandemic, please.

Although I think that's less engaging a name – don't you? –

Than Mad Cow Disease or Spanish Flu.

No, the actual virus is SARS-CoV-2:

Who knew?

So now we're all on lockdown, and for some that's not pleasant.

We're all avoiding each other like the plague that's omnipresent.

We're all at home thinking of things to do, drinking endless cups of tea,

Playing games and making crafts and writing poetry.

Let's hope in a few months it's all behind us and the world is once more clean

And we'll hear no more of the dreadful scourge of Covid-19.

lockdown song

Some weeks back we were told

The disease had got a hold

So we all must stay at home it seems all day.

But it really is obscene

What it's done, Covid-19,

And the rules we must adhere to and obey.

I've always suffered bad from claustrophobia

But now I'm forced inside by these microbia.

I've had enough of cooking

And reading all cook books.

I've had enough of looking

At my fast fading looks.

I've cleaned from top to bottom

All the corners and the nooks.

The lockdown is a bloody awful pain.

 

A friend told me it's nicer

To be at home,

But I replied: 'O why, sir?

I'd rather roam!'

I tried my hand at painting

Got splatter dashed with paint;

Tried online entertaining:

I'm good at that? I ain't!

And now I end up fainting:

I'm needing some restraint.

The lockdown is a dreadful, dreadful strain.

For me, I hate this lockdown:

I'm going mad.

These walls I'd rather knock down:

It's rather sad.

I've taken up with knitting –

I ended up with knots.

I spend all day just sitting:

My brain has gone to pot.

I think I'll end up slitting

My wrists because I'm shot:

The lockdown is just driving me insane.

Some day we will be told

The disease has lost its hold

And finally we're free the livelong day.

No more need for moping:

The shops will all be open

And the rules will be torn up and thrown away.

But agony for me will not be over-er,

'Cos by then I will have got agoraphobia.

I'll love my little dwelling –

Its four walls suit me well.

Anxiety they're quelling:

Outside just seems like hell.

There really is no telling

What horrors cast their spell.

The lockdown is just doing in my brain –

And I'll never ever

Not forever

(Lockdown will my brain dissever)

Never ever be the same again!

Because of lockdown –

I'll never ever be the same again!

poem for black friday

Amazing sales! How sweet the sound

Of checkouts is to me.

My cool I’ve lost, but bargains found -

This stuff is almost free!

‘Twas crowds that taught my heart to fear

But now I feel relieved.

(When Visa sees this lot appear

‘Twill never be believed.)

Through many flailing, fighting Sales

I have already come.

And Oxford Street is Hell – with gales.

God help me get it home!

Don’t lay your garments down there, mate;

Some nerd will nab them quick.

This dress in mauve, please – what, you’ve none?

O, don’t it make you sick!

How sweet the name Black Friday sounds

To bargain hunters' ears.

Despite the hordes and major wounds

There’s major savings here.

Shall I be carried to the skies
On flow'ry beds of ease,
While others fight to win the prize?
No way – now gangway, please!

Amazing Sales! At any cost -

To touch, to feel, to grab;

The winter’s dark, but I’m not lost -

New Year I’m in rehab.

cruel and unusual

A true story for Hallowe'en

It was 6:38am on August 6^th, 1890, as the prisoner entered the room, hands bound, between two prison guards. He was surprised how many had come to witness his death.

He had been calm since being woken an hour and a half earlier, offering no resistance. He had dressed himself quickly, formally, in his Sunday best suit, white shirt and tie. They brought him breakfast, which he ate heartily, and a priest, who said a prayer. A 'trusty' came and shaved his head. The dark corridors and cells of New York State's Auburn Prison were cool and stale at this early hour, as he was taken to the execution chamber, but with a sense of the stifling heat to come.

Records show there were seventeen present, including the Warden, Charles Durston. William Kemmler faced him and Durston nodded, a little tense. He knew this day would go down in history. Kemmler remained calm, almost serene. He looked at the chair in the centre of the room.

"Gentlemen, I wish you all good luck. I believe I am going to a good place, and I am ready to go," he said, and without prompting, sat down.

One of the guards made him stand again and cut a hole in his suit near the base of his spine, to attach one of the electrodes. The prisoner sat again and the metal restraint was attached to his head.

He almost smiled. "Take it easy and do it properly, I'm in no hurry." His arms and legs were strapped to the chair, a cloth hood was placed over his head.

"Goodbye, William," said Durston, as he signalled the electrician to throw the switch.

William Kemmler was a second generation native of Philadelphia, a slender youth with dark brown hair. Illiterate, with little schooling, he worked at first in his father's butcher shop. He grew up speaking both English and German, the language of his parents. They were both known to be alcoholics: his father died after a drunken brawl and his mother from liver failure. Kemmler.

After his parents died and the business was lost, he became a peddlar, and earned enough money to buy a horse and cart after moving to Buffalo, where he sold vegetables off the back of the cart. But he had also begun to turn to drink and – with the nickname "Philadelphia Billy" – soon developed a reputation for binge drinking and stupid drunken episodes, one of which led to the destruction of his cart and his stock. He took up with Tillie Ziegler, and they started to live together. At the trial she would be refeerred to as his common law wife.

On March 29, 1888, he was recovering from a drinking binge the night before when he became enraged with Tiller. He accused her of stealing from him and preparing to run away with a friend of his. When the argument reached a peak, Kemmler calmly grabbed a hatchet, and returned to the house. He struck Tillie repeatedly, killing her. He then went to a neighbor's house and announced he had just murdered his girlfriend. Every report describes him as 'calm', 'rational', 'unemotional' – a classic sociopath.

The trial proceeded quickly. He was convicted of first-degree murder on May 10. Three days later he was sentenced to death. Two months before the murder, New York introduced a new execution law which replaced hanging. The new method was death by the wonderful new force then becoming known for the first time: death by electricity. Soon after the new law was enacted, an electric chair – a device invented a few years earlier by a Buffalo dentist – was installed at the Auburn state prison, and this is where Kemmler was consigned after pleading guilty. He would become the first person in the world to be killed by electric chair.

An appeal was launched, not by Kemmler, but by the infant electricity industry, who obviously thought this was bad PR. The appeal claimed that the electric chair violated the Eighth Amendment's prohibition of cruel and unusual punishment. The appeal went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, who ruled electrocution was not a cruel and unusual punishment.

So the execution proceeded. The generator was charged to one thousand volts, which was assumed to be adequate to induce quick unconsciousness and cardiac arrest. The chair had already been thoroughly tested; a horse had been successfully electrocuted the day before. The charge was fed to Kemmler for 17 seconds. The power was turned off, one of the two doctors present stepped forward and Kemmler was declared dead.

However, with an audible gasp, witnesses suddenly saw Kemmler's chest rise and fall – he was still breathing. Both doctors confirmed Kemmler was still alive, and one of them reportedly called out, "Have the current turned on again, quick—no delay,” the shaking of his voice betraying shock and horror, in stark contrast to Kemmler's earlier calm.

It took some time to recharge the generator, this time up to 2,000 volts. Blood vessels under the skin ruptured and acording to the New York Times,

"an awful odor began to permeate the death chamber, and then, as though to cap the climax of this fearful sight, it was seen that the hair under and around the electrode on the head and the flesh under and around the electrode at the base of the spine was singeing. The stench was unbearable."

Several witnesses panicked and unsuccessfully tried to escape from the room, but the room had been locked. In all, the entire execution took eight minutes until death was finally achieved. Papers across the country outdid each other with sensational headlines and stories. A reporter who witnessed it described it as "an awful spectacle, far worse than hanging." The electrician reportedly commented: "They would have done better using an axe.” Yet death by electric chair was not and still to this day in some states is not regarded as cruel and unusual.

last judgment

What I did on my hollidays

On my hollidays we went to Bournmouth. We go to Bournmouth every year fro our hollidays. It is my nan's house and we stay in it. I like when it is sunny we go on the bach and I make a big sand castle and I dig a big deep mott so when the sea come in it fill up the mott. Then no one can get in the castle not even a dragon cos dragon cant fly over water. When you go back next day the castle is gone cos the sea come in and wash it away, only the sea and me can beat the castle.

I like my nan cos she give me sweets and tell my mummy dont nag the boy. She makes nice food like fuit pie with rubarb in it wot she grows in her garden and custard also nice sausages not the ones we get at home. On Fridays we get fish and chips from the chip shop over the road and I like it best of all.

I dont like when it rains all day and I get bored and we stay at Nans house and mumy gets mad if I say Im bored can we go to the pictures. Nan took me the pictures to see a picture called Wizerd of Oz it is bit scary about the witch but not about the little people and Dorothy and the funny people she meet like a scarecrow also a dog Toto. Dorothy goes home and live with her aunty whos nice like my nan I wish I lived with a aunty or nan not my mummy.

On Sundays we go to nans big church. We dont go to church at home. It is bit boring when the vicar makes a big speech it called a sermon but I like the singing. In the church is a big sign it says

Judge not, that ye be not judged. Matthew 7. 1.

It is from the Bible wot god said. I asked nan about it. I said I dont judge mummy but my mummy all ways judges me and say I am doing bad things so does god say she shouldnt do it? My nan says she is only trying to make me a good boy but you can go to far. So I said to mummy that god say she should not judge me and nan say you juge me to far but she got cross and sent me to bed and then she and nan had a row again. They all ways have a big row about me, I heard them over the balcony. Mumy said its all right for you, I have to bring him up alone all year, you can give him sweets and treats and he likes you. And nan say you need to give him space he is a boy let him breath. I do breath, mummy doesnt stop me breathing but she dont give me space.

I asked my nan will I go to hevan if I dont judge people and she say jesus say not to judge only god can judge and I say will mummy go to hell because she judges and my mummy slapped me. Then they had a row again and I was sent to bed early and I herd mummy crying.

So we did other things we went to Poole and saw the ships and the potery where they make the plates and you can see how they do it. I wanted to go on the boat round the harbour but mummy said its to expansive but the best bit was the beach and the sand castle and the fruit pie fish and chips and thats wot I did on my holliday.

* * *

Don't walk with your hands in your pockets; don't speak with your mouth full; finish your plate; sit up straight; always close the garden gate. This is how you brush your hair; this is what you ought to wear. It matches your eyes. You look good in blue. There, you look very smart. I don't care what the other boys wear, we're a respectable family. No, you can't have a fringe, it doesn't suit you, you have lovely eyebrows, I don't care if the other boys… No you can't have a bicycle, it's too dangerous round here, I don't care if all the other boys… Don't wolf it down, chew. Do your homework; wash your hands; go to bed, you need your beauty sleep. Button up your coat; and take your hands out of your pockets.

Why are you choosing those subjects? I thought you would be an accountant; or a solicitor. How will you make money out of that? Why are you wasting your allowance on that? Can I smell alcohol on your breath? Can I smell perfume? What is that smell? I thought you'd go to Oxford or Cambridge. I'm supporting you, you know. Why can't you get a decent summer job? If you'd studied law you could have got a – what do they call it? – articled clerk? – decent money anyway. Or a doctor. They make lots of money, and they are well respected. What is that noise? Well it sounds like noise to me – they all sound the same to me – and the hair! Is that where you get it from? Why don't you get your hair cut? If your father were alive… And sit up straight, you're always slouching. Don't you have anything decent to wear? You won't get a girl looking like that.

This would have killed your father if he wasn't dead already. You should go to a psychiatrist, psychologist, whatever it is they call it. I thought that girl in the flat was your girlfriend. She was very nice. Why don't you go out with her? It's all a phase you know. Don't you want to have children? I want to have grandchildren. You'll have no-one when you're old to look after you.

I thought you would be able to afford a better car than this. Well, they don't pay you enough then. What did I tell you, you should have gone in for accountancy. Do you still see that girl from when you were a student? Why not? She was nice. Don't say anything to Mrs Moore. I told her you're too busy to have a girfriend, with your job. And stand up straight. Why do you live in this terrible area? You could get a nice house with a garden and somewhere to park your car – a garage even – in a nice area.

I thought you would visit more often. I know it's a long way but I had to come back here to look after your nan. Well, I don't like him, and that's it. I can't have him staying here: Mrs Moore would… And I don't like the way he eats. And I thought at least you could have got with a nice doctor, or an accountant. What does he do anyway? I don't even know what that is! Why don't you come adown more – remember those wonderful times we used to have? You had a wonderful childhood, you know. We had great holidays in this house. Such a clever boy – what happened to you?

Are you still living in that house? Why? Isn't it time you moved somewhere decent? Well they don't pay you enough then. I thought you'd have your own company by now. When are you coming to see me? And is he still with you? Well, at least you haven't – you know – all that AIDS.

I always wanted a girl, you know. A daughter-in-law would have been nice, at least. I was always hoping for grandchildren. Well, at least you're happy. In your own way. I suppose he's – at least he's loyal. I'm comfortable in the sheltered housing – I like my own space now. You don't need to come down if you don't want to.

The church is smaller than I remembered it. I stand, with my hands in my pockets, looking across at the coffin. I look up at the plaque I remember from my childhood.

Judge not, that ye be not judged. Matthew 7. 1.