i'm starting blogging again soon.
it probably wont be on livejournal though.
but i'll keep you posted.
Act I, Scene V
soliloquy for a songbird
[curtain rises, player one sits against a wall his face lowered to face the ground you can just make out black running makeup beneath his bowed head and messy hair. the lighting is simple. low. singular. it fits his turmoil perfectly.
player one raises his head, when he speaks his voice breaks and cracks like an old record thats been left unloved and unheard for so long that a fine layer of dust has formed]
player one: so. i can see you all. out there staring up with your fresh round eyes. staring right at me. you think i'm phased? you'd be right. every single time.
i walk. through crowds and passers by. and i feel those eyes. just like yours now. you haven't just come here for the pretty set designs i hope? its not that kind of story.
did you think it would be a nice un-tradgic tragedy like romeo and juliet? well even i'm not sure if anything like that is going to happen yet. so i cant even let you know if you've come to the wrong place.
if you came expecting this to be about you. then you should leave now. i'm a selfish prick. this revolves around me.
if you came expecting this to be a happy story. what impression are you getting so far? the doors right over there folks. its right over there.
if you came wanting to see, and i think a lot of you might have done. i can feel your eyes burning into my flesh right this very second. what are you thinking?
if you came to see, as i was saying. and not just see things as they are. and not just see with some kind of half vague half realising clarity. like you actually care about what your looking at. but really see. see me standing here like an open book, that your never ever going to be able to understand completely. there'll always be something that your missing. something that you miss. something that i'll say, that you couldn't possibly know what i mean. then you should probably stay in your seats. what can i say? your here now.
[player one sits down on an unmade bed at the corner of the room. he sighs and gazed out of a closed window. outside he see's a long row of houses, snow covering their rooftops]
songbird. who are you?
i see you in my mind constantly. i hear you in the words of your song. thats every song. every single song that drifts from every single radio, computer, tv set. i hear you. you consume me.
they tell me its insane to be in love with someone you've never met. someone you dont even know. someone thats just in your head. that its insane in this day and age, to hope, to hold out for you. because your just an idealized view.
i created you when i was very young. maybe beneath a table that i'd made into a fort. maybe in the grass in the summer, wearing orange shorts and a tshirt with a troll on it. maybe even in the winter, making a snowman in the snow.
i cant pinpoint the exact moment you were created. but you were. oh, how you were created.
maybe it happened as i was reading something in a book, and you were there in parts. or maybe you were parts. from each and every single book, and i pasted you together subconsciously. i dont know how it happened. but it happened.
and you existed. you exist. without a face or a name or even a life. but in my head your there.
nearly every detail of how you are. the things you like. the morals you have. wrapping me up in the cold and holding me close.
even how you smile is there in my head. but i cant picture it. because you dont exist. you have no face. so tell me. who are you?
find me. find me and tell me who you are?
or are you afraid of trains as well. it really wouldn't surprise me.
there's a part of you in every song thats made me cry without a reason for doing so. and as the tears welled up in my eyes and i tried to blink them away. its you that i was thinking about.
i think about you all the time.
when i lay in bed alone. i imagine just what it would be like if you were here. by my side. with a record playing, crackling on the floor and the light from a single lamp. i try to picture it all as clearly as possible. and i try to keep the picture lodged so incredibly firmly in my head until i fall asleep. because i know the second that i let this imaginary world slip i'll be back in this room alone again. and its hard to take it. some times its so hard to even breathe my heart wants to give up so bad.
and this is what this whole this is about. isn't it? this is what its about. this entire show. is about me and you. and how in every room, and every crowded street, and every club, every bar, every place i'm looking for you. this is exactly what its all about.
i love you
i dont even know who you are
i can only hope the day i meet you. the day i see you. and you look back at me. i can only pray that you've been talking to your own songbird. every night, since you were 9.
i can only hope that we dont let each other get away. because that happens far too often.
i can only hope you love me too.
because this is what this entire story is about. its about a boy and he's sitting here right now thinking about you. its about a boy looking for an imaginary, invisible person, a made up impossible version of love and how it should be. its one of those vomit inducing, cliched stories yes. but i'm not going to apologise for it. why should i apologise for it?
thats how it is.
maybe your world isnt. but my world is.
my world is a fucking stage. and me, and all these people are merely players.
but what a beautiful stage it is. and what beautiful people they are.
and i begin my search. like i hadn't even begun years ago. i begin again my search for the most beautiful of them all.
a songbird that sings the song to the tune of the beat of my heart.
Act I, Scene IV
hopeful thoughts driven out and replaced with big black bricks, dark obsidian bricks like blocks of evil ice sharpened into shards and driven through the brain, severing each joyful, happy nerve on their way. and now the connections try and repair racing towards each other, like lovers meeting once again in a train station. running towards each other, with arms outstretched. and then in slow motion their feet pound the concrete, and their tears fly backwards away from their face as they fly forwards, or it feels like flying and then they grasp each other once more, and the connection is remade. between the heart and the brain, and between happiness and life.
'stage door. stand there, stay still. player one, wait for the curtain to rise. remember your part, your the hopeless romantic on the quest for love. remember that line you keep fucking up. don't forget it, its the most important line of the show. 'i love you' its just three words so don't forget it, okay?'
'but its hard to say when you don't mean it.'
and a thick curtain separates you from the world. crimson red velvet. you don't want to look beyond it. and see the hoards of people staring straight at you. right at you. slicing through your skin, straight to your heart, seeing every hopeful thought in your ticking brain. but you cant let them down, your player one. player one. the first person to address the stage. for once you haven't been cast as the comic relief. but your feet dont want to move towards the bright lights and applause. this role feels wrong to you. fake. fake and wrong. you've been acting all your life 'yes i'm fine, no really i'm okay' but you cant seem to act just this one time.
remember the rehearsals, the words, the kiss, the beating in your heart, the feeling that came over you when they touched you. there were no rehearsals. this is going to go terribly wrong.
player two grabs you by your chest and pushes you out onto the stage. your terrified.
tell me you know what its like to want to be loved with every inch of your body and every part of your soul, that you actually ache, psysically ache not because you ran too much that day, not because you spent too much time on the dance floor under the disco lights. but because you need so badly to have someone just hold you, and tell you they love you.
tell me that you know exactly what that pain in your arms feels like, that pain you get when they need to hold someone so much that they stab out in protest of the fact that its not possible.
& that each night you sit in your room. the lights turned down low. mood lighting for the alone. and you think how great it would be if someone was there with you, and in your head you picture it and then you realise that your aching again as your snapped back to reality and the rooms seems even darker than it did before your thoughts took over.
tell me what its like to have never had anyone. friends, yeah. you've had them. but you know what i mean. someone that knows you completely and totally, knows every inch of your personality, even inch of who you are. maybe it'll never happen. maybe some people are just made to be alone, alone and never happy.
tell me you know exactly what all of this is like. so i dont feel crazy anymore.