#Fridayflash: Come Home

Extracts of Nan's diary, as pertains to Walker. 

1994
October
He's gone. I don't know where he is. No one knows where he is. Milly asked about him at the funeral: Where's Uncle Walker?
He's late. He's coming. 
He never showed. I lied. Only Walker would pull a stunt like this in the middle of a funeral. I'm so angry I could kill him.

November
It's been a month. The detectives can't find him. No clues. No bloody clues. He's just vanished. Poof.
Magic.
I don't believe in magic.
He just "walked out of his apartment" and nobody has a clue where he's gone. This is ridiculous.
I hope he's alright.

December
Milly wanted to know why Uncle Walker didn't show up for Christmas. I want to know why Walker hasn't shown up for months.
Maybe he's dead in a ditch somewhere.
Good riddance.
Lina doesn't know. I can't tell her.


1995
January
Maybe he's gone crazy and forgotten his name and address. If he's institutionalised, how will we find him? Will he grow old alone, forgotten in a home?
Lina's doing better. Time to break the news.

February
I can't deal with two crazy people in a family. Maybe he's dead so I won't have to deal with him.
Harry says I should let go. I try.
We're letting the detectives go. We can't afford it anymore. They said they'd leave it on the radar, let us know only if something pings.

March
I managed to catch Pip's show again. I miss him.
I miss Walker.
I wonder if they checked if anyone jumped off the bridge.

April
Six months. Six months and we don't know if he's dead or alive.
He's probably dead. I can't--
Milly turned four today. We had cake. Balloons.
She asked about Walker again. I don't know what to tell her.
I said he's on a long trip in a faraway land. I hope she'll forget about him soon.

May
Harry says Walker can't possibly be kidnapped because no one has asked for ransom. He also says Walker's probably not dead because the police would have asked us to identify his remains.
Unless they haven't found his remains.
Or his body's been eaten by wild animals and there's nothing left with which to identify him.
Or maybe they can't ask for ransom until the estate's settled, but we need Walker to settle the estate so--

June
I cannot not think about him but I cannot think about him. If I go crazy, it will be Walker's fault.
Maybe he was in a plane crash. Or a car crash. Train crash. Burning wreckage out in the desert. Somewhere.

July
What if he's homeless? And too ashamed to ask for help?
Why did he just walk out of his apartment?
Ned's death must have set off an episode.

October
I'm meeting Walker tomorrow. It's been a year. But he's back.
Finally back.
We'll meet the lawyer with Pip.
It'll be good to see Pip again.

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EVENT PAGE

Our Pip/Theo was injured, so we're starting fresh this week.

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You know who you are, though I doubt you'll read this.
Come home.

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EDIT for additional note: realised it's supposed to be cold in New York during the time the original scene takes place, so the months are probably off. Oh well. 

#musicmonday: Lina's playlist

Chris asked us to come up with songs that our characters would listen to/like, so here's a playlist of songs from the 50's which Lina would likely like, or at least have heard. Often.

Question though: would Lina be a jazz or a rock kind of person?
Ned and Theo are undoubtedly more of the jazz type.

Lina never says, and she's pretentiously artsy and intellectual enough to appreciate jazz, with her cigarettes and wine (she mentions wanting to be a Negro blues singer, so that's a slight indication) but her penchant for smothering the day in speech makes me think she might secretly like a bit of Elvis. Just for the noise.

EVENT PAGE

#fridayflash: Lina

She is
        Sharp lines and taut strings
        Focused on
        Theo, Theo, Theo
but Ned.

No, Ned is comfort. Ned is safety. Ned is the sudden silence in a world of cacophony and if only Theo could be that be comfortsilencesafetysimplicity --

Oh what is the secret behind Theo?

But maybe there is no secret. Maybe he is as empty, as broken, as loud, as crazy and Lina cannot see it. Lina cannot see past -- He wants. Fame. Fortune. Acknowledgement. He is consumed and she is drawn into his orbit; sucked in swallowed down engulfed --

-- no.

She draws herself up, pulls away. The Southern belle has her strength and her dignity and she may not have weight, but she has her power.

A tilt of the shoulders
        A twist of the fingers

Ned doesn't need seducing. Ned is just... there. Easy. Simple. A rock. An abstraction turning into facts. A lifeline. He pulls her out of deep waters, just by kindness. And she needs to escape because Theo, but Ned --

And maybe it's not wrong. Maybe this simplicity is what she wants and needs and craves but cannot get because Theo wants and Theo needs and Lina

cannot be anything other than what she is needed to be.

No matter how hard she tries. 

What you want.
                                  >
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                                                                                                                >

What you will get.

But it's not her ascent.

it's her descent

into madness

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Character work on Lina; Three Days of Rain by Richard Greenberg.

#fridayflash: Nan on Walker

Look. The thing with Walker is. Is. Well, I don’t know.

He came back and… and I was angry. He was supposed to meet me at the airport—he didn’t, of course. What did you expect—and then he was rambling on and on and we were going to be late and…

And then he hugged me and everything was alright for a while because he was alive. He was there. He was real. It was just like the old days. The ones we grew out of. Or I grew out of at any rate. I don’t know whether Walker every grew up or grew out of anything.

The place—Ned and Theo’s place—it… Do you suppose their ghosts… but well, that’s the sort of fanciful thing Walker might believe in. When I first stepped in—all I wanted to do was leave. It was dank. Musty. Draped. Walker might say it’s a place where life has stopped abruptly. Only in more poetic words. Like a graveyard. Of dreams.

I didn’t want to sit. I didn’t want to stay. It’s the sort of thing I’d rather leave behind. But he was going on and on… rather like Lina, really. Like Lina, only old. So fervent. So alive. So… ridiculously alive.

Which I suppose is better than the alternative.

Maybe.

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The thing with secrets is… they’re supposed to remain secret. What’s the point of dredging up all this mess? What’s the point of talking about all of this? Some things are better off not said, you know?

Only Walker never realises that. He wants to talk. He wants to fill the world with his words and with his… and Pip can’t…

Walker can’t leave the past. He must dig at it, he must prod, trying to find out the truth—but only the truth he decides he can accept. I don’t think he—we—either of us can handle the truth anyway. Whatever that may be. Not that we’ll know now. It’s… he wants to know and I don’t.

I… don’t.

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Note: character work on Nan Janeway; Three Days of Rain by Richard Greenberg.

#musicmonday: Saturn | Sleeping at Last

You taught me the courage of stars before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.

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And it's curtains for W;T.

Saturn provided a fitting ending to the play, even as this rounds out my final post about it.

One day, I'll write a play as beautiful as this one. As poignant. As gripping. As devastatingly hopeful. 

#musicmonday: Death, Be Not Proud | Audrey Assad

Death, be not proud
Even death will die

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Last post on this topic. Promise.
The show is this week!

GET YOUR TICKETS HERE

#musicmonday: Death Be Not Proud | Attalus

Death be not proud
though men will fear you
and think you grave when they draw near you
'cause you take us down
and we can't escape the fact
but I've learned by now
your rite is just an act

so lay my bones inside a hearse
take me in and do your worst
but, tell me why you choose to boast
you're just a shadow and a ghost
I'll breathe again, you'll be surprised
when you're the only one who dies
Death, be not proud
you'll soon find out

You're not the end
You're just the start of me
beneath my skin is the real heart of me
so don't pretend
that you can keep me locked forever in your grasp

but you're just a ship sunk on the ocean floor
your flag was stripped when you hit heaven's shore
so close your grip
but the only thing you'll ever hold is dust and ash
Death be not proud of that

dates on a stone
they're just an alibi
a simple line, it can't sum up my life
beneath the tears
the wreaths, the letters, and the roses
God composes a new life
as the old one decomposes

So come on death, I've got your dues
take them any way you choose
and shake the heavens with your smile
if my bones are worth your while
but this coffin's just a womb
thanks to the cross and empty tomb
my God will get the final laugh
Death, here He comes - your epitaph!

you're not the end
you're just the start of me
beneath my skin is the real heart of me
so don't pretend
that you can keep me locked forever in your grasp
you're just a ship sunk on the ocean floor
your flag was stripped
when you hit heaven's shore
so close your grip
but the only thing you'll ever hold is dust and ash
Death be not proud, you set me free at last

I lay down my life
and find it again
dust turns to dust
but my heart and soul ascend
God bless the path
that leads me through life's shallow end

I lay down my life
and find it at last
dust turns to dust
but I escape this shipwrecked mast
God bless the calm
that drowns the voices from my past

I lay down my life
and find it anew
joy turns to joy
at the thought of breaking through
God bless the pain
that makes me desperate for the view

Death be not proud
what are you boasting for?
thanks be to God
your walls are just an open door
God bless the place where you can't haunt me anymore

Death be not proud
what are you boasting for?
thanks be to God
your walls are just an open door
God bless the place where you can't haunt me any more

Lay my bones inside a hearse
take me in and do your worst
tell me why you choose to boast
you're just a shadow and a ghost
lay my bones inside the dirt
take me in and do your worst
in the end you'll be surprised
when you're the only one who dies
death be not proud
death be not proud

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EDIT: A fitting post for today, maybe?

Death, be not proud, though some may call thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.

And though he sleeps on earth now, he wakes in the arms of the Eternal.

#fridayflash: Death, Thou Shalt Die (Fleshing Susie Monahan #4)

I read this book once - I do read, you know, when I have time - about Death. It was my sister's book. Reaper, I think it was called. Reaper Man? Something like that. About how Death became... human? Not exactly human, I guess, at least, he was given a timer and told his time would run out and the new Death would come for him. So he set out to discover what it felt like to be alive. I don't remember much of what it said anymore - it was really long ago, back when I was still in school - but Death kind of (I think) falls in love with the woman he was staying with. And he discovered that he didn't want to die, being on the other end of the scythe.

We talked last night. Early this morning, rather. She was awake. Worried. Afraid. I... I took my chance, though Jace might hate me for it. Kelekian... Kelekian might understand. He's a little more... well, he knows better when to give up. When to be human, or at least, "nice". Through experience. I wonder if he was once like Jace. Probably. I don't know. Anyway. I gave her her choices, bulldozing my way through like I had a right to, but... she's good at reading people, you know? At least, she's good at reading me.

At any rate, I'm glad I did.
For better or worse.

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So. Tickets are for sale. Did I not tell you yet? I think I did.
Come watch meeeee :D
Call penangpac or get it off ticketpro.

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Also, Charity Event. So all money goes to Penang Hospice Society.


And none to me.

Buy a book. Support your local artist :P

#fridayflash: On John Donne (Fleshing Susie Monahan #3)

Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;

So I looked up John Donne. It’s all Vivian and Jace talk about. It’s dark. Darker than I thought poetry could be. I mean, you always think of these dreamy, floaty stuff when you talk about poems, don’t you? But John Donne talks about death. Death and God.

I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.

When you think about it, that’s true, isn’t it? Death meets us all. I don’t run to it, but I can’t run away either. It’s coming quick for Vivian. A frightening thought. I don’t think Jace thinks of it at all. Sometimes it’s like he thinks he’s as immortal as those cancer cells of his.

I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.

Jace calls it Salvation Anxiety and treats it as an eternal puzzle to solve without any resolution. Vivian liked it enough to give him an A minus, so I suppose they think alike in some ways. I don’t know. He calls it that “meaning of life garbage” but it isn’t that. There has to be meaning, doesn’t there? I mean, I don’t know if my sin weighs my flesh towards hell (if I’m even understanding this right), but…
Death doesn’t terrify me. It’s just another rite of life. But the road to it can be terrifying, especially with cancer. Which, I suppose, is why I’m here. Why I do what I do.

Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;

I don’t know why Donne needs God’s permission to look at Him. Doesn’t He call us all to seek His face anyway? Maybe it means something that I don’t get. Maybe it’s something you’ll only understand if you study more of his poems.

But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.

And maybe that’s why Jace thinks I’m stupid. I mean, he’s never said it directly, but sometimes… Subtle foe? I’m guessing he means the devil. I admit, I’m not the best at reading this sort of stuff. Like I said, I never took literature. Poetry is hard. Which is why Vivian studied it, I guess. But at least I treat people like people, not like… research.

Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

I had to look up ‘adamant’. I thought I knew what it meant, but it didn’t make sense. Even then, there were so many meanings, that I’m guessing the one he wants is the one meaning “magnet”. Because that makes sense, to me at least. God being a magnet, drawing my heart to him.

Oh, I don’t know.

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John Donne's Holy Sonnet I, quoted from http://www.bartleby.com/357/91.html

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https://www.facebook.com/events/574052542755635/

#fridayflash: Oh, Jace (Fleshing Susie Monahan #2)

I trusted you once. Looked up to you. You were so smart, so good-looking. Focused. I could see that you would go far. I listened to your dreams, the things that you wanted to achieve, the illnesses you would cure. When you spoke, I soared with you. You do that, you know.

And then she came and all she was to you was research. Nothing more.

Not a person. Not a soul.

Just research. Data.

Even when she was breaking down, even when her body failed her and all we could do was give her comfort – you didn’t care, did you? All you cared for was what she gave you. Those precious numbers on your graphs, the symptoms, the problem areas, the side effects. She was all that, but not a person. Not to you.

But you can’t live on dreams, can you? I can’t. Maybe you can. I don’t know. I think you’ve kind of lost the forest for the trees.

I get that maybe you don’t believe in God… in that "meaning of life garbage". I get that you don't have salvation anxiety, for all that she taught you about it.

You don’t have to.

But I wish you’d listen to your heart for once. 

If you still have one.

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W;T performances update: 

#fridayflash: Fleshing Susie Monahan

You’re cold and hard and lonely and I want to comfort you, but you don’t want comforting. It’s not just professionalism or “clinical” like some of the fellows here. I know, it’s my job, but I do care. That’s why I became a nurse. To make people feel happier in their saddest times. To let them know they are loved, that they’re wanted and cared for even if they’re alone.

You’re so alone, Vivian. You don’t want to let me in. I mean, you listen to me sometimes, you laugh and you seem welcoming for a while, but when I leave I know you freeze up again, stuck in your lonely little tower. Maybe you laugh at me a little because I really don’t know what you’re getting at sometimes. I don’t know what to say sometimes, because you make me feel stupid with your big words and your sarcastic voice. So I just try to be my kindest even if I don’t understand.

I do wish I had taken poetry. It’s not just empty words. I do wish I had learnt something of it, if only to be able to connect with you in some way. It’s all you know, and it kills me that it’s something I cannot give to you as part of my care. As part of my love.

You and Jason are so alike. Always thinking. Always puzzling things out. You’re so smart that you’ve forgotten what it means to be human. What it means to love. What it means to care for someone… and to be cared for. I imagine you as a young lady sometimes, maybe about my age, and I think about you falling in love – but I think you’d only fall in love with his brains. Or with his words. With his ideals. But you can’t live on those, sweetheart. You can’t.

I overheard you asking Jace if he would miss people. I don’t think he would. I don’t think he’s capable of it. But I would. 

I would miss you, even if it’s only to hear you laugh at me.

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Preliminary character work on Susie Monahan from the play W;T by Margaret Edson, which is slated to show on June 16 & 17 at PenangPAC.

I also started on a Susie/Jace piece, but didn't have time to complete it. I should probably work on it before the next rehearsal.

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Which makes me think that Semicolon doesn't work because I didn't do enough character work. I thought I knew them enough, but now I realise that I never wrote their monologues and first-person pieces, not like I did for A Place to Call Home. 

So yeah, that needs more work.

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Also, second last day to use the Smashwords coupon for 50% discount on Coexist. Talk to me if you need one ;)