Thoughts of an Anarchist

In my mind, drama = me. It has done since I was four years old, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do, and it’s what I will do. If I didn’t do drama I would simply cease to exist as the person I am now.

So when on Thursday we recieved the kick up the bum that we might fail drama AS, despite putting everything into it - that we might get a D - I was slightly shellshocked.

Since then I’ve pretty much been working whenever I can, because I cannot fail.

Because if I don’t equal drama, than what’s left for me to equal?

… pation.

 

So, a certain member of our friends who has asked to remain nameless has accquired a blog; can be accessed on the sidebar via the link ‘The Monarch Dailies’, which should give you a clue as to who they are if you know them. Mindez has also accquired a nice new shiny blog, and by the way

 

SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER.

 

Except it’s not, because, y’know, revision sessions and exams. But still, spent a lovely weekend celebrating. Walked to Lydiard, had barbecue, put up gazebo, it was awesome. And then on Friday evening…

It was beyond awesome. The music was superb, and we all had a great time singing and dancing along with the songs; we’d all memorised some of the alternate script, so we heckled happily:

“Frank’s kisses overwhelmed me and my lips were hungry…” “WHICH ONES?”

“It felt as though she was riding a great - ” “COCK!” “… Well, I’ve got tidal wave down here, but I’ll take cock if you want me to.”

Frank (see left) was gorgeous and wonderful, and even the straight men fell in love with his voice by the end of the evening… he also looked far better in fishnets than I did. He was practically Tim Curry, which was rather scary. Columbia was also brilliantly insane, although Eddie left a little to be desired. We laughed and we came close to crying - or at least I did - in the final death scene… and having sat next to Gemma all evening I can proudly say I heard all the songs in surround sound.

But, in the end, it was fun, and some of the looks as we walked around Bath and Chippenham in corsets and miniskirts were rather amusing (I teamed my red corset with knee high black leather boots). The best had to be Dingle coming down the stairs at the station, wherein a guy screamed “FUCKING HELL!”, although the boys earlier with “CHICKEN LEGS!” and the disapproving chavvy girls were quite funny. There was a sense of comraderie between your fellow Rocky Whores, and at the end you’d see other people in corsets and hug them like lost friends, saying “Wasn’t it wonderful!” and weeping copiously that it was over.

Regardless, next year I shall definately be doing the time warp again. Any one coming with me (I know you will be!)?

“What have you done with Brad?!” “Nothing. Why, d’you think I should?”

 

 

I started this rant last month; then I lost my PC. Anyway, will update with more modern news in a second.

 

 

Jesus Christ, we’re performing tomorrow and I am SO terrified. 

You know how I’ve been saying I’m scared and everyone’s just been thinking ‘Huh, she always says that’? Well, I actually am so terrified I was nearly sick earlier. That is how scared I am.

And I don’t want it to be over. And I don’t want not to do it, and I don’t want to do it, and I can’t explain why I’m scared, which Eiphel says makes it a phobia. Well, fuck that.

 

 

7.30. Tomorrow.

Come.

Abs x 

Right. Tickets are officially on sale.

Would be appreciated if you could buy in advance; that way we might get a matinee.

 

 

ERK WE’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT. =D

Also, last night I saw The Chronicles of Hoggett and Webb, and it was freaking awesome.

I have actually never laughed so hard. Political satire in a nicely non-political way, with general, gentle stabs at the system of bureaucracy thrown into a piece that had us rolling in the aisles. Right at the beginning, I said to myself ‘Oh, I bet Hoggett’s gay.” However, I always think people are gay, so I put it to one side. What happened at the end? “I LOVE YOU, MR WEBB!” I win.

We had a laugh going for chips beforehand and helping put out the chairs in their soundcheck (“Touch me, hold me, stroke me, Mr Webb! It feels like a lunch day!”), but the actual play itself was awesome. It really was. Can’t wait to write essays on it.

 

However, my huge review I was writing yesterday is now irrelevant, because after rehearsal tonight this happened:

“Right. Either you’ve all gone away and learnt to act, or that was sheer fluke. Either way, that was fucking superb.”
“Uh…?”
“Absolutely superb. All of you.”
“… Dom?”
“Yes?”
“Was I.. was I firm enough?”
“You were firm enough.”

 

I AM FIRM ENOUGH, GUYS! I CAN DO IT! I CAN DO IT! I! CAN! DO IT!

YIPPPOOOOOOO!

 

Abs x

P.S. Happy Goldberg Day.

“Go home, you pisstaking bastards.”

This was the lovely, lovely comment that ended rehearsal today, and what a week it’s been. Absolute hell in moments, utterly impossible all the way through, and goddamn, yesterday was awesome. We kicked impossibility in the face. IN THE FACE. 

The pressure’s on now, for the performance is a mere TWO WEEKS away, and two members of our cast are off sick. Thus, today I had a good laugh, trying to feel up an invisible person on my leg, and strangle another invisible person, both of whom were being voiced by Dom. This meant that the Lulu/McCann argument scene was hilarious, as Dom was shouting at himself, and I was looking disparagingly at… nothing, to be perfectly frank. Still, Alice and I had fun naming her moobs afterwards, and I tried to throw Josh into oncoming traffic.

“Stop struggling, Mr Boles!”

Also, there will be a small party at my house on the Friday night for friends and family of myself who are attending. Come! There will be canapes!  =D

And the dice piece in Drama itself, our final piece, is well underway. Many squees.

 

I can’t decide if I’m excited or terrified, elated or depressed. Either way, it’s over  in two weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO WEEKS!!!!!?!??!?!?!?!

mit das glug glug glug, bitte, 

Abs x 

This is what I have been saying to you people! In PINTER’S. OWN. WORDS!

(Spoilers for the plot, but if you’re coming to see it chances are you know the play from me making you go through lines with me anyway…) 

A View Of The Party

I
The thought that Goldberg was A man she might have known Never crossed Meg’s words That morning in the room. The thought that Goldberg was A man another knew Never crossed her eyes When, glad, she welcomed him. The thought that Goldberg was A man to dread and know Jarred Stanley in the blood When, still, he heard his name. While Petey knew, not then, But later, when the light Full up upon their scene, He looked into the room. And by morning Petey saw The light begin to dim (That daylight full of sun) Though nothing could be done.	Allied in their theme, They imposed upon the room A dislocation and doom, Though Meg saw nothing done. The party they began, To hail the birthday in, Was generous and affable, Though Stanley sat alone. The toasts were said and sung, All spoke of other years, Lulu, on Goldberg’s breast, Looked up into his eyes. And Stanley sat — alone, A man he might have known, Triumphant on his hearth, Which never was his own. For Stanley had no home. Only where Goldberg was, And his bloodhound McCann, Did Stanley remember his name? They played at blind man’s buff, Blindfold the game was run, McCann tracked Stanley down, The darkness down and gone Found the game lost and won, Meg, all memory gone, Lulu’s lovenight spent, Petey impotent; A man they never knew In the centre of the room, And Stanley’s final eyes Broken by McCann. 1958
II
Nat Goldberg, who arrived With a smile on every face, Accompanied by McCann, Set a change upon the place. The thought that Goldberg was Sat in the centre of the room, A man of weight and time, To supervise the game. The thought that was McCann Walked in upon this feast, A man of skin and bone, With a green stain on his chest.

Squee!

Also, Jimmy is the best ever. I may have found the cure for period pains. More on this theory later.

Abs x

I hotlink. I am a very bad person.

Birthday Party rehearsals still going superbly. One thing is for certain; one way or another, this play is going to be worth seeing. It is going to be the most amazing play ever, both to perform and to watch. I almost wish I could come myself.

However, last night I got so into it I couldn’t snap out. We were rehearsing the interrogation scene, you see, and I was hissing and spitting in Stanley’s face, and getting so close to his ear that I could breath on his neck, and wanting to kill him; genuinely wanting to kill Dane, for Christ’s sake!, and almost driven insane by the idea of McCann and THAT PAPER. AGAIN. PUT IT DOWN, FOR GOD’S SAKE, SEAMUS.

So yeah, when Dom said that was it, I went to put my watch and glasses and school top back on, and I couldn’t. Physically couldn’t. I had to put them back down, because I didn’t feel right. And I was still walking and talking like Goldberg, and when Dane came over to chat to me, I did a very unnerving little grin, and felt like strangling him, like I was sizing him up and assessing just how I could get to him, and thinking about murder and torture. Anyway, calmed down, went to wait for the bus. It wasn’t until after Kat had gone home on her bus and we were stood chatting about everything and nothing, when Dane mentioned how everything got scarier in the dark, and his opinions of fate and destiny, that I felt it rising again. I wanted to hit him. Because there was NO POINT to this discussion. And it was discussing something I had no control over.

And then I shook my head and Dane asked what was wrong and I explained that I was still feeling like Goldberg, like wanting to punch him, and he said he could understand why, but it wasn’t affecting him quite so much, although he still gets stressed at home, and gets really bitter when his family try to talk to him. I’m taking bets on which one of us decides they have a phobia of drums or cornflakes first. We’re all already nervous whenever anyone suggests sitting down. “Why? What do you mean?!” (I spoke to him in an impromptu rehearsal today, called for no reason, in which I just couldn’t be Goldberg, couldn’t switch on, and he said he’d gone home that night and got stuck in Stanley. So it’s not just me who’s going insane. Hooray! It’s not just me who’s happily losing my brain!)

So this is what it’s like, eh? Stressful, strenuous, intense rehearsal, no letups, struggling with lines, blissful when you get it right and kicking yourself the rest of the time, praying for the slightest bit of praise from your director, soaking up every word he says, becoming consumed by the character and living, eating, and breathing the play?

YES.

THIS is what I want to do. Yes, yes, yes, YIPPEE!

Joyful, blissful thing - came top in my BCS class with an A*! 83%. How on earth?

Aside from that, oh, Goldberg, how I love thee with a passion. You’re so evil and fun to play! Today I have actually found myself becoming Goldberg for the first time - forgetting where I was and who I was, and just utterly immersing myself in the character. Not for too long, of course, which is a good thing, as it can be quite mentally destructive, but wow. 

Shiny shoes. I must get some very shiny shoes for him.

Had great fun strangling McCann, and gently threatening Petey - felt like a complete bastard, really cruel and twisted, but in the same way a bloody dangerous and deceptive man. Can’t wait for tomorrow, when I do Goldberg’s breakdown. Seriously, Simey, *ducks* I know you’re a weird bloke, but since when have you had THREE NAMES, and who the HELL is Benny?

 

For those of you who don’t know (and where have you been?) I am of course talking about the Birthday Party, to be performed on the 15th and 16th of February. I love my character - glad, at last, because I do a better Goldberg than a McCann, and it seems like he was written for me. Didn’t like him so much at first, but it turns out Dom does know what he’s doing after all!  (Who’d've thunk it?)

Oh, gosh, the excitement of the bit where I destroy Stanley’s brain, where I feel Lulu up outrageously, where I shout at Meg and terrify McCann. And where, as we discovered to our collective surprise, it is revealed that perhaps there is something between Petey and Goldberg that none of us dreamt existed…

 

For that’s the thing with Pinter, you see. The lines are garbled nonsense. Our interpretation is a completely different play to any that has ever been done - it is how we choose to portray the lines, with our insular acting, not acting off each other but playing to ourselves that create the piece. And what difficult fun it is. 

Oh, before I forget, congrats to Messers Jim and Sophie, who got A’s on their BCS also. 

 

CHRISTMAS IN A MATTER OF DAYS!

Abs x 

So, my Mum broke my internet connection. Woe of all sorts. Therefore, I’ll nae be online much, as I cannae access it from home. At Ben’s, currently.

 

Dick Barton is OVER!

Spot the Abs. Better pictures to follow at some point or another. In the end, it went quite well, as Luke remembered his lines, and I managed to keep my accent up, if a wee bit exaggerated, during the song. And my kilt > all other kilts.

Och.

In other exciting news, it’s Sophie’s birthday party tomorrow, Christmas is in under a month, and did I mention my fucking computer is broken?!

 

“Goodbye is such a harsh word, isn’t it?”

“Quite so. I prefer… Au Revioir.”

 

See you soon,

Abs x

 

P.S. You all SUCK at the competition. There will be no prizes.

What colour?

 

Er, well, I’ll have to see the dress first…

 

 

 

 

Yes, I’ve had Birthday Party recalls. Think may have done okay. They were awful. Hoping for Goldberg, cause he’s awesome and I won’t get McCann, and I really like Goldberg too.

 

Lots and lots.

 

But of course I won’t.

Remind me why I do this again?

 

 

 waiting for tomorrow,

Abs x