Learning

“Humans there”

hair

collecting nails and noodles

Food stuff for dream rats that find cracks in maps to hide in.

Sun’s back. Universed like water.Rehearsed with Moon, part of one.

Tuning with each turn pruning seasons.

She’s on to burn words to fish guts and spread pigeons

like seeds into flour dust

Sour metal earns rust.

Our metal urns rust.
Creature creating.

The process of pulling water from wild space.

Tame

Process.

Creature.

Animal.

Hair.

Strand by strand, stick by stick

Black, white.

Masked.

Bottled water from Fiji.

Low Life (Extract)

Hello? Hello?! Eileen, it’s not working.

Try pressing the green button again, Pete.

I’m pressing the green button!

Well what did Michael tell you to do?

Michael said you press these buttons, and then the green button,
which is what I did. And then you wait.

What about the red one?

Hello? Hellooo?

Didn’t Michael say anything about the red one?

Red one? Oh, I don’t know. I’m going to try and give it another go.

I’m putting the kettle on!

Tea, please!
Okay, so, I put the numbers in…
0…79…5…8…2…67…0…5…1

We need some more milk, Pete.

And then the green button…

Pete? We need some more milk!

and…

Hello?

I have been waiting for your call.

Oh gosh, hello!

Hello.

Is this Martin at Wainsborough motorway services? It’s Peter.
I was given your name by Becky at the WHSmiths checkout.
I wanted to raise a concern about the long queue for the express coffee machine.

That is not my name.

Where do you want it?
Oh, did you get through?

Yes. Just there’s fine thanks.
Sorry about that Martin. Just the wife bringing me a cup of tea.
No queues at home!

That is not my name.

What’s that?

That is not my name. I am not Martin.

Oh, sorry! Well could you pass me on to Martin then please?

There is no Martin here.

Okay, well it’s important that he hears what I’ve got to say.
Could I leave him a message?

There is no Martin here. I am not Martin. I do not know Martin. Forget Martin. I am Gosh. I have been waiting for your call.

God? That’s funny!

Not God, Gosh. I have been-

Gosh!

Is it that Martin? What’s he saying.

I have been waiting for your call.

Not Martin. Gosh, apparently. He’s been waiting for my call!

Gosh? That’s funny.

Not God, G-oh, wait, yes. It is funny.

He’s been waiting for your call?
Gosh!

You are Peter Brick of 41 Peeley Close, Wainsborough aren’t you? Son of Patricia Samworth and John Brick?

Oh, yes, so I am, yes.

It might be one of those scams,
don’t tell him our address
or your mother’s name!

But I phoned him!

I have some valuable information for your family tree. You are working on the family tree, aren’t you?

When I can.

Then there is a story you must be told.

What’s he saying now?

I need to tell you about your great uncle Stanley, for it is he who makes your very family tree a possibility.

Stanley? Is that Brick, Samworth or Phelan?

Stanley Brick. Middle name Quentin.

Eileen, get the family tree and look up a Stanley.

Is that Brick, Phelan or Samworth?

Brick. Middle name Q.

You won’t find him in there.

Can’t find a Stanley Q. Brick in here.

Apparently you wont find him in there!

Oh, why not?

Why not?

He doesn’t exist yet.

Oh. He doesn’t exist yet.

He doesn’t exist yet? Gosh!

He doesn’t exist yet?

Not by your definition of existence. Let me tell you the story.

Is this one of those prank calls?

I phoned him!

Peter, please. Let me explain. Let me tell you.

Hang on, I think he’s going to explain.

Alright. Drink your tea.

Script Extract: GHOSTS! Prelude

1. INT. APARTMENT BLOCK CORRIDOR. EVENING.

A typical dilapidated apartment block corridor but darker and creepier, with sparse, flickering, lighting.

SFX: SPOOKY GHOST NOISES

STACY in skinny jeans and dark polo shirt is walking down to her apartment, exhausted.

The noise grows as she approaches a plain light wood door numbered 113 in mock brass. She fumbles for a key from her pocket and puts it in the lock. Turning it quickly, opening the door fast.

2. INT. STACY’S APARTMENT. EVENING

CUT TO: STACY’s lower body slamming the door behind her, leaning her back against it.

Beat.

STACY’S POV: We see the dark room. The furniture barely visible. A sofa, arm chair, TV on a cabinet, a few bookcases. A window in the background with heavy, purple curtains.

CUT TO: Her body and she moves forward, turning to the wall, reaching for the light switch.

CUT TO: The light switch. Her hand approaches from the bottom left and presses it.

STACY’S POV: As the light turns on. CHARLIE, FRED and other GHOSTS appear from behind the furniture with party hats, streamers, poppers etc.

GHOSTS
(scattered)
Surprise!

As the confetti flies, CUT TO Stacy dropping her handbag.

FOLLOW: She walks over to the armchair, sits down, picking up the TV remote, turning it on.

GHOSTS
(disappointed)
Awwwh…

Everything droops. The ghosts look defeated. Charlie mostly. The last piece of confetti falls.

PAN TO: the front door as another ghost, JACK phases through the door, carrying a huge stack of ghost pizza.

JACK
I brought pizza!

GHOSTS
(firing party popppers)
WoooOOOoOooOOOOoooo!

Party continues. Streamers. Confetti.

FADE TO BLACK.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recycled Lyrics #2: ‘Softly Weeping’

In the corner
fixing up my mind,
you can find me
most of the time
softly weeping
safely inside
my cage

And in the kitchen
somewhere down the hall,
I can capture us
standing straight and tall
sweetly dreaming
stealing to the sky
again

clutching on to this
cockeyed good-bye kiss.
Darling you’ve been missed
Darling, I’ve been

In the corner
most of the time
you can reach me
leeching off my mind,
softly weeping
safely inside
my brain.

‘Cause now and then
I remember my place.
Heavy drinking
blinking into space
softly sleeping
slipping away
to your cage

clutching on to this
cockeyed good-bye kiss.
Darling you’ve been missed
and darling, while you’re sleeping
I’ll be softly weeping

Rhyme Exercise: End Times

Some GCSE kids write rock songs about living in ‘the end times’,

fumbling over syllables and the length of lines,

soul searching for the most desperate rhymes.

One of them heard Tom Waits for the very first time.

Now everything’s the devil in disguise,

and that waitress,

sure,

she’s got marmalade thighs

but he doesn’t know why

or whether it’s a good thing, besides,

his lyrics are still sticky and adolescent inside.

Like the tissues hiding down his bedside

This is the kid who learnt how to make love and socialise

By repeatedly watching those Central Perk guys.

His favourite has changed from Joey to Ross.

S’pose he feels like he can empathise.

‘I prefer Seinfeld anyway’ he lies

Still forgetting to dot his ‘I’s

But he pretends to prefer anything his friends

don’t know

don’t like

or even despise.

It justifies him feeling marginalised.

Heck, maybe these are the end times

But who ever promised him otherwise?

Undone v.II

But you’re stuck

Again.

Watching the caught up Sun

come undone

for you.

Watching it strip

itself of colour

and cry

for you.

And wash

out the sky

for you.

But you’re stuck

Again.

Watching the colour ooze

from the easel

from the earth

as it gives birth to excuses

for you.

From the sea

from your poetry

from you.

from me.

Till all you see are

Fleeting glimpses of the nothings

that flash

through the peeking spaces

of closed blinds

in that timeless space

where you’re ‘trying’.

But you’re stuck.

Still.

And when the Sun flicks the switch

and finishes itself

You’ll lay the blame

on somebody else.

So that you might find

yourself un

stuck

for the shortest time.

Recycled Diary Entry #1

A good mood.

Smiling.

Trying to sleep.

Then pictures. Crying. Blood. Weep.

Tell myself I’ve misunderstood.

I AM happy!

So why?

Curse. Gets worse. Children dying. Screaming.

Dreaming.

Switch the light on.

Shared bed.

Shaking, scared.

Very late. Wide awake.

Try to sleep.

Pictures.

Bodies moving.

Breaking. Wasting. Exhausting. Holocaust. Gas mask. Straight back. She.

She.

Sh-She tries to calm me.

Pictures.

Us.

A beautiful room.

A big fireplace.

An empty face. Severed head.

Single bed. Rotting corpse. Staring upwards.

Staring.

Staring.

It’s in my head.

Sleep with the light on. T-shirt too tight on.

Awake with the light on.

Too bright. Too much.

Too dark to sleep tonight.