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 +====== Stick ======
 +{{stick.jpg|Flyer cover for Stick}}
 +//Bread and Circuses// with **Stick**
  
 +**A Mayfest New Writing Commission and on tour** May - August 1992
 +
 +Directed by **Paula McGee**
 +
 +//Bread and Circuses// are writer-performers:​ **Janet Paisley, Mary McCann, Catherine Orr, Graham McKenzie, Alison Reid**
 +
 +
 +
 +
 +
 +
 +
 +===== The Show =====
 +
 +//Five people on a train - going nowhere?//
 +
 +Using new writing, poems, prose and monologues, five writers take an exploratory journey through the many implications of a word.
 +
 +//​**Stick**//​ examines Scottish nationalism,​ culture and attitudes, and the nation'​s relationship with England.
 +
 +As with all //Bread and Circuses// shows, each writer writes their own words. In **Stick** characters are played as follows: //May// - Mary McCann. //Mhairi// - Catherine Orr. //Teri// - Alison Reid. //Booker// - Graham McKenzie. //Ros// - Janet Paisley.
 +
 +
 +===== Extract =====
 +<box 80% round prose | Extract - **Stick**>​
 +(SOUND OF TRAIN TRAVELLING LIGHTS FLICKER ACROSS SET, SUGGESTING LIT WINDOWS OF CARRIAGES SPEEDING PAST IN THE NIGHT)
 +
 +BOOKER: Stick: verb - past tense & past participle: stuck;\\
 +TERI: thrust point of pin, weapon in, into, through; insert pointed thing into; stab; spear;\\
 +MHAIRI: fix on pointed thing; be fixed - by point, into or on; put in specified position:\\
 +ROS: Stick out, up - protrude; cause to project; be; make erect:\\
 +MAY:  Stick up for - maintain cause or character of; champion: Stick up - rob with violence, hold-up:\\
 +BOOKER: Stick up: noun - fix, become or remain fixed, as by adhesion to surfaces;\\
 +TERI: cause to adhere or cleave; endure, bear:\\
 +MHAIRI: Stick at, or to it - persist, not cease trying:\\
 +ROS: Stick-in-the-mud - slow, unprogressive:​\\
 +MAY: Stick: Lose or deprive of power of motion.
 +
 +(TRAIN FADES DOWN TO COMFORTABLE VOICE OVER LEVEL, SPOTLIGHT PICKS OUT MAY)
 +
 +MAY: A stone wall lies between us.\\
 +I hammered. Fractured. Broke it down.\\
 +You shouldered chips to my house.\\
 +Roughcast my outside walls.\\
 +With bleeding hand you tipped your cap.\\
 +With bleeding heart I bled you dry.\\
 +Ass tailed to back, you carted rocks.\\
 +Brought them back to my house.\\
 +You always were my treasure.\\
 +You built extensions to my house.\\
 +Killed white men. Black and brown for me.\\
 +I lift my glass. Salute a brick.\\
 +Don't cast a stone. You hod. At me.\\
 +
 +Plum in my mouth. I sheath your dirk.\\
 +Ornament your tartan trews.\\
 +(I always was a fine leg. Of mutton\\
 +Dressed as lamb.)\\
 +Digest with ease. Your national dish.\\
 +Goodness. Have I perhaps offended you?\\
 +How doth my kiltie dreep!\\
 +
 +Take no offence. I won't heap cairns of sorrow,\\
 +on you dissipated pate.\\
 +Swing on MacDuff. I won't ask what lies under it.\\
 +I say. You are an easy target.\\
 +Now raise your head. Bagpipe me into breakfast.\\
 +Enhance my train. Place me in the first class section.\\
 +Roll out your carpet red. I walk. Proud footed.\\
 +Through your stations. Backed up by flowers of Scotland.\\
 +A man would wish. That he were dead.\\
 +
 +(TRAIN SOUND SWELLS AND FADES AS SPOTLIGHT PICKS OUT MHAIRI)
 +
 +MHAIRI:​ Dear Penelope\\
 +I need help. This is a sincere plea.\\
 +My husband i.e. meal-ticket for life\\
 +has just grown out of me.\\
 +I know I've not a lot to offer,\\
 +getting older now,\\
 +but I'll try, though I may suffer\\
 +to make my own way -\\
 +could some talent spotter please apply.\\
 +I've got this thing for colour -\\
 +the sea, the earth, the sky.\\
 +I'll lodge them in jewels, paint\\
 +silk. I could make you such style.\\
 +What do you think?\\
 +A new man, or is it time to plan\\
 +a new life? Me, a new wife,\\
 +married to my art.\\
 +Dear Penelope\\
 +I need help.\\
 +
 +(TRAIN SOUND SWELLS AND FADES AS SPOTLIGHT PICKS OUT TERI)
 +
 +TERI: Nice cover  on  this  book  makes  it  really ​ appealing. Synchronicity nice idea. Wonder what  these  other  folks are thinking.Could be we're all tuned into the same vibe.
 +The same  clocks ​ ticking ​ to  the  same  beat.  Or  like synchronised swimmers, legs in the air inside our  heads. Somewhere at the centre of things there'​s ​ a  great  pool bubbling ​ like  a  cauldron, ​ simmering ​ with  ideas  and happenings. Wow! I saw a butterfly this  morning ​ settled right outside my window. Butterflies are symbols ​ of  the
 +soul, so I woke up. Sat up and thought ​ Yes  go.  There'​s your soul in the garden, hovering above the  pool.  Let's go. Today. So I set out. Kicking my heels. Full of joi de vivre and all that madness. My soul was fluttering to get started. To get off. So I packed and here I am. Travelling North.
 +
 +(TRAIN SOUND SWELLS AND FADES AS SPOTLIGHT PICKS OUT BOOKER)
 +
 +BOOKER: You can't fix it. You can't make it go away. I don't know what you're going to do about it. But  I  know  what  I'm going to do about it. I'm just going to  walk  away  from
 +it. Maybe? Maybe a small part of it will die if  I'​m ​ not around feeding it any more.
 +
 +(TRAIN SOUND SWELLS AND FADES AS SPOTLIGHT PICKS OUT ROS)
 +
 +ROS: I am hard pressed against your wall,\\
 +breast bruised, winded. Trumpetless\\
 +and torn, I fall away. Now,\\
 +limping the long path home, I am sworn\\
 +to not return. No more ditches, I'm done\\
 +with seeking warmth from grave trenches\\
 +where chill ices bone. Don't look for me\\
 +in shallow morning coffee cups, don't reach\\
 +for any telephone. The end of it\\
 +is ringing out - loneliness, you split me\\
 +with an incaculable ache of it.\\
 +The axe-welt flowers open, blood-free,​\\
 +tear-free, blossoming with pain. Oh,\\
 +and I stood, again and again, absorbing\\
 +the blunted stun of such sharp force\\
 +as would have had you scream release.\\
 +Touch me, hold me, meet me whole\\
 +- unspoken words, you couldn'​t read\\
 +any need of mine. Our world spins down\\
 +to balance on the pinpoint of your fear;\\
 +Jerico. And I of no discernable account,\\
 +betrayed by every faithless night.\\
 +But now I'll rewrite history,\\
 +keep safe behind your walls\\
 +while I remove to bind the gaping wound\\
 +you would not fill. I will re-make\\
 +a kind of wholeness in the silence,\\
 +soundless, leave no music in your soul.\\
 +
 +(SPOTLIGHT CUTS. TRAIN NOISE FADES UP AND BECOMES SOUND OF BRAKING AS THE TRAIN GRINDS TO A HALT. LIGHTS UP)
 +
 +MAY: We've stopped.\\
 +ROS: My, ye're quick, in't ye.\\
 +MAY: Very droll, Ros. I don't think we're at a station.\\
 +ROS: Thae'​ll be lichts, or somethin.\\
 +MAY: Don't see any.\\
 +ROS: Up aheid. Ye ken. A rid wan. Walk, dinnae walk. Cross, dinnae cross. Drive, dinnae drive. A sign. Rid. Meanin stoap.\\
 +MAY: In the middle of nowhere?\\
 +ROS: (looks out window) Ye're richt.\\
 +MAY: What?\\
 +ROS: Middle o naewhaur. I recognise it.
 +</​box>​
stick.txt ยท Last modified: 2013/06/16 14:22 (external edit)