Play for today?

                

Around Xmas time last year I wrote a wee play about mental health, music and much, much more (sorry, alliteration is a sickness...). I think if this piece had a subtitle it might be 'Waiting for Barlow'. Nothing much as happened with it so I thought I'd post it here for anyone who wants a look.  

'Tick Here' 

A short play 

for 6 actors

by

Rachel Fox

                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                                                                               
Setting

Five actors are lying on their backs on the stage. Their feet meet in the middle of the stage and they are spaced out in a circle like too many hands on a clock. The lights are low but spotlights shine on each one of the actors. Each one of the five is wearing a top (t-shirt/hoodie) in a different colour (one is in red, one blue, one purple, one green, one yellow).

                       

RED

              (singing)

Forget your troubles, come on, get happy.

          (short pause, more singing, a little louder)

Forget your troubles, come on, get happy.

              (long pause, more singing, louder again)

Forget your troubles, come on, get happy.

                        BLUE

              (impatient)

Do you not know the rest of that song?

                        RED

              (annoyed)

Of course I do.

                        BLUE

Why don’t you sing it then?

                        RED

Because I’m a broken record, didn’t you know? That’s my thing.

         

                        BLUE

Oh, my god, I said that one time!

                        PURPLE

I think you mean ‘once’. And you’ve said it loads of times.

                        BLUE

              (snide)       

So you’re saying I’m a broken record for saying Red’s a broken record?

                       

PURPLE

I believe I am.

                        BLUE

Well, that’s great. Thanks.

                        PURPLE

You’re welcome. I don’t see why you should get away with criticising Red. We’re all stuck here. None of us is any better than anyone else. Someone has to keep you under control.

                   BLUE

And it always (pauses) has to be you.

                   PURPLE

If the song fits…

                   BLUE

But they’re not even the right words to ‘Get Happy’! And is that really the best song to be singing? Here? Now? It’s crap enough just being here (spreads arms out) – we don’t have to turn it into some cheesy Andrew Lloyd Webber (waves arms) muuuusical shhhhhhow.

                   GREEN

I prefer ‘Get Happy’ to (warbles) ‘Memory’.

                   YELLOW

          (laughs)

Or (sings, in an exaggerated way)‘I wore my coat…’

                   GREEN

Don’t, don’t! That song is the worst! As if I’m not in enough pain.    

                   YELLOW

(singing) ‘Don’t cry for me…’?

                   GREEN

(giggling)

(singing) ‘Frank and Tina...’  

                   YELLOW

And I’ve never even seen (sings, over-dramatically) ‘The Phaaaantom of the Opera is’…

                   BLUE

          (tight-lipped)

And now you never will, I’m glad to say. You two can’t sing for coffee.

                   GREEN

          (laughing)

Now you’re criticising us too! You’re pathetic.

                   BLUE

          (deadpan)

We’re all pathetic.

          (silence)

RED

          (half sitting up, leaning on elbows)

So, anyone know any good jokes?

                   PURPLE

I think we know the answer to that.

                   RED

          (lying back down)

You know me – ever hopeful.

                   BLUE

Sometimes that’s you. Other times you think the world is coming to an end if anyone even dares to breathe near you.

                   GREEN

Well, isn’t it? And at least some of us have more than one mood. You’re just miserable and gloomy (spreads these last 3 words out in a droning voice) all… the… time.

                   BLUE

Show me something to be cheerful about, why don’t you? Got an exciting day planned? Going out to see the sights?

                  

GREEN

Well…(pause). It’s not raining. It’s worse when it’s raining.

                   YELLOW

Good point.

GREEN

And today my overall body pain is maybe only a 7 out of 10 so I am comparatively (sings – to Nina Simone tune) ‘feeling good’.

                   BLUE

          (sarcastic)

Your positivity is so charming.

                   YELLOW

(reaching a hand out towards GREEN)

You know I’d do something about the pain if I could.

                  

GREEN

I think we all want to help each other. It’s just so difficult.

                   BLUE

Speak for yourself. If I got a chance to get away from this stupid thing I would be off like the clappers, no looking back, no helping hand for anyone.

                   PURPLE

You say that. You think it makes you sound cool.

                  

BLUE

By this point we’re all a little past cool, don’t you think? And p.s. could you stop trying to get all the votes for class president or whatever it is you’re after? It’s not like we could even get to the ballot box. The only one of us that ever gets to move is that Orange idiot and what a waste of freedom they are.

ORANGE

(from one of the back rows of the audience)

     I can hear you, you know.

                        BLUE

See what I mean? Gets to swan about on legs and everything and does what with them? Sits up there listening to us in case we say anything a teensy weeny bit critical.

                   YELLOW

          (gently)

That attitude isn’t helpful.

                   BLUE

Boo hoo.

                   ORANGE

In fact it’s exactly that friendly, welcoming manner that keeps me over here.

                   PURPLE

How are you doing anyway? Seen anything interesting? Been anywhere?

   

ORANGE

          (staccato, twitchy)

I’ve thought about a few things, had a few plans. But it was all too much. (ORANGE looks distracted). Everything’s so expensive. And it takes so long to get anywhere. And everywhere’s too busy. So I just stayed here.

                   BLUE

(whines) ‘Don’t go breaking my heart…’

                  

GREEN

Elton John!

                  

                   YELLOW

Kiki Dee!

                   GREEN and YELLOW together

P-I-S-S-I-N-G!

          (RED, GREEN and YELLOW laugh)

                   BLUE

You should send that to Lloyd Webber. He might find a use for it.

                   GREEN

(sings) ‘We will, we will shock you!’

                   YELLOW

(sings)‘Mamma mia, here I go again… can’t stop, running to the toilet…’

                   PURPLE

I think that one needs a bit of work.

                   BLUE

Plus ‘Mamma Mia’ wasn’t a Lloyd Webber show.

                   GREEN

You’re quite the expert. Seen ‘Chess’ have we?

                   BLUE

That isn’t one of his shows either. Jesus.

                   RED

That was though – (sings) ‘Jesus Christ… superstar…’

                   GREEN and YELLOW

(sings) ‘Can’t change the tyres on my grandad’s car’.

                   RED

I just like songs. I’m not so fussed about who they’re by.

                   BLUE

Well, you say that but even you weren’t keen on that Gary Barlow when he was here last year.

                   RED

That’s true.

                   PURPLE

Yes, I think that’s one thing we can all agree on.

                   BLUE

              (dramatic, ghostly voice)

Nooooo Baaaaaarlooooow.

                   GREEN/YELLOW

              (in squeaky high voices)

(not sung) ‘Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn’t mean it…’

                   RED

I once had a dream where Robbie Williams was a dog who kept trying to shag my leg (waves leg in the air).

                   GREEN

(sings ABBA’s) ‘I had a dream…’

                   RED

It was quite disturbing. And dreams mean so much here that it felt like a waste.

                   BLUE

I’ve had it with dreams. I would so love something real. Real food…

                   GREEN/YELLOW

(sing) ‘Food glorious food…’

                   BLUE

Anything. (calls up to ORANGE) Can’t you bring us something to eat? I can hardly remember what flavours feel like on my tongue.

                  

RED

You know we don’t get anything. Sometimes I understand why, sometimes I don’t.

                   YELLOW

I never understand anything. But I suppose at least we have each other.

                   BLUE

Oh, it’s quite the summer camp.

                   RED and GREEN

(sing ‘Dirty Dancing’ song, hold arms out) ‘I had the time of my life…’

                   BLUE

We get the point.

                   PURPLE

What would you rather we all do? Moan, moan and moan some more?

                   BLUE

Maybe we could try it… just once. See if it’s better than all the bloody singing.

                   ORANGE

Moaning is a really bad idea. It could all change at any time. You have to be ready, stay open to opportunity, be positive.

                   BLUE

I’m not sure I want to be lectured at by someone who has a way out and can’t even take it.

                   PURPLE

Leave Orange alone. What have they ever done to you?

                  

BLUE

Wasted a chance, that’s what! While we’re stuck here. It’s not fair.

                   ORANGE

I’m stuck too. It just looks different.

                   BLUE

It certainly does.

                   ORANGE        

You’re so sure of everything. I can’t imagine what that feels like. I’m never sure about anything.

                   BLUE

It’s easy. ‘Are you sure you can’t get up?’ I say to myself. And look (BLUE tries to lift their body up off the floor), nothing. Stuck here like a giant fridge magnet.

                   RED

I dream I get up sometimes. I’m running around like a little kid, skipping, jumping.

                   PURPLE

I think we all have those dreams.

                   BLUE

Not me. I’ve just switched off that bit of my brain.

                   GREEN

No dreams at all? (Giggles) Not even sexy ones?

                   BLUE

Especially not those. What’s the point?

                   YELLOW

Dreams don’t have a point.

                   BLUE

Well, they do actually. They’re just your brain sorting out all the stuff it’s done in a day and working it all through. But as we never do anything here there’s nothing to sort out is there?

              (A pause)

                   RED

You are the downer to end all downers.

              BLUE

No song? No peppy pick-me-up with a jaunty tune? No (sings) ‘Oh what a beautiful morning?’ No (sings)‘Hakuna matata’?

                   RED

No, I think maybe you have driven any last joy even from me today. (RED rolls over to face the floor)

                   BLUE

‘Today’? Like we can tell one day from another. When did we last see the sun? Or a proper night?

          (pause)

                   GREEN

How long do you think it’s been?

                   YELLOW

Thinking about that makes it worse, doesn’t it?

                   BLUE

Please tell me how this could be worse? Enlighten me! Really.

          (pause)

                   GREEN

I can’t even think of any more songs. I’m trying to think of one but there’s nothing.

                   YELLOW

Me neither. Usually my head is full of them but I’ve nothing.

             

                   PURPLE

Well done, Blue. Another successful intervention.

                   BLUE

This is hardly my fault. I’m just honest, more honest than the rest of you.

                   ORANGE

Yes, you fill our tortuous time with all that refreshing, scintillating honesty. We’re so grateful.

                   BLUE

Oh, come on! Can’t you just (with sarcasm) ‘pack up your troubles and just get happy’? Can’t you ‘chase all your cares away’? What’s wrong with you all? What a bunch of losers (laughs)– no wonder you ended up here! This is the promised land, didn’t you know? This is exactly what we were promised. We just didn’t believe it. We thought there was no way it could be this crap. But it is.

                   ORANGE   

But you can’t leave it like that. There are people watching us, hoping for signs, wanting answers, wanting endings.

                   BLUE

What people? I don’t see any people.

                   ORANGE

Here, look! (ORANGE moves along a row, faces of the audience showing in the spotlight) They can’t just leave here, get on the bus, go home to bed and think about this… How depressing!

                  

PURPLE

They can go to the bar, I suppose.

                   BLUE

They’ve probably already been. I could never get through anything in the theatre without a few drinks inside me.

                   YELLOW

We’re in a theatre?

                   RED

Is it ‘Black Mirror’? Are we in ‘Black Mirror’?

ORANGE

I don’t know. The audience seem kind of live. (ORANGE pokes an audience member)

                   YELLOW

You’re with real people? I’m so jealous.

                   ORANGE

Well, you’re down there with all the others. That makes me jealous. Crowds of strangers just make me anxious.

                   BLUE
Everything makes you anxious.

                   ORANGE

Yes, except you, you just make me sad.

                   BLUE

You’re a nervous wreck.

                   ORANGE

You’re a miserable bastard.

                   YELLOW

I’m nervous and miserable. What does that make me?

                   BLUE
Sometimes I wish I’d just said yes to ‘Big Brother’. It might have been more entertaining.

                   PURPLE

I think that’s the only show that’s not been made into a musical.

                   BLUE

I think you’ll find there was one in development a few years ago…

                   RED

I still can’t think of any tunes – not one. It’s like someone has sucked them all out of my head with a vacuum cleaner. Can anyone remember that Monty Python song? Something about life?

                   GREEN

Or some Proclaimers? They always used to cheer us up.

                   YELLOW

It’s true. I’m getting nothing. It’s like talk radio in my head.

                   BLUE

Now there’s a bad memory.                  

                   PURPLE

But, you see, Blue, the days are different from each other after all. This, apparently, is the day we lost music.

          (long pause)

                   BLUE

It’s funny. I kind of miss the songs now they’re gone.

                   PURPLE

Even the crap ones?

                  

BLUE

Maybe.

                   GREEN

Even the ones by Gary Barlow?

                  

BLUE

There’s no need to get carried away. I still have some standards.

                        YELLOW

     So what do we do now? I feel so empty.

                        PURPLE

Poetry it is then… I’ll start, shall I?

Differences

Napoleon and me

You walked so fast.

It was more of a march.

A whole lot of cannons

To inspect by teatime.

Quel odd city break

For an offbeat couple –

Private angry young man,

Smart barrel of a brat.

Half-brother, half-leader,

I tried to decipher.

But what you’ve never felt

Is a story, no more.

Our family was a bag

Of broken biscuits,

Though all cookies crumble,

Eventually.

We are nothing now.

No trace of relation.

You’re a souvenir ghost,

An empty shell.

RF 2018


No poems from me recently, in fact even this one has been around for a while, just never made it out into the world (apart from a reading in Glasgow last year). I can't say much about it. I hope it is of interest to someone.

Tomorrow I plan to join the Climate Strike protest here in Dundee. Let there be change!

Bloody words

As someone who has dared to put poetry out into the world now and again, I have already been asked by various friends and acquaintances about the recent edition of the BBC radio programme Desert Island Discs (DID) that featured the poet John Cooper Clarke (JCC). I have been asked if I like him, did I listen, do I think he’s brilliant, all that sort of thing, but somehow I have found it hard to respond with anything like quick and easy answers. I was never a punk so didn’t come across him at gigs as many of my contemporaries did, but I have been aware of him for years now (thanks to the kind of media coverage few poets experience) and I have liked the poems I’ve heard. He is sharp, funny, like no-one else in poetry that I've ever come across and pretty much in alternative national treasure territory by this point so I don’t go into any kind of criticism lightly. And yet, here are some thoughts in response to the programme in a fairly long, easy-to-ignore blog post. Insert smiley face emoji here. 

Firstly, yes, I did listen to the programme. I love DID (as presented by Kirsty Young or Lauren Laverne anyway, some of the earlier hosts have not lasted well…). I even wrote a poem about listening to the show a little while back. I’m not saying it’s a great poem (it’s not) – it’s just a tiny tribute. The show, at its best, is a marvellous thing (try the editions with Victoria Wood, Whoopi Goldberg, George Michael, Jackie Kay, Wendy Cope, Lemn Sissay and many more if you don’t believe me). There is a ‘klaxon’ thing on Twitter for ‘people who have just discovered Desert Island Discs’ and are very excited about it. Every episode is on the BBC i-player for those who have access to such things.

Also, yes, the JCC episode was a good listen. He is very entertaining (and I say that as a good thing - no snark at all) and he has had an interesting life (though to be honest most people have had interesting lives, this is not the preserve of writers and other success stories). Also JCC and I have some things in common (North of England raising, more illegal drug use than some, a tendency to go for laughs and dirt rather than other people’s ideas of perfection, a keen interest in music, songs and singers) and so, partly due to this, there are lots of things about his public persona that make me smile (the accent, the humour, the refusal to be simplistic about drug use – and I say ‘persona’ because I have no idea what he is like when not in public). I especially liked the section in JCC’s DID about his poem being used in The Sopranos because I remember being so thrilled and surprised when I heard Evidently Chickentown at the end of an episode. For that crabby Northern English voice to make it onto such a huge, influential US show – it meant a lot, it even sent the word 'Chickentown', sampled I suppose, into a poem of mine called Home is where (and that poem made it onto the first Poetry Bus magazine… hi Peadar!). So I am, in many ways, a fan.

But the problem for me in this interview came early on with the introduction of the thorny topic of poems and politics (or political poetry). The presenter (Lauren Laverne…another voice from the North of England, buckets of energy and excitement on her new Breakfast Show on 6 Music) started off with “Your poems aren’t political - Why not?” and I so wish she hadn’t. JCC’s answer (I suspect not for the first time) was: “Because I think the poetry and the politics suffer for it, you know, anyone who can be converted to a particular world view because of a poem (laughs) – I think they’re looking in the wrong places for whatever it is they want. But to hitch your poetry to any particular political wagon is always a mistake. Because poetry is forever – you write a poem and it’s out there and you can’t unwrite it and politically, well, you know, one can change one’s mind many times a day.”

So many points in there to disagree with! For a start he takes such a small (and I might also say old-fashioned) approach to the word ‘political’. Just by chance this week I came across another reference to the subject in a Barbara Kingsolver lecture from 1993 (Jabberwocky in the book High Tide in Tucson, 1995): “Cultural workers in the US are prone to be bound and gagged by a dread of being called political, for that word implies the art is not quite pure. Real art, the story goes, does not endorse a point of view. This is utter nonsense, of course (try to imagine a story or a painting with no point of view), and also the most thorough and invisible form of censorship I’ve ever encountered.” As an unashamed bleeding heart, I love Kingsolver's books. Like many writers and artists, she has a lot she wants us to think about, a lot she wants us to do something about and I don't think that's a bad thing.

I imagine JCC was not looking for a big debate about this, perhaps he was tired of being asked this question, perhaps he just isn’t interested in seeing things in this way but, for me, it does explain why I’ve liked some of his poems but never loved them. I like political poems (political art of all kinds) and partly because I see strong political content as making the work more interesting, not less. This doesn’t mean I want to read propaganda and I do also understand the argument that says people aren’t going to change their view because of a poem (although I think, in fact, that they often do, maybe not on the huge issues – “I was a fascist until I read Carol Ann Duffy but I’m OK now” – but political change can be, and more often is, a long, slow process and art can be involved in that). 

Also political poetry isn’t only about changing minds but is very often about encouraging people, telling them they are not alone, telling an untold story, being the unheard voice, or part of a whole host of other political activities. JCC has been the unheard voice himself (in terms of the accent, the rebel, the unacceptable face of culture becoming the mainstream), though I’m guessing he’d rather not think about it in those terms (wouldn't we all love just to be amazing and divorced from our circumstances now and again?). As an aforementioned bleeding heart (and proud of it – I nearly called a book of poems ‘On my sleeve’) I will also go out on the stretcher that says that almost everything is political (in some way or other) – our decisions, our behaviour, the things that we don’t think are political at all – and in the current climate (indeed in any climate) I don’t think it’s honest, especially with writing, to suggest that you can escape this. You can think you are escaping it, for sure, but then you get ill and need to see a doctor (and guess what, politics has affected when you will be able to see one and if you will need to pay for it). Thinking that there is anything outside of politics is a story we tell ourselves to try to feel better (even to survive sometimes, in a bizarre twist) and it is understandable that we do this (now as much as ever) because so much party politics/political activity in the news is disgusting, on the one hand, and ridiculous, on the other. But of course turning away from it doesn’t mean it goes away. The stuff keeps on happening no matter how many box sets we hide behind.

So, all things considered I couldn’t really concentrate on the rest of the JCC DID after that ‘political’ start and that’s why I’ve found it hard to respond to in general conversation (not everyone wants an answer this long - largely people just want you to smile and say 'yes'). I do admire JCC in many ways (not that he cares about that I’m sure) and I suspect that, in part, like Bob Dylan, he initially resisted being put in a box that said ‘political’ because of the scene he was first associated with and some of the less than inspiring ‘political’ work he heard from others as part of that scene. But for me ‘political wagons’ are so necessary (what would we rather have – no progress, no rights, no welfare?) and, whilst I can love a love poem*, I do think a good political poem is one of the finest types of writing there is (see Adrian Mitchell’s To whom it may concern or Maya Angelou’s And still I rise for established examples, and yes, I went for Serena reading Angelou). Many poets writing just now are coming up with fierce company for these poems – and note I say ‘company’, not ‘rivals’ – again the words we choose are political in themselves and poetry does not need to be another battleground (we have plenty of those).

Just recently I was listening to my very favourite radio show (Sunday mornings, Cerys Matthews, BBC 6 Music) and one of her guests was the poet Raymond Antrobus. He read his poem Jamaican British and though I knew his name, that he had just won the Ted Hughes award and had heard him on the radio before, the poem he read (and a couple of lines in particular) just flew out at me (I won’t give you a spoiler – the poem is here if you don’t know it already). It is personal and political and there is nothing stronger. And Antrobus is just one of many exciting writers working today - go to any poetry or open mic event around the country these days and you will hear a lot of strong political work. Not all of it will be great of course…there will be clichés (there will always be clichés!) but that happens to everything we make, there are always weaker copies of great work, people just starting out etc. and I don’t think we should let a few half-baked poems put us off a whole kitchen. Political poetry is not a subgenre to be embarrassed about – it is a lively force, a necessary current, the source of much power and reassurance and hope and direction. Out and about, here, there and everywhere, there are new things being said, amazing turns of phrase and eye-opening changes. And we need them.

*Added later - we tend to differentiate between love poems and political poems but of course a love poem can be (and often is) political too. 

Ships and things

Not much posting on here just now. Not much writing in general, truth be told. But that's OK. Lots of other people are writing fairly regularly so writing doesn't need to feel neglected or anything. I have been working (not writing-related), going out and about, trying to be more alive and less afraid (sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't...).

Still, some of my poems live on apparently (in my own mind, in the minds of others). Yesterday somebody quoted a bit of this old thing back to me so I thought maybe it could take another look out at the world. It's not in either of my books or online anywhere that I know of (though I think it was once on MySpace...). It is number 5 in my list of poems (I like a list) and the total to date is 519 so I must have written it a good while ago (maybe 1998?). Those years were a bit blurry though so I can't be sure. It is from my 'no punctuation at all in poems' period too. I miss those days

The Ship

More than a TV show

People have very different interpretations of this word

Friends

To me 'we're friends' means

I value you as a person

I see you as an equal

I am not better or worse than you

You have qualities I admire

That draw me to you rather than to others

I want to do things for you

And relax knowing that we will help each other

I trust you

Because you are my friend specifically

Not an unknown quantity

Or a floating voter

But a supporter

Supporting me whilst I'm supporting you

We're a feat of physics

A natural phenomenon

Proof that people help each other

For reasons other than finances and self-interest

I believe all this

Sometimes it seems stupidly

This word friends

Maybe I read too much into it

RF, way back when.

A cup or five

Reusing

Years ago, if I saw the word ‘coffee’ in a poem

I would groan and shift in my seat

At the tired cliché of a weary writer

Reflecting over a hot beverage, possibly abroad.

But now I, too, am tired like words, lost like sense,

And coffee calls from every side.

From choppy chains to specialist brews,

I buy it, drink it, know it’s too late.

RF 2019

Not many poems of late but here is a little one. And I NEVER post photos of food so here is a part of a recent birthday lunch. It was a bit frozen in the middle but that is January birthdays for you (and the company was good).

(Added later) And I forgot to say that this one makes me laugh (if no-one else) because there used to be a running joke with a Leeds friend about a 'latte' coffee being pronounced 'late' (early days of Starbucks in the city I think...).

x

Xmas Number One

Two years ago I posted a Xmas poem on here. And behold... it is now a Xmas song (courtesy of Kinnaber Junction/Gary Anderson). Enjoy. Other song poems here.