Friday, December 01, 2006

"Pepsi Generation ' Good for shit'"


The Fire in Bradford

A play

by Ivan Prokopchuk


ACT VII, Scene 3


Scene:

Interior scene of Polish naive -baroque magic gingerbread kitchen designed and built by Professon David
Jarworkis father, a genius cabinet maker and builder, 80 years old and happy not at all with his aging son's progress.

Mr. Jaworski Senior, the Professor's father:

"Hey Boychik.
You, Pepsi-Generation good-for -shit!

Professor: Dad...

Mr. Jaworski:

Forty-nine and fucked up. Prodigal son. The one with the education.
Your romances are starting to cost me money.

Professor: Not so much my romances, Dad.

Mr. Jaworski.

Ha. You tried to be like me. Started construction business. F*cked it up. Cut cable on project.
What you good for, Davey?
Education only about words. You build career on words. Some French words.
You think I don't know French, comme ici, comme sa?
I been through the Big War. I met everybody, every asshole there was to meet, even French asshole.
Got to have computer in head, Davey, not computer at office.
You no understand European tradition. You should be supporting me.

Professor: I was, I had been, Dad, until that divorce.
Everything seemed to go to hell, the alimony, the kids, the fucking barn boys "she" ended up with.

Mr. Jaworski:
Ah, chasing moonbams, you were. Hundred thousand in the bank, nice home, nice wife, nice kids.
You had to go and write dream book or something. Get drunk. Get blowjob from hooker. Bill Clinton imitator. Get caught.
Idiota!
You say you man of letters!
I say Pepsi Generation good for shit!

THE PROFESSOR'S FEELINGS ARE HURT.
HE STANDS UP FROM THE CHESTERFIELD HE HAD BEEN SITTING ON WIOTH HIS FATHER, THE ICONS ABOVE IN THEIR EMBRACE OF LINEN EMBROIDERY.

Professor:

I'm going home Dad.

Mr. Jaworski:

You hardly have a home to go to.
Go back to Ukraine. You not making it in this country. I make it.

Pepsi Generation good for shit.

THE PROFESSOR MOVES TOWARDS THE DOOR, OVER WHICH THERE IS ALSO A LITTLE ICON, WITH A FRINGE OF EMBROIDERY ALL AROUND.

MR. JAWORSKI STUFFS SOMETHING, A WAD OF BILLS INTO THE PROFESSOR'S JACKED POCKET.

Mr. Jaworski:
Na!Maybe someday you give to me, but I'm not placing any bets.

THE PROFESSOR GIVES HIS FATHER A HUG. THE ELDER JAWORSKI CLOSES THE DOOR.


LIGHTS: Down
to fade, then up to ACT VII SCENE 4


ACT VII, Scene 4

32 comments:

EA Monroe said...

Ahhh. Dear old dad and the abuse endured. Father Knows Best. Don't you dare offer any sass!

I had to go to work today, so I tried to keep out of mischief, Ivan. Things are pretty quiet today, but the evening's early!

Josie's no doubt getting gussied up for her big date with the French Flyer tomorrow and I haven't come up with a new blog topic that doesn't require a couple hours of thinking and typing.

Maybe I'll invite everyone to join you and Josie and me when we make our rounds Blog Carolling.

ivan said...

Ahh, yes, it's early yet, Liz.

Lots of time to get into trouble.

By Sunday we'll know whether Dashing Pierre of the Lafayette Escadrille had flown or gone down in flames.
And Josie in her flight boots.
I knew it!

I see our "blocked" web pal Jaye Wells is slowly starting to fly again after some sort of stoppage in her work.
Checked the art.
She got a triptych to ride
Heh

Josie said...

Hey, Ivan, I had to go to work today too, and they actually made me do some work.

I like the professor's father. He's honest.

Pepsi-Generation good-for-shit.

Gosh, you and Liz seem to be looking forward to my dinner tomorrow night more than I am. I'm not sure he and I will even recognize each other. He will probably still be just as annoying as he was when I knew him.

It's a balmy 2 degrees Celcius here today.

Josie

Josie said...

Ivan, are you watching the Liberal leadership race?

......yawn.

Hah.

Josie

ivan said...

Ah,
Dinner with the dashing pilot.
We must have a report.
He looks a bit like Sterling Hayden too, besides Joe Namath.
No loser.

re. The professor's father: The real model for this guy was amazing. There are times I think we can never be as good as our parents.
My mother was crazy, but sort of brilliant crazy. But you never knew when she was going to ambush you with something blunt and heavy or sharp and shiny.
Warning me of my future, I suppose.
More people have come at me with weapons! Must be my pleasing personality.
WEATHER IN ALL OF NORTH AMERICA GONE CRAZY. ENTIRE MIDWEST IN MONSTER STORM.
WILD WINDS HERE IN TO, FREEZING RAIN COMING.
...WE GOT THE VC STUFF HERE.
WHOOPS JAMES TAYLOR ON LIVE> GOTTA GO.

Josie said...

Ivan, I have to say, you are very funny. You have a way with words.

My mother was brilliant/crazy too, so I can identify.

Josie

Jaye Wells said...

Blocked? Who's blocked?

ivan said...

I have never heard Neolithic poetry rendered in Church Slavonic like my mother's.
I wish I'd written some down, but I wasn't sure what language I was using at the time.

In the middle of my Celia quest, the series of events that preceded the writing of my play, I told my aging mother that I was in love with someone beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world.

Said "Sophia":
There was once a blackbird, all disheveled and dirty, and she was looking for her young one, also disheveled and dirty.
Said the blackbird to the woodsman, "Have you seen the most beautiful baby bird in the world about these parts.
The woodsman said no, nothing like that.
"Oh, there, there," said the blackbird, "that most beautiful of all birds, just under the tree. And alive and well."
"It was so ugly, so noisy, so abject, I was going to kill it," said the woodsman.
"My beautiful baby?" The blackbird was outraged.

My "Celia" was also outraged when she heard the story.
"Something a mother would say."

ivan said...

Hi Jaye Wells.

Long time no see.

No harm intended.

It just struck me, that when I had a mental block over my first novel, The Black Icon, the first thing I did was go to an art book.
Found something by Jan van Eyck,whose dates are about the same as your Robert Campin.
Seeing Eve naked and flustered, pregnant on one side, and Adam on the other side of the garden, somehow triggered a birth story in me.
It does appear as if the triptych by Campin you reproduced on your blog--may have done the same thing for you.
Ivan

EA Monroe said...

Hey Josie & Ivan. My mom was like that, too. A Dust Bowl girl. She liked to ambush us with either a hairbrush or a flyswatter, but usually she said, "You just wait til your father gets home!"

I'm glad you're enjoying the James Taylor tribute, Ivan. I'll keep you posted whenever any more interesting concerts are on the tube.

ivan said...

Thanks, Liz.

I would have missed a lot of my favourite entertainers had you not told me about the James Taylor tribute.
It seems EVERYBODY was there!
Even Sting, with what looked like an l8-string oud!

What do you play?

I play an oud, man!

Is an oud like a snerd?

Yeah, I'm getting hysterical onthe coffee!

You ouda know!

Cheers,
Ivan

Jaye Wells said...

Did the art inspire the writer or did the writer return to art once inspiration returned?

Give me a Northern European artist any day of the week. I have a major crush on Vermeer, later than van Eyck or Campin, but still from hearty stock. Damn Tracy Chevalier for stealing Vermeer as a subject. Perhaps I'll write "The Girl with the Annunciation Triptych" or about my other crush Albrecht Durer (umlaut needed).

Why do I always feel drunk when I comment on your blog?

ivan said...

'Cause we're all drinkin' over here.

EA Monroe said...

Good morning, Ivan! Stopped by the say hiya. Gotta do Saturday morning chores and stay out of mischief.

ivan said...

Hey.

Saturday morning chores.
Spirit willing, but flesh is weak.
I just wanna sleep.

But no ciggies, no booze.
The furies will surely come if I don't go out and get those things.

And laundry:
I am rolling stiff socks all over the parquet. LOL.
Also, my daughter seems to think I'm a dipstick, so she won't help.

Kimberr the Wolf Girl says don't pull that loo chain yet! Heh.

Josie said...

Ivan, you never talk about your children much. How many do you have? How old? Grandchildren?

Josie

ivan said...

Hi Josie.

Millionaire's family.
Two "kids", son 36, daughter 32.
Two grandkids from son.

Daughter in steady relationship, but refuses to marry. Sign of times?

I may have children all over Canada, as well, but sometimes the unexamined life is worth living. Heh.
One of these days some thirty-year-old will come to my doorstep, punch me in the mouth and call me a bastard. Hm.

Josie said...

Ivan, you're too funny.

Do you see your grandchildren much?

So, if Ignatieff wins the Liberal leadership, and then goes on to be elected PM, will we have to call him Prime Minister Iggy?

Oh, Lord, another eastener. They don't even know we exist out here.

Josie

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ivan said...

Josie,
Sitting on pins and needle here.
It is a toss up between Iggy Pop
and Stephane Peasouper.
I think I would prefer Stephane.
Kind of reminds me of a New Brunswick fiddle player.
Well, you did have Krazy Kim Kambell as PM for a while! She's from B.C.
Everything still up in the air, but if Iggy gets in, I'm leaving the country.

Josie said...

Ivan, did you know Kim Campbell was born in Port Alberni? My home town. And she lived a block away from me in Vancouver. She didn't last long as PM. Well, Harper is from Alberta, at least.

If Iggy gets in everyone is leaving the country.

Josie

ivan said...

Dear anonymous:
I suggest you change your diet, you MoFo spammer!

ivan said...

Josie,
Kim was certainly a smart little chick (I believe she could recite the entire Old Testament from memorey) but I guess they kind of set her up.
But she did haved he distinction of being the only woman Prime Minister of Canada, if only for a few months.
She had that canny Voltairian to deal with, Jean Chretien, who to this day seems to call the shots, even at the Liberal convention right at this moment.

ivan said...

Josie,
Looks like little Stephane Fetch-it
got the leadership of the Liberal party.
Now he'll be up against President Bush's personal Stephen Fetch-it, Mr. Harper, in some fall election.

I kind of like these developments.
The country has not totally gone to hell.
The only thing that worries me is that Stephen Harper has a brain that could f*ck up a computer and little Stephane seems more or less at room temperature.
Harper speaks both English and French, and poor Stephane can barely handle either language.
Ah, but then there is the incredible Pea Soup Man, Jean Chretien, still in there as Magus.

Josie said...

Ivan, thank you for keeping me posted. I'll have to switch on the telly and see more about it.

How did Stephane beat Iggy?

Josie

ivan said...

Slap me for being politically incrorrect, yea, even blashpemous:

Froggie went a-courtin'

EA Monroe said...

Hiya Ivan. That's a story -- the unknown child(s) showing up on your doorstep and punching you in the mouth. Ha. I can visualize it now.

ivan said...

Ah, the sins of the father.

... Or maybe I was just lucky.

Ahem!

ivan said...

Josie and Liz,

I HAVE TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED THE RUNNING OF MY Fird in Bradford IN PLAY FORM.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, CLICK ONTO TOP RIGHT OF MY BLOG PAGE, WHERE IT SAYS The Fire In Bradford.
IN THIS BOOK VERION, CELIA'S NAME IS CHANGED TO LANA, FOR MORE OR LESS LEGAL PURPOSES.
THANK YOU FOR SHOWING SUCH STRONG INTEREST IN The Black Icon, which is now running up on top of this posting.

Love and cuddly hugs,

Ivan

ivan said...

p.s.

Click onto Chapter Thirty-Two to get the tail end of The Fire in Bradford.

Ivan

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