Monday, January 18, 2010

A scene in my play. The Grey Goat Pub, where men are men and so are half the women



Lazy in Gaza.

I have been asked by some actors to finally put my Fire In Brandford play together.

It is not together. It is far from together. To coin an oxymoron, beware of the guy who says he has it all together. This means he is so fu*cked up he is almost FUBR.
So no, I do not have the play together. To get it all done, right down to the last beat, takes discipline, energy.
On my diet of dusty five-year-old cans of Spam (the real thing) and incredibly complicated popcorn making kits from the food bank, I am as immobile as Jabba the Hutt, but sure long for a Carrie Fisher to do a little houri dance. Maybe that's it. The devil always tempts a Luther. Maybe he had his porn by some chick in a nun's outfit, who knows? Ah sacrilege. Gives ya a rush, donnit?
Says my friend John Dowson, an actor and sometime producer, "Don't send me any porn, Ivan."

Well, it's not porn, but it may lead to scorn.

So here is Act 1, Scene 3 three of my "Fire in Bradford".



INT. NIGHT.
GREY GOAT ENGLISH PUB AGAIN. THE PLACE IS NOISY AND RAUCOUS. THE MAIN ATTRACTION IS THE BUSY BAR WITH ITS FULLBREASTED, SATIN-BLOUSED BARMAIDS. THERE ARE TWO OF THEM , A BLONDE AND A BRUNETTE SERVING. THE PLACE IS INTERNATIONAL, THOUGH LARGELY SCOTS. SOME OF THE MEN ARE INDEED IN KILTS.
LYING DOWN ON HE BAIZE POOL TABLE, ONE FOOT STILL ON THE FLOOR AS PER RULES, A SCOTSMAN LOOKS SLIGHTLY RIDICULOUS, KILT HIKED WAY UP, BUTTOCKS SHOWING, AS HE ATTEMPTS A SHOT FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE TABLE.
ONE OF THE OPPOSING PARTNERS TAKES HIS CUE AND WORKS IT UP THE KILT OF THE SUPINE SCOTSMAN.

SCOTS POOL PLAYER.
Will ye just fuck- off, Mate?

HE GETS OFF THE TABLE AND RAISES A CUE TO THE CHEST OF THE OPPOSING PLAYER'S PARTNER.

THERE IS A MELLEE. AS OTHER CUES ARE RAISED AS IF IN EN GARDE POSITION.


VOICE OF MANAGER, WHO IS BEHIND THE BAR WITH THE MAIDS
You guys start fighting, you're all cut off for life.

THE POOL PLAYERS SETTLE DOWN.

THERE IS SMOKE IN THE AIR IN THE PUB, AND A COMFORTABLE WHISKEY SMELL.. HUM OF THE CROWD.

THE PROFESSOR AND HIS BOOK EDITOR ARE IN A BOOTH AT STAGE LEFT OF THE BAR. THEY ARE DRIKING TOBY BEER.

EDITOR (WHO IS DARK, BEARDED AND WEARING GLASSES)
What kind of a place did you take me to? I thought you said it was a swell British pub.

THE PROFESSOR.
It is. But all these Scotsmen, mostly just off the boat, have all taken over. Most of them out of Glasgow, looking for a new life. I guess old habits die hard. They come here lookin for a woman or a fight. They'll take either one.

THE EDITOR
So what did you ask me out for. Sounds like something's very much on your mind. It's so smoky in here.(WIPES FOREHEAD)

THE PROFESSOR:
It's smoky in my head, John. Right among the pillars.
There is this woman....


EDITOR
Oh yeah. Always "this woman." Most men, when they get divorced, find another woman. With you, it's one after another. You're right off the scale.

THE PROFESSOR
No. This one is different. Way different situation.(HE RAISES HIS GLASS AND TAKES A LONG DRAUGHT.)
Got this problem. I was more thoroughly loved last night than I'd ever been before. Yet somehow, I didn't finish.

She came to me without reservation. Yet I did not complete the act. I feel somehow that I had not been a full man. I had not achieved completion.

THE EDITOR

David, David David. You know that old bit out of Johnny Carson. Where this guy brings in this motorized
unicycle, which he calls a "Wheelie"?
Some days you just can't get your wheelie to work.

THE PROFESSOR
No, it wasn't anything like that. Seems she poured sand into my wheelie. Fucked me up.


THE PUBLISHER TAKES HIS OWN DRINK OUT OF THE TOBY GLASS.

(A BEAT HERE)


THE PUBLISHER
New one on me. It's usually you who is playing musical broads.

THE PROFESSOR.
It's different this time. She is married, her husband looks like a voyeur, probably a poof, and I'll bet she's getting her real sex out of third guy if I know some women I think she is just using me for entertainment, an aphrodisiac and a sounding board. I also suspect she's on drugs.

THE EDITOR.
Wow. You really pick 'em.Sounds like a story. Maybe you should write about it.


THE PROFESSOR
Jeezus, John. I really don't want to be in this play.
But I've got her smell. She seems right inside me. Ever been so horny your brain seems awash with alligator sperm?

THE EDITOR.
Or so horny you could faint? LIke James Joyce, jacked off by a woman in a theatre and following that woman around for most of his days?

THE PROFESSOR
You got the scenario. I guess that's why you're an editor and me the writer. Yep. Looks like it's Professor and the Blue Angel. Poor old Professor Rath. Horny and confused as a mink on a sandbar. And crowing like a rooster while Marlene does everybody in town.

THE EDITOR (TAKES ANOTHER DRINK. HE SWATS AT A FLY)
This sound a bit different from Prof. Rath's situation. More bizzarre.

Can I say something?

THE PROFESSOR
Shoot.

THE EDITOR

Sounds like you've just stumbled on a houseful of pimps.

So what happened?


THE PROFESSOR

One day she walked into my creative writing class....

THE PROFESSOR IS INTERRUPED BY A WAITRESS WHO BTINGS MORE DRINKS. SHE IS BOSOMY AND THE PROFESSOR NOTICES.

SHE FINISHES SETTING UP, THEY HAVE FRESH DRINKS, THE PROFESSOR IS ABOUT TO PAY, BUT SHE IS DISINCLINED TO TAKE THE MONEY AT FIRST.

WAITRESS:

Are you Professor Lohan?

PROFESSOR.

Why, yes.

WAITRESS

Therere's a phone call for you. At the bar. Do you want to take it?

PROFESSOR (LOOKS FIRST AT THE WAITRESS AND THEN AT THE EDITOR).

Oh, I guess I'd better...How did anyone know I was here?


THE PROFESSOR STANDS UP AND TURNS AROUND TO WALK OVER TO THE BAR. A LONE WOMAN IS

SITTING AT THE FAR CORNER, NEXT TO THE TELEPHONE. SHE IS PERCHED ON A VERY HIGH STOOL,
WHICH IS ABOUT TWO FEET AWAY FROM THE BRASSY, OAKEN BAR. THE PROFESSOR WONDERS HOW

SHE CAN REACH HER DRINK, AND SHE IN FACT IS HAVING SOME TROUBLE WITH THIS.

THE PROFESSHOR HAS TO GET PAST THE FUMBLNG WOMAN TO GET AT THE PHONE. HE HUNCHES DOWN A BIT TO GET AT IT.
SUDDENLY THE WOMAN, WHO IS DRESSED IN A BLACK SKIRT AND HIGH HEELS, AND NOW BEHIND, SOMEHOW IMMEDIATEL"Y BEHIND HIM, HE FEELS HER WINDING HER LEGS AROUND HIM FROM BEHIND. HE CAN"T GET AT THE HONE. HE TURNS ROUND TO DISCOVER PANTIES.

MYSTERIUS WOMAN

You've been doing some hard work, haven't you? I can smell the work and stress.

THE PROFESSOR (UNTANGLING HIMSELF, ONE KNEE AT A TIME. HE DOES THIS AS NATURALLY AS HE CAN, PUTTING AN ARM AROUND THE WOMAN'S RIGHT SHOULDER):

I think you're lovely. It's just that I have some business to attend to right now.

THE PROFESSOR KEEPS AND ARM AROUND THE WOMAN'S SHOULDER. HE REACHES FOR THE TELEPHONE WITH HIS RIGHT HAND.

THERE IS A DIAL TONE.
THE CALLER, PROBABLY TIRED OF WAITING, HAD HUNG UP.

HE TAKES HIS LEFT ARM OFF THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN, GIVES HER A HUG AND GOES TO MAKE FOR THE BOOTH WHERE THE EDITOR STILL SITS WITING FOR HIM. HE REJOINS THE EDITOR.

PROFESSOR
The woods are full of funny people.

EDITOR (NOW A LITTLE AFFECTED BY THE BEER THAT HE HAS ALMOST FINIISHED):

Ummm. Wha..?

PROFESSOR
I don't know how to tell you this. It really reminds me of a joke, the one about the musician, playing badly all night, complaining over the actions of a disgruntled pervert who kept masturbating in the second row.

EDITOR
I don't want to know!

PROFESSOR

Fiddler said "Someone threw a fuck at me."

EDITOR
What are your talking about?

DAVID
Lady at the bar. Almost attacked me.

THE EDITOR

You got confidence. That's what it is.

THE PROFESSOR SHRUGS.

PROFESSOR 9TAKES A DRUGHT OF HIS UNFINISHED BEER)

Did you ever read a book by Frederic Exley, "A Fan's Notes"?

EDITOR
Of course. What of it?

PROFESSOR

It seems that Mr. Exley is disgusted over being a fan all his life, of loving the great football guy, The Gipper, of loving great authors.
But it was always somebody else that was great, never him."
There is another guy in this Celia's life. I can sense it. It's never going to be me.

THE EDITOR.
Yep. You're like your archetype, I guess. Prof. Rath.Cuckolded by Marlene Dietrich. Crowing like a rooster.

THE PROFSSOR TAKES A DEEP DRAUGHT. HE STANDS UP FROM THE TABLE, CAUSING A GROAN OF CHAIRS. SUDDENLY HE CRIES OUT.

Cuckarukakoo!

THIS CAUSES A STIR AMONG THE OTHER TABLES.

THE EDITOR (A LITTLE EMBARRASSED):

You sir, are a fucking nut.

Get out of that situation. Walk away from it.

Walk!

......end Act 1, scene four

##

28 comments:

the walking man said...

I was following along fine having read the previous effort but I got to this part and it lost me. seems like a reality break when did (if she did) Celia come from?



PROFESSOR

Celia: David! What are you talking about?

Proessor: Lady at the bar. Almost attacked me.

Celia: David! What are you talking about?

Proessor: Lady at the bar. Almost attacked me.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Mark,

Gotcha. I think.

...Describe her, immediately, and her circumstances....Or make this actually Act One,Scene One and bring in Celia in subsequent acts.

TomCat said...

Excellent piece Ivan. In your directions, how do you convey a comfortable whiskey smell?

Is that a self portrait? ;-)

ivan@creativewritng.ca said...

Thanks, Tomcat.

I guess I'm not lile Sanitary Sam of of old Dick Tracy, where Sanitary Sam had those filters in his nose.
I just reek of the stuff. No filters. :)

Charles Gramlich said...

They come here looking for a woman or a fight. They'll take either one. I've been in a few places like that. I've often been glad they would take a fight.

ivan@creativeriting.ca said...

Charles,

Yep. I keep thinking of that Buddy Guy blues song:

You better leave, you better leave my little girl alone
You better leave, you better leave my little girl alone
Lord before I get evil man, and I go and do something wrong

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

The Walking Man (Mark):

Geez, I gotta stop drinking. I didn't scroll down far enought to see what you meant when you quoted the part that was lost on you.
...Suddenly, out of the blue we get Celia saying something (and not the Editor), whom I meant so say something. Celia is not there at that bar that night.
So it should go,

THE EDITOR (AND NOT CELIA):

David, what are you talking about?

DAVID
Lady at the bar. Almost attacked me.


Clear as mud, huh?

I'll work on it. Celia should not be in this scene,but one before.
...So I will edit Celia right out of this scene by the time you get back to this blog. She will be gone. Just David and the Editor at the bar.

...Ever try writin'? It's impossible!

the walking man said...

Celia is the student. Suburban housewife with a penchant for french literature and a Yin for the old professors Yang. The one thing truly forbidden a teacher and student is the one thing they both initially desire.

He thinks of her as a muse and a good lay but she thinks of him as a temporary diversion that is not as good as her old man but better than anything else on the market at the moment.

The old professor on the other hand would do anything to be able to own her but she is not the type to be owned only to own and once she has what she wants she loses interest in it but will always come back same way a kitten will with a ball of yarn. That yarn does not belong in a a sweater it belongs to the cat.

The professor accepts his role only because he is getting what he wants, penance for his past and some sex which only creates more need for penance. He is the captive not so much of Celia but of his own feeling of not having gone far enough, fast enough and when he looks back he sees his sins and regrets them.

But he knows that after Celia no ex can fulfill his need to atone through self flagellation with Celia as his whip.

But again why is she in this scene and where did she come from.

the walking man said...

I still want a grade on my assessment professor.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Mark,

Well, they did post mortem intelligence assessments on Newton, Darwin,Copernicus, Einstein.
They came up with IQ's of200 on each, which is at the top of the Stanford- Binet scale.
Somewhere in my readings of you I came across 155.
That's pretty impressive.
Seems to me your light had been under a bushel all your youth. Don't know why.
You must have begaffled your teachers.
Brilliant assessment of my characters, Mark. Really gives me an "Aha!"

You get an A.
And I'd move this to a A with distinction.

TomCat said...

And the self-portrait? ;-)

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

TomCat:

I worry about the remarkable likeness of the Caucasoid Neandert(h)al up there on my blog.

TomCat said...

Hemis a handsome fellow: Homo neanditalis canadiensis;-)

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Oh dear.

F.W. Nietzsche:
Ecce Homo.

Middle Ditch said...

Nice one Ivan. Keep it up.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Thanks, Monique,

From someone who has been in the game longer than myself, that's a compliment.
I might have to lean on you a bit in future attempts....I R a pest?

Middle Ditch said...

Ivan, have a look at my script blog. It's on my links under Monique. X LOL

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Monique,

Definitely will.

I am just back from "work." Dead tired. Will check your blog and script as soon as I get some R+R.

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ivan@c reativewriting.ca said...

Monique (Middle Ditch):

I love you madly, but we are incompatible. :) Our browsers don't match.

Durn. I have to get Firefox Mozilla.

Explorer has serious problems of suckage. Can't get audio on your site. But from previous installments, I'd say it's good enough for CBC radio here--and that's an extremely tough market to crack. It is my opinion that CBC TV has serious non-issue problems. But CBC radio is the best in the world.
Or maybe TV Ontario here? They love British product!

ivan@c reativewriting.ca said...

Monique (Middle Ditch):

I love you madly, but we are incompatible. :) Our browsers don't match.

Durn. I have to get Firefox Mozilla.

Explorer has serious problems of suckage. Can't get audio on your site. But from previous installments, I'd say it's good enough for CBC radio here--and that's an extremely tough market to crack. It is my opinion that CBC TV has serious non-issue problems. But CBC radio is the best in the world.
Or maybe TV Ontario here? They love British product!

Middle Ditch said...

Sweetest Ivan, I love you too but the script blog is not audio. Go to

http://monique44.blogspot.com

This is a story set in a boarding school and it is a written script. I'm not blogging from there often so not many know it exists but when I look on the map (the same one as I have on MD) it gets more visitors than MD. I would love to have your (honest) input as nobody here ever wanted it. I tried many production companies but it seems that boarding schools are untouchable even though I work in one and know exactly what does go on. XXX

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Monique,

Microsoft has been acting up all night. I could not bring up "Monique",even on google.
...And when I found Middle Ditch, your site wouldn't let me comment even though I put in my name and password several times.
(I'd had a hard night of chasing skunks and dumpster diving anyway,like many another starving poet, and, in frustration, had to crack the glass on my emergency supply of vodka)

Thanks for the link. I'll get to it as soon as I sober up.

This is not an especially high volume site, but maybe others will try
http://monique44.blogspot.com

http://www.creaivewriting.ca said...

Okay, Monique,

I've had a look at the play segment.
I fear I may have come on like Mac the Knife in my suggestion to cut, cut, cut.
I welcome others to join a critique
athttp://monique44.blogspot.com

Still charmed by the story.

Middle Ditch said...

Thanks Ivan, I keep it in mind

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