The Charcoal Chorus

End of the Day

I spent yesterday with the Charcoal Chorus, aka “The People With Whom I’m Doing This Italy Play”.  It was very much needed, and good to meet the team. I confess that at the start of the day, I had very little idea of what was going on (and what was GOING to go on in July), except for the play being based on the myth of Narcissus and Echo, and that I was ostensibly the writer. I didn’t know what it means to be a writer when everything looks like it’s going to be devised. Part of this was an anxiety from the creation style – I’ve not really done any group devising work of this sort since 6th Form. And even then, it was mostly me taking it on. So – what happens on a day like this? Two words: Drama Games. A dirty, pejorative phrase in my vocabulary, I’ve never really gotten on with these things. They’re they kind of activity that sends me running for the practicalities of the film world. It was difficult for me to join in at first – I resisted it, giving a lot of knowing, sarcastic responses. Slowly, however, I felt that old chestnut of being safe enough do what I really felt. Considering the biggest issue with my writing is that I can’t get over the fact that I can’t get over myself, prancing around a large room, shouting nonsense was supremely liberating.

This aside, we talked about future scratch nights, narrowed down individual roles a little more and got everyone on board with the concept – They (we, now, I suppose) do want a 60-90 minute piece that is, thankfully, not interpretive dance. I will indeed write, but not for a while yet. Til then, I’ll take photos, help with film and help shape this project with my fellow Charcoalians.

A Few Sentences on Knowing Yourself (For Kasper)

Knowing yourself is having the same breakfast every day.

Knowing yourself is being aware of what celebrities people say your resemble.

A mirror will only show you one fragement of yourself. They cannot be trusted.

Knowing yourself is knowing the lonely walk home.

Knowing yourself is knowing what you’re not good at.

Getting punched in the face will tell you everything you need to know about yourself.

Your allergies are an indelible part of who you are. Kinda like your toe hair, but you can rip those out.

“Yesterday, I met a girl for a drink. Well, not just some girl, a friend. It wasn’t anything more than you’d expect. We talked about work drudgeries, laughed at people we know (and don’t like) and ate wasabi peas. After what I guess was a fond memory for her, she smiled at me and said: “I think we know each other pretty well.” But how can that be? She’s only seen the easy stuff, the obvious. She’s doesn’t know I pad around, naked, at four in the morning. Or that I look up recently dead people on Facebook. Or that I hated her for three months and never mentioned it.

Being fair, It’s not just her lack – In return: I’ve never seen her cry over something innocuous. Never seen her rub her hand over her belly, wondering what it’s like to be pregnant. Am I aware she stands in front of the mirror, every day for 10 minutes, telling herself how wonderful she is – because if she didn’t she couldn’t make it through the next 8 hours? I do know she’s sleeping with my best friend because he likes to talk about it, even if she never has. As for the rest, maybe she does those things, maybe she doesn’t. We’ve spent four years looking at whatever it is the other isn’t scared to present. That doesn’t feel a lot like knowing her pretty well.”

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