Backstage Writers – Think Hope Do

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Postmodern Challenges – Defining Impact

Jacques Meanwhile

As Mel carries on with his nose… (cf. Jacques’ Nose)

Mel’s prepping my skin. She’s right. It does help me concentrate. Her fingers tingle every stub of my beard. Amazing what that does. I love this chair. A firm seat does help. If only I could be like Vincent and jump on any girl. Vincent loves explosive love. I love Celine. Correction. I’ve got twenty nanoseconds to fall in love with Celine- dear little vitamin D deficient, long everything Celine. She drops her briefcase on stage, and I’m supposed to tackle her. Yeah! But why? Maybe it’s the way she drops it. There’s authority in the way that designer bag hits the deck. “I’m here!”  Ah, Celine. If you were Yasmine, this would be easy. Celine! Just seeing you drop that briefcase! Nah- This is never going to work. And to think that paper Théâtre Ce Soir has made a big splash about us. The New English Theatre Opening Night. Journalists staying for dinner. Huh? Since when do we feed the press?

Vincent gets away with leaping across the stage. He’s a ticking love bomb. You work with him, you get kind of nervous. I could jump on Yasmine. She’s got much more… substance. I could jump on most anyone. At least, so I thought. I’ve got to want Celine for those legs that are way too skinny. How did they get that way? Doesn’t she ever walk up stairs? She’s got nice baseball breasts. They look like they might pop off if I grab them, and the rest – I think of a praying Mantis. I should focus on that fragile side, the earnestness. The praying mantis rubs its arms together, looks like it’s cooking up some wild insect scheme. We know how that turns out. That intensity. The mantis is a devoted, passionate little beast. Insect cannibalism, rituals of the truly devoted, et ‘op! Off it goes. I’m not getting anywhere.

I need passion… in Celine, in that damn briefcase. If it were a suitcase, it would be easier. I could do the “I’m sorry” thing. I’m good at being impulsively sorry. But it’s not a suitcase; it’s a chic lady’s briefcase. Focus on the corners, Luc would say. I’m focusing! It’s not passion. Luc is right. You focus, you get answers. I can’t just “horny dog” Celine. I know that’s what Julian wants, but I’m not convinced, so it’s not going to work. No, Celine has to set me off, but it’s got to be a quiet tension, something luring, something that strikes me the moment I see her because I know she’ll be hot. I need to feel how she’s going to writhe herself into hysterics, if only she could just let herself go. There’s got to be something about her, about the way she does what she does. I’ve got to feel this-

Mel’s looking at me funny. I’ve got to concentrate, to see her as- Yes! Like Mel, she knows what she wants. She’s intuitive. I should focus on this intuitive side. She acts on her impulses. She’d let herself go if only- I can’t concentrate. Think Celine. If only she weren’t ignored. Yes! She’s the person you see but don’t see. You love but don’t know it until- Hmm… That’s it! Until she starts exuding- Oh my, Mel. What is it? Raw desire? For me? This is working! She sees into me, reads my desire. She knows- God, I feel strange- She knows I’m seeing our clothes fly off, the two of us groping for a comfortable place, out of breath, each of us trying to- Oh Mel, yes! Don’t stop….

Category: Backstage

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2 Responses

  1. Marie says:

    I can hardly wait to hear what comes next

  2. Poor confused lad. So many Celines and Yasmines, so little time. I’ll be waiting with Marie for what happens, but I hope Celine takes off her prosthetic leg.

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If you want to mess up someone’s life, steal his post-its

Nothing is set in stone – Changes as they happen on Center Stage

-I’m not sitting here, Fran!

-Oh Tod.

-Don’t start that, Fran.

-He did say, “Center Stage.”

-Why us?

-We’re props, Tod.

-Why’d he choose us, Fran? We’re not the only Americans. We weren’t first in line. Is it my weight? Is it your-

-He looked so pleased to put us here.

-And so we’re just going to sit here ‘cause “Monsieur” looked pleased? Are you nuts, Fran?

-Oh, Tod. You wanted something contemporary… You like being on stage.

-I can’t even talk to you.

-Don’t touch them!

-There’s got to be a back door. Don’t want to step over your “Monsieur”. Why’s he standing guard like that?

-Tod, you never touch the curtains in a theatre.

-Why the hell not? Let me guess, because theatre is like life? Is that it, Fran? You don’t turn your back on anybody, and you don’t touch his curtains? You’re pathetic, Fran!

-Sit down, Tod.

-I don’t like that tone, Fran.

-What tone?

-That sweet little voice of yours! I hate it when you get all nice. I know what you’re thinking.

-If you don’t want to-

-Stop whispering, Fran!

-If you don’t want to be part of the spectacle, sit down and try to act-

-Act how?

-Now is not the time.

-Come on, Fran, how should I act?

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