422: Picture Palace

Stephanie Young's words on the page.

Are very neatly and deliberately

laid out.

Her very words paint a portrait

of images.

[Pictures] Snapped and laid out on the page

through INK.

They strike the brain.

Enflame the senses.

Burn into your optical nerves

after (reading)

but not in words

in faces.

in...images.

Try this and see what it produces:

a fragile hand is on fire

but instead of turning to blister

it turns to pearls.

What do you see?

My words?

Or the hand.

There are also sentences that run on longer than you see on other pages. Sometimes they talk in journals. But always with the same beautiful clarity.

422: Tracie Morris

Listening to poetry like that of Tracie Morris, is so much better hearing, than reading. I've never been much for slam poetry. I can appreciate the art, but it's never really spoken to me. I've never really understood it, I suppose. Besides, when people make fun of poets, slam poetry is always the thing they satirize. My mind is tainted. However, I have a special place in my heart for sound poetry. I love closing my eyes and listening. Tracie Morris plays with sound in a way that seems to have infected and inspired our nation. She came to prominence when poets were finally being given a chance to speak in popular media. Her words and style spoke to that of a younger generation. Her range of artistry is massive.

When I watched the video with the two versions of the same piece, it struck me. When talking about writers, we often say their style was different when beginning, then they got interested in such-and-such style and then they wrote this book. See how these two books are different? It's rare you get to look at the same piece, morphed and re-written to fit these two different styles that the writer finds interesting. Not many writers have the time for that. Being able to hear, right next to each other, the same words only re worked and edited to fit the interests, gives a clear understanding of what and how exactly they are interested in the things they are interested in. Am I making any sense? I keep repeating the same words...which Tracie Morris does, as well, but her style is much more interesting. Me, I just need a thesaurus.

CRTW 422: Third performance

Two women sit in an expensive home office of one of the women. They wear expensive suits, sip bourbon and smoke cigars. Boss De Luca wears a red carnation in her lapel.

Dani: Michelle wants to see you.

Boss De Luca: I’d like to tell her to go to hell.

Dani: Do you want me to send her away?

Boss De Luca: No. On this, the day of my son’s wedding, I’ll agree to meet with her.

Dani: Alright.

Boss De Luca: Not yet, you and I have some business to discuss.

Dani: Everything alright, boss?

Boss De Luca: I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I built this family. We were nothing. My mother, she was a great woman, may she rest in peace. I loved her more than my own life, but she did not know how to run this family. No one knew what we were capable of. There was no respect for our foremothers to be had. And it’s gotten me thinking. Tonia died six months ago. Dani, you’re now the next in line. That means that when I die, which might very well be soon, seeing as this Bracco business is getting out of hand, that you’ll be the head of this family.

Dani: I suppose that’s true. But you don’t need to worry about being killed with Maria and I around. We’ll make sure you’re safe.

Boss De Luca: You’re losing my point. You’re 24 years old now, and I want to make sure this is the line you want to walk.

Dani: What do you mean, ma?

Boss De Luca: You’re old enough to know yourself, and I want to make sure this is the person you are, the path you want to travel, before you move any further forward. Because after today, it won’t be as easy to go back.

Dani: What are you talking about?

Boss De Luca: I have something I need you to do for me. And if you agree to it…well, it means you’re agreeing to take over this family.

Dani: I’m ready, ma.

Boss De Luca: (Looks long and hard at Dani, then finally decides she means it). Tonia was killed 6 months ago. Blown away by those God damned Bracco sisters. Your younger sister Maggie found her body riddled with holes outside her school. Tonia was gunned down while standing outside an elementary school, waiting to take your sister home. This cannot stand. I’ve waited long enough. Waited until I feel like I can finally breathe again. I will never get over the death of my eldest daughter, just as I’d never get over the death of any of you. But here we stand. Tonia gone and you now set up to be the next in line. We have a difficult task in front of us, Dani. Our family’s reputation hangs on the line. All around people wait for our reaction, our retaliation. I made a choice to hold off revenge until your sister’s blood had been dried and washed clean from the streets. But the time has come. I can wait no longer.

Dani: Whatever the plan is, ma, I’m ready. I’ll do whatever you want to repay those bitches.

Boss De Luca: This is part of my problem, Dani. Part of our problem. If you’re serious about taking over for this family, I want you to plan our revenge.

Dani: …what?

Boss De Luca: I won’t be around forever, and it’s better you start this now. It’s the most important part of running the family. Retaliation. And I want it to be good. I want the blood of the Braccos raining from the fucking heavens! I want their heads on spits. I want to wipe them from existence, if that’s what it takes to get the message across not to fuck with us.

Dani: But ma, people already know not to fuck with us.

Boss De Luca: Not if we let the murder of your sister go un-avenged. I will not be seen as going soft. Kill them, Dani. Kill them all.

Dani: I don’t even know where to start.

Boss De Luca: You start one step at a time. Start with what you know. What you don’t know, you find out. Talk to our connections at the NYPD and the mayor’s office.

Dani: What if I’m not cut out for this?

Boss: You are, Dani, forget about it. You’re my daughter. What was the first thing you felt after the grief had settled?

Dani: Rage.

Boss: Exactly. That’s a family rage and it burns in all of us De Luca women. You need to stop trying to keep that in. It will burn you alive. As soon as you let that fire out, you’ll know what to do. Think of your sister Maggie, living with the sight of her sister bloody and full of holes for the rest of her life. Think of your brothers whom we’ve sworn to protect and who are waiting for us to make a move. They depend on us for vengeance.

Dani: Will you help me?

Boss: This is your project. I’m entrusting this most important of tasks to you, my daughter, who I trust above all others. Will you accept the task, and your rightful place as my heir?

Dani: Yes.

Boss: Good. There are a few things you need to know.

Dani: I’m listening.

Boss: You remember Sarah? (Dani nods). Sarah was a fighter. No matter how big the guy was, she’d take them on. Come at her with a fist, she bring a knife, you bring a knife? She’d come at you with a gun. You brought a gun, she’d keep coming at you until one of you was dead.

Dani: What’s the point, boss?

Boss: The point is: you need to find Sarah. She disappeared after Tonia’s death, you know how close they were. Bring her back to the family. She needs protection, and we need her on our side.

Dani: Is that all?

Boss: (Shakes head no) Don’t trust anyone. Not even your own cousins, unless I say. The Braccos have gotten to someone, and I need you to find out who it is. In the meantime, don’t trust anyone’s advice but my own. I can’t bear to lose another daughter. Until we find the rat, everyone’s a fucking rat.

Dani: Alright, I understand.

Boss: Trust your sisters. Remmy is 20, and if she feels ready, let her join you. She’s woman enough to be given the chance.

Dani: I don’t want to pull Remmy into this, she’s happy at school.

Boss: I think you’ll find she’s less content than you believe. She has the rage in her, as well as you and I do. Talk to her. It’s her decision, and yours. If you don’t feel she’s ready, even if she says she is, then you don’t let her help. It’s as much your decision as it is hers.

Dani: I don’t think she’s ready.

Boss: Talk to her first. This is the last thing I have to say to you today.

(Boss De Luca reaches in a drawer and pulls out a silver handgun.)

Boss: I want you to have this. This is for you to use. Each of these bullets has a name of a Brucca on it. I want you to do any killing of a direct Brucca family member. Leave their cousins to your cousins. I want only a De Luca to kill a Brucca. You understand?
Dani: Yes, momma. I understand.

Boss: Now, (She pulls another gun from her drawer and cocks it) send in Michelle.

END

CRTW 422: Konrad Steiner

This month's bath house reading was really intriguing. Konrad Steiner came into Ypsi from San Diego, California to talk to us about his film making. On Monday, Steiner held a 2 hour lecture on the history on his art form, "The New Talkies." What he does it turn the sound off of films that already exist, and talks over them. Re-narrating, or re writing the dialogue.

The history of this medium started in the 20s when foreign films were imported into Japan without the text slides being translated. People called Benchies would sit beside the screen to narrate what was going on. These narrators became more popular than the actors in the movie being shown.

At his performance on Wednesday, Steiner showed many different types of projects he has completed. A few films he made for pre-recorded dialogue, a few films he talked over live (one he even used his body as a projection screen), two pieces where he collaborated with Carla Harryman. His work has an interesting way of combining writing and film making in a way I never really considered possible. I've seen this type of medium on the Internet, the "Literal Music Videos" are something I'm well familiar with, but I didn't realize it had such a rich history, and that it is such an expansive art form.

CRTW 422: Latest Performance

Sound of Modern Silence

Two people sit back to back, looking out. Generous pause/silence.

A: Shh!

B: (Whispering) I didn’t say anything.

A: Shh!

B: (Rolls eyes and waits.)

A: Do you hear that?

B: What?

A: Shh!

(Pause)

A: What?

B: I didn’t say anything.

A: What is that??

B: Shhh! (Long pause. Whispers) I have no idea.

A: Do you have a—

B: Feeling? Yeah.

A: I don’t like it.

B: Maybe if we’re quiet.

A: I don’t like it.

B: What?

A: The sound.

B: What sound?

A: The sound of us being quiet.

B: That’s not sound.

A: It is.

B: It isn’t!

A: It most definitely is. Don’t question me.

B: (sighs heavily).

A: Don’t get emotional!

B: (Emotional) I’m not emotional!

A: Will you please SHUT, UP!?

B: I thought you said you didn’t like the quiet?

A: I changed my mind. It’s better this way. None of us talking.

B: Fine.

A: Fine.

B: I’ll be quiet.

A: Please.

B: As a whisper.

A: Whispers are not quiet. Still sounds.

B: They don’t make your vocal chords move.

A: Will you please, QUIET YOURSELF!?

B: Don’t yell at me.

A: I am not yelling.

B: What do you constitute as yelling?

A: …I will not play your silly game.

B: Shh!

A: What?

B: I thought I heard something…

A: What?

B: The sound of your bullshit.

A: Bad form!

B: Only retaliating.

A: (Mutters) Big baby…

B: What?

A: Nothing! Must have been the silence.

B: Oh…

A: Silence has gotten funny, now-a-days…

B: How do you mean?

A: (Musing. Enjoying it.) Oh…silence isn’t really silence anymore, is it? There’s constant buzzing and cars passing. Central air turning on and off. Electricity zapping through wires and turning things on. I miss the day when silence was silence. Nothing could be heard for miles except the occasional flutter of a birds wings. (B takes out phone and calls A. Somewhere in here, A answers phone. Doesn’t have to finish monologue). Now there are too many airplanes overhead to hear any birds. One can hardly live in town because so many people listen to their music loud enough to rattle the windows. I want to be able to hear my own mind, which is difficult these days.

A: (On phone). Hello?

B: WILL YOU PLEASE REFRAIN!?

A: (Jolted by sound of yelling. Hangs up phone. Whispers) You didn’t have to be so rude. Could have simply asked me to stop talking.

B: Would you have listened?

A: Of course not. Still would have been better form.

B: Wouldn’t have accomplished the goal of “cheap, modern” silence.

A: I’m only saying, there are other ways of phrasing.

B: By all means provide examples.

A: ‘Good sir, though you are brilliant in your speech, please hush yourself so we can better hear.’

B: Or: Quiet down! You drone too long!

A: Muffle your tones.

B: Close your mouth.

A: Leave the end of your monologue unuttered.

B: Put yourself on mute.

A mocks B behind their back. They sit in silence for a while. Suddenly A hits the wall behind them as hard as they can. Jarring B.

B: What the hell is the matter with you?

A: It was too quiet.

B: You just said—

A: Never mind what I said, listen!

B: (Pause. Whispers) What?

A: (Jumps out of seat) HO!

B: What’s the matter? Are you hurt?

A: No. I just thought of something exciting. (Sits again)

B: (Waits expectantly for a while). Well?

A: Well what?

B: What’s exciting??

A: I’m not telling you.

B: You boob.

A: (Grabs B’s arm, freezing). Wait.

B: What?

A: (leans closer to B, speaks from corner of mouth, still looking ahead) I think I figured out what we heard…we’re not alone…

A and B slowly pan heads to audience, looking them in the face.

END.

Writing for Performance Response: 2/17

The difference I heard between reading the plays this week, and hearing them performed by my peers was astonishing. Especially the second group. Even as they were standing behind the screen, and you couldn't see their faces, they made the piece come to life. I could even argue that their performance was MORE effective because we couldn't see their faces. It was like listening to this weird conversation happening just outside a closed door. Because you didn't see their faces, you concentrated more on what they were saying, instead of how they looked, or how their body was positioned or the blocking. With the way they performed this piece, and the way the whole poem is written, it's more about the sound of the words, rather than the words themselves.

The group overlapped vocals to emphasize certain words which really made the language a priority. Which you can understand while reading these works, mostly because they don't make any linear sense, but you really understand after hearing them performed. So even though they are poets theatre, they are truly meant to be heard, and not read. I've always liked sound poetry for what it is. I think its so interesting, playing with the noise of language, rather than the meaning. Of course, I like playing with meaning as well, but I'm not a person who can't listen to sound poetry, like Gertrude Stein and not be moved. These poems have a meaning, but they refuse to spell it out. And figuring out the meaning for something, instead of having it spoon fed to you, is much more gratifying.

Churchill: 422 Writing Response

P: ...are you sure?

R: They're sure. For me it's more surreal.

P: How long have you known?

R: I knew something was going on for a few months. They just confirmed it last week.

P: How long until it...happens?

R: Months.

P: Jesus.

R: When I told my boss he asked if I needed "time off."

P: What a prick.

R: Heh.

P: What did N say?

R: ...

P: You haven't told him?

R: I'm afraid of how he'll respond.

P: You think he'll be angry?

R: Why would he be angry?

P: You said...

R: It'll make it real.

P: What kind of options do you have?

R: The usual.

P: Have you chosen one?

R: It won't fix the problem. Only make living worse.

P: So you're going to ride it out?

R: Yes.

P: I'll make you breakfast.

R: No thank you. I already ate.

P: Coffee and cigarettes don't count as breakfast.

R: ...maybe toast then.