Creative Writing #4

The task was to create a fragmented/episodical piece of text so I created a series of diary entries of an unknown character. We were given free reign to use other texts, so each sentence is a line from a Sarah Kane play; I used her collection of plays, opened the book at random, pointed, and wrote it down. I was surprised how much sense could be found from most of it. 

March 1^st 1994

What’s your boyfriend’s name? Watch films and have sex. See your Doctor, I have gonorrhoea. I won’t strangle you. No regrets. It’s leaving me behind.

June 26^th 1996

They burned your body. Nothing can extinguish my anger. I don’t talk about him that often. What bothers you more, the destruction of my soul or the end of my family? I’m not in danger of committing the unforgivable sin. I already have. Let it happen. Soon very soon.  Come on Mother, work it out.

December 21^st 1998

No. I cannot love you because I cannot respect you. Recycled. Or incinerated. I love you. He should tidy his room and get some exercise. A consolidated consciousness resides in a darkened banqueting hall near the ceiling of a mind whose floor shifts as ten thousand cockroaches when a shaft of light enters as all thought unite in an instant of accord body no longer expellent as the cockroaches comprise a truth which no one ever utters. No, not really. Silence or violence. Please. Me. Blame me.

March 3^rd 1999

He’s been dead six months. We don’t normally keep the clothes that long. If you want me to abuse you I will abuse you. Found it? Something clicked. Please. Doctor. Please. There’s nothing gay about Hippolytus. Hello, Sunshine. I’m not a rapist. Treat me as a patient. Look. My nose. Mood: Fucking angry. Affect: Very angry.

November 17^th 1999

Tell me you didn’t rape her. Which passeth all understanding. Tinker. At 4.48 when sanity visits for one hour and twelve minutes I am in my right mind. When  it has passed I shall be gone again, a fragmented puppet, a grotesque fool. Now I am here I can see myself but when I am charmed by vile delusions of happiness, the foul magic of this engine of sorcery, I cannot touch my essential self. If I -  now now now now now now now

October 14^th 2000

I’m a dealer not a doctor. The woman with dragon eyes. I wake as I dream. What have I done? What have I done? I buy a new tape recorder and blank tapes.

March 8^th 2002

No regrets. And sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking until you come home and worry when you’re late and be amazed when you’re early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I’m black and be sorry when I’m wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I’d known you forever and feel your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you’re angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and the hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you’re gorgeous and hug you when you’re anxious […]

April 4^th 2005

She really did love me. Whenever I look really close at something, it swarms with white larvae. Something has lifted. Fucked. Finished. Graham Jesus save me Christ. She’s talking about herself in third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take. I think about having sex with everyone. And the rats eat my face. So what, I’d have done the same thing only I never said I wouldn’t. You’re young. I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself. No one’s to  blame

August 26^th 2009

No. He phones people. They come round. They have sex and leave. But I would say that we were never in love. One hundred Lofepramine, forty five Zopiclone, twenty five Temazepam, and twenty Melleril. Rodney Rodney split me in half. I have a bad bad feeling about this bad bad feeling. Ever seen anything like that?

Septmember 19^th 2015

You. Shooting someone. You wouldn’t kill anything. Because love by its nature desires a future. A small girl became increasingly paralysed by her parents’ frequently violent rows. Sometimes she would spend hours standing completely still in the toilet, simply because that was where she happened to be when the fight began. Finally, in moments of calm, she would take bottles of milk from the fridge or doorstep and leave them in places where she may later become trapped. Her parents were unable to understand why they found bottles of sour milk in every room in the house. Have you ever had a fuck with a woman?

Read All About It...

Apologies now for my semi-political and news related rant.

I was watching the news and the amount of MPs that turned up to protest about Churches in England being able to conduct same-sex marriages, compared to the amount that turned up to discuss the increasing violence in Northern Ireland really disgusted me. It was easily double. At least. It makes me think that people really do not give a shit unless the problem is literally on their doorstep, or has some direct interest for them.

I have a friend in Northern Ireland, and the family know soldiers who were severely injured when fighting in the troubles before so it seems even more important to me than ever at the moment. I have not, however, just become concerned about this issue. I try to keep up to date with world news and politics as much as I can.

We need to prioritize. Drastically. Nobody will die if the Church is able to conduct a same-sex marriage, but at least 3 Politicians in Northern Ireland have received death threats, 2 police officers were nearly burnt to death after a petrol bomb attack and last week two houses were burnt out. It disgusted me.

There is an awful lot going on in the news at the moment. Lots of things that I feel are incredibly important. Nelson Mandela is sick, and I'm fairly sure he is on his last legs. This makes me incredibly sad. He is a fantastic man who did more for the world than most people could even dream of doing. I have visited Robin Island, and South Africa, and the plight over there is very dear to my heart. Racial segregation in that sense should never, ever happen and what he single handedly did to try and stop it is phenomenal. The prison cell he was kept in is diabolical and I found it incredibly hard not to cry when I walked in there.

I think the way that the news prioritizes is bizzare. It really goes to show that the state really does try to influence our opinions on things. It makes me feel like I should care more about the protests against equality and basic human rights than one of the greatest peace keepers in the world, and probably one of the most revered human beings on the planet, being incredibly sick, and the fact that there is increasing violence in an incredibly unstable country that it so closely linked to ours.

Sorry capitalism, i'm going to try my hardest to stop being a hegemonic vehicle and I will not let the news tell me what to think.

I guess what I'm trying to say guys and dolls is, just try and be a little more awake. I don't even know what I am trying to say actually. This post was born out of anger, sorry.