blue hammer

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SCRIPT EXCERPT:

TAB:   Into the dark –

VIN:  I sleep.  I sleep – without needing to dream.

TAB:  Without needing . . . We did stop – didn’t we – stopped but hadn’t planned to –  even after Sharpeville we had hopes of Cape Town – to be on the very edge of it – you called it “the margin of silence” –

VIN: The privilege of silence is wonderful. A space where all regulation is…- is beyond – a compound built on the poetics of hard-won reverie: a suspended State. I long for the evacuation to a well-stocked and fortified periphery.  Vin Pays and women first!

TAB:  Women?  And here you are. You’ve swapped boys for ghosts, but still….  A little compound – hardly built on reverie – no, on horror, with the sound off.

VIN:  I must welcome some of the silence – if I do not it will find me and throttle me, Tabula.

TAB:  And what does silence welcome? Sometimes the sound of brutality.  I heard it everywhere, all the time from our hotels, those trains, all the dirty steamboats used for transporting god knows what, so many stations with their noisy little dining rooms-  I could hear it – above the laughter, beyond the chit-chat, insinuated in gloved introductions and cheerless gossip. I don’t mean the interruptions we heard where the violence was clear – not breaking glass or a gun-shot too close to ignore – no

VIN:  Bobby?

BOBBY:  No, Vin.  Can’t.

VIN:  CAN’T?!

TAB:  (overlapping)  I mean I could hear it in the privileged “silence” you want to welcome – in the stark old courtrooms, dead air, very old sweat – and the banks that reserved all the same rights of silence. And oh god, churches – the terrible confidence in a hundred prayer books closing all at once just before some martial hymn or unison “Amen.”  I could hear brutality murmuring out of ladies waiting for their cars, squeaking out of their children racing from their embassy schools into other cars, but nowhere so predictable as from their fathers:  men in the morning, reading their papers, tapping their cigarettes.  Oh, I loved men in the morning… if they talked at all, talking about their misspent capital.  Not really complaining as there would always be more, yes?  There really isn’t a refuge in silence, is there, Vin?  The sound of brutality abides in silence, yes?

VIN:  Yes.  No.  Horror.  Bobby…

BOBBY:  Cued and –

VIN:  You left, too – that far south and I might have left before you, but you soon left as well – I took a plane and what did you take?

TAB:  I took a very slow boat – and a good hot bath.

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Written by bluehammer

January 12, 2009 at 10:29 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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