Firstly , congratulation to all the company of Mummies and Daddies, opening night last night was apparently very well received!
Grit in throat and pauses in my heart, my health slides down a cliff and floats at the edge, diluted and dettached, but it is our second night of three tonight and what a night I hope it will be! Potential in laws and many more guests and plus 1's 2's and 3's are on their way to see our reinvention of the Greek Classic, Euripides' Medea.
Like the child I inhabit and the child that once roamed within my body and shared my toes, my 'play' must not stop: So rip out my health throw it to the ground. Pull off my immune system and make me stand.
The Show Will Go On.
And I hope you get to see it and share with our children, our story.
Mummies and Daddies @ Bath Spa University: Tonight annd tomorrow (Thursday 17th December, 09) at 8PM.
Wednesday 16 December 2009
Tuesday 8 December 2009
My angel: I think you know what I've been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you. Stop and Start: Goes my Heart.
I have this sickening over powering thirst for more than anything I have, and it fucks me up and I want to fuck you over, I love (forking)fucking you.. over. Trying to break you, hoping you break, in my arms and that I can come out on top, fucking you...again.. over and over. I want to feel the bitter sweet stab in my gut, and the blood drain and gush so I know I can thank each morning light that pierces open my eyes. I hate rocking to sleep with you breathing bastardised shards of lie ridden love against my back. Shivering inside I tremble that I may be love made to in the morning. Made to make love, love made to, an inanimate powerless object. I enjoy that lack of power, that riding wave of shit heap heavy flesh rushing through me, in me. Fucking me ... over. Don’t stop, push, deeper, fuck me, sounds creep out as I push you further in. Pain and more stabbing until the whole unity subsides and the slick thick shit slides and slips out again, cup and run. Dirtying my flesh clean little life as the holy child, that doesn’t believe, anymore. Daddy took my belief away and then you confirmed his greed and that of men. Or man. It is exactly as I hoped, a little bit weird, little bit too far gone and strangely fucking perfect. As duty has it and fate determines my peasant ridden path I’ll suck you dry a little longer, but rest not in my breast, nestle not in my palm, hold not my neck as you kiss it. Rip my private parts apart. Tear my bursting vessels from the arms in which they so sickly sit, and wrench my throat into the wall without remorse the very way I hide your breath from your lungs so I can enjoy the air, more. Leave me to rot, I need to feel, to lose it all so I can build a new me, one I am proud of. Because I am already too arrogant for my own skin, skin which rightly boils up and over the bones to reveal the true evil beneath. I was bore this way. Evil. And yet the truly kind, real, loveliest one you’ll ever meet. I(some) would go so far as to say: perfect. I heard it once before: And she is perfect. Yes. Thank you that’s right. I do love you mummy, even if you did abuse me. I can’t remember any of that now. All gone, shhhh, there we go, all gone.
Mummies and Daddies: Medea Revisited.
Euripdes' Medea: Bath Spa University Theatre: Dec 15-17th 2009
I have this sickening over powering thirst for more than anything I have, and it fucks me up and I want to fuck you over, I love (forking)fucking you.. over. Trying to break you, hoping you break, in my arms and that I can come out on top, fucking you...again.. over and over. I want to feel the bitter sweet stab in my gut, and the blood drain and gush so I know I can thank each morning light that pierces open my eyes. I hate rocking to sleep with you breathing bastardised shards of lie ridden love against my back. Shivering inside I tremble that I may be love made to in the morning. Made to make love, love made to, an inanimate powerless object. I enjoy that lack of power, that riding wave of shit heap heavy flesh rushing through me, in me. Fucking me ... over. Don’t stop, push, deeper, fuck me, sounds creep out as I push you further in. Pain and more stabbing until the whole unity subsides and the slick thick shit slides and slips out again, cup and run. Dirtying my flesh clean little life as the holy child, that doesn’t believe, anymore. Daddy took my belief away and then you confirmed his greed and that of men. Or man. It is exactly as I hoped, a little bit weird, little bit too far gone and strangely fucking perfect. As duty has it and fate determines my peasant ridden path I’ll suck you dry a little longer, but rest not in my breast, nestle not in my palm, hold not my neck as you kiss it. Rip my private parts apart. Tear my bursting vessels from the arms in which they so sickly sit, and wrench my throat into the wall without remorse the very way I hide your breath from your lungs so I can enjoy the air, more. Leave me to rot, I need to feel, to lose it all so I can build a new me, one I am proud of. Because I am already too arrogant for my own skin, skin which rightly boils up and over the bones to reveal the true evil beneath. I was bore this way. Evil. And yet the truly kind, real, loveliest one you’ll ever meet. I(some) would go so far as to say: perfect. I heard it once before: And she is perfect. Yes. Thank you that’s right. I do love you mummy, even if you did abuse me. I can’t remember any of that now. All gone, shhhh, there we go, all gone.
Mummies and Daddies: Medea Revisited.
Euripdes' Medea: Bath Spa University Theatre: Dec 15-17th 2009
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