misstree we laid about, languidly discussing our impending divinities, when boredom's shadow crept around the corner. malaise would not be far behind.
"hey! do you guys want to read a play?"
puzzled, but open.
"it's called no_exit by sartre, it's got three parts, there are three of us... it's a really good play."
we had just been talking about the use of archetypes in literature. my mind was fresh with thoughts of a goddess reading to me, of the oral tradition rekindled. the garcin to be was apathetic, but up for anything.
reznor's more cultivated works were shoved aside to prepare a microphone, witness to our impromptu performance. the reverend's cold-wracked voice was perfect for the flightly socialite estelle. the canine carried idealism in his pocket, garcin's taste on his lips. and i? inez was mine, my heart and my teeth, she and i slung truths like arrows cruelly aimed, we suffered at the heart of the untouchable.
the play moved in each of us. in the end, after the passions of hell, we were entertained and exhausted. i was fulfilled in a way that i am unused to; i had never experienced formal drama before, putting oneself into lines already written that are not a poem, pretending to be something while not in a game.
it was delicious and glorious, and inez will always have my heart.
when the audio is done being edited (removing all the flubs and misplaced giggles and page turning disasters), i'll see about making it available somehow.
Freak I feel like my whole body is dying and it's taking me with it. 031117
what's it to you?
who go