Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

~W.H Auden

Quotes II

The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.
~Ursula Le Guin

"While I was writing A Wind In the Door, I spent a long time finding the word I needed, and finally came across kythe in Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary published in 1856, which I inherited from my grandfather. The first definition is 'to be manifest'; the second, 'to come in sight'; the third, 'to appear in proper character' and he quotes, 'he will kythe in his ain colours' with the explanation added, 'he will appear without disguise.'"
~Madeleine L'Engle

The road to hell is paved with adverbs
~Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir Of The Craft

Two Monologues

Stephanie (in rapidfire speech)

Well I wake up at five a.m, it takes twenty crunches and pushups and then I’m off on my morning jog. Those are my mornings usually but I guess you don’t want to know about them (breaks into embarrassed laughter). (hops up and down, as if ready to take off on a sprint). Say, do you want to go for a run? Really, like right now, nothing like exercise to lift the spirits and create a youthful glow, you know?

Everyone asks me “Stephanie you’re practically ageless, however do you manage it?” The girls at the office, they ask me for tips. I mean it’s so simple I wonder why they’re such airheads, they can’t do it themselves: don’t smoke, don’t drink, sleep early, no transfats, low sugar soya milk always—and this rule you can never break—no fastfood. The fat is in the fries, my dears, it’s all in the fries.

Stephanie paces up and down. She seems to have run out of things to say.

Everyone tells me I look great. “You’re looking fit, Steph!” “Steffi so hot!” “Steffi ni de shen zai hao.” Practically everyone, really. Everyone except Ted of course, but who cares about him, right? (disingenuous laughter) I could walk down the corridor in four-inch heels (not that I do, because the elevated posture damages the nerves and knees) and a miniskirt and he would still have that stupid stupid grin, or he…he’d just be humming to himself and seem to be stargazing when he’s only staring at the lights in the ceiling.

Exit.

Enter Theodore Lee. He is in a labcoat and hums the opening of Vivaldi’s Spring as he enters, walking as described by Stephanie. He performs dental procedures on a patient (imaginary figure)

Theodore

Nothing like a bit of Spring to put a spring in your step (chuckles to himself). (motions to his patient) Oh no, just a private joke. Are you ready?

Theodore turns around and switches on the CD player. Soothing classical music plays in the background. He then puts a mask on the patient.

Du calme, du calme. (pulls on gloves) Ah, alone at last. And in peace. No squirming, squealing child, nothing but the dulcet strains of…(short pause to take in the music)—Bach’s final symphony.

(as he operates on the patient) Dolce…dolce…pianissimo…crescendo…crescendo…forte!...pianoforte! (pulls a tooth out).

****not really the end****