'Malone Dies' and 'About His Person'

Malone dies by Samuel Beckett tells the story of an old man, who is sitting in a hospital bed writing. He recalls being brought to the hospital in an ambulance and is now resigned to his bed, unable to move. It becomes clear that his memory has deteriorated resulting in disorientation and Malone seems unsure if he is remembering events or making them up. He then begins to write a story about a a person called Saposcat. While writing the story he drops his pencil and it takes him 2 days to get the pencil back. While continuing with the story he changes the protagonists name and then takes a break from storytelling to list an inventory of his possessions. I am not going to tell the story that he writes as I think upon reflection the bits we can take inspiration from for fringe are the bits dealing with the existence of Malone himself. 

It made me think a lot about the restrictions and routines of life for Malone, He is concerned with his inventory and possessions that he owns and takes great delight in listing them in detail. He is concerned with the material world and it often read, to me, as if he was listing the artifacts of his life. There are also several gaps in time, the time frames are blurred and it became unclear if he was writing in the present or from  a memory. sometimes there are almost blank entries "nothing at all to report today." and "Ate at 7, fell asleep shortly after" are two examples that  got me thinking about the routines of people who are restricted through age, as malone is. It would be interesting to observe this in real life, and see if we can draw anything from that. The inventory is also an interesting idea, the artifacts of someones life, the little things we keep, that make us who we are. It reminded me of a poem by Simon Armitage called 'About his person.' It got me thinking that it might be interesting to bring in some documents and artifacts we have from our own families etc that we could use as a stimulus for creating characters or material. Would be interesting to see really old things like that and see what we can do with it. Let me know what you think.

Simon Armitage 'About his Person'

Five pounds fifty in change, exactly,
a library card on its date of expiry.

A postcard stamped,
unwritten, but franked,

a pocket size diary slashed with a pencil
from March twenty-fourth to the first of April.

A brace of keys for a mortise lock,
an analogue watch, self winding, stopped.

A final demand
in his own hand,

a rolled up note of explanation
planted there like a spray carnation

but beheaded, in his fist.
A shopping list.

A givaway photgraph stashed in his wallet,
a kepsake banked in the heart of a locket.

no gold or silver,
but crowning one finger

a ring of white unweathered skin.
That was everything. 

As you like it

Stages of life

Really like this snippet and its super relevant to fringe. Thought we could explore this text and distinguish the stages it describes and develop that into a movement piece? Ideas anyone? thoughts please ;-)

Shakespeare's As You Like It (act 2, scene 7):

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

What it means to be 27

What it means to be 27.

In dog years I'm already dead. Not to start on a negative but its true, whoever heard of a 191 year old dog? So, I'm now dead if I was a dog, but on the upside hurtling towards an era where sleeping with someone half my age isn't a crime. Am I 'getting old'? I'm not even really sure what getting old means! So why fight it? Its chasing us all...Old age. Not long ago I had one of those soul crushing moments, you know the ones, where you realize your turning into your mother or father and you question who you even are anymore! I was binge watching a TV show with no sex, no drugs and absolutely no rock and roll - and enjoying it? Does watching hours of Time Team, Countdown and Diagnosis murder simply imply in itself that I am getting old? Who knows, who cares? I enjoy them all the same. I can still remember a time where watching Tony Robinson run around a rainy field in Lincolnshire in a pair of worn out wellies would have literally bored me to the grave. Now I want to be in there digging them. So, my secret is out. My names Ami, I'm 27 and I like to binge watch Time Team, and I loved Tony Robinson in that old Robin Hood series. Yes I'm also old enough to remember that as well.

I was asked for ID for age verification purposes the other day. Pretty impressive I thought, until I realised I had no ID on me.

 "How old are you?"

 '27'

 'really? 27? your very short, are you sure your 27?.' 

Yes I am sure. If I was lucky enough to be 17, believe me, the fictional age I picked would not have been 27. What 17 year old wants to be 27? Not once have I ever heard a teenager say "oh I cant wait till I'm 27", 'now give me my beer.'

 My Nan always said a closed mouth gathers no feet. I should try and remember that for the next 27. Ive nearly died a few times, thats something interesting I guess. Being faced with your own mortality in all its glory hasa certain way of making you realise; my mortality will eventually be the death of me. Personally, having put much thought into this, death does not scare me. Living forever scares me. So I guess in that respect its comforting to know that one of lifes only certainties is definately coming - at some point. Thank God. I dont know why people say that.'Thank God.' I dont even believe in any God. But lets not get into religion. Its a messy subject and I refer you back to my earlier saying about mouths and feet.