tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50819931782609929742011-07-08T03:10:52.130-07:00Vita textVita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.comBlogger131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-10014109747037891872009-10-18T01:15:00.000-07:002009-10-18T01:17:46.808-07:00Pedantic iameter
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margin:70.85pt 70.85pt 70.85pt Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-88063377576453421702009-10-13T01:12:00.000-07:002010-12-12T02:39:38.051-08:00Dialogue 17
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Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-83458966906848056322009-01-18T02:12:00.001-08:002009-01-18T02:12:45.123-08:00ECHOLESS CAVEA xxxxxxxxxx tale.
Timothy had heard of the cave. It was dark, and round. He had a candle, so he could see for a short distance around him, but there were dark corners and crevices, and some said wild animals lived in them, and ate whatever came into the cave. Tonight, he was about to find out if this was true. He had a gun with him, just in case. There was no chance of an amiable territorial Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-32660687510450733602008-12-10T23:47:00.000-08:002008-12-10T23:49:52.557-08:00Four score and two<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 21 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if !mso]> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } <![endif]--> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-68958555901518159742008-04-19T09:27:00.000-07:002008-04-19T09:30:10.625-07:00The goose that laid golden eggs
There once was a wild goose that laid golden eggs. She was very proud of her eggs, but nobody seemed to want them. Life had changed so much since the original legend, that golden eggs were no longer the thing. Before she realised this, she tried everything to make her golden eggs more desirable. Thinking they were maybe too soft, she added an artificial hardener. She managed to sell one Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-41203207608560889552008-02-06T01:39:00.000-08:002009-11-24T23:44:02.639-08:00On the way to Willesden
This piece was written in memory of Jean-Charles de Menezes.
When my alarm goes off, I am so startled for a moment I don’t remember where I am. Through the window I see a weak sun struggling to break through a clump of orangey cloud above the city rooftops. To me, the default state of the sky is clear blue. I vaguely clock the cloud as a blemish, something somehow slightly morally wrong. Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-37511270384571481152008-01-12T04:56:00.001-08:002008-03-02T08:08:53.917-08:00TodayToday is different I don’t have to feel that way Any more Today I can leave my old self behind Why today Today I can at last be me, at last be free of the tangled lines and fines and shines that sun down all over us in the beginnings I don’t mean I’m at a loose end just that I can’t spend Another minute being her, being she Now I can be meVita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-19148625682837829912007-12-20T01:35:00.000-08:002008-01-10T05:49:40.292-08:00TomorrowThere was always yesterday. There had always been yesterday. I will sing one last time then give up, retire, expire. That’s the only way I can do it, you see. (Nobody ever taught me continuity.) Ingenuity. There had always been a tomorrow. There was always tomorrow. That’s why we didn’t have to act, do, realise, achieve – there was a tomorrow and this is it. All those years I believed that Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-88542445927842391372007-11-17T02:44:00.000-08:002008-02-06T07:35:50.467-08:00Topologie d’une rencontre au lieu de la solitude - 1
The scene. A man in a cage. Bored. A woman prowling around him. Woman I'm sorry to have taken you prisoner but it was the only way. The only way to start. Afterwards we can work something out. I'll set you free. I promise. Man Then there is no danger. This is a temporary situation. One which won't be repeated. Can any good come of it? You want to make me talk, to create some kind of Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-28911791435615900192007-11-10T01:46:00.000-08:002008-01-10T05:53:33.703-08:00Freedom of speech in the theatre - Monologue -(A male actor is in darkness and starts to speak before the lights are on him. Ideally he would have a pneumatic cushion around his middle which would inflate very gradually)
It took me a long time to get here. I started off as animal noises, screeching and grunting. Obviously I was one of the ‘lucky’ ones, you think, or I wouldn’t be here at all. 11 million of us die of malnutrition everyVita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-40344564859067305272007-10-28T03:38:00.000-07:002008-01-10T05:53:48.891-08:00The LibraryWhen the rain started to fall, everyone was relieved that the drought was finally over, and that we would be able to fill our swimming pools and wash our cars again. It was only when it had been raining constantly for several days, and the river started to swell ominously, that people began to feel nervous, but kept about their daily business nonetheless. It was in this frame of mind that I Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-54988834971227235912007-09-30T05:01:00.000-07:002008-01-10T05:54:06.872-08:00Dialogue 8I can see light coming in through the skylight. Are you sure? As sure as I can be. What do you think it means? Dunno. Where do you think it's coming from? No idea. How high can you see? Right up to the top and then some. You were always so modest. Yes, that is one of my strong points. Was the skylight always there? Maybe, but this is the first time I've noticed it. And would you mind Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081993178260992974.post-87056857318194810742007-09-26T01:25:00.000-07:002010-12-12T02:41:36.657-08:00What did the spider say to the elephant?
She is sitting on the soft grass, near my rock, looking up at me. I love my rock. It is too hard for her, too high. Time to tell her.
“We are going to a place high up in the mountains. Pay attention on the way, for I shall not be coming back with you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m very old, and I am going to die”.
“What do you want me to do?”
“When we reach the chosen spot, I shall lie down at the Vita Brevishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487928061168377167noreply@blogger.com0