The Admirals Chaffeur: Part 2
May. 15th, 2006 02:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonNever promise more than you can perform.
- Syrus (Publilius Syrus), Maxims
But by the next day I began practicing my lines in earnest:
North Avenue Station: "What man is at ease in his inn?"
"Get out!" as nervous commuters try to figure out whether i'm criminally insane or just plain old cracked out.
"It's okay. I'm an actor!" I smile and lie straight from the heart. The commuters go from scared to annoyed.
The #2 bus to Avondale Station: "Wide is the world and cold!"
"Get out!"I spit the words from the window at all those cars speeding by me.
The Office Elevator: "Thou hast become an In-itiate!" I smile at the security camera they have installed and add with a wink, "Get Out!"
Naked in front of my mirror at home: "But thou canst not get out by the way thou Camest in. The way OUT is the WAY!" I do this line over and over again because it's the hardest to remember. Sometimes I shout it out with Fugazi and the Ramones on in the background. Sometimes I whisper it to myself. Sometimes, just to keep it interesting, I recite it in imitation of my actor friends voices: The rabid squeak of the Magpie, the Porno-Baritone of West, the Nasally grizzly bear whine of the Big Guy and even the forced British Affectation of Angel. "Get Out!" I say returning to my own voice with a laugh.
At the intersection of Freedom Parkway and Boulevard: The sun sets on the skyline bouquet tied together with ribbon of I-20. The silouette of MLK reaches towards the heavens. It is a sacred spot in the city. The true heart of Atlanta. "For OUT is love and Wisdom and Power" I say with adoration as the homeless shuffle around me in the bushes of the bike trail.Get out!
In my bed, the night beofre the show: I reconstruct HER kiss, I vision HER breasts bouncing beneath me, eyes dreamy distant and filled with me. I replay HER little moans in my head, sweet as sugar-music to my soul and I say to this ghost lover i've summoned: "If thou hast T already, First get UT". SHE reaches up to cup my face, phantom fingers gliding across my cheeks: "Then Get O" I begin to feel the Shakti Serpent descend down my spine, I summon the memory of her smile and rain death into my ghost lover uttering the words at my climax: "And so at last get OUT!"
I'm standing there on the stage. The words are gone, nowhere inside me to be found, in my chest I feel the trap door spring open. I'm on the first drop of a 100 story roller coaster and falling into the darkness at a horrendous speed.... and then, like an fighter pilot pulling his plane out of his nose dive with both guns blazing back into the heavens the words come to me like little boys dreams of the Cavalry! I am posessed now, the poem is riding my voice like waves and crashing out into the shores of the audience. I am no longer Robert Mosca, for a few moments I am only the WORDS.
I come back to. I step down. I rejoin the circle. West turns around and leads us off stage in a procession, while we chant the last line of the poem:"Get Out!" over and over again. When I arrive back stage I collapse to my knees in supplication of some higher power that has already left me. Relief sweeps over me and the adreanlin rush comes crashing back down.
I did it.
All my life i've been so very afraid of you all. Individually I could dismiss you with a smirk, but amassed together and i'm just a little boy again in Brooklyn outnumbered in the playground, unable to fight back and equally unable to face myself in the mirror when I was left for beaten. I get off my knees, I walk out of that little boys playground and rejoin my friends for the curtain call.
- Syrus (Publilius Syrus), Maxims
But by the next day I began practicing my lines in earnest:
North Avenue Station: "What man is at ease in his inn?"
"Get out!" as nervous commuters try to figure out whether i'm criminally insane or just plain old cracked out.
"It's okay. I'm an actor!" I smile and lie straight from the heart. The commuters go from scared to annoyed.
The #2 bus to Avondale Station: "Wide is the world and cold!"
"Get out!"I spit the words from the window at all those cars speeding by me.
The Office Elevator: "Thou hast become an In-itiate!" I smile at the security camera they have installed and add with a wink, "Get Out!"
Naked in front of my mirror at home: "But thou canst not get out by the way thou Camest in. The way OUT is the WAY!" I do this line over and over again because it's the hardest to remember. Sometimes I shout it out with Fugazi and the Ramones on in the background. Sometimes I whisper it to myself. Sometimes, just to keep it interesting, I recite it in imitation of my actor friends voices: The rabid squeak of the Magpie, the Porno-Baritone of West, the Nasally grizzly bear whine of the Big Guy and even the forced British Affectation of Angel. "Get Out!" I say returning to my own voice with a laugh.
At the intersection of Freedom Parkway and Boulevard: The sun sets on the skyline bouquet tied together with ribbon of I-20. The silouette of MLK reaches towards the heavens. It is a sacred spot in the city. The true heart of Atlanta. "For OUT is love and Wisdom and Power" I say with adoration as the homeless shuffle around me in the bushes of the bike trail.Get out!
In my bed, the night beofre the show: I reconstruct HER kiss, I vision HER breasts bouncing beneath me, eyes dreamy distant and filled with me. I replay HER little moans in my head, sweet as sugar-music to my soul and I say to this ghost lover i've summoned: "If thou hast T already, First get UT". SHE reaches up to cup my face, phantom fingers gliding across my cheeks: "Then Get O" I begin to feel the Shakti Serpent descend down my spine, I summon the memory of her smile and rain death into my ghost lover uttering the words at my climax: "And so at last get OUT!"
I'm standing there on the stage. The words are gone, nowhere inside me to be found, in my chest I feel the trap door spring open. I'm on the first drop of a 100 story roller coaster and falling into the darkness at a horrendous speed.... and then, like an fighter pilot pulling his plane out of his nose dive with both guns blazing back into the heavens the words come to me like little boys dreams of the Cavalry! I am posessed now, the poem is riding my voice like waves and crashing out into the shores of the audience. I am no longer Robert Mosca, for a few moments I am only the WORDS.
I come back to. I step down. I rejoin the circle. West turns around and leads us off stage in a procession, while we chant the last line of the poem:"Get Out!" over and over again. When I arrive back stage I collapse to my knees in supplication of some higher power that has already left me. Relief sweeps over me and the adreanlin rush comes crashing back down.
I did it.
All my life i've been so very afraid of you all. Individually I could dismiss you with a smirk, but amassed together and i'm just a little boy again in Brooklyn outnumbered in the playground, unable to fight back and equally unable to face myself in the mirror when I was left for beaten. I get off my knees, I walk out of that little boys playground and rejoin my friends for the curtain call.
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no subject
on 2006-05-15 09:37 pm (UTC)xxx