The dark bit

(Standing over a big empty cage.)

All of my pets are gone, maybe they are dead.  
I have no idea why.  Did I leave the cage open? Did I let them out to play forgetting to lock them back in?  

I am very forgetful.  I had 4 rabbits at least, a sparrow, a guinea pig with a black eye, some feral cats.  Where are the centipedes? Oh my god.  There’s no water, did they die of thirst? Maybe I didn’t feed them, at least I thought I did last week… No, no last week was too long ago they would have starved.  Why has it been a week?  I care for my tiny beasts daily.  I think. I’m a kind person.  My head hurts.  It hurts all the time.  It’s not my fault, it can’t be because I’m a good person, I loved you, I couldn’t mistreat something so vulnerable and that I loved so much.  

(Aside – matter of factly) At the bottom of the cage there’s a sealed polythene bag, inside it are 2 grasshoppers and one bites me as I pick up the bag.  

Ow! I’m so sorry I left you without air, surely I didn’t forget to make a hole so you could breath.  No wonder you are so angry with me.  I would bite myself if I could.  I need to go. Where are you all.  You can’t be dead? I’m such a terrible person.  Oh no, the play.

I’m needed on stage in 15 minutes. Time is running out.  

I’m devastated.  Please come back.  Please.

There’s nothing I can do.  My public need me.  I didn’t kill you I promise.  I couldn’t have killed you.  I don’t remember being this cruel.  I’m crying and my stage makeup is dripping in my eyes.  I can barely see now.  Everything is black, so black.  I must get on stage the director will be furious.

I have no idea what my lines are.  Not a clue.  (Singing & doing a little jig) Hellooooo and welcome to the playyyy.

Helloooooo.  Oh.  Where are my audience?  You were laughing? I could hear your mumbles in the black out, one of you had the audacity to cough.  Where are you!  Silence.  

(The fire alarm rings)

Ok this isn’t funny! We need to get out, evacuate, don’t panic, seriously, I’m serious it’s not a test.

(The fire alarm merges into the alarm clock, the cage is now a bed and I’m waking up)

Intro to my one woman show… Exclusive!

Well I’m in so much pain I can’t begin to try and sleep.

I’ve always dreamed of doing a one woman show.  I love to act, and write, I’m far better at monologue that dialogue for some reason.   

 I love you to read this and let me know what you think.
Lissy Lis’s one woman show… The beginning…
I’m feeling torn. Torn between trying to get a good nights sleep so I don’t feel shitty in the morning, and staying awake as long as I can to put off the agony of the morning alarm ringing in my ears. It’s 2am and I’ve decided that a good nights sleep is vastly underrated. Morning sucks harder than a no hands spaghetti eating contest.  

Have you ever had that dream? The one where you are rushing to get to work? I get that when I’m subconsciously panicked about oversleeping. It’s the one where I’m trying to leave the flat, packing my bag anxiously with work essentials, but those essential items are strewn across the room, I’m frantically hunting a hairbrush, my phone, keys, sandwiches, diary, eyeliner, my cats bowl, a cheese grater, until I realise I’m now 3 hours late. God knows how I did it but I’m out of my house, I’m rushing down the road when I come to the stark, horrific realisation I haven’t brushed my hair at all. I have sex hair, wild, knotty and matted at the back. I hunt through my bag relentlessly for that brush but I can’t find it. 

 I feel somewhat narked that I missed the part of the dream when I got my scruffy hair do, but the lucidity never lasts. 

 Oh god. My shoes! Where are my shoes? I can’t go to work barefoot can I? So I decide to call in sick. I’m trying to type numbers into my phone but I press a 0 and then a 6 appears on the screen, I delete the 6 and press 0, then a 9, 99, no a 0, 999 appears and the police automated system is literally telling me I have prank called them. No! I didn’t prank you my phone malfunctioned, oh god what if they notice my shoes, my hair! Oh god, run!
But I can’t run can I? I’m trying to run through glue, thick viscous, invisible glue. The harder I try the harder it is to move at all, I’m doomed. I’m surely doomed. I get on my knees and I’m crawling like a shoeless hobo with hooker hair down the high street, desperately clutching at the kerb, pulling myself towards the road I urgently need to cross when sirens and blue flashing lights surround me, whirring knee-knorrs getting louder and louder and louder until.  
Hang on. I’m in bed. I roll over and press snooze.
Snooze really is an amazing thing isn’t it? It amazes me how many times I can press it without even realising 2 hours have gone by. 
Well that’s it.  What do you think?  Do you have any tips? What would keep you entertained for a whole show?  Would you like me to post a performance video?

A lifetime in 20 minutes

Dreaming 

Wide open eyes

Exploring 

glowing landscapes

Flying 

misty skies

Settling gently 

On cotton wool

Into strong arms

a lover

Gazing into

smiling eyes

Sharing kisses with one another

rain sprinkles

rosy damp cheeks

Clouds emerging

cover 

Rocking

swaying

a wooden raft

Lovers gone forever

Gripping

timber

Waves crashing fiercely

Sinking

slowly

Under the deep sea

Swimming

corals

shipwrecks so ghostly

tunnel, black

sensing deathly

Struggling 

breaths

Going forever

But into the light 

And to sunnier weather
By Lis 

You always give me your salad.  A poem about salad, loosely ripping off The Beatles.

  
You always give me your salad

You don’t care about the consequences

I only asked you for a god damn toastie

Why you treat me this way?

You always give me you salad

That rancid lettuce it irritates me

Those shitty onions smell worse than cats wee

I didn’t come here for this

You always give me your salad

Even though I said ‘just a toastie’

It winds me up the way you force it on me

And I get sad.

I didn’t ask for additions

Raw tomatoes give me nightmare visions

Celery it is a nasty villain 

And cucumbers… Bad.

1, 2, 3, 4, throw your salad on the floor

5, 6, 7, 8, keep that salad off my plate
By Lis who hates salad.  Particularly ‘side salad’. 

  

How I become someone else (and it’s amazing)

  
My alter ego for the weekend…

This week my alter ego is pictured above.  Her name is Shaniqua.  She is one half of a pair of the deceased Siamese twins, Beniqua and Shaniqua.  

This pair of Thai beauties worked a wardrobe/laundry in a vaudevillian theatre in Thanet in the early 60’s.  They are vintage Thai ghetto, at least they were until they accidentally electrocuted each other.  

Being someone else is what I’m good at.

Don’t get me wrong.  I like being me, but we all have talents and mine is for acting.  I’m really confident about this, I feel so at peace with myself when I erase all of Lis and step into those lights as another being.  

It’s nice to have a break from Lis for a little while.

My busy creative, intense mind is always on the go.  I’m always thinking and analysing everything.  And on top of that I have to cope with fatigue and pain all the time.  When I’m on stage, my mind is so focused on being the mind of someone or something else, it makes all the usual day to day stresses disappear.  It’s a relief.

It helps with my pain levels, it’s as good as a tramadol.

That’s true.  I think it’s the adrenalin of doing something exciting that helps.  I barely feel pain on stage.  Off stage is another story, and I’m often found slumped in the wings or wangling a cheeky massage off someone.  Adrenalin is of course a natural pain killer.  Our bodies are so amazing! 

I’d do this full time if it wasn’t so exhausting! If you haven’t ever tried it, you must, just be brave and put yourself out there.  Feel the fear and do it anyway. 

Kisses from Lis x