Chapter One

He asked her if she knew her name.

She cried "no!".

He asked her if she would look at him.

She cried "no!"

He asked her if she knew where she was.

She cried "no!"

He asked her why she wept.

She cried "no!"

He left and she lifted her head and sighed, tears running from her eyes.

Echos shivered down the corridor and into her dark room.

(The lights made her shake. They learnt this early on.)

She listened hard and heard the man yell in the distance like a shrieking guttural ape.

"She'll remember, you bastard!"

She peeked at the camera, light glowing red.

It heard every word and so did she.

And she remembered.

Mighty Interesting Letter of Note

(Borrowed from 'Letters from an Atheist Nation' (1903) via LettersOfNote.com)

Why am I an Atheist

Because it has dawned upon me that it is right to be so, and upon investigation I find no real evidence of the divine origin of the scriptures. And because I cannot, as a refined and respectable woman, take to my bosom as a daily guide a book of such low morals and degrading influences. Written by a lot of priests, I cannot accept a salvation that is based wholly upon the dreams of an ancient and superstitious people, with no proof save blind faith.

Everything that so many people think transpires from the supernatural, and many things that would really perplex the average mind, have a natural and material foundation in the workings of the human mind; that is, things that are not connected with our solar system.

It is ignorance of the scientific working of their own natures and mind that keep so much "mystery" in the air; and as long as there is a mystery afloat the people will ascribe it to the supernatural.

I am an Atheist because I know the Bible will not do to depend upon. I have tried it, and found it wanting.

In fact, I found in the scriptures the origin of woman's slayer, and that it was one of God's main points to oppress women and keep them in the realms of ignorance.

I am in the ranks of Liberalism because of its elevating principles, its broad road to freedom of thought, speech, and investigation.

MINNIE O. PARRISH
23 years old
Leonard, Texas

(1903)

Reading

Now I have a 30-40 minute commute every morning and every evening I find myself reading 1984 by George Orwell, a book I've always wanted to read but life got in the way. By that I mean when I pause for breath, I just want to watch crappy tv, surf the net, reorganise my room again, tut at my wardrobe or worry about a deadline without having to concentrate on something I want to take the time to know well.

During my commute there's not much else to do but subtly snuggle up to strangers and be consumed in words I've heard a lot about, but never experienced.

I'm about a third way through now and I find myself pondering a world without certain givens. A world without coffee shops, a world without music, a world without plastic wrapping, a world without knives, a world without guilt and a world without lips. Different and separate worlds of course, as a world without all of those would pretty much be Mars and we'd all be pretty bored right now. 

I also find myself pondering whether you could really have a world without attractive people. If we were all ugly and undesirable surely we'd find new definitions for the words?

On a lighter note, a nice gentlemen noted how much he enjoyed 1984 to me yesterday when he saw me reading it, as he took the seat next to me on the train (in the middle of a three seater with spare seats elsewhere - who does that?). Then he proceeded to take out his Kindle, unlock it and return to the book he was reading. I can't put the name of it here, it would shame my blog. But its basically The Secretary (the film) but crap. If you've read it then I surely hope it was for a joke, you won money and you are getting counselling. Or you're at least appropriately ashamed of yourself.

J and I have made a pact not to read it. We only read good books. Like classics and Buffy novels.

Dos and don'ts...

As much as you like the theatre, fellow thespians and the warm glow of a well aimed Fresnel you are not always going to like the show. Maybe the set is frighteningly unstable or your arse is more numb than the actor’s facial expression or the script is about as exciting as the opening spiel of a telemarketer or that actor is just too darn pretty to be playing a brute. Whatever it is, unless you’re sat at the back, near the door, in a rather large theatre and have no shame, well, you aren’t going anywhere and there’s nothing you can do about it. So in case you need a hand to keep yourself awake, to cease the mind numbing ache of monotonous tones or to stop yourself from screaming, here are a few things you can DO.

1 - Got a pad and paper? – write that play you’ve always thought about. The incessant notes will intrigue your neighbours, who will surely make others aware of your talents and word of mouth will surely ensure your debut is an instant West End hit, despite being a musical about a postman.

2 - Check out your surrounding fellow theatre goers’ concentration faces. Enjoy.

3 - Imagine the gorgeous lead naked on a bed of silk with a certain look in his/her eye... – add secret fetish here - ... leave with a satisfied naughty smirk that none of the other equally disappointed patrons can comprehend.

4 – Got hair? – plait it. Unplait it. Put it in a bun. Now a high bun. Undo the bun and attempt a French plait. Repeat. The concentration will amuse the people around you and you’ll get a subconscious arm work out. Not got hair? Plait the person’s hair in front of you.

5 – Imagine yourself in all the roles. Appreciate the irony of the fact you’re pretty sure you could quite possibly make it worse.

Here’s a few things you DON’T do.

1 – Start singing along with the songs. Whether they’re part of the show or just in your head it’s quite inappropriate, will get you nowhere with the ladies and, most importantly, it will distract the critics from the mess.

2 – Make a phone call. Only bastards make or answer calls in a theatre or cinema. Even if the film does feature Jennifer Lopez. Are you a bastard?

3 – Instigate a game of musical chairs during set changes.

4 – Get your iPad out. Especially to play Angry Birds. This is one of two examples on these two lists that I’ve actually seen occur.

I rarely see a bad show and this column is meant almost entirely in jest.  

Give me a deadline...

On my desktop, apart from the usual array of programs I never use and Google Chrome, is a file named "Scripts". This contains five Microsoft Word files and a PDF. One of the Word files and the PDF are complete and wonderful and I love them. The others are unfinished and I think this is because I love them more.

Two suffer from wherewasigoingwiththis-itis. Another from thissceneisrubbishandiwillnotmoveonuntilitisnt-osis and the other I am working on at the moment with a slower pace than the others, which I think is a good sign.

This file is like a lot of things in my life. Such as my bedroom. The wall scattered with notes and images and theatre tickets that have become - quite literally - part of the wallpaper and no longer inspire a great whim on which to build on. 

Like a lot of creatives I struggle to hold an idea in my head - that is wholly my own and without a deadline - without another idea shoving it out the way with Spartan vigour.

So, dear readers, I ask you this. Give me a deadline. Then, as with so many of my University essays, I will surely produce an awesome (and sometimes mediocre) piece of work and move on with my life.