Spencer the Soft Spoken Shaker
Monday, April 23, 2012
Posted for another class, hope you enjoy
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Part of the Group
HERE'S THE SCRIPT FOR MY PART (MORE OR LESS). WHEN IN CHARACTER I WENT WITH WHAT I COULD REMEMBER (A SOME BULLET POINTS, TOO) FOR A MORE EXTEMPORANEOUS APPROACH AS IS DONE IN THE ORAL TRADITION. SO HERE YOU HAVE IT.
Warm, sweet streams throughout the land, The choice of mead and wine;
The people elegant, and without blemish, Conceived outside of lust or sin.
We see everyone, wherever they may be-No one sees us—The darkness
Of the world that fell with Adam—That is why we cannot be discerned.—Woman!
Megan, Brianna, and Spencer:
THE BLACKBIRD’S A BAD OMEN—WAH LET’S GET OUT OF HERE, THE WORLDS HAVE IMPINGED!
Shaker:
Advice! Hah! Sure, here’s some knowledge for you Raven—and since everyone else is here advisedly, listen carefully. Listen to the trees. That’s my number one piece. So you tourists really believe this ravin’ loony? Hah—and do our new guests even know what they’ve got themselves into with you in through the bor—door? Did you just get here, too? I’ve been in the thicket since coming here. But since everyone’s here you should know that you’re lost! We’re in the thicket out of bounds—otherwise known as cultural constraints—here and now! If you crossed the boundary
(POINT AT THE DOOR)
Then you might not leave for some time. I can’t explain it all, but what I’ve gathered from my other nomadic life is I learned to trust the road you’re given. That’s my second piece of advice! Trust the road, but I’ve seem to forgotten that.
(REMEMBER TO TELL THEM ABOUT THE POINT AND ABBEY’S PLANS COMING TO FRUITION)
But as for the actual point, the borderline place, well it’s a place…a special spot of symbolic significance where one goes to separate their state of being. So to speak, the boundary itself separates the states, like property that you can’t cross unless you find the secret chink in the fence and that’s where you start your passage, more like a pilgrimage, over the foreign property line where there’s a temporary sacrifice of consciousness, that part of the self for the pure and simple purpose of—communication—I suppose, and you gotta think as an animal because this is nature’s territory although there are remnants of culture everywhere, but there’s a fine line between the two just like there’s a fine line between a tour guide and a trickster!
(ABBEY IS OFFERING FRUIT TO TOURISTS AS SHAKER EMPHASIZES HER TROUBLESOME TENDENCIES)
Raven:
Who says I they can’t have a little?
Shaker:
I do! They might be stuck here.
Raven:
Is that why you haven’t found your way back?! How long have you been here?
Shaker:
That’s not important, it’s been a long time but you asked for advice and since we’re on the topic; Number three, please refrain from taking anything from the Otherworld, which usually includes accepting anything at all! It’s not a museum or an art gallery like in your big cities and artsy towns, things can be touched but there are limits. Bringing anything back from the boundary is forbidden, and you may be stuck there longer. Because it’s stealing and “there is a price to be paid for making nature’s thinking the property of man.” An old friend made that mistake some time ago, eating that damned fruit!, and she has been stuck in an otherworld’s underbelly ever since, and you don’t even want to get me started on the Adam and Eve debacle. But hey, people got to eat, especially people always on the move like me.
(KNOCK ON WOOD AND FOOD FOR THOUGHT)
However, this brings me to another point—some food for thought—whenever one is fortunate enough to breach the barrier beyond the boundary they should think of it as a new beginning, a starting point or a genesis of sorts and once you’ve entered that withheld realm you are changed beings. You’re here to search for the truth in yourself, that’s the soul, and because you’re looking then what you want is likewise working to reveal itself. But please with this supreme knowledge, which you’ll hold in your memory until the end of your journey, control the urge for the more and more of this world’s endless, indulgent offerings. Let me put it more simply—in being here we’re bearing witness to instances of extraordinary consciousness and with that there’s the consequence of excessive curiosity.
(SNIFF THE NORTH SIDE OF THE BOUND-TREE)
Raven:
No! This is silly dirty hippy, I’ve told you time and time again to not sniff too many trees! Let’s get back on the road like you said!
Shaker:
Also, remember that if you think like an animal then your thoughts and your words are very present and extremely powerful in this realm. The inappropriate use of them can add insult to injury and kill the spirit of the otherworld. I suppose I’ll tell you a story as we move on about someone I read about at a point in time. This man was a hunter who helped another out. In return the hunter was given a choice, as much gold as he could carry or knowledge of I think it was 70 languages which would give him access to conversations of birds, animals, fish, foreigners, whoever really. What do you think the hunter chose…..?
(START WALKING AWAY FOR STORY TIME)
The language, knowledge of the speech of the animals of course! It did him very well because, and here I’ll paraphrase what I remember of what is written and what was read, “The hunter is someone used to finding what he cannot see and there is a special power in tuning oneself to the singing of the forest.” My I love that story, didn’t you?! My mother always told the best stories, but ah—and lastly, in the Otherworld, things are done “contrariwise”, or backwards, marking the Otherness of the spirit world. This is something that can’t be explained quite as easily—you must figure it out for yourself—or maybe we can find some help around here from another mother!
Megan:
Everybody help! We need help. My daughters are too small and my belly too full. This way! There’s a huge problem!
Raven:
Oh my gosh it’s massive!
Shaker:
We’re going to need more people!
Fidgety:
Oh thank you all so much. It all happened so fast, I was just beached there…
Megan, Raven, Shaker together:
Beached!
Megan:
No wonder you’re here. What were you thinking doing a thing like that?
Shaker:
So you know about border points too then?
Megan:
I know a thing or two about this place. I’ve been here for as long as I can remember, it’s been awhile and I’ve forgotten anything about my history on the other side. But that’s not important, what is important is my family and what we’ve come to know as home, and the only place we know is this mythical place. Here meet my daughter, this one’s Clio, this one’s Calliope, and oh here’s Terpsichore!
Raven:
That’s enough we know their names!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Testin' my gangsta
A stately pleasure-dome decree: (8)
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran (8)
Through caverns measureless to man (8)
Down to a sunless sea. (6)
So twice five miles of fertile ground (8-9)
With walls and towers were girdled round: (8-9)
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, (11)
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; (10)
And here were forests ancient as the hills, (10)
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. (10)
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted (12) **This is where it gets interesting! See 'slanting'**
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! (11)
A savage place! as holy and enchanted (11)
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted (11)
By woman wailing for her demon-lover! (11)
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, (12)
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, (11)
A mighty fountain momently was forced: (10)
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst (10)
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, (10)
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: (10)
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever (11)
It flung up momently the sacred river. (11)
Five miles meandering* with a mazy motion (10-11)
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, (10)
Then reached the caverns measureless to man, (10)
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: (10-11) **this one's interesting--it's probably 11**
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far (10)
Ancestral voices prophesying war! (10)
The shadow of the dome of pleasure (9)
Floated midway on the waves; (7)
Where was heard the mingled measure (8)
From the fountain and the caves. (7)
It was a miracle of rare device, (9)
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! (10)
A damsel with a dulcimer (8)
In a vision once I saw: (7)
It was an Abyssinian maid, (7-8) **how fast can you say it?**
And on her dulcimer she played, (8) **the bolded word can be used in different form of slant-rhyme**
Singing of Mount Abora. (7)
Could I revive within me (7)
Her symphony and song, (6)
To such a deep delight 'twould win me (9)
That with music loud and long (7)
I would build that dome in air, (7)
That sunny dome! those caves of ice! (8)
And all who heard should see them there, (8)
And all should cry, Beware! Beware! (8)
His flashing eyes, his floating hair! (8)
Weave a circle round him thrice, (7)
And close your eyes with holy dread, (8)
For he on honey-dew hath fed (8)
And drunk the milk of Paradise. (8)
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan—A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea—so twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round: And there
Were gardens bright with sinuous rills—where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
---
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted—down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted—As e'er beneath a waning moon was hanted,
Haunted, whatever whereby woman wailing for her demon-lover! **haunted does not rhyme with enchanted!! Does it?**
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething—As if this earth in fast thick pants were
A mighty fountain momently was forced—amid breathing whose swift half-intermitted burst.
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail—or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever it flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion—through wood and dale the sacred river ran, **'miles' will be ideally said differently here**
Then reached the caverns measureless to man—And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far—ancestral voices prophesying war!
------
The shadow of the dome of pleasure floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure from the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device—a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
------
A damsel with a dulcimer in a vision once I saw: ** (colloq. pronun:dull-see-maa)**
It was an Abyssinian maid and on her dulcimer she played, **(articulating regularly: dull-sim-mer) **
Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me—Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me—That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air—That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there—And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!—Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread, His word! Care if my own word clarifies…?
That for he on honey-dew hath fed and drunk the milk of Paradise.
...More on this process later...