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Smoking The Bar
"an edgily paced piece of theatre verite" - Neil Cooper, The Herald
Presented at the Tron Theatre, Glasgow in April 2003.
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Text from the show:
Other than that what I was going to say was... ehm...
A little pissed...
Perhaps I should have done more night shifts? No. Please no. Not more shifts. I'm scared of
going to bed sober. I'm scared in case I don't sleep. Lying awake thinking things I shouldn't
be thinking because I'm suppose to be asleep. Perhaps I'm addicted? Perhaps I'm just weak? Any
excuse will do. Drink. Smoke. Money drunk. Drink too much. Money drunk. Skint. Bollocks. Fuck
it. Drink. Smoke. Happiness in a halcyon glow of inebriation. To hide form sobriety. To hide
from living another life. In my citadel of smoke and spirits. Sanctuary.
If I were an enlightened being, as I daftly believe I can be when I'm drunk, it wouldn't matter
what job I did. So, that depressive fear thing again... Of bigger, more far-off, less graspable
fears of the future: failure, exposure, death, fear of not fulfilling my potential, fear of
not being able to help others, fear of living my life and then dying thinking to myself... "Well,
what the hell was that all about?" and not being able to laugh at it.
Sanctuary. A place to retreat to. To seek refuge in. To seek refuge from. As certain men may
do here in the bar. A crutch, a place of returning to no matter what state of mind or body I
am in. I come here. To work, to speak, to laugh, get drunk, not care what the outside world
are doing momentarily. Fear addictively brings me back. Day in. Night out. This bar, my sanctuary.
Of avoidence. It's dead easy. Postpone life. I'M SCARED! I'M SCARED OF LIFE!! Turn to the emancipation
of beer. Yeah, hey I know, it's ok.. it's ok.. it's ok.. you're going to be ok. |
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