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2012 ACTT Male Audition Pieces

The Professional Actor Program

2012 ACTT Male Audition Pieces The Professional Actor Program 505 Pitt St Sydney NSW 2000 Ph:

505 Pitt St Sydney NSW 2000 Ph: +61 2 9213 4500

Pieces The Professional Actor Program 505 Pitt St Sydney NSW 2000 Ph: +61 2 9213 4500

Welcome to your audition at ACTT!

Preparing for the Audition This booklet contains recommended audition pieces (monologues) for The Professional Actor Program (Advanced Diploma of Arts in Stage and Screen Acting).

You will be required to prepare three monologues for your audition. Two pieces should be selected from this booklet* and your third monologue can be one of your own choosing. One piece may be Shakespearean, but it is not a set requirement of the audition. Additionally you may be asked to sing a few verses of a song acapella, also of your own choosing so please be prepared.

*NOTE: We want to see you at your best. So if you have already prepared monologues from other leading acting institutions with which you are confident, you may be able to use these in your auditions for ACTT. To enquire about this, please email your chosen pieces to

Choosing audition material Keep in mind that the panel wants to see you at your best, so make choices that appeal to you but that also suit you (age, type, nationality etc.) To show your acting range, select strongly contrasting pieces. Your pieces should be no longer than two minutes. Do not use audition pieces you have devised or written yourself, or ones that are extracted from poems or novels. Please keep your selection to established monologues.

What does ACTT look for in an audition? ACTT is looking for moments that make us listen and feel something for you in your performance. Our training methods are oriented to prepare actors for theatre as well as film and we will be looking to discover if you will be able to allow an emotion to connect you with the lines and situation of the piece. We know that you will be nervous and we will take this into account but please be aware that if you have learned the lines well, the nerves will become performance energy and not paralyse you.

Hints for preparing your audition piece/s:

Be well-prepared, and allow sufficient lead time - two weeks for each monologue is a good guide. We do not expect highly polished work and it

can in fact work against you if you are locked into one way of performing a piece.

Know what each scene and speech is about and read the entire play

from which it comes so that you are aware of the context of the piece.

Think about doing your preparation with another person as your scene

partner or your audience. Basic furniture only will be available, but do not plan to use hand props or costumes.

● Don‟t use an accent other than your own unless absolutely essential to the piece.

When preparing, ask some vital questions of the piece including: How does this piece affect you? What emotions does the character go through? What does your character want? What are the circumstances? What is the character doing physically?

Make bold choices in your interpretation and in your performance.

Have fun with it!

What to bring and wear? Wear loose comfortable clothing and soft-soled shoes (no high heels, boots, thongs or bare feet please!) to allow you to move and work easily. Avoid wearing jewellery that could fall off, get tangled, or become lost or damaged and please remove any tongue or facial piercings. Ladies, please wear little or no makeup. Bring bottled water to drink on the day. Audition books can provide useful tips on how to prepare. A good selection is available from Ariel Books, 42 Oxford St, Paddington or Performing Arts Bookshop, 262 Pitt St, Sydney, 2000.

The Audition

The audition consists of two stages. In Stage One you will perform your monologues to a panel. Selected applicants will then be invited to attend Stage Two, which is usually held later on the same day - no additional preparation is required. An interview may also be arranged during auditions.

Stage One You will be assigned an audition day and time to present your pieces. Arrive at least half an hour ahead of time to warm-up. Please keep the whole day free. You will be encouraged to use one of the current ACTT students who are present on the day to work to in your monologues.

The panel may or may not offer any direction to re-work a piece. Please keep in mind that you will be auditioning with only the panel and possibly another actor in the studio.

Stage Two This will usually take place on the afternoon of the same day. You will work with one of our acting teachers on a series of group and individual exercises. No additional preparation is required for Stage Two

Interviews People being considered for a place will also be invited to attend an interview to determine their motivation behind applying for ACTT, their long- term goals for working in the industry and ability to finance their study. (This may occur during a scheduled audition or at a later time.)

Selection of Applicants Selection is based entirely on the audition results. Applicants who receive an offer will be notified by telephone and mail. Offers are made based on the applicant‟s potential for a career as a professional actor. When an offer is made, you will be given seven days to make a decision to accept and pay a deposit. Whichever stage of the audition process you reach, regardless of whether you are offered a place, you will receive feedback. This may include advice about what was observed and how you may be able to better prepare another time. ACTT reserves the right to make offers to applicants who achieve outstanding results during the interview/audition process.

General While auditions are generally quite daunting experiences, don‟t panic!

The audition panel is made up of staff that have considerable experience

in these matters and who understand the nerves and worries of

auditionees. Every effort is made to create an atmosphere that is as relaxed and as comfortable as possible. While allowances are made, you do need to be well-prepared however, and determined to show yourself to your best advantage.

A warm-up room will be provided for you before your audition and you

are expected to arrive at least 30 minutes early to prepare. ACTT students will be on hand to assist you and to work as scene partners in your

audition. Should you have any questions please call us on (02) 9212 4500. Break a leg!

2012 Male Audition Pieces

1. Twelfth Night

2. Macbeth

3. Henry V

4. Measure for Measure

5. A Midsummer Night‟s Dream

6. Hamlet

7. King Lear

8. Look Back in Anger

9. Dreams in an Empty City

10. Chopper

11. In Our Town

12. Run Rabbit Run

13. Blackrock

14. Erskineville Kings

15. The Sum of Us

16. The Breakfast Club

17. Greek

18. Night Letters

19. Five Kinds of Silence

20. Death of a Salesman

21. Wild Honey

22. Dylan

Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare John Osbourne Stephen Sewell Andrew Dominik Jack Davis Alana Valentine Nick Enright Marty Deniss David Stevens John Hughes Steven Berkoff Robert Dessaix Shelagh Stevenson Arthur Miller Michael Frayn Sidney Michaels

Twelfth Night Act IV, Scene III William Shakespeare


This is the air, that is the glorious sun, This pearl she gave me, I do feel‟t, and see‟t, And though ‟tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet ‟tis not madness. Where‟s Antonio then? I could not find him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service:

For though my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the lady‟s mad; yet if „twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceive she does. There‟s something in‟t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.

Macbeth Act IV, Scene III William Shakespeare


Be not offended.

I speak not as in absolute fear of you.

I think our country sinks beneath the yoke.

It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right, And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands. But for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant‟s head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways, than ever, By him that shall succeed. It is myself I mean; in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state

Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms, Macbeth is bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name. But there‟s no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters, Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up The cistern of my lust; and my desire All continent impediments would o‟erbear That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth Than such an one to reign.

Henry V Act IV, Scene III William Shakespeare

Henry V

This day is call‟d the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam‟d, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day, and live old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian”. Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say “These wounds I had on Crispin‟s day”. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he‟ll remember with advantages What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing cups freshly remember‟d; This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne‟er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne‟er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accurs‟d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin‟s day.

Measure for Measure Act III, Scene I William Shakespeare


Ay, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold obstruction and to rot, This sensible warm motion to become

A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit

To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside

In thrilling region of thick-ribbèd ice,

To be imprisoned in the viewless winds And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst

Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling, „tis too horrible. The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream Act III, Scene II William Shakespeare


My Mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower While she was in her dull and sleeping hour A crew of patches, rude mechanicals That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus‟ nuptial day. The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and entered in a brake, When I did him at this advantage take. An ass‟s nole I fixèd on his head. Anon his Thisbe must be answerèd, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy- As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun‟s report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky- So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; And at our stamp here o‟er and o‟er one falls. He “Murder” cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong. For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats-from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there; When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

Hamlet Act III, Scene I William Shakespeare


To be, or nor to be, that is the question – Whether „tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to – „tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep – To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there‟s the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There‟s the respect That makes calamity of so long life, For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th‟oppressor‟s wrong, the proud man‟s contumely, Than pangs of disprized love, the law‟s delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th‟unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Then fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o‟er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. Soft you now, The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered.

King Lear Act I, Scene II William Shakespeare


Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madam‟s issue? Why brand they us With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? Who in the lusty stealth of nature take More composition and fierce quality Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, Go to th‟ creating of a whole tribe of fops, Got „tween asleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:

Our father‟s love is to the bastard Edmund As to th‟ legitimate. Fine word “legitimate”! Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, And my invention thrive, Edmund the base Shall top th‟ legitimate -: I grow, I prosper; Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Look Back in Anger John Osbourne


Anyone who‟s never watched someone die is suffering from a pretty bad case of virginity. For twelve months, I watched my father dying when I was ten years old. He‟d come back from the war in Spain, you see. And certain god-fearing gentlemen there had made such a mess of him, he didn‟t have long left to live. Everyone knew it even I knew it. But, you see, I was the only one who cared. His family were embarrassed by the whole business. Embarrassed and irritated. As for my mother, all she could think about was the fact that she had allied herself to a man who seemed to be on the wrong side in all things. My mother was all for being associated with minorities, provided they were the smart, fashionable ones. We, all of us waited for him to die. The family sent him a cheque every month, and hoped he‟d get on with it quietly, without too much vulgar fuss. My mother looked after him without complaining, and that was about all. Perhaps she pitied him. I suppose she was capable of that. But I was the only one who cared! Everytime I sat on the edge of his bed, to listen to him talking or reading to me, I had to fight back my tears. At the end of twelve months, I was a veteran. All that that feverish failure of a man had to listen to him was a small, frightened boy. I spent hour upon hour in that tiny bedroom. He would talk to me for hours, pouring out all that was left of his life to one, lonely, bewildered little boy, who could barely understand half of what he said. All he could feel was the despair and bitterness, the sweet, sickly smell of a dying man. You see, I learnt at an early age what it is to be angry angry and helpless. And I can never forget it. I knew more about - love…betrayal…and death when I was ten years old than you will probably ever know all your life.

Dreams in an Empty City Stephen Sewell


His whole body was trembling; the pupils of his eyes had almost disappeared. There was a dry blade of grass in his hair. He was whispering. I put the gun under his chin. I was breathing heavily, I was covered in sweat, but I felt clearer than I‟d ever done in my life. I put the gun under his chin. The sky was blue, perfect, crystal. I‟d never felt that kind of power before. I put the gun under his chin. His eyes were trying to look at where my fingers were. I said to him I can still hear myself, I said to him „God loves you‟…Then I blew his head off…I went back to the village and sat…They brought me food. When night came, they covered me. I sat there the rest of that day and the next…They brought candles; they burnt incense in front of me…Other villagers came…They wanted me to be a god. The Federal cop got me out. Another two days and I wouldn‟t have even been a corpse to bury…

Chopper Andrew Dominik


So, am I? Am I charged with this? Oooh, shit. So that‟s it? I mean, like,

what? Am I, how do you call, flavour of the month or something?

What‟s going on here? Are you just gonna bloody get me on popular

opinion or something? I don‟t know this bloke, Mr Downie. I‟ve never,

never seen his face. I wouldn‟t know that bloke right? Was he young,

the bloke who got shot? What? He was young. Young then, was he?

What? What are you writing everything down for? (indicating the

photo) That‟s not me, mate; I got no interest in that sort of thing. You

know that. Mr Downie, you know - you know how I work. Right? We go

back - I know you got nothing personal against me and, and…I mean

perish the thought I should do something like that. I mean, look.

(indicating the photo) Fuck! Do you reckon I shot this bloke? Seriously?

Like, in your heart? I mean, in your heart? Oh mate….if you think that,

right? Well, I‟m buggered then, aren‟t I? Oh, fuck. I mean…how can

you think that? (beat) Well, of course I shot the prick. If you knew the

cunt you‟d shoot him too. I did the prick a favour. Hey? Dontcha think

so? Last week it was, „Neville who?‟. This week he‟s a criminal superstar.

The bloke what Chopper shot, number whatever. (laughs) Yes, well,

he‟s still got one perfectly good leg and that‟s more than enough for


Please do not impersonate the actor’s representation of the above character in the film version.

In Our Town Jack Davis


He was seventeen when he joined up. Put his age up, his name was Tim. A sort of cousin. He was just a stray who came to live with us when he was about thirteen or fourteen. We joined up together, [He laughs] and when we got our orders to go overseas they had a send-off, sort of farewell party for all the enlisted men from Northam. Anyway, Tim and I went along. There was a big crowd, two hundred or more. The only bloke who came along and spoke to us to wish us luck was the local pound keeper. Anyway we left, got a couple of bottles and went home to the reserve and sort of had our own party. You know the brass had some notion just because we were black we would make good forward scouts. Anyway, like me, that‟s what they made him. A dangerous job. He wasn‟t cut out for the army. As a kid he was always


dreamer. It was at Wewak. They sent him up ahead of the patrol. He came back and reported a large concentration of Japs on the side of a hill, but the Lieutenant wasn‟t satisfied. So he sent him back again. He came back and reported the Jap‟s position again, even the number of Japs, and this bastard of an officer sent him back for the third time. I offered to go, but they wouldn‟t let me. I found him the next day in the valley on the bank of a creek. He had managed to stuff his field dressing into the wound in his chest, but it wasn‟t enough. [Silence] The Japs. They were starving. [Silence] They stripped all the flesh off his legs, his thighs. They cannibalised him. And I can‟t help thinking if he had been white it wouldn‟t have happened.


of the dark


own shadow





Run Rabbit Run Alana Valentine

Phil Pike

We had a team that went to all the country areas. We went to Dubbo

and we went to Wagga Wagga. I was the team manager of that tour. Got them their hotel, told‟ em when training was on. We went to Newcastle. We played in Maitland. We played there. And the people came out to see us. And we still knew we was alive. Mate. I remember a particular bloke who followed Souths, he turned around and he,

dead-set, he, dead-set, did not

days after we lost that court case. And he was just so emotionally wrecked. He never went to work. He never went to work and he turned

would not eat for about three or four

around an‟ the poor bloke

he was shattered.

He was absolutely shattered. Football was his life. He watched Souths in Newcastle. He watched them in Canberra. An‟ his wife turned around and he stood there in the kitchen and I remember I said to him very clearly. I said, „Mate, look look look look, the game of Rugby League is not worth doin‟ your marriage over‟. He‟s got three kids. She turned around and said, „Look, wake up to yourself‟. She says, „This is just a football team‟. He shouts, „A football team? You stupid woman!‟. And they had this massive argument in the kitchen.


Nick Enright


You back me up, I‟ll back you up. Then whatever happened we‟re not

in it. I know you didn‟t kill her! I did. I fucken killed her. Shana come

on to me, then she backed off.

other chicks down on the beach, take anyone on. I knew which ones were up for it, mate. We both did. We checked them out together. And they were checking us out, weren‟t they? You and me and every other prick. The whole fucken netball squad. So, I get out there. Wazza‟s

getting head from some bush-pig up against the dunny wall. One of them young babes, Leanne? I don‟t know, comes running up to me, calls my name, Ricko, hey Ricko! She grabs me, pashes me off. She‟s on, no, she‟s fucken not, she‟s with some fucken grommet, he takes her off down the south end. I head towards the rock. I hear my name again. Ricko. Ricko. It‟s Tracy. Tracy Warner. I go, right, Jared was here. It‟s cool. I‟ll take his seconds. She‟s on her hands and knees. Says will I help her. She‟s lost an earring, belongs to Cherie, she has to give it back. There‟s something shiny hanging off the back of her T-shirt. I grab it, I say, here it is. She can‟t see it. I give it to her. I say what are you going to give me? She says she‟s going home, she‟s hurting. I say, hurting from what? Guys, she says, those guys. Take me home Ricko. Tells me I‟m a legend, says she feels okay with me. Look after me, Ricko. Take me home. Puts her arms round me. I put mine round her. I feel okay now, Ricko. She feels more than okay. I say I‟ll take you home, babe, but first things first. I lay her down on the sand, but she pushes me off. Oh, she likes it rough. I give it to her rough. Then she fucken bites me, kicks me in the nuts. My hand comes down on a rock… A rock in one hand and her earring in the other. It was like it just happened. The cops wouldn‟t buy that, but. Would they? Now if I was

with you

Spider says it‟s a full moon, heaps of

Will you back me up, mate? You got to. You got to. Please.

Please, Jazza.

Erskineville Kings Marty Deniss


I don‟t owe anybody anything. He couldn‟t lift up his fuckin arms, he

couldn‟t even hold a fuckin fork. There was nothing wrong with his brain, he knew what was going on. I knew what was going on. But we both just kept on together day after day and he‟s just wasting away. Oh, those nurses they‟re just flinging him about, they‟re saying „Stand back, we know what we‟re doing‟. And I said, „Well if you know what you‟re doing why does he look like a rag doll, fuckin hold him up‟. Oh, and then he had to have someone with him, you know to wipe his arse, help him piss, he would‟ve had to have someone with him every fuckin minute for the rest of his fuckin life, waiting around with a shit bucket and a mop. And this one day, the first year fuckin nurse comes in and

she just dumps down this tray of shit in front of Dad, this brown shit and a cup of jelly, this children‟s lime green shit, just dumps it in front of him and he‟s looking at it, and he‟s just humiliated. Just dumps it in front of him. You know, and I saw it. I saw his eyes, everything just disappeared.

I was holding his hand and he squeezed it and I said „Do you want to

say something Dad‟, and he‟s said something – I didn‟t understand what it was, so I said, „Why don‟t you whisper it Dad, just whisper it‟ , he whispers it, in my ear. I said, „No Dad, No I can‟t do that‟. And he just looks at me. And he says it again. I just stood there. And then I did it. I just did it. He told me to do it. So I did what I was told. He shouldn‟t have hit you so hard. He shouldn‟t have hit you so hard. And now what was inside of him is inside of me.

The Sum of Us David Stevens


It‟s not that flamin‟ easy. Doesn‟t just happen to order. The choice is a bit more limited for one thing. Maybe some place like San Francisco, all the blokes wear their dicks on their sleeves, they reckon. I don‟t want to live like that. Dad. I don‟t want to live in a world that just begins and ends with being gay. I like having all sorts of people around: kids and old folks, every sort of person there is. I don‟t want to live in a world without women. I like women. Me and the girls in the office get on great. They know and they don‟t care. We laugh about it. Fancy the same blokes sometimes. Even fancied a couple of girls. Done it with a few of them just to make sure I wasn‟t missing out on anything.

I quite enjoyed it actually. Something different. But they just don‟t turn me on like men do. I like doing it with blokes, Dad. I don‟t think that‟s ever oing to change because I don‟t want it to. I don‟t want to be limited by other people‟s ideas of who I am. Yours or anyone else‟s. You‟ve been great, mate. The best Dad in the world, I reckon. Fairest, that‟s certain fact. I don‟t often say it, but it‟s Christmas, so thanks, mate for everything. You give me the first class shits at times, and I suppose I do you, but I don‟t think there‟s many got a father like you.

Please do not impersonate the actor’s representation of the above

character in the film version.

The Breakfast Club John Hughes


Do you guys know what I did to get in here? I taped Larry Lester‟s buns together. Yeah, you know him? Well then, you know how hairy he is, right? Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some skin too. And the bizarre thing is, is that I did it for my old man. I tortured this poor kid because I wanted him to think I was cool. He‟s always going off about, you know, the wild things he used to do, and I got the feeling he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right? So, I‟m sitting in the locker room and I‟m taping up my knee and Larry‟s undressing a couple of lockers down from me and he‟s kinda skinny, weak, and I started thinking about my father and his attitude about weakness, and the next thing I knew I, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. Then my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards when I was sittin‟ in Vernon‟s office, all I could think about was Larry‟s father and Larry having to explain what happened to him. And the humiliation he must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how do you apologise for something like that? There‟s no way. It‟s all because of me and my old man. God, I fucking hate him. He‟s like, he‟s like this mindless machine I can‟t even relate to anymore. “Andrew, you‟ve got to be number one. I won‟t tolerate losers in this family. Your intensity is for shit.” You son of a bitch. You know, sometimes I wish my knee would give and I wouldn‟t be able to wrestle anymore. He could forget all about me.

Please do not impersonate the actor’s representation of the above character in the film version.

Greek Steven Berkoff


She would put you off women for life / but not me / I love a woman / I love her / I just love and love and love her / and even that one / I could have loved her / I love everything that they possess / I love all their parts / I love every part that moves / I love their hair and their neck / I love the way they walk across the kitchen to put the kettle on / in that lazy familiar way / I love them when they open their eyes in the morning / I love their baby soft skin / I love their voices / I love their smaller hands than mine / I love Iying on them and them on me / I love their soft breasts / I love their eyelashes and their noses / their teeth and their shoulders / and their giggles / and their desperate passions and their liquids and their breath against yours in the night / and their snores / and their leg across yours and their feet in the morning and I love their bellies and thighs and the way each part fits into mine/ and love the way my part fits into them / and love her sockets and joints and ball bearings / and love her hip bone and her love soaked parts that want me / I love her seasons and her sleeping and love her walking and speaking and whispering and loving and singing and love her back and her bum nestled into you and you become an armchair / and love her for taking me in / and giving me a home for my searing agonies / my lusts / my love / my dreams / my sweetness / my honey / my peace of mind / and love pouring all my love into her with open eyes and love our fatigue and love her knees and shoulder blades and pimples and love her waiting for me / and love her soothing me as I tell her about my day‟s battles in the world / and love and love and love her and her and!

Night Letters Robert Dessaix


I‟ve cancelled the cooking course. And my German. It‟s all pointless. I feel like a scaly bag of filth. People can smell death. I‟m an affront. If I go out there, they‟ll sniff at me. Know I‟m rotting. And the terrible thing is I‟ve never felt more alive in my life. Every sound, every flicker of movement, every skerrick of meaning in every word, I hear it, I see it. When you touch me, I feel it. It‟s like a cut. Like I‟ve lost three layers of skin.

And I don‟t want you to touch me and I do want you to touch me. And I want your love and I don‟t want you to love me. And it‟s all unbearable. I don‟t want to go out there and I do want to go out there. And I want everything that‟s out there and I want to dance and I want to make love and I want to sing and I want to be humiliated and I want to feel. And I want it now. Because now I know I can‟t have it.

Five Kinds of Silence Shelagh Stevenson


One night I dreamt I was a dog. The moon was out, I could smell it. Ice white metal smell. I could smell the paving stones, wet, sharp. The tarmac road made my dog teeth tingle, it was aniseed, rubber, and then the lampposts, glittering with smells, they were, studded with jewels of sharp sweet spice, wood, metal, meat. And the stars pierced my dog nose like silver wires. A woman came out of her house, sickly the smell of her, rotten, she smelt of armpits and babies and fish and a hundred other things screaming at me like a brass band. I knew what she‟d had for her tea. I knew she was pregnant. I could smell it.

She didn‟t look at me, walked straight on by, thought I was just a dog. I laughed a quiet dog laugh, you think I‟m a dog but I‟m Billy, I‟m me. The night smells of soot and frost and petrol and beer. I‟m at my own door now. I don‟t need to see it, it comes to meet me, a cacophony, the smells are dancing towards me, the smells of home. I‟m inside the house now. Hot citrus smell of electric light. My wife, my daughters, stand up as I come into the room. Oh, home, the smells I love, all the tiny, shimmering background smells, and the two I love the most, the two smells that fill the room like a siren. One of them is fear: burning tyres, vinegar, piss. And the other one is the smell of blood, matted in Mary‟s hair. I gave her a good kicking before I went out.

Death of a Salesman Arthur Miller


Now hear this, Willy, this is me. You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was jailed. I stole myself out of every good job since high school. And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That‟s whose fault it is! It‟s goddamn time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I‟m through with it Willy! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw the sky. I saw the things that I love in the world. The work and the food and the time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don‟t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am! Why can‟t I say that, Willy? Pop! I‟m a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, Willy, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash-can like all the rest of them! I‟m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn‟t raise it! A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning? I‟m not bringing home any prizes anymore, and you‟re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home! Pop, I‟m nothing! I‟m nothing, Pop. Can‟t you understand that? There‟s no spite in it any more. I‟m just what I am, that‟s all. Will you let me go, for Christ‟s sake? Will you take that phoney dream and burn it before something happens?

Wild Honey Michael Frayn


Hot summer‟s day. Like today. In the forest here. I‟m going along this

track and I look round and there she is, she‟s standing in a little stream and she‟s holding her dress up with one hand and she‟s scooping up water in a dock leaf with the other. She scoops. She drinks. Scoops. Drinks. Scoops again, and pours it over her head. It‟s one of those days when you can feel the air heavy on you, and you can‟t hear

nothing but the buzzing of the flies another peasant, she thinks.

She pays no heed to me. Just

So I go down to the edge of the stream, right close up to her, as close as I am to you now, and I just look at her. Like this, like I‟m looking at you. And she stands there in the water in front of me, with her skirts up in her hand, and she bends, she scoops, she pours. And the water runs over her hair, over her face and her neck, then down over her dress, and all she says is: „What are you staring at, idiot? Haven‟t you ever seen a human being before?‟ And she scoops and she pours, and I just stand gazing. Then suddenly she turns and gives me a sharp look. „Oh‟, she says, „you‟ve taken a fancy to me, have you?‟ And I say: „I reckon I could kiss you and die.‟ So that made her laugh. „All right‟, she says, „you can kiss me if you like‟. Well, I felt as if I‟d been thrown into a furnace. I went up to her - into the stream, boots and all, I didn‟t think twice- and I took her by the shoulder, very lightly, and I kissed her right here, on her cheek, and here on her neck, as hard as ever I could.

Dylan Sidney Michaels


I‟m me. I smoke too much. I drink too much. I never like to go to bed. But when I go to bed, I never like to have to get up! I sleep with women. I‟m not much on men. Necrophilism – that‟s with dead bodies – leaves me cold. I never watch the clock and it doesn‟t pay much attention to me. I write poems and I read „em out loud. I lie, I cry, I laugh, I cheat, I steal when I can. I must have an iron constitution as I‟ve been abusing it for years to an extent which‟d kill a good horse in a matter of hours. I love people, rich and poor people, dumb as well as smart people, people who like poetry and people who never heard of poetry. I‟m life‟s most devoted, most passionate, most shameless lover. I must be. And I like a good party and a good time and applause and lots of pats on my back and pots and hats full of jack which I like to spend without stinting. Comforts make me comfortable: nails in my shoe, an ache in my tooth and grit in my eye do not. I have lived in a time when men have turned Jews into soap. I‟ve been, I must tell you, ever since those days, a wee bit confused about the godly nature of the human creature. But I‟m not as confused as anyone I ever met or heard of. Because I am me. And I know me. I‟ve sung a few songs in thirty-nine years just for the pleasure of singing, but now I have come to a point in my life when I think I have something to say. I think it‟s something about having the guts to thumb your nose at the social shears that clip the human heart in our mushrooming, complex, cancerous age. I‟m hot for fireworks in the dull of night. I want the factual, killing world should go back to fancy kissing for its livelihood. I‟m about to write an opera with Stravinsky. A play on my own, my first, called Under Milk Wood. And I‟ve been offered to play the lead in a play on Broadway. Things are looking up. But I‟m spitting a lot of blood and blacking out more often than I‟m used to, and think I had a touch of the d.t.‟s this past week as I‟ve started seeing a little things that aren‟t there – mice for example. Miss Meg Stuart, my friend, suggested that I come to see you, Doctor, as it‟s entirely possible and not a little ironic, now that things are finally looking up – [Long pause.] that I‟m dying.