A short script to be read at Breezeblock, Sydney, as part of

Trust Exerc i se (20.9–12.10.2014)
featuring A. Haining, B. Fuata and Z. O’Mahoney Robertson

A folly. Entertainment for the masses. Think 21
century cognitive vaudeville for the over-educated. Cheap
thrills. What you hear~see is what you get; nothing need be interpreted. Feel free to improvise, while
remaining more or less faithful to the text.


Standing equidistant from one another in a semi-circle, amongst the art, slightly separated from the rest of the
crowd but facing them, each character slowly, at their own pace, provides a description. As they do so, they
observe one of the other characters intently.

B: [staring at Z] Sage, open, humble, flamboyant, precise

A: [staring at B] Thoughtful, contrary, strong, generous, indecisive

Z: [staring at A] Smart, analytical, stubborn, warm, ambitious

End prologue. The players circle anti-clockwise for as long as they see fit, so that when they stop each has
moved one place to their right. Pause.


Each character speaks slowly enough that the words be understood, but not so slow as to sound affected.
Projection is important.

Z: Sometimes I think the most useful thing to do would be to allow ourselves every week to
have a ritualistic tantrum. Hissy fit. This isn’t about dragging others down or doling out
blame, but rather about an auto-exorcism of some kind. Therefore, it is self-motivated even
self-indulgent. Yet generous because externalising; thereby admitting one is affected by the
world – that one is pained, hurt, traumatised, enraptured, but that it’s OK. Publicly so.

B: To admit the world whilst expulsing its torment: an honest and sincere exposé, a loving,
generous exposé. One in which you take responsibility and part.

A: That is to say, an auto-exorcism, which is to say self-exorcism, from the crap we’re told
we need to imbibe and hold down in order to behave in a civilised manner.

B: Perhaps if regularly we ‘indulged’ – but it’s not indulgence, is it, it’s actually vitality,
necessity – in these tantrums, these fits, the rest of the time(s) wouldn’t feel as restrictive

A: Instead, a sort of relief. We could honestly expel all those wicked, monstrous, joyous,
mad, ecstatic spirits, which could go and run around with each other for a week. Meanwhile,
we return to ‘normal’ and allow them to accumulate again; the ritual would be fun.

Z: Some kind of admission that this emotional, neurotic, sensitive, crazy, irrational side is a
healthy counter balance to the sedate, subdued struggle of everyday coping, smiling…

B: Everything’s great-ing.

A: We’d just say, ‘I’ve got to go have my paroxysm’, and no one would blink. Histrionics
would be a regular part of life, and we’d all laugh together!

Pause. End of Act I. The players circle anti-clockwise for as long as they see fit, so that when they stop each
has moved one place to their right. Pause.


While B reads, A and Z stare at him.

B: [interpretive interlude]
[03/09/2014 23:04:59] eleanor: cats get cancer now
[03/09/2014 23:05:04] eleanor: before they just died
[03/09/2014 23:05:10] eleanor: now they are diagnised!
[03/09/2014 23:05:14] eleanor: diagnosed*
[03/09/2014 23:05:20] eleanor: used to be the same for humans, too

End of Act II. The players circle anti-clockwise for as long as they see fit, so that when they stop each has
moved one place to their right. Pause.


Each character speaks quickly, in rapid succession, while clearly enunciating. They speak more to the crowd
than to each other.

A: I trusted you. I failed you. I trusted you. And it didn’t work.

B: The reality is very different.

Z: It didn’t work. I didn’t prioritise work, cognitive production, artistic production, output.

A: Outcomes. Production. Outcomes. Comes. Come. Come. Lake Como. Come, come into
my world.

Z: Fuck.

B: You.

Z: I. I never want to prioritise. No prioritisation. Priorities for sissies. Priority boarding.
Priority lame. Priority boarding. Boreding.

A: I trusted you.

B: Leave me alone. Work for what. What for? Surplus nothing.

Z: Nada. There is no work to be done.

A: True. Why are you doing it?

B: My brain is tired.

Z: I’m anxious.

A: I don’t trust.

B: I want to trust.

Z: I would have trusted.

A: But now, I question.

B: What is the point?

The players circle anti-clockwise for as long as they see fit, so that when they stop each has moved one place to
their right. Pause.

B: So instead of working on my brand…

A: What did you do?

Z: Instead of working on my brand, disseminating my nonsense and penetrating the culture

A: With yet another,

B: Repetition.

A: Yet another.

Z: Repetition.

B: Yet another.

Z: Cognition.

A: Critic-ition.

Z: Fallacio-ition.

B: Of self-righteousness.

A: Instead of working on my brand…

B: I chatted endlessly with my friend,

Z: On repeat,

A: I found a new lover,

B: On repeat,

Z: I drank too much,

A: On repeat. Instead of working.

B: And I wouldn’t call that distraction!

Z: I wouldn’t call all that a distraction.

A: No, I wouldn’t call that a distraction. From the main event!

B: How dare you say distracted? As if the word were an innocent.

Z: Obscene. Totally hors-sujet. Or sue shay. Horse shit.

A: Yes, because, distracted from what? What the hell are you talking about?


B: Better more fodder for the annals of analysis and critique,

Z: More waste for the over-educated brains – the future trash of the year 2050.

A: It’s worth listening to because I think we all know there is something to say…

Z: Aspiring to silence, understanding. Focus on the stuff that’s alive. Not ‘yours’.

A: Not stroking the priorities of fear. Forget yourself.

B: Trust yourself.

Z: Which is another way of saying trust me.

A: I’m a rat.

Pause, stare at crowd. End of Act III. Bow.