Scenes from
BRUISED
( excerpt 3 )
WARNING: SOME LANGUAGE AND CONTENT MAY OFFEND!!
Friday / 11.28pm / I turn my back on the bar / and head towards
the toilets / hang on minute / I don't even want to go to the
toilet / I turn back towards the / if I can make out the door
without being / have you ever noticed that in a lot of irish pubs
they have photos of famous irish writers all over the walls /
staring at you / beady black eyes / grey skin / awful clothes
/ are you looking at me/ who are you to look at me like that /
and you aren't the most poetic people in the world / I've read
lots of poems that aren't irish / good ones / and stop looking
at me like that / it wasn't my fault / it was a mistake / I don't
want to go to the toilet / calm down it's all right / you're just
stoned / stoned / okay / stoned / (he giggles ) oh my god / I'm
am just so wrecked / I'm fucked / I'm really fucked / ( he giggles
some more ) I need a drink / no I don't /
excuse me /
red hair/ what/
are you all right /
red hair / yeah / I'm just admiring this photo of yeats /
perched at the edge of this pantheon of sons of the emerald isle
herself / on the wall / just up there / next to the sign that
says / guinness/ excuse me / I turn towards / do you still
want me to call the police/ you'd have time for another drink
and a bit of a dance before they arrive/ what is wrong with
these people / I don't want to go to the toilet / I'm fucked /
it's alright / I'm just bent / stop looking at me you famous dead
bastards / I'm not one of your poems / leave me alone / oh god
now I really do need a piss/ I turn my back on art / and head
towards the toilets / why do I do this myself / I'm so stupid
(he giggles ) oh my god / I'm am just so wrecked / I'm fucked
/ I'm really fucked / ( giggles some more ) I need a drink /
excuse me
red hair / hello again
are you alright /
yeah / I'm just going to the / thought I might have a dance
actually / no need to call the police / it was a mistake / red
hair / red hair / red hair / red hair / red hair / red hair /
disappearing into the thickness / bodies unwrapping their heat
/ wet skin / boiling to the beat of something irish / a jig -
ajig - ajig jig jig / slipping between the rhythms of Uncle Mick's
Celtic All Stars / lingering at the edge of I don't know what
/ . . .
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