Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2013 6:29:18 GMT -8
It had not been a difficult day, just a lot of reports that had been checked by himself and then ready to be passed onto the Captain. Sometimes he felt his presence was required and others, not so much depending on the content. However he felt like he should meet with the Captain today but not right away as he often skipped his short breaks but today as he wanted to relax a little.
That was why he sat within a large dark room, a sea of seats set in rows and columns, all facing the spotlight of action. Upon the smooth wood stage was a decorated layer of stone and dirt that hid a country road and landscape. The painted backdrop depicted the road in the distance and the seemingly barren area the two characters on stage inhabitited.
It was the only place they could exist, these characters, even more so in this particular play. Jonathan watched along with a thousand other faces as the two men moved, their only companion being an almost dead and twisted tree.
"Let's go," One of the characters said, dressed like a tramp much like his friend named Vladimir. "We can't." He answered. The other man looked perplexed. "Why not?" Estragon asked.
"We're waiting for Godot." Vladimir said simply.
Jonathan smiled within the soft blanket of shadows that observed the alternate reality that was full of genius and creativity. Waiting for Godot, that was the name of the play and one of Jon's favourite's. It was easy to disregard but so much more gratifying to understand and enjoy.
"Moron!" Vladimir spat at his friend.
"That's the idea, let's abuse eachother!" Estragon replied.
The two stared at each other before turning around and stepped away before turning once more, facing each other as if in a western showdown. Jonathan grinned to himself, this was one of his favourite moments in the play.
"Moron!"
"Vermin!"
"Abortion!"
"Morpion!"
"Sewer-rat!"
"Curate!"
"Cretin!"
"Critic!" Jonathan mouthed at the same time it was shouted, causing laughter from several faces, including his own. It wasn't something everyone would get. It was the ultimate burn in this arena that made Vladimir stumble for a response and ending the game.
"We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?" Asked Estragon which made Jonathan look to the tree.
Sometimes we find something to give us the impression someone else exists, Jon thought to himself and then down at his hand, swallowed by the dark light.
"Yes yes, we're magicians!"
Artists that exploded the canvas, the movies, the songs with imagination.
"Well? Shall we go?"
"Yes, let's go."
The pair did not move, but the closing curtains did.
Jonathan stood with the crowd, a roar of applause sweeping the room in showing their appreciation to the play. Or at least, only one of them was.
"Computer freeze program, remove audience and curtain."
A beep and then the entire sea of people became one large painting, still before being wiped from existience by the begrudging self-loathing artist that wanted to start again.
Jonathan stood, the theatre's electrical lights catching the top half of him, making him a floating torso as he moved through the seats to step onto the stage. He glanced at the two frozen characters, their still expression being one of quiet uncertainty.
The commander looked out at the empty blackness, and then back at the characters, a smile appearing on his lips. Why not? Jon tried to decide on a part to play, remembering the particuarly long and difficult speech of the character, Lucky.
Jon had seen this play a fair amount of times but not recently, except for today. He cleared his throat, positioning his frame into a slightly crooked and tired state, his arms stretched out but hanging like the coats of a coatstand.
"Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine api-"
Jon clenched his eyes tight, cursing under his breath at the mistake. He sighed, relaxing his stiff stance. Then he smiled to himself, it wasn't exactly easy to remember it, let alone speak it without a single full stop. Yet the magicians of old were able to perform such a difficult task with great grace and accuracy.
Tag: Any
That was why he sat within a large dark room, a sea of seats set in rows and columns, all facing the spotlight of action. Upon the smooth wood stage was a decorated layer of stone and dirt that hid a country road and landscape. The painted backdrop depicted the road in the distance and the seemingly barren area the two characters on stage inhabitited.
It was the only place they could exist, these characters, even more so in this particular play. Jonathan watched along with a thousand other faces as the two men moved, their only companion being an almost dead and twisted tree.
"Let's go," One of the characters said, dressed like a tramp much like his friend named Vladimir. "We can't." He answered. The other man looked perplexed. "Why not?" Estragon asked.
"We're waiting for Godot." Vladimir said simply.
Jonathan smiled within the soft blanket of shadows that observed the alternate reality that was full of genius and creativity. Waiting for Godot, that was the name of the play and one of Jon's favourite's. It was easy to disregard but so much more gratifying to understand and enjoy.
"Moron!" Vladimir spat at his friend.
"That's the idea, let's abuse eachother!" Estragon replied.
The two stared at each other before turning around and stepped away before turning once more, facing each other as if in a western showdown. Jonathan grinned to himself, this was one of his favourite moments in the play.
"Moron!"
"Vermin!"
"Abortion!"
"Morpion!"
"Sewer-rat!"
"Curate!"
"Cretin!"
"Critic!" Jonathan mouthed at the same time it was shouted, causing laughter from several faces, including his own. It wasn't something everyone would get. It was the ultimate burn in this arena that made Vladimir stumble for a response and ending the game.
"We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?" Asked Estragon which made Jonathan look to the tree.
Sometimes we find something to give us the impression someone else exists, Jon thought to himself and then down at his hand, swallowed by the dark light.
"Yes yes, we're magicians!"
Artists that exploded the canvas, the movies, the songs with imagination.
"Well? Shall we go?"
"Yes, let's go."
The pair did not move, but the closing curtains did.
Jonathan stood with the crowd, a roar of applause sweeping the room in showing their appreciation to the play. Or at least, only one of them was.
"Computer freeze program, remove audience and curtain."
A beep and then the entire sea of people became one large painting, still before being wiped from existience by the begrudging self-loathing artist that wanted to start again.
Jonathan stood, the theatre's electrical lights catching the top half of him, making him a floating torso as he moved through the seats to step onto the stage. He glanced at the two frozen characters, their still expression being one of quiet uncertainty.
The commander looked out at the empty blackness, and then back at the characters, a smile appearing on his lips. Why not? Jon tried to decide on a part to play, remembering the particuarly long and difficult speech of the character, Lucky.
Jon had seen this play a fair amount of times but not recently, except for today. He cleared his throat, positioning his frame into a slightly crooked and tired state, his arms stretched out but hanging like the coats of a coatstand.
"Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine api-"
Jon clenched his eyes tight, cursing under his breath at the mistake. He sighed, relaxing his stiff stance. Then he smiled to himself, it wasn't exactly easy to remember it, let alone speak it without a single full stop. Yet the magicians of old were able to perform such a difficult task with great grace and accuracy.
Tag: Any