A minute on your own - or a minute with me. Loveless speed, thoughts on dirty material. (A day project in a conversation 25.08.2014)
Robbie Pierre and Partner walk in to crowded lunch time bistro. Partner is talking to RP but RP isn’t answering. RP is talking to himself / the audience.
Robbie Pierre: My shirts’ sticking on my back in here, argh, it’s so crowded, so hot! Those porridge bodied nuts upstairs will be wondering where I’ve gone. It’ll take ages to get anything to eat.
Partner: Look Pierre over there at her legs. They’re crossed so nicely don’t you think? Look how her tights are smoothing over the sinews of her calf. I wish I could have bought her her shoes, can we sit near her?
Robbie Pierre: I can’t seem to dry my hands.
Partner: …her languid pose, that dress, that smile!
Robbie Pierre: They’re all fools, total fools wiping the blackboard as though that dish is really ‘out’. They just can’t be bothered anymore, look at the way she’s moving, so slovenly, the coffee dripping all down the paper cup, undoing its seams. My nylon pocket is snagging the hairs on my thigh, and I turn over the pounds inside, spinning them over and over pushing oil into the milled edge of the coin. There’s still nowhere to sit, and everything is wet. I’ve got to go to the gym, seriously, everything is sticking to me.
Partner: Let’s see what she ordered, look at that plate! I bet you could order anything in here and it would arrive just as you wanted it. Do you want some iced water while we’re waiting?
Robbie Pierre: I’ll go to the gym tomorrow… beat out the brown oil that’s inside me, throw my shoes and sundries all over the changing room and tear my shirt along all the hooks….
(the pair tread forward)
Robbie Pierre:…I can put a music channel on and race myself against it and I swear afterwards I’ll slap the walls so hard saying and say ‘yes’. I can pulp my feet into a nasty dry heat by running without shoes, the astro carpet can bite my soles and the hand dryer can dry my fingers to death.
(the pair tread forward again)
…I can keep the hot stick of my palm on the steel rails until they tell me to go. My thighs start to call out for help (another dish gone), as the coffee machine toots and steams it gets wetter and wetter behind my eyeballs. I don’t want anything apart from to pull off the womans coat in front of me. One pound..two pounds….the towelling under my foot…
Partner: I’m going to take a photo on my phone. It’s given me some ideas for the design of Marc’s back room. Nice. Can you ask that woman where she got her coat from?
Robbie Pierre: After the gym I can let my hot breath sag out into the air and throw my wallet away.
Partner: I want an espresso P, will you get me one?