OddThinking

Last week, I adapted The Story Behind Little Red Riding Hood for the stage. I performed it as a monologue at an open mike night hosted by Studio Four.

Can I go the other way – adapt a stage performance to the blog? This is the story of an interesting stage experience that I had about three weeks ago, in front of an audience consisting mainly of undergrads who had never seen me before.

“Hi, my name is Julian. I have a 9-to-5 office job, that I find a bit depressing. I would like to read one of my poems, that is dedicated to cubicle dwellers everywhere.”

I spoke slowly and seriously as I read this poem, with dramatic pauses to give it time to sink in.

“Sometimes it feels like you are trapped in a cell, bound by constraints…
surrounded by squares.

You can almost feel the eyes watching you, scrutinising you with care…
working out your position…
your value…

It may help you to know that there are others out there like you –
equal to you.
Oh, sure, they are kept away from your immediate vicinity,
away from your line of sight…
but they are there, and they indirectly influence you,
just as you… indirectly influence them.

Every day there is a new problem!
Every day… a new solution to be found.”

Throughout this poem, the audience were completely silent. Transfixed by my words? I am afraid not. They were just feeling a bit awkward. There was no applause at the end – I am not sure they even realised it was the end. I reacted to the audience’s discomfort.

“Whoa! That took the energy out of the room. Shit!” I was nervous as I turned to the MC. “I’m sorry. This is the wrong audience for that poem! Can I try another one?”

“Yeah, man,” he said supportively, concerned that I was dying on stage, “Maybe that was a bit intense?”

“Too intense? Okay! I’ve got another one that is a little bit more light-hearted.” I turned back to the audience. “Do you know the Sudoku puzzles that appear in the newspaper? Those nine-by-nine grid of numbers? This poem is dedicated to one of those numbers.”

I got some titters of relief from the audience; that sounded like a funnier topic. They were still hoping I could bring this performance back after such a terrible start, and I appreciate their support – they were a polite crowd.

I centered myself, and began my second poem.

“Sometimes it feels like you are trapped in a cell,
bound by constraints…
surrounded by squares.”

This time, I paused not for dramatic effect, but for the laughter.

“You can almost feel the eyes watching you, scrutinising you with care…
working out your position…
your value…

It may help you to know, that there are others out there like you – equal to you.
Oh, sure, they are kept away from your immediate vicinity,
away from your line of sight…”

I included hand-motions to emphasize the columns and rows, and the local three-by-three neighbourhood.

“but they are there, and they indirectly influence you,
just as you… indirectly influence them.

I noticed an audience member in the front row had lifted one leg off the floor, as he doubled over with laughter in his chair. Always a good sign!

“Every day there is a new problem!
Every day… a new solution to be found.”

This time the poem ended to a strong round of applause. The MC was all smiles, hugely relieved, as he came back on stage.