Eric & Meyer
for performing
on death
on gods
on humanity
on life
missa populi
missa populi
A play in five parts. A de/re-construction of the mass. An undermining from within. A collaboration. First compiled and performed by vicious trap in March 2010. Some things were borrowed from: 9/11 Commission Report, Battlestar Galactica, The Bhagavad Gita, Sir Thomas Browne, Lenny Bruce, fjords.com, The Frames, Adolf Hitler, isoglossia.com, Dr. Theodore John Kaczynski, Groucho Marx, Meat Beat Manifesto, John Milton, Modest Mouse, George Orwell, Papa M, Vanessa Place, Pythagoras, The Staple Singers, The Temptations and William Butler Yeats. Other words were written by Dan Eisenstat, Aaron Liechty, Eric Meyer, Julie Rada and Nadia Waggener.
01 OBEDIENCE TO AUTHORITY
a pristine set
everything in white
a sterile science lab
a bathtub
a repeating tone
throughout,
the words are spoken
by actors
in the ‘choir’
lit with scripts and lecterns
as the action plays out in front
black
silence
a hum grows
feedback
the tone returns
repeating
there is a voice:
and then we separated the inside of our houses
from the outside of our houses
we all know the dust cannot be swept from the dirt floor
we all know the bacteria cannot be scrubbed from our bodies
from our skin
from our selves
and wash it down the drain
down the hole
down the mighty mississipp
the muddy
the ganges
down the san andreas
to the center of the earth
the universe
the veins
in my eye
wrong
this ain’t grace
this all fucked
this old thing
wrong
wash me down
wash me down
wash me down
a harsh light
a silhouette
blood on a lab coat
washing hands
and from within him stir
the hell within him
for within him hell
a pause
please continue
the washing continues
it becomes jagged and stylized
a repetition of itself
the hum is feedback
there is a scream from all directions
the washing stops
so do the screams
and all sounds
the silence is deafening
I can kill you but instead I hold you tight
the silhouette becomes limp
the trash requires that you continue
the trash requires trash
continue
washing / sporadic
screams when the hands are in water
stops
has the water become blood?
it is absolutely essential that you continue
it is absolutely essential
continue
the washing is frantic
the screams are frantic
full body
it is only a job
the job requires it
the job
there is a speck
cut
dissect
a speck of dust
cut
on your father
cut
in your shadows and up your ass the contamination
the cut
cut out
you have no choice
dissect contamination
it is only right
it is just
you have no other choice
you must go on
soaked
the body collapses
as do the screams
and the feedback
I’ve never dripped in punishment
quite
like
this
Julie::Rada
on gods
missa populi
church in january
you gird their loins
i have made you a fortified city
a pillar of iron
a wall of brass
i am with you to deliver you
you slime their loins
i have made you a fortified vitamin
a phallus of iron
a wall of ass
i am with you to impale you
from my mother’s womb
you are my strength
from my mother’s cunt
you are my sloth
i speak in human and angelic tongues
i tongue in human and angelic thighs
i am a resounding gong
git it on
bang a gong
git it on
if i may hand my body over so that i may boast
if i hand my body over hand over hand
if i don’t have love, i gain nothing
nothing puncture, nothing gained
love does not brood over injury
love does not blood over kissery
or rejoice over wrongdoing
when i became a man
said a young woman
i shall know fully just as i am fully known
he’s gay
the sky was closed for three and a half years
the sky was closed
lepers in Israel
you are no longer strangers and aliens
working for the evil one
assembled as the living body of Christina
unclean spirits
mineral spirits
the spirit and the bride say come. come.
the feast in which your throat is blessed with a candle
Julie::Rada
on glockenspiel
on gods
missa populi
on glockenspiel
it was a hat box of sorts and they all just paraded around in it like they owned the place
they paraded like easter hats and sunrise services
the paraded like broken flower stems and crowds of rabid dogs
and the box
more ribbon and flimsy shadow-board, cardboard shadows than anything.
but you couldn’t see through it.
her slip however…
her slip however aptly named for the slip it shifts over the rounds of her buttocks
legs ajar
wide open lips
and round roundness
it was perched on the box
little talon feet
little expectations
grasping at stars and glitter ribbon rinds
she looked more like a virgin than she did the day she was impaled by the angel
but under her rounds her rounds
and the way she carried
high like a boy
squawked the one on top
must be a boy
must be the one
typical
of easter to be full of pregnant pause
he died on the cross the same day he was conceived 66 equinoxes before
last orgasm why hast thou forsaken mom
well gods will be gods
an utterance a last breath before being consumed into the tomb of the earth
and sealed there there
Julie::Rada
on behaviors
on people and worlds
on violence
missa populi
on milgram
obey whisk
repeat
fly kiss fly
treat to one risk
repeat
mutual morality violated violated
instigated
defecate
“sir”
“i was just following orders”
“innocent”
“following”
victim/learner/accountant
same/same/same
a confederacy of lunatics
torturers/oddities/cruelisms
and you
15 volts
(and you drip)
135 volts
(and you shimmer and heave)
1. Please continue.
2. The trash requires that you continue.
3. It is absolutely essential that you continue.
4. You have no other choice, you must go on.
“shhh”
“sir?”
“shhh”
450 volts
(and you splay)
obedient
(and you splay)
Julie::Rada
on girls and boys
on her
missa populi
a wish
i fold you into my mouth
that goes
that leaves
and now i will destroy it all
i can’t help it
it all embarrasses me
and so i’ll fuck it
and mourn it
what?
where was i?
now now now nownownownownownownownownownownow
crash
oops
crash
fleeting
tickle/giggle/fidget and bounce
a blanket of sadness
dropped on me from the gods
from the ghosts of grandmothers and illusions and dead cats
forget it
can i put you in my mouth?
because
cuz
i desire it
drop it
(i can kill you and take all your money)
and hold you tight
just lay on my chest
feel the comfort of heartbeat in your ear pressed to my skin
the weightedness
the love song
loins
don’t look
don’t behold
me
mememememememe
a wish
Julie::Rada
on family
on gods
missa populi
first gleaning/last light
there’s a procession of doves in your rafters -an army of pecks -a liturgy of squawks and up in the cobwebs -a broken wing -an army of god -cobwebs and tongues and elbows, angels and lips
sucked in/devoured sin-sensical drifting like dust on the sunbeams (PAINted glass) -lamb of god -leg of mutton -leg of lepers and no-fair seeing
this ain’t grace
this all fucked
this old thing
a procession
-of broken
-of cattle
-of flock
-of orgasm shrieks
and beat/red bottoms
(i’ve never dripped in punishments quite…like…this).
there’s a speck of dust on your father
in your shadows and up your ass
and
there’s a procession of doves in your rafters
