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Magick Mirror Communications Phone: 212-727-0002 E-mail: MagickMirr@aol.co NEW POEMS 2007 a page from ASBESTOS poetry journal--Fall 2007 editor: Robert Dunn Bayside, N.Y.11364 dunnmiracle@aol.com
ONE ACT PLAY SAYEED//SAYEEDA 0r THE WILD CARD SECURITY SYSTEM Click to access adobe file of entire one act play SAYEED // SAYEEDA
OR
Featuring (L-R-F) Martin Ewens, Erzen
Kriva, Cheryl Belkin, Dawn Meredith Smith THE WILD CARD SECURITY SYSTEM Sunday October 26th New Yorker Hotel Grand Central Room 4th Floor to your front-right as you exit the main elevators Written & Directed by
Eugenia Macer-Story FASCINATION The devil you need again in many faces Seeming from a single heart Now has changed the costume behind the eyes Draping a new veil before the savage mind & by this shift panicking old lovers and friends Written by Eugenia Macer-Story from the book "The Merry Piper's Hollow Hills" 2003 INVOCATION TO HERMES the day I meet the devil in disguise, may I already have left my wallet inside the peacock's eye so that sight stays on top of my money as I dance and drink hot wine written by Eugenia Macer-Story from the book vanishing questions. Following are the first two scenes from: JUST 45 MINUTES FROM PARADISE as revised for performance at the Mountain Valley Resort--Summer 2000 formerly: Peg Leg Bates' Country Club Kerhonkson--Catskills, N.Y. copyright 2000 Eugenia Macer-Story If you stage these scenes, email Magick Mirror Communications: SET The
stage is set to represent the ornamental gardens of a large estate.
Several paths wind down to the front area, where there are several white
wrought iron chairs and a table. The
first two scenes are from the past, and are played in an illuminated area
at the front of the darkened stage. The main stage area immediately
becomes bright for scene three and stays that way for the rest of the
play. CHARACTERS DIANA,
an itinerant peddler SONNEY
SONENLIGHTENER, a small-time musician MR.
CLARKE, a studio production
assistant ANTHIE
JOHNSON, a wealthy woman of fifty, very fashionably dressed BARBARA
JOHNSON, her daughter, twenty-five, fashionably dressed DR.
LILY ROSENBERG, a psychiatrist, late twenties, severely dressed THE ROSEBUD BAND: PEEWEE,
vocals
SISSY, banjo
POLLY, banjo
DORCHESTER ARMS, banjo DEON,
Diana’s son, about fourteen RAYMOND,
a nonesuch vagrant ACT ONE
Scene 1 A
thin, spindly-looking woman sits dealing cards. She is dressed in an
ill-fitting flowered dress, and sits cross-legged with her feet tucked up
under the skirt. She throws these cards down in front of her casually, in
a solitaire-like arrangement, singing in a rough, offhand way:
DIANA
money which is freely given
never
can be stolen
hearts which are freely loving
never can be broken
who can count the petals I have
on my pink carnation?
who can steal the wild, green blades
from the roots of the gypsy nation? Young
SONENLIGHTENER wanders in, carrying his concertina. he stops behind the
woman to listen, and as she becomes aware of him, she breaks off her song
and jumps to her feet, producing at the same time a large bouquet of
assorted flowers from beneath her skirt.
DIANA Flowers for the migrant refugee children, mister?
SONNEY
(fending her off) No!
DIANA
(blocking his path) Flowers
for the little migrant refugee children.
SONNEY
(taking her arm to move her
out of the way) Excuse
me.
DIANA
(resisting) Flowers,
sir: only one dollar and fifty cents.
SONNEY
(dropping her arm) I
can’t afford that.
DIANA
(brandishing a flower) Only one dollar and fifty cents.
SONNEY (taking
a five dollar bill out of his wallet) All
right. Do you see that?
DIANA (winking
and running her thumb along the
tips of her fingers in an obscene way, meaning
contempt for his money) I
see it, sweetheart.
SONNEY You
do? Well, that’s my breakfast...my breakfast, my dinner, my lunch and my
cab fare, sweetheart...believe me.
DIANA No,
and you ain’t going nowhere with that bill, sweetheart, please believe
me.
(urgently) And
do you want me to tell you why this bad luck is going to come? Do you want
me to help you out, mister?
SONNEY I
wouldn’t mind that...no.
DIANA
(sarcastically) All
right...so you want the truth, mister. That is going to cost you exactly
four dollars...four dollars and fifty cents.
SONNEY
DIANA
SONNEY
DIANA
SONNEY
(taking ahold of one of her
flowers) Where
do you get these anyway, princess?
DIANA
SONNEY
DIANA
SONNEY The
days to come? Ah...all right, I’ll buy it.
DIANA
SONNEY All
right. Now, do you have change?
DIANA
SONNEY
DIANA
SONNEY
(accepting a blossom) Wax!?
It looks like plastic. This is real original -
an original routine. So then, I’ll...ah...I’ll give you five dollars,
and you give me back three-fifty in change.
DIANA If
I got three-fifty in change...you know, sir, I really don’t like to say
these things, but you got a dark cloud around you now, a very dark cloud
for you, coming up...clouds and then, you know, in and out of it there a
bit of sunshine...like you got now...clouds and then sunshine, like you
got now. I do see the sunshine coming down...uh...ten or twenty years from
now...twenty or thirty, I can’t be sure....it might be tomorrow now
instead of yesterday morning…
SONNEY You
don’t have to make change. Just stop talking about the weather. I’ll
sell this tie. Do you think this tie might be worth twenty dollars?
DIANA
(handing him the money) No...here you are, sir. The best of luck...like I say, the best of luck. I don’t like to take money from a man who has lost and found his luck so many times - if you know what I mean -It’s crazy. It can’t be good for the spirit business in the long run, if you know what I mean…it’s
hard for me to tell what’s happening to you, mister…
SONNEY Yes,
yes. I got the good luck now, but then a little later...POW! He
examines the flower. So...wax
petals on the top, but there’s a wire here. There’s still wire here!
Ah, yes. “No wires,” she said. “No wires...but what do you expect
these days on the street for free?” MR.
CLARKE rushes on carrying his clipboard.
CLARKE Hey!
Sonenlightener!
SONNEY
CLARKE
SONNEY
(holding up the flowers) Late?
For what? My own funeral? I ain’t got no appointments, Sonny.
CLARKE
(consulting his clipboard) No!
You are Sonney Sonenlightener, aren’t you?
SONNEY
CLARKE
SONNEY Nope.
No, you got me wrong there. I don’t know any Rosebud Band...I...ah...I
do play the concertina.
CLARKE Oh,
yes sir. I know you do...with the Rosebud Band. That’s what it says
here: Sonney Sonenlightener’s Rosebud Band....
SONNEY Never
heard of it! Ah, yes...but it’s certainly an interesting mistake, an
interesting coincidence of names...the Rosebud Band, you said?
CLARKE Yes,
that’s what it says here... “Rosebuds...” the Rosebud Band.
SONNEY There
must certainly be some...ah...mistake here...I’m not...ah...
CLARKE
SONNEY
CLARKE
SONNEY
(trying to absorb this
situation) “You...certainly...hope...not....”
CLARKE Definitely.
I certainly do hope not.
SONNEY
CLARKE
SONNEY
CLARKE He
shakes a reprimanding finger. Th...th...th...You
should always leave a number where you can be reached, Mr. Sonenlightener.
It throws us off our schedule.
SONNEY “CJH
Studios”...Well, isn’t that interesting? I thought you might be with
the gypsies...Yes, there certainly still is that possibility...that you
might be with the gypsies...I don’t...ah...I don’t know....
CLARKE
(consulting the clipboard
again) Yes...well,
you’re certainly down next on the schedule. Is that your rosebud, sir?
SONNEY
(becoming aware of the flower
in his hand) Rosebud?
Well, no...it’s a carnation...if it is, really...it’s an
artificial...ah, flower...prewired, you know...as you can see here,
pre-wired from some previous celebration....
CLARKE Oh,
well, yes!... “pre-wired...” That’s brilliant, Mr. Sonenlightener,
absolutely brilliant!
SONNEY What?
CLARKE
SONNEY
(as Clarke takes him by the
elbow) Wait!
Wait! No...there must be some mistake on this. I don’t have a Rosebud
Band.
CLARKE
(hustling him off) No...no,
Mr. Sonenlightener, it’s right down here on the clipboard....
SONNEY
(resisting) I
just got through with a gig at Mary’s bar. I don’t have a band. I am
in a band...such as it is, of course.
CLARKE
SONNEY
CLARKE
(reading from the clipboard) The
“Sonney Sonenlightener Constructive Attitude.” That’s part of our
publicity campaign. You do not have a band, you are in a
band...uh...cooperatively speaking...we are all in the Rosebud
Band....
SONNEY Yes...uh...I
really didn’t know that I had...uh...any sort of a band at all. How many
people are in this band, Mr....ah...CHJ....?
CLARKE
SONNEY
CLARKE
SONNEY
CLARKE I...ah...I
assume so, Mr. Sonenlightener. It’s in the contract. Don’t you have a
copy of the contract somewhere?
SONNEY
CLARKE
(once again taking him by the
elbow
and guiding him offstage) Mr.
Sonenlightener, let’s move along here, sir. I’m sure you understand,
the studio has commitments. We have...quite a few commitments in the
course of the week, Mr. Sonenlightener...quite a few...requests -
and we have been trying all night to find you. Actually since yesterday at
five-thirty in the morning. FOR THE REST OF THIS FULL-LENGTH SCRIPT, EMAIL THE AUTHOR AT: Magickorders@aol.com The Summer poem PEACHES is archived just after the following feature and just before the lecture on Interdimensional Perception. Scroll down to find Peaches Or now go to the new YANKEE ORACLE site &/...ER click on the earth fruits photo or keep on reading all this olde stuff WHAT SORT OF FLESH? In her book ALIENS AMONG US author-clairvoyant Ruth Montgomery relates that her telepathic guides have described inhabitants of Arcturus as hydrogen-based energy forms with the ability to take on three dimensional mass which simulates our own H2O and carbon based organic life form. However, Arcturus is a star not a planet. Are these hydrogen-based intelligences solar in location or from a planet in the Arcturus solar system? It was thought by pre-Socratic Greek philosophers that there was a governing Intelligence which lived in our Sun. This being of fire was called the Solar Logos Montgomery was also given the impression by her telepathic guides that she had once lived at a location in the constelation Orion in a body of gossimer- like tentrils. The body of an undersea jellyfish with long delicate tendrils comes to mind visually when thinking about this possibility. Famed ufo researcher Trevor Constable has for many years photographed amoeboid creatures floating in the atmosphere using a variety of techniques too complex to describe in this brief publication. Constable's work is available through BORDERLANDS publications. He refers to these aeriel life forms as "critters". British occultist Andrew Collins has suggested that such aerial life forms may be responsible for the genuine crop circle occurances in the UK and elsewhere. Collins refers to these creatures as "bio-forms". He believes that these creatures possess telepathic ability and can interact with human intelligence as well as causing anomalous physical effects. If this is the case, it is possible that another form of intelligence which has co-existed with developing human culture for eons is now signaling to the human inhabitants of the planet more overtly by means of the crop circles and certain "ufo-like" scenarios which involve aeriel lights and telepathic transfer of information and/or directives; but do not involve the observation of a metallic ufo craft. Are the "critters" the "shape-shifters" mentioned in all mythologies, those intelligent individuals who have no fixed shape but are able by telepathic and other means to manifest to human beings in a variety of exterior appearances?. by E. Macer-Story NYC-MUFON NEWSLETTER feature 1995 copyright 1998 E.Macer-Story
PEACHES You will always look back once (maybe twice) and I will always wave. Today, sitting at the diner You recommended ( without You years now) but finding the cinnamon coffee OK I recall that the “new” bakeries picturesque near my rennovated address have baked the same hot crust for years, repainting “special today” signs along cobblestones worn and round as day-old loaves. At the next table a couple discusses Queen Cleopatra’s four marriages before meeting Caesar’s legions and her suicidal sting by the poison snake. I do not know if this gossip is accurate only that the Old Diner still has good coffee.. Later, losing a glove irreplaceably while hailing a cab in a rainstorm I buy the only bargain gloves which fit: cerulean blue suede useful but bright. now waving with hands of a summer sky not yet arrived, I hail the nearest cab into destinations known only by an unknown number a bit of You inside my heart like remembered wine. a sudden cloud crosses this windy sky like a white veil blown suddenly from the magician’s hand as nothing appears on the balcony shaken with new wind but unwritten invitations to parties or promises of balloons falling upward into the heavens while You pass below unrecognized behind a beautiful scarf in the hurrying crowd: someone I shall meet in the lobby or perhaps not at all as You suddenly look back just as I board the moving cab smiling as the last taste of sparkling peaches from the gift bottle of unexpected wine causes me to drop one sky-glove always found later as a bargain in the easy bazaar round the corner from Your sweet, silent song.
from DISAPPEARING QUESTIONS poems by Eugenia Macer-Story copyright 1999--to be issued Fall 1999
Lecture for "Eyes of Learning" Summer 1998 A simple verbal statement is a series of symbols which may be interpreted in a variety of ways depending upon the perceptual capacity and level of focus of the individuals hearing or reading the words. As one whimsical example of this variable interpretation, consider the Bob Dylan lyric:” O momma: can this really be the end...to be trapped inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues again?” Obviously, as most people interpret this lyric, it refers to the boredom of a musician on tour in Alabama and Tennessee. But when I first heard this lyric in the mid-sixties I thought that Dylan was singing:”...to be trapped inside a mobile...” i.e.: a hanging mobile sculpture “...with the Memphis blues again.” This is because my sensory perception “travels” automatically in a poetical way and I can mentally spin inside mobile sculptures if I am in the mood. It would be quite a dilemma to be trapped inside a kinetic sculpture in the Memphis museum of art. So when I hear eccentric interpretations of my own poems or books, I remember that all people do not automatically have the same frame of reference upon which to hang any simple statement. I assume in my work that there exists a multidimensional reality which the developing consciousness of humanity imperfectly perceives. I include myself in this collective development process and I do not assume, simply because I may be the scribe or poetical narrator of any idea or experience, that therefore I must have the ultimate or fixed interpretation of the situation I am rendering. My job is to present a communications experience which actually communicates the essence of the event or idea upon which I am focusing. Aspects of that experience may remain perplexing to me. As a simple illustration of this concept, remember that it is possible to paint a portrait or make a true verbal description of a person whose intimate motivations are never specifically disclosed. This may actually be an accurate portrait. It is not an analysis; it is a description of observed characteristics. In my writing about expanded consciousness and the supernatural, I am a journalist. I keep journals of interdimensional experiences. I do not design experiments which create interdimensional events. I have occasionally participated in experiments conducted by analytical technicians or psychologists but this is not the major part of my work. I feel that technicians who attempt to study interdimensional events by statistical or “control batch” protocol often do not clearly understand their inevitable role within these events and the connections from time previous and time future which also may play a role in the present results they are measuring. Actually, it is not always designated “scientists” who make unanticipated scientific discoveries. As the many corporate employees who have developed corn flakes, generic pharmaceuticals and cars which work know from experience, a true technician will not always know “why” a procedure works--only “that” it works. Simple working procedures should be sufficient for human progress in both arts and sciences. The test of a new, commercial product is not “why” it flips over and answers the phone but that it reliably flips over and answers the phone. Nothing else is actually required by the person who benefits from this invention or discovery beyond adequate “use” of the knowledge.. Over-analysis of interdimensional or “supernatural” events may actually obscure accurate observation and documentation of these events. It is possible that the poverty of focused attention to these situations has created a luxury of time wherein extra doodads of quasi-scientific function are permitted to clutter the landscape. What does it take to document a bird flying by the window? A camera, a notebook and pencil and in the optimum circumstances two witnesses. This is actually all that is necessary also to document a flying apple, six ghosts dancing the minuet in Hoboken, or anomalous aerial manifestations resembling spaceships. Whether or not the interdimensional events affect the film in the camera oddly is a moot point here. It is simply necessary that some event occur to the film, the notebook and the memories of the witnesses in order to establish that some, unexplained event did occur. This is what “documentation” really is in essence. The process is simple. But sometimes, when actually faced with surprising events, it is difficult to be simple. The mind wants to “fill in” the blanks and get in control of the ultimate pattern of the situation immediately. This “rush toward judgment” will inevitably complicate matters in the long run. When doing documentary coverage of interdimensional incidents,I have often been told by observant East Coast communications professionals:”You are basically laid back. Do you realize how casual you look ?I feel like I’m somewhere in California. How can you say this so calmly?”The fact is that--in situations of clairvoyant investigation--I am paying attention interdimensionally and so my total attention is relaxed slightly from strict monitoring of the material characteristcs of the rattling bones in the near vicinity. I have come to the conclusion that certain forms of “materialism” and “skepticism” are mental conditions which have resulted from the secular attempt to find a numinous “cause” behind events which is not emotionally based or perceived but which is. in a profound inner paradox, divinely objective. But the medieval scholastics recognized a form of emotional perception they called the “higher affects” and which these academically religious people--using a zen-like attention to inner process--did link to areas of experience which in the modern day are called esp, pk, remote viewing and so on. I suggest that undue attention to material verification in the skeptical sense is simply a lack of awareness of the “higher affects” and/or a culturally-conditioned embarrassment of these deeply felt but inexplicable conditions of inner causality. How often has the compassionate observer noticed when discussing anomalies or the supernatural with a self-professed “skeptic” that this skeptical individual also seemed to emotionally and unreasonably link interdimensional perception with low level “romance difficulties” or “stupid religious beliefs”? In actual fact, such a nominally “skeptical” individual is simply asking for help in understanding that emotions of aversion and preference do “cause” events to happen and that affective causality cannot always be materially predicted or conditioned. An unruly dimension of experience enters the material picture here. It’s not the simple, old question here:”Do you marry for love or for money?’ but the question of “luck” of affinity and of necessity. Not “for love or for money”? But “what sort of love” and “what sort of money”? The fact is that even the most accurate calculations on a robotic slide rule cannot exactly predict where the next bolt of lightning will strike in a storm; but that someone without any careful and calculating preparation may instinctively know when to run down the stairs into the cellar just before the random bolt of lightning hits the VCR. I once knew a humorous student of the behavioral systems of Dr. Skinner who had read about government-funded research into the use of trained pigeons to trigger bombing devices in fighter aircraft. These pigeons were rewarded by tasty bird food for pecking the “red alert” button when blips on a radar screen entered a certain area of the target map. No, my friends: this is not surrealist drama. This is documented behavioral research. The psychologists were seeking a way to make objective target decisions during wartime. They thought that if the pigeons were conditioned to peck the target only by tasty bird food all emotional errors in judging where the target was located would thus be eliminated. At any rate, this humorous young man decided to try this same line of conditioning with women he wished to induce to reveal their “red alert target areas” in a way which was objectively fruitful but did not require any deeply negociated emotional commitment. In actual fact, he deliberately rewarded positive response to sexual foreplay with tasty snacks,. Initially, as he tells it, he did have some success in inducing on target lovemaking by the use of small gourmet appetizers. But eventually this house of cards collapsed when the ladies all seemed to remember other engagements which were not visible near the pizza tray. In other words, an inner causality emerged which had no basis in strictly non-emotional appetite reinforcement. This strange behavioral experiment, conducted by a playwright with training in psychology, actually happened. As a fellow playwright, I was told about it by the perpetrator after the “pigeon-feeding” routine had collapsed. It was ridiculous but he did make an interesting experimental discovery. “People sometimes have ideas independent of direct sensory input”. T |
