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THE SEVEN SYMBOLS by Pablo Bruto III
“There’s about a Communist behind every woodpile.” - Terrible Ted
[The recounting of the author’s encounter with a black bear on Monte Luna and Monte Sol in Santa Fe, New Mexico, mostly from notes in a quasi-poetic forma, recorded not long after the event, and which, in the digital present, may raise some questions as to the nature of identity, as a binary or time-space-based function of memory and reproduction.]
Out on Monte Sol, in the Vortex,
{This story is True, to my best recollection.}
the Bear was either hungry or horny
or susceptible to attractions beyond my ken,
or capacity to describe, A Howling,
A terrible hue and cry, A Blue Moon,
Coyotes in packs roam the ridges, singing,
The ghosts of Mexican Wolves, joining the Chorus
[The High Priest gave me a Book of Horus]
The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Tibetan one also,
The clamor of baying to tell the Wanderer BEWARE
be wary, where crows and ravens battle with you
for sustenance, food includes YOU, made of water,
as in the GILA, where the Mechanic had set us adrift,
the ecosystem designed to digest you, needs your
water, the vehicle for dreaming,
COLT the sole soul brother, “getting dark, too dark
to see,” everywhere once under water, agua, giant lizards
roaming the vast seas in relentless foraging for prey,
by the night of the moonlights starry starry, and I see
it now as Vincent did, due to surgery, but then my optics
were skewed or distorted or warped by chemicals, mostly,
food for thought, devoured at Bert’s Burger Bowl, with Freddie,
a St. Bernard mix, minus neck flask, and Thunder his lover,
a miniature pincer, humping by the carry-out window, for two
hours, while we laughed, Teddy and I, and gobbled green chile
and cow meat on white bread, milk shakes and fries, All-
American. I gave him a stereo, which he later threw down
the mountainside, when the batteries died, that idiot, High
Morals, Morale low.
From these notes: we spoke of pregnancy, Junior High School
fellatic enlightenment, a lower Chakra activator, the intermingling
of liquids, juices, & I had a Dream, fast forwarding the tape,
a Bear Dream: I see a procession of Souls, at first perfected
beautiful and whole, transmigrating as in floatation, or elevation,
directional hovering, moving, over treacherous precipices,
backbones of stones, the same ones through which I stumbled
exhausted to this place, then the procession indicates devolution,
the intermixing of mutant strains, children with appendages protruding
from their necks, bulbous useless digits or growths… They plead
with me for salvation, or at least normalcy, and failing the mean,
chemicals.
These are your children.
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PERFORMANCE ELEMENTS
Stage Direction for “I Love You, Monster”
Narrative: DREAM SEQUENCE/MONTAGE
[Monitors over the stage screen 80s-grade video
featuring long-hair slasher rock band]
Song:
U maul & poke my baby in drunk madness [YADDA YADDA]
Brand fingerprints body with 9 digit No.s [YADDA YADDA]
Pricked gourd with venom/anti-venom needle [YADDA YADDA]
CRACK HEADS - red bricks, cop-lights or dream sticks [YADDA YADDA]
Metal rulers on skin, nuns in black n white [YADDA YADDA]
Ratchet/wrench the volume down, down [YADDA YADDA] [YADDA YADDA]
- p-p-pop THE RENTS pills or electric towers [YADDA YADDA]
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
[Sung one time, then resampled digitally and distressed in real time.]
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[Stage with radio towers, images of Very Large Array adorn the theater. Stage 1 is Pros. Low Hum pervades environment {12 Tones}. No gels in sequence {Black & White, with Flash patterns, as in lightning}
[Projections of documentary photographs/film from various labor movements]
[Tom Joad soliloquy audio output and strobed visual projection on silk suspended parallel to floor from grid]
[STAGE MANAGER MIXES AUDIO IN THE AUDIENCE’S HEADPHONES, each row with independent sound array and tone score]
[Homeless man in Army fatigue jacket, filthy jeans, weathered roper boots, dreadlocks {red], thick prescription glasses with duct tape repairs, flannel shirt, dancing madly back and forth stage right]
CHORUS:
“COME ON BABY
F*** ME TONIGHT
UNDER THE MOONLIGHT
LIKE THE COYOTES DO!”
[Chorus by Red Ted]
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[HIGH PRIEST on APRON, CENTER STAGE; spoken once, digitally repeated, with layered variations]
A Prayer:
I can’t figure this out. Which is more real? Electronically-speaking. Amen.
[JUST IN FRONT OF BACKCLOTH]
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[SCRIM, UNFURLS, SEMI-OPAQUE AT OBLIQUE, STAGE LEFT {see production sketches}]
A Bad Drawing.
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[MULTIPLE SOURCE DATA, ANIMATION/LIVE VJ MIX]
Song 2: (IN THE MANNER OF LOUNGE SINGER)
On the Mountain in May
The storm swallowed up the day
The wind it did blow
The townfolk flew
& all this po’boy can say
Is -
(IN THE MANNER OF DELTA BLUES)
Jive to me missy in the mo’nin’
Jive to me missy in the mo’nin’
Jive to me missy
Jive to me missy
Jive to me missy in the mo’-o-nin’
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“Not a bad sermon fo’ a small cong’e’gation.” - Andrew the Bar Drunk
[MEME]
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