JUST POETIC ICE

Brandon S. Thompson

Written in the summer of 1997

Re-edited December 19, 2000

Scene is a psychiatrists office. The psychiatrist, Dr. Mitchell Deeril, enters and sits very directly. He is waiting for the next patient. He waits a moment and becomes impatient

Deeril- Next!! Mr. Revlare. Mr. Deacon Revlare? (Enter Deacon)

Deacon- I suppose I'm late, Doctor Deeril.

Deeril- I suppose you are, By about 15 minutes.

Deacon- Well, There's the efficiency of the modern daily transportation system! Would you believe that I left my place a forty five minutes ago? I could have gotten here faster by means of my own two legs, which, even though short, are much easier on gas and a hell of a lot less apt to stall. Not to mention The complete lack of traffic jams they'll run me into.

Deeril- The Traffic jammed up Queen again?

Deacon- I certainly hope that was meant to be rhetorical.

Deeril- Not really.

Deacon- Mmmm, perhaps it's not I who needs his head examined.

Deeril- Really, Mr. Revlare?

Deacon- Please, call me Deacon. I don't need yet another person referring to me as the great and powerful "Mr. Revlare."

Deeril- Understood.

Deacon- If it wasn't for the pathetic fop excuse for a human being on his cell phone cruising blind down the wrong lane, I would have been here on time.

Deeril- In a bit of a mood toady, Deacon?

Deacon- No more then any other day that brings the high low of 25 degrees Celsius, an 18 minute wait with nothing but my radio to keep me company. Even that does a poor job. Did you know that the only thing people seem to play at this time of day is Buddy Holly , or religious surmons that miss the point entirely. Unless the point is that God is broke. That's what modern assimilation will get you, though. But, I 'spose that's not exactly your dilemma, doctor. Right now, I'm you're problem, so start he clock and shrink my head.

Deeril- Ah, yes, Deacon, now I remember you. It's been a while since I've seen you.

Deacon- Well, it's been a while since I've worn down the proverbial "saddle to get back on". So much so that it's beginning to give me large saddle sores.

Deeril- Really, that bad huh?

Deacon- I've thinned it down to being as good as tissue paper, doctor.

Deeril- I suppose it might be just as well if we leaped right to it, I can tell this might take a while. What's wrong?

Deacon- Well, if you put it that way; Currently I am suffering from mal-expression, social disfunction, a lack of brilliance, an over dosage of a work load, pre-separation anxiety, a very particular stabbing loneliness and a deep loathing spite towards anyone who is happy with their temporarily sufficient other, especially Eleezia, who upsets me on all plains of the field, anyhow.

Deeril- Woah! Slow down! Now this Eleezia, she's...??

Deacon- My ex-female companion.

Deeril- Understood.

Deacon- Right, so I think the question isn't "What's wrong". But rather what isn't wrong, or even was there anything right to begin with. If your following me down the same proverbial and metaphorical path, you should be able to grasp my position- or disposition if you understand at all, that is.

Deeril- I think I'm getting it. But lets take this one step at a time though, okay?

Deacon- Okay, shoot.

Deeril- Now, lets start with this whole.. uh.... mal- expression thing. I think you worded it like that.

Deacon- My type writer hates me.

Deeril- Oh, that's right, you're a writer, aren't you? Have you not written anything lately?

Deacon- No, not exactly. I've got very little to write about now.

Deeril- So it's writers block?

Deacon- Not really, no.

Deeril- Oh, then, a loss of creative... spark?

Deacon- Again, not particularly. You see, I might find it hard to lose what I never had to begin with.

Deeril- So your trying to tell me what?

Deacon- All right, I'll try to leave nothing to the imagination from now on, for your benefit. What I meant was simply that I don't really think I was very creative to begin with. I've never produced anything expressive in my life to begin with.

Deeril- But, Deacon, you've had 2 best sellers, haven't you?

Deacon- Literary drool. You'd be surprised at the vomit I can splatter on a sheet. Yet people will still blow a ten spot very contentedly and think their buying into the mind of a great man. Then they think their all blessed with the genius and brilliance of perfect literature, just because it bares the name Deacon... Sorry, Mister Revlare, On the front cover. That and the cute titles, such as "Tears of a Dove", inscripted in raised, semi-gloss print on the front.

Deeril- So your not happy with your previous books?

Deacon- In fewer words, very toned down and more directly- Bingo, you got it.

Deeril- Why do you think that is?

Deacon- Not sure really. I guess I've never gotten real personal in my books. I've always figured that if I ever went and got all opinionated in my books I might actually have to take responsibility for the damned things. Which also means I'd have to stop passing it off as "the characters view and not mine." Cuz, that'd be an obvious lie, right?

Deeril- Hmmmm...

Deacon- You said it all, right there.

Deeril- I suppose that links to the whole lack of brilliance thing, too, doesn't it?

Deacon- If you want to bridge it out that far, then yes.

Deeril- Are you gunna try and change that?

Deacon- I was mulling over the idea of going into plays, might be tough though. It's a rough medium. Nothing in return but a cheap credit. So, I was kinda thinking movies!

Deeril- Movies?

Deacon- Sure, get out there, throw up something all emotional... the kind of thing I want to say and still pass it off as the characters view. People expect film writers to lie anyways, I think.

Deeril- I think I'm beginning to understand, but we've only tipped the berg here.

Deacon- Well, we still have plenty of time.

Deeril- That we do. Now about this social disfunction thing you spoke of.

Deacon- Oh that old problem?

Deeril- Old?

Deacon- Sorry, your right, decrepit. The way I've been totally debarred from everything with a human touch, surely you remember that dilemma?

Deeril- It's comming back in bits and pieces. Well, now that you've mentioned it, I remember a bit of it. Still with the same old friends group?

Deacon- No, I took your advice and started to force myself to be social and converse with other writers. A few of the younger ones have followed me into acquaintancey on my end, idolization on theirs. Thinking the doctor that knows best, I went along with it, much to my dismay.

Deeril- Problems?

Deacon- They were more stone chiseled then that of Mt. Rushmore, and much more then my old running crowd. I kept the receipt this time, though. I'm gunna go in and exchange them for some gardening tools, they'd be better company anyhow. Besides, theses friends are of less quality then the original ones that I threw away.

Deeril- Hmmmm.

Deacon- Again, well spoken.

Deeril- Coffee?

Deacon- That's a new addition, isn't it?

Deeril- I find it's familai to people and personal so the patients open up a great deal.

Deacon- Really? Then set me up with a round, Doctor Deeril.

Deeril- Please, call me Mitch.

Deacon- First name basis now? Also a new addition. You used to be a huge stick in the mud. I thought that mud hardened centuries ago... guess I was wrong. Do you do this with all the crackpots, or am I special?

Deeril- I figure we've known each other long enough now.

Deacon- That's not it! What's gotten into you?

Deeril- Family life I guess.

Deacon- Really, how old is that Margeret.. er.. Maggie.. or.. something with an M. It starts with an M, I know it...

Deeril- Donna?

Deacon- That's it!

Deeril- 14 now.

Deacon- That old? Wow, do I ever feel the grip of senility creeping up on me now.

Deeril- Yeah, time sure does fly, doesn't it? Here.

Deacon- Thanks.

Deeril- Your welcome. But enough about my life, how about yours?

Deacon- No really, it's kind of refreshing.

Deeril- What is?

Deacon- The notion of a life less sterile.

Deeril- (laughs) What do you mean by that?

Deacon- Something a little more... Well, you've picked up the drift I imagine.

Deeril- Normal?

Deacon- Woah! No! Back the truck up, bad word!

Deeril- What is? Nor-

Deacon- Shh!

Deeril- I don't think I get it.

Deacon- I have conflicting opinions on the subject.

Deeril- Conflicting?

Deacon- Yah, with those who manage to engulf themselves in the term and live in it like it were a shaul or shroud. Not with me. It's not that hard to grasp Mitch, honestly.

Deeril- Your leaving things to the imagination again, Deacon.

Deacon- Mmmmm.. well, If I must. I don't believe normality exists in anything but ignorance, doctor.

Deeril- Surely you can't be denying it's existence?

Deacon- And why not? If we can omit the existence of the human soul, then pray-tell, why not normality?

Deeril- You can't put both normality and the human soul in the same boat!

Deacon- Why? Neither are tangible, both are human in relation and both seem to leave a huge margin for improbability on just one level. The biggest difference is that we can't protect ourselves with our souls, they, if anything, bind us.

Deeril- What?

Deacon- You seem vaguely offended. I'll try to explain one more time. What is normality? Don't answer, it's rhetorical. It's being the same as everyone else. Now, if you look down deep enough, everybody's "strange", Mitch, only some are shy about it, others aren't. So, I can't vouch for normality actually existing at all. It's just keeping up appearances.

Deeril- Yes, something you've failed to do in life.

Deacon- All right then, if you'd like to get personal... how are you normal?

Deeril- I have a family and a loving wife and a high paying job and a nice house by the bay.

Deacon- Very true, but I find it very convenient that you omitted your parents from that.

Deeril- What about them?

Deacon- You told me once that your mother has about 26 cats and your father talks to them and expects answers.

Deeril- Yes, so, that makes them strange? Iit hasn't anything to do with me.

Deacon- And your suppose to be a psychiatrist? But I'll let that go then. What about your legal drug problem.

Deeril- Now, I got over that!

Deacon- Doesn't matter. Aspirin addiction isn't, by definition, a normal thing, is it?

Deeril - Look lets just drop it and move on.

Deacon- I think I've made my point anyhow.

Deeril- Fine. I'm sorry I asked now.

Deacon- Yeah, and I'm sorry I mentioned.

Deeril- Anyhow, lets just forget all that, including your disturbingly accurate memory. Another thing you mentioned before hand was that ex of yours.

Deacon- My sexual partner of the female persuasion?

Deeril- Yes.

Deacon- Ah! What about her?

Deeril- That's what I'm asking.

Deacon- Well, what do you think? Five years and she spurns me off for some rich English stiff in upper Toronto. They, very rancorly, moved closer to me so they could flaunt themselves, or rather, so SHE could flaunt HER freedom of sexuality in front of me. And personally, I think that their constant public displays of affection are make more then me quite ill, but on a deeper, more personal note, it makes me lonely as well.

Deeril- How long has it been.

Deacon- About 5 months now.

Deeril- And you haven't gotten over her yet? You must have been pretty hung up on her!

Deacon- Yes, and now I'm just hung on her. But as the bible states, "Long and hard is the journey up form hell into light"

Deeril- It can't be that bad, can it?

Deacon- I tell you, whoever said "What does not kill us can only make us stronger" Obviously lived a very simple and listless life with very few happenings of the dispursive quality and a wife that had him dick-whipped to the point of emotional evacuation and an intellect that registers "Void" when rung through. I think the quote itself shows me correct and proves the whole thing.

Deeril- So what your saying is that the saying proves itself to be a lie?

Deacon- Quite!

Deeril- But it's a quote by Fredrich Nietzche!

Deacon- Well, even true geniuses are lapsed by some things now and then! Einstein for example. He wore had seven copies of the same suit so he didn't have to think about what he was gunna wear each day! He'd just pull the next one of the rack! And I'll bet he supported Nietzche whole heartedly on that statement!

Deeril- Yeah, I bet he would too, but getting off of that, about the business of.. uh.. what was her name again?

Deacon- Eleezia?

Deeril- Right, tell me a bit about her.

Deacon- You don't remember, Doctor? I'm hurt!

Deeril- C'mon Deacon, may I remind you that you only set up 3 appointments and that was 2 years ago.

Deacon- That's right, isn't it? I'm surprised you remembered this much then! I'm sorry, I sometimes forget that I'm not your only nutcase!

Deeril- You may not be my only patient, but your definitely the most interesting.

Deacon- Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?

Deeril- Yes, by all means.

Deacon- Okay, have it your way.

Deeril- So anyways, tell me a bit about this.. uh...

Deacon- Eleezia.

Deeril- Right.

Deacon- Well, to start off with, she was 28 when we first met. She's a modern day poet, not very lyrical.. or good as I remember it, but it's one of those things you can flag under Humoring.... or relationship sacrifice, so I could deal with it. She had shorter blonde hair which she usually wore up, which, I thought, made her look like a 3 year old with chronic immaturity deficiency, but her simple innocence made you wonder if she wasn't just a child.

Deeril- Really? Sounds like she suits the rule for you.

Deacon- Well, she did, for five years of my life anyhow. But then her intellectual diphtheria took charge and everything just sort of hit the grinder and forced me into dipsomania.

Deeril- Excuse me, dipsomania?

Deacon- Oh, my apologies, my vocabulary's beginning to wander. It means that I've been driven to drink.. not just drink, but drown in an excess of hazy contentness and ignorance. Trust me, doctor, that's an eternity I'm not going to soon forget.. or miss for that matter.

Deeril- I see, so in fewer and smaller words, you became an alcoholic.

Deacon- No sir! In order to be an alcoholic, you have to be sober now and then. I wasn't drunk, I was mentally unweaved! Detached from humanity, purposely, so I didn't have to deal with the deadly, malicious, pang of reality.

Deeril- I think your vocabulary has done more then wander, I think it's beginning to evade you altogether.

Deacon- I'm sorry, it's the subject, it always brings back the memories of my falling inebriation and gets me feeling in the mood for the state, even if I lack the means to reach it.

Deeril- Understood. Would you like to continue on the subject then?

Deacon- Don't ask me, your the psychiatrist. What ever you think is best.

Deeril- As long as you can keep your use of large words and mixed phrasing down a bit, I think it'll be good for you.

Deacon- Well, it's your time Mitch, I'm just paying for it.

Deeril- I guess that's one way of looking at it.

Deacon- Well, what do you want to know?

Deeril- How about the story?

Deacon- Fair enough. Where should I begin?

Deeril- The beginning always makes for a nice start.

Deacon- And thus spake the voice of reason. Okay, okay here it goes. I'll speak slowly too so you can etch down what ever I say, all right? All right. Well, I met Eleezia at one of those brainless, prosaic, gatherings of hundreds of obtuse artists, or at least a bunch of simpletons who like to refer to themselves as artists. I was there as sort of an extraneous guest visitor who was so archaic-

Deeril- Deacon, vocabulary again.

Deacon- Right! Sorry! Anyhow, I was their Mass proxy- Sorry, speaker and resident joke. I was so out dated and situationally askew that it wasn't even funny! I got up there and critiqued some of the greatest poets and commented on prose, but it was mostly just a manic melancholy festival, so I was way out of place there. Not to mention wasting my time. Well, I got down off the pedestal of abasivity- excuse me, embarrassment, and this girl approached me. She was wearing this cute little outfit, blindingly purple. I remember that really well because the thing burned it's image into my retna. Anyhow, she approached me with a delapitated look of respect and complimented me on my lecture. Well, we went out for a coffee afterwards, mostly to get out that room, which, by the way, was filling up with atmosphere. Everybody else's weight was drowning both of us. Well, coffee didn't really seem appropriate for the setting anyhow, so we went to a place that was a little more romantic, which could have been a nazi concentration camp given the circumstances. Well, one thing led to another and we started seeing each other on more regular- or irregular, basis.

Deeril- Wait, Irregular basis?

Deacon- Oh, well, I'm referring to the kind of things we'd do. Like instead of taking a vigorous walk on the beach, we'd clip into a cafe, or something, and listen to 60's throw backs recite poetry and compare each others work. Not a regular date strategy now-a-days. We did just about everything together, well, until she found Mr. Shady-pants, lord of monotony, with a gold belt and all, over on the south side.

Deeril- Her new squeeze?

Deacon- That's one way... I wish you hadn't put it.

Deeril- But your not bitter, right?

Deacon- Oh yes, acridly so! Very decidedly, yet also blithe about it!

Deeril- Bitterly blithe? So your trying to tell me that your only happy when your bitter.

Deacon- Not it at all my friend. I mean, or meant, that it might have been on the better side of life events. Ho hum.

Deeril- So, your saying you weren't happy with her?

Deacon- Nothing could be farther from the truth!

Deeril- Then, what, exactly, are you saying?

Deacon- Ah! This links back to that whole "pre-separation anxiety" thing.

Deeril- Should I take notes or just listen?

Deacon- Very funny. You see Doctor, in half a month, I'm going, sort of, out of Toronto.

Deeril- Oh, just sort of?

Deacon- Okay, all of, then. I'm moving to Boston and God knows that no matter how much Eleezia wants to escape this city, she would never leave his royal tightness. He's probably got her convinced that she was born here and so she needs to rot here.

Deeril- Why Boston?

Deacon- Apparently, my biggest public allurance is there. SO I'm compelled to follow the slaves. After all, the master is nothing without this Slaves, so I gotta go where the majority of the minority is, right?

Deeril- Right.

Deacon- Right. So I agreed, but I love Eleezia.

Deeril- And so...

Deacon- The great Shakespeare himself couldn't have said it better! Ah, be there no hope for the starving extremist, left to die in his own pathetic books!

Deeril- No justice, huh?

Deacon- Pfff, Justice.

Deeril- Bad word? Like Normality?

Deacon- Nope, just ice.

Deeril- It's just- what?

Deacon- When you break it down it's just ice- Justice... just ice.

Deeril- Care to explain?

Deacon- Are you sure?

Deeril- I'll risk it.

Deacon- So you fell that th elegal system has really any concern for you?

Deeril- I would say so, yes.

Deacon- Sure. They seem very compassionate about things. If some doped up idiot punk commits a B and E at your front door then the cops are the nicest thing since Wistlers mother. But as soon as your on the other end of the stick... Like if you're the one at fault in a broad side trafic circumstance, then, Wistler's old in the blink of an eye! Sanding in the

frezing cold, just proped up at the front door, away from the fires of the law.

Deeril- Well, maybe you're not seeing things right.

Deacon- I'm not sure I understand.

Deeril- The problem is obvious, Deacon. It's either one side or the other burning you. If it's not frost bite, it's the third degree. So, you're not happy with you're old books? Turn over a new leaf and start writting for you, instead of everyone else. Don't want to go to Boston? Don't. If you don't want to hang out with other writers and things, don't. You're sponsers don't really need to double as you're social group too

Deacon- I've... really... never thought of it that way before.

Deeril- Of course not! You see everything as being a crisis rather then an opportunity. You know the Chinese have the same word for both.

Deacon- Yeah?

Deeril- Uh-huh. That girl, Eleezia, did she say she loved you?

Deacon- Daily.

Deeril- Did she mean it?

Deacon- I always believed her.

Deeril- and so your just going to give up on her, just like that? Did you even try to get her back?

Deacon- She's lost, what am I supposed to do?

Deeril- She's not lost, Deacon, just misplaced! And what about Boston? It's not Toronto you know! You've been getting plagued with publicity, no one knows where your gunna be in Boston, just keep it that way!

Deacon- So your trying to tell me-

Deeril- Why don't you just stop feeling sorry for yourself, get up and do something about it! Just pick your self up of the floor and win that girl back!

Deacon- She doesn't want me anymore!

Deeril- Do you want her back?

Deacon- Well, yes but-

Deeril- No buts! Just get out there and try it. You've got nothing to lose when you start off with nothing, so what's wrong with you?

Deacon- Thank you Doctor Deer... Mitch. I'll give it my best.

Deeril- Better give it more then that.

Deacon- I'm not even goint to bother.

(Exit Deacon)

Deeril- Secretary, could you get me some wine. It's been a long day.

THE END