Sarah Kane – 4.48 Psychosis (Complete Plays, 2001)

“At 4.48
when desperation visits
I shall hang myself
to the sound of my lover's breathing 

I do not want to die 

I have become so depressed by the fact of my mortality that I have decided to commit suicide 

I do not want to live 

I am jealous of my sleeping lover and covet his induced unconsciousness 

When he wakes he will envy my sleepless night of thought and speech unslurred by medication 

I have resigned myself to death this year 

Some will call this self-indulgence
(they are lucky not to know its truth)
Some will know the simple fact of pain 

This is becoming my normality”
(lk 207-208)

Kas sinu depressioon on erilisem?

“Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you. And I cannot believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you feel nothing? 

(silence) 

And I go out at six in the morning and start my search for you. If I've dreamt a message of a street or a pub or a station I go there. And I wait for you. 

(silence) 

You know, I really fel like I'm being manipulated. 

(silence) 

I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near to me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.”
(lk 214-215)

How do you do? I'm fine, thank you.

“- It's not your fault, that's all I ever hear, it's not your fault, it's an illness, it's not your fault, I know it's not my fault. You've told me that so often I'm beginning to think it is my fault.
- It's not your fault.
- I KNOW
- But you allow it.
(Silence.)
Don't you?
- There's not a drug on earth can make life meaningful.
- You allow this state of desperate absurdity.
(Silence.)
You allow it.
(Silence.)
- I won't be able to think. I won't be able to work.
- Nothing will interfere with your work like suicide.”
(lk 220-221)

Ka psühholoogid on inimesed.

“You'll be all right. You're strong. I know you'll be okay because I like you and you can't like someone who doesn't like themselves. The people I fear for are the ones I don't like because they hate themselves so much they won't let anyone else like them either. But I do like you. I'll miss you. And I know you'll be ok. 

(Silence.) 

Most of my clients want to kill me. When I walk out of here at the end of the day I need to go home to my lover and relax. I need to be with my friends and relax. I need my friends to be really together. 

(Silence.) 

I fucking hate this job and I need my friends to be sane. 

(Silence.) 

I'm sorry.”
(lk 237)

Sarah Kane – Crave (Complete Plays, 2001)

Võõrkeelselt öeldes – one of the most disturbing monologues i know.

A: No one but you.

B: Addicted to sickness.

A: It's not you, it's me.

C: It's always me.

A: I want to sleep next to you and do your shopping and carry your bags and tell you how much I love being with you but they keep making me do stupid things.

M: It's not me, it's you.

B: Pointless fucking

M: Time sheet.

C: Six month plan.

A: And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and notmind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type up your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the tv programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your

and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty without you and want what you want and think I'm losing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less and answer your questions when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really don't want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the / overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you.

C: (Under her breath until A stops speaking.) this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop (Then at normal volume.) this has to stop this has to stop this has to stop

A: Don't they understand? I've got important things to do.

C: It's getting worse.

Sarah Kane – Blasted (2002)

Hullult meeldivad Kane'i raamatute kaaned, see pea võiks mu autoportree olla. Ja mille pärast on siinse raamatu kaanel see arvatavalt II maailmasõjaaegne pilt? Ei tea, aga mõnusalt maitsekas.

Näidend, mida nagu ei kujutlegi eestikeelsena, lihtne ja arusaadav keel. Emotsionaalne ja seejärel füüsiline vägistamine ning sellele järgnev on justkui teisest dimensioonist – välja paiskuv füüsiline häving ning illusioon andestusest. Mehelikkuse värdvormide põrkumine ja purunemine ja võimutsemine. Sisemine tühjus põhjustab vajaduse võimu järele, võimaluse alandada teisi, tunda end ülemana, kahjurõõmus sisemine tühjus leiab naudingut (või – elusust) teise valus, lämmatamises (kas see on tuttav tunne? Mulle vist on). Cate'i kokutamine kui kutsikast saati peksmist taluma pidav koer (ja need minestamised); inimese sisemine loom, mis võib vist olla hea (kas inimeses peitub loom? Kas loom / elajas on kindlasti paha või koeralikult peremeest armastav?). Näidendi lõpus on Cate ikka status quo, samamoodi emotsionaalselt-füüsiliselt läbi hekseldatud nagu alguseski (“kogemuse võrra rikkam”), ühesugune igiliikuv inimvare, ellujääja. Naine kui tõeline ellujääja. Mees kui hävitaja ja hävineja (nt lk 30-31).

Miks on Kane'i näidendid kui pilkane puhastustuli? Pärast selliseid emotsionaalseid purskeid on raske kujutleda, mida ja kas oleks võinud Kane edasi kirjutada, nn 27-aastaste klubi. Või ongi selline emotsionaalsus omasem / arusaadavam kahekümnendates eluaastates inimestele, hilisematel aastatel leiadki mingi kibeda vaherahu endaga? Kas selline emotsionaalsus on tegelikult enese ületähtsustamine, võimetus ümbritsevat endale rahuldavalt omaks võtta? Äkki Kane oligi vaimust haige ja ta kirjutisi ei oleks eetiline kirjanduslikult tõlgendada (a la nagu hullude joonistusi)? Miks peavad tema piinad meile omaksvõetavad olema? Ma ei tea.

Ei oska leida muusikalist ekvivalenti Kane'i loomingule, ehk Haino, sirutudes kuhugi inimolemuse valualadele, aga see pole see. Veider paralleel Kusturica filmiga. Lugemise-kirjutamise ajal avastasin esmakordselt kui vinge Bardo Pondi “Set and Setting” tegelikult on. Hea.


Darkness.
Light.

Ian strangling himself with his bare hands.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian shitting.
And then trying to clean it up with newspaper.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian laughing hysterically.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian having a nightmare.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian crying, huge bloody tears.
He is hugging the Soldier's body for comfort.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian lying very still, weak with hunger.

Darkness.
Light.

Ian tears the cross out of the ground, rips up the floor and lifts the baby's body out.

He eats the baby.

He puts the remains back in the baby's blanket and puts the bundle back in the hole.
A beat, then he climbs in after it and lies down, head poking out of the floor.

He dies with relief.

It starts to rain on him, coming through the roof.

Eventually.

Ian Shit.

Cate enters carrying some bread, a large sausage and a bottle of gin. There is blood seeping from between her legs.

Cate You're sitting under a hole.

Ian I know.

Cate Get wet.

Ian Aye.

Cate Stupid bastard.

She pulls a sheet off the bed and wraps it around her.

She sits next to Ian's head.

She eats her fill of the sausage and bread, then washes it down with gin.

Ian listens.

She feeds Ian with the remaining food.

She pours gin in Ian's mouth.

She finishes feeding Ian and sits apart from him, huddled for warmth.

She drinks the gin.
She sucks her thumb.

Silence.

It rains.

Ian Thank you.

Blackout.

-