The Beast in London

Hello London,

I'd like to introduce you to The Beast. You may remember when it was being made, those first experiments at the Battersea Arts Centre, how it kicked and screamed under the light. Now it's all grown up, it's seen the world and now returns to London for the first time ever; and it's learned to dance. The Beast is back in London to show off it's new moves.

Wednesday the 12th of June
Pleasance Theatre, Islington
7.45pm

Tickets
Join the event and invite your friends.
It's only on for one night, so if you're really enthusiastic please book. 

Blurb:

Still Soft Dead Fur

Kyle lay on his stomach,

Waiting for his greasy chicken burger to digest.

It wasn't an ideal position for digestion.

But somehow that's where he ended up.

Under the table, surrounded by chair-legs,

He surrendered.

He wrapped himself up in the question that was lying next to him,

Like a carcass.

He was waiting for some scavenger to take them both.

It was late. 

Alone in his apartment.

Slow snow heaped in the back yard of his mind,

All white.

A cold blanket for comfort.

He lay thinking about how he left the party earlier that night.

He'd jumped the back fence,

Into the dark cobblestone alley with the cats.

No goodbyes,

He just left.

It all started in the kitchen

It all started in a conversation with Pamela.

She asked him

"So, what do you really want to be doing with your life then?"

He answered the question with a gesture.

He turned, pushed through the back door,

Ran across the back lawn

And threw himself over the tall back fence.

It was a heavy question, a dead beast with glassy eyes.

A deer that had to be dragged up a mountain to save his people.

The question begged action.

So he got out of there.

Kyle walked home that night. 

One hour and forty five minutes.

Walking in the wake of his irresponsible spontaneity,

He realised that he was waiting for something.

Hours later he lay on his stomach under the table,

Digesting some greasy fast food.

Lying next to the question, cold and still, stroking its soft fur.

Waiting for someone to come and drag them both up the mountain.

(image)

I want to test something out on you, it probably won't hurt

SHE WAS PROBABLY NOT A ROBOT - WORK IN PROGRESS 

I'm making a show. I want to test it out on you. I will be sharing the prototype of my latest invention in two instalments. I hope both will be an interesting glimpse into my process and an opportunity for you to influence the upbringing of this strange creature.

INVITE YOUR FRIENDS

8   J U N E

T H E    B I R T H

In all of its beautiful and disgusting glory.

7.30pm

Canal Cafe Theatre

Book

2 1   J U N E

T H E    F I R S T     S T E P S

The triumph and embarrassment of falling, failing, trying, crying and stumbling forward.

7.30pm

Canal Cafe Theatre

Book

A U C K L A N D

5th of May

7pm

The Basement

Tickets and more info

Facebook Event

also check out

Dr Brown Brown Brown Brown Brown and His Singing Tiger

1st - 5th May

9.30 and 11.30

Herald Theatre

Tickets and more info

Morgan

Morgan was afraid he was turning into a bug. It was embarrassing. He actually sent me a text saying, "At the pub on Tuesday did my legs look shorter?"

Now, his legs had looked slightly shorter, but I didn't want to make a sensation. So I replied. "No, longer if anything."

Unfortunately, last week, when I met Morgan for chips, it was clear that he was actually turning into a bug. Which was good because he'd probably be pretty popular among the bug community with all of his human wisdom. But it was going to make things hard, in terms of dating human women. Not that he was ever a big winner in that department anyway.

Getting the Ghost Out

One winter’s morning I woke up under my bed with a terrible belief that I was haunted. I didn’t think that this was such a bad thing, I just accepted that this was how life would be from now on. I was still charming and playful, and very kind. When people laughed with me I wasn’t shy and when people didn’t laugh with me I was shy. I was still me, but there were heavy clouds inside me. My body was filled with a solid shadow that weighed me down. I used to be able to jump quite high, but I could barely get my feet off the ground. I used to be courageous but I became frightened and it was frightening which made things even worse.

Until, one hot Summer’s day I woke up under a trampoline. I crawled out from underneath and I climbed onto the springy black pad and I bounced. I just bounced. I became light. 

“Hello neighbours over the fence”.  

“Oh, hello there” the words blossomed from their mouths as they laughed and clapped. 

I was a bouncing man. I think whatever was heavy and dark inside me must’ve rattled out; I was no longer possessed. I was still me, but there was light inside once again.

Alas, I became over confident. I discarded my pants, attempting to moon my neighbours. But I bounced a little too close to the edge, my foot slipped off, it was a dangerous affair. My genitals became entangled in the springs, I was trapped. I had visions of becoming like a petrified bat on an electric wire. I wept and wept, waiting for help. But no one came. I yelped. But no one heard. I cried hot tears but the springs would not let go of my soft skin. I dragged the trampoline around the side of the house and onto the street, still attached. I flagged down traffic, but no one stopped. I was too pathetic. Like Icarus I had jumped too high. O how painful it is to fall from such splendour. I hauled the trampoline to a convenience store, stole some butter and eased myself free with it's fatty powers. 

It was a difficult day for me. The ghost in my heart had fled, but I had a shame stain on my soul. I learnt a profound lesson that day.  

The End.

Show Dates

Dr Brown Brown Brown Brown Brown and His Singing Tiger

The Mac Belfast
23rd March
http://themaclive.com/whats-on/dr-brown-and-singing-tiger/

Soho Theatre
29th & 30th March
http://www.sohotheatre.com/whats-on/doctor-brown-and-his-singing-tiger/

The Junction Cambridge
27th April
http://www.junction.co.uk/artist/5012

Auckland International Comedy Festival
1 - 5 May
http://www.comedyfestival.co.nz/auckland/show/dr-brown-brown-brown-brown-brown-and-his-singing-tiger

Veronica

Veronica

Hands in her pockets

It's bus waiting time 

Not her favourite time of day 

She can see the line

The line of shadow that indicates (the end of) winter 

She steps into the light 

On the footpath

Avoiding the poo 

Obviously 

Ohhh

She's dizzied by the light for a moment 

And ends up in a park down the road 

It was a confusing time 

She gathers her thoughts for a while 

Just long enough to skip work for the day 

Just enjoying the befuddlement

Caused by the change in winter 

Ohhh

Maybe she's one step closer

To loosing/leaving her job 

Which is probably the best outcome

For happiness 

Some things aren't the best things

Some things aren't the best things

Some things aren't the best things

Some things aren't the best things

Some things aren't the best things

Ohhh

That Day

Loretta sat on cold grey, a chair made of cement.
Under a dark tree next to a walking path.
In a town she didn't know, after the trains had stopped.
A car park in the distance beamed light out that only just touched her. 
A stark white glimmer on the pink rim of her eyelids.
The day was ending and her eyes were sad and falling.
That sad day was over-shooting itself and the slow, dragging foot.
That day she had tried something useless and useless.
Something stupid and stupid, heartless and heartless, but nothing could stop the pattern.
Just something, to see if it felt different to do something different.
Something to break apart her mortal tank,
That filled and emptied with blood, every smile-less day. 
To feel something.
But she felt none of that now.
That morning in her light blue coat.
She cut the lining in the kitchen at 5am.
She slipped in a knife, a big one, handle down, sharp tip up. 
Just to see if nothing would happen.
She slammed the draw and then the door behind herself.
Crossed the road, cold, walking fast.
That day was all frost, thick on fence posts. 
In her light blue coat and dark blue jeans.
Two shoes poked out the bottom, both brown (both matching - it'd be weird if they weren't).
That day was all steam from plastic chimneys. 
At the station she imagined everyone talking to each other.
Strangers met, and helped each other.
"Your train's here now, you better go. Nice to meet you."
She imagined with her hand in the pocket, next to the sharp thing.
Step on to find a seat.
Legs crossed, one stacked on the other, on the shitty carpeted train.
That day was all slipping out of the station.
Staring out the window.
Thoughts like animals, running free and searching for food.
All, silently gliding out of the city.
All, mist and no sun.
Nose wet, like a stamp sponge at the post office.
That day was all that was.
All, streetlights at dawn.  
All, icicles on electric poles.
All, sweat drips from arm pits. 
All, cuts in the lining. 
That day she took a knife on the train.  
All, frost covered apples on leafless trees. 
All, fox in the grass curled under warm tail.
On the train to see if she could change.
Nervous in the pit of Loretta, she waited.
All that is day, turned into night. 
That day was all that was.
To see what would happen.
In the fault-line of folded arms and daydreams, nothing changed.
This time.
The nerves went dull, cold and hunger-withered.
What happened barely happened.
That day went like the last, which is only just understandable. 
Only just unchangeable.

(photo)

Last Time I Saw My Heart

My heart was a lost thing.

No one knew what it was when they found it.

They put it in a cabinet.

Heaps of people admired it.

Heaps of people hated it.
Heaps of people were moved.

It touched some people.

Some people touched it.

It made them all curious.

They drained the juices out.

They put the juices in a large truck, it moved a bit.

Meanwhile, I woke up and my heart was gone.

Admittedly it had been a big night.

"It'll show up", I thought (what a fool).

It didn't show up.

Most of my friends could tell it was gone.

This was two years ago.

Most of my friends stopped contacting me.

Partly because I moved to another city.

Mostly because they could tell.

New friends admired my brain.

I'd put my brain in the hole where my heart used to be.

It looked pretty similar.

I struggled on (quite successfully).

I still did good things.
But I longed for it.
I couldn't ever forget.
I searched constantly.

This morning I saw it on the internet.
On street view.
It was powering a large truck a bit.
It was boarding a ferry in 2009.

I waited on the other side.
But it didn't show up.

I knew it was my heart.
I could just tell it was.

I thought I'd never see my heart again.

I got that impression.

It was sad. 

I can do without it.

I can do many things without it.

But, imagine.

Imagine what I could do with it.

With the juice flowing in me.

I'm much smaller than a large truck, imagine the intensity.

I haven't worked out how to get it back.

But I'm working on it.

Imagine the intensity.

(photo)

Nominations for The Beast

MELBOURNE GREEN ROOM AWARD NOMINATIONS 

THEATRE – INDEPENDENT

MALE PERFORMER

Stuart Bowden (performer) – The Beast (Melbourne Fringe, Tuxedo Cat)

WRITING

Stuart Bowden – The Beast

http://www.greenroom.org.au/2012-nominations/

Spillage

She was flawless when she dropped it all. The restaurant looked around as she ducked below table height. Food splatters garnished with shards of plate were presented at Jed's feet, a carrot on his lace. Her smile lifted, like a sunrise withering the heartless night. Beaming above the chaos of cutlery, she yelled "Tony, can you please grab a broom or mop or something. I've made a bit of a mess here". 

As she sprawled to contain the disaster, Jed fell into her like a volcano, he was part of her when he escaped, molten. Jed ignored the gravy in his shoe as a statue of her was unveiled in his heart. She didn't really acknowledge him, she just busily made a scrap heap beneath his table, as he smiled at her scalp. Finally, he caught her eye with a desperate grin like a butterfly net. She tucked away her perfection behind an uncaring look. She was young, wreck-full, tireless and speeding elsewhere.

Without anything she was gone, back to the kitchen, leaving the broken heap of scraps.

Tony emerged to replace her with a cloth.

The cloth skimmed across Jed's shoe, he mourned for her as steam rose from within. Shoe-gravy steam, in went Tony's finger, beyond sock. Jed didn't look down, he closed his eyes and took what he could get. 

"Stuart Bowden's storytelling is like sitting with a friend you have known your entire life who entrances you with his tales. The beauty to which he delivers his show takes your breath away"

The Beast in Brighton

Come and visit The Beast.

February 15
Brighton Dome
9pm
Tickets: 

http://brightondome.org/event/2475/the_beast/

The noise in Nathan's head

One morning Nathan woke up with the ability to stop time, it was a pretty uneventful discovery. He figured it out in the shower, he tilted his head on a strange angle, made a noise in his head and the water stopped in mid air. He started time again quickly because he was all lathered in soap. 

He stopped time over breakfast, so that he could catch up on Facebook. He liked the noise it made in his head when he stopped time, he found it quite calming. On the way to work, he stopped time and wizzed through tight traffic on his bike. It was actually pretty useful.  

But over time the ability to stop time made Nathan quite dull. He was no longer ever late for anything, which was a pretty boring trait. He was always correct in conversation - if there was anything that he didn't know he would stop time, look it up and then start time again. He was pretty dreary to be around. He cheated at cards, stopping time to look at other peoples hands. At parties he would stop time, rehearse pick up lines and then recite them - it was eerie. He became very bland and a little bit creepy.

People stopped inviting him to parties. But he would often go anyway, where he would stop time and wander around pretending to talk to people while they where frozen. He was lonely.

It was a very lonely ability. When he stopped time he was completely alone. He began stopping time for longer and longer, he wanted to know if there was anyone else like him. Anyone else who could move between time. He started searching. He stopped time for what seemed an entire day, searching for anyone else who could continue on.

He became obsessed. He stopped time for a week, he packed a bag, got on his bike and rode around the city looking for any sign of change. Nothing. No one. he stopped time for years and years, he taught himself to fly an aeroplane and searched the earth from the sky. He landed in different countries. He used to be a little scared of foreign language countries. But now he felt free.

He started to let himself go. He walked around naked, in huge cities, through crowds of people, he screamed as loud as he could. He talked to frozen strangers.

Nothing. There was no one else like him.

One day when he was running naked through a huge city, covered in butter, screaming, 

"I AM THE MASTER OF THE WORLD AND THE MAGICAL KEEPER OF TIME!" (he had become quite confident)

he slipped over on a wet plastic bag and broke his pelvis. It was very painful.

He lay on the footpath, naked, surrounded by pedestrians staring at him. They stopped to help him, but he couldn't understand them. He tried to stop time, to learn their language, but he couldn't, he was in too much pain.

They helped him into an ambulance. They were very confused. He spent two weeks in hospital. 

His parents and his sister flew over to look after him in the hospital. They asked him how he got there, what happened. He tried to stop time to make up a good excuse, but his brain had associated the trauma of his broken pelvis with his ability to stop time and it was impossible.

So he told the truth, the whole story, the years of searching, everything. They asked him why he was covered in butter and naked, but he couldn't really answer them, that would be a mystery. In fact the whole thing was a mystery to his family; and to his friends. They all laughed at his story, they thought he was joking. But underneath they were impressed, it was such a strange, detailed and ultimately flawed story but at least it wasn't boring. 

He left the hospital with his family and they flew back home. He lived with his parents for a while, at first he was embarrassed, but he got over it.

And now he fumbles through life with everyone else. 

The Stage Review: The DIY Nativity

"Visually and atmospherically delightful, inventive and original, The DIY Nativity is a highly entertaining, fast moving mini extravaganza of colourful fun"

When Trevor stood on top of his camel he could make out a green patch in the distance, with palm trees, a pool, high diving board and bouncy naked bathers. He quickly dropped down in his saddle put his feet in the stirrups, and turned 180 degrees. He was no fool.

That night, under a cold blue mess of twinkles, Trevor dug a deep pit in the sand. He madly tried to bury himself next to his camel to keep warm, it didn't work. It was a stupid idea.

Nathan the Turkey

It was christmas eve and Nathan the turkey was very nervous, tonight he was hosting a christmas party. And not just any christmas party, but a surprise christmas party for all the other animals in the stable. And they were all due to arrive in 19 minutes, so it was crunch time.

He frantically hung streamers and fairy lights along the rafters. He was very excited, almost everything was ready. 

Nathan had never really enjoyed christmas, but this year he was making a real effort.

As he placed the last of the decorations on the tree he sung a little song that he made up on the spot.

Baubles Baubles Baubles Baubles  

Baubles Baubles Baubles Baubles 

Baubles Baubles Baubles Baubles 

Baubles Baubles Baubles Baubles  

After he finished the last of the baubles, he turned on the stereo and put on his christmas playlist, it had all the classics.

As the music began to play Nathan closed his eyes and imagined the perfect night where the surprise was a success, the food was delicious, the games were fun and at the end of the evening he might share a slow and passionate dance with Tiffany the goose. Nathan had a bit of a thing for Tiffany the Goose.

All of a sudden through the cold night breeze, Nathan the Turkey heard the chatter and giggle of the animals as they approached the stable.

He quickly armed himself with streamers and party poppers, stopped the music, turned off the lights and in the dark frenzy he accidentally ran headfirst into a wall and knocked himself out.

He lay unconscious on the stable floor as the animals arrive. They turn on the lights, saw the decorations and then noticed Nathan the Turkey lying silent and still on the floor. 

Nathan had an incredible dream sequence filled with elephants in cardigans on skateboards. It was really quite a magical dream sequence.

Eventually he gently opened his eyes. The stable was dark, Nathan was very disappoint. Christmas was ruined, they must've all gone out. This is the last time I try to embrace Christmas.

Nathan slowly dragged himself off the floor. And as soon as he stood up, all the animals jumped out from hiding spots around the stable and yelled:

"Surprise!"

Party poppers and streamers flew through the air. The music started, the beautiful lights came on and the party began. It was a hit.

In the soft unfocused light Nathan saw Tiffany. She smiled at him, walked over and put some frozen peas on his head. And in the dappled christmas lights they began to sway passionately.  

The party was a hit and despite having a tremendous headache Nathan the Turkey had a wonderful time.

Bevin's Christmas

About two thousand years ago, In a far far away land, lived a boy.

His name was Bevin.

It was Bevin's twelfth Christmas, a hot summers day and he had just received the mother of all presents, the one present that could change Christmas forever, the one thing that he had always wanted, a brand new mountain bike. It had gears and it was red, with off road tyres, no bells, no streamers, just a pure off-road stunt machine. It was to be his trusty steed, his trusty off road stead with twin shock gas compression suspension.

So all christmas morning Bevin spent either riding up and down the driveway or making ramps and planning stunts. Until his Uncle Dave and boring cousin Stacy arrived to ruin the day. He was told he wasn't allowed to ride his bike and he had to hang out with Stacy. 

After lunch Bevin and his brother Kevin were chasing Stacy around the house with high pressure water pistols, when she went missing. They split up, she was pretty crafty. 

Bevin went behind the house and he found Stacy standing behind a big gum tree holding a bunch of white helium balloons. She said they just fell from the sky and hit her in the head, but to be honest, that sounded a bit far fetched. I mean, seriously they could have fallen anywhere and they hit her in the head. Bevin knew that that was a very unlikely scenario, in all his twelve years he had learnt that everything: frisbees, kites, arrows, basketballs… everything always ended up on the roof of the house, it was like a giant magnet. And here was his cousin Stacy trying to tell him that these balloons hit her in the head. Well, it must have been some sort of Christmas miracle. 

And there was something attached to the balloons, wrapped in white cloth, and it was wriggling.

It was some sort of delivery sent from above.

Attached to one of the balloons was a message. 

Fragile, property of M & J, Bethlehem.

Well, there was a Bethlehem Street in Tarrabunga. Tarrabunga was the town where Bevin went to school, he knew the Street, it was the one with the squash court. But there was no number or actual address on the note. And as soon as he had read it, it slipped from Stacy's hand and floated off into the sky. 

Bevin looked down at the wriggling white cloth, whatever it was it was important, and probably worth a lot of money. And he thought that there might be some sort of reward. 

But It was a pretty strange way to have something delivered. I mean, It was a bit hit and miss relying on the weather and the wind patterns and then not having the exact address. 

It's like whoever wanted this delivered was expecting some sort of Christmas miracle. And it had fallen into the right hands. I mean, this was the perfect mission. Stacy and Bevin were meant for this mission. It was their destiny.

Bevin went to the shed and grabbed his brand new trusty off road stead. And he tried to take the package from his cousin to deliver it himself, but she punched me in the nose and said, that she'd found it and that it was her responsibility to deliver it. So she jumped onto the handlebars of his new bike and she asked him to give her a ride. Well, it was a pretty long way to carry someone. I mean, Tarrabunga was at least 6 kilometres away, and that's a long way for a twelve year old. It was to be a journey of epic proportions. 

So off they went. 

On the way Bevin got quite frustrated with Stacy, it was quite a tense journey actually, she kept referring to his steed as a donkey, it was very irritating.  

Up steep hills, down dusty dirt roads lined with grasshoppers and into town, the hustle bustle of Tarrabunga. 

They made it. Bethlehem Street was hectic, full of christmas celebrations that spilt out onto the street. There where games of cricket in the street, bbq's on front lawns, kids running everywhere. Kites flying. It was very busy.

They went up to one house and a group of kids launched a full scale attack of water bombs at them. Stacy and Bevin dodged and weaved until they made it to the front door. Bevin knocked and a stern looking old man opened the door. 

"Hello, can I help you?"

Stacy held the white cloth package out towards him. And he quickly said,

"What ever it is you're selling I'm not interested, we're trying to celebrate Christmas, we don't need you lot coming around interrupting our day."

And he slammed the door in their faces.

Back through the front gate, to the house next door. 

At the next house Bevin knocked on the door… no answer… Stacy knocked… no answer… Bevin lifted his hand to try one more time and all of a sudden the door went soft, he looked up and realised that he'd just knocked on a very short lady's face.

Bevin apologised profusely and Stacy giggled. They held out the package and Stacy said

"Can you help us? we're trying to deliver this very important package, but we're not sure where to take it."

The very short lady interrupted her saying

"No I can't help you, we have enough stuff here already. You really have some nerve, you come to my house on christmas day, punch me in the face as I open the door and expect me to help you."  

Bevin protested, "It was an accident, it's just that you have a low face, it's not my fault that your face is at knocking height…"

At that she slammed the door .

They turned around quickly and scurried over to the gate and slammed it behind them.

Feeling a little depress, Bevin thought that maybe they should give up put the wriggling package in the bin and go home, and just try to forget about the whole thing. But Stacy was really keen on the reward, and she convinced him to have one more try.

So they tried one more house. They stood outside, looking into the front window from the street. It was clearly some sort of fancy dress Christmas party, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. They knocked on the door and a kind man dressed as an Inn keeper answered the door. Stacy held out the package and said

"We're not trying to sell anything, we're just trying to deliver this miracle package. Does this belong to anyone here?"

"Well..." the kind Inn keeper said,

"...I'm afraid it's very busy here…"

Bevin feared the worst…

"…But, lets ask around"

He took them inside.

As soon as they stepped inside, there was another knock at the door and three more guest arrive. It was a bit of an embarrassing situation, they had all dressed in the same costumes, with beards and robes and it seem they'd not actually been invited. 

They where all following @brightstar on twitter who had lead them to the Facebook event. The Inn keeper said, "well, we didn't actually expected everyone who clicked attending to show up".

The three (internet savvy) men dressed up in robes and beards, each offered very expensive gifts, and they were let into the party.

Stacy and Bevin made their way through the party it was very noisy and they couldn't really speak to anyone. They were told they should probably head to the back shed where it was quieter and they could actually talk to people. 

Stacy and Bevin made their way out to the shed, it was filled with guests dressed as animals.

All of a sudden, a whole bunch of sheep jumped over the back fence, followed by a lot of confused local farmers. The sheep stopped in the back yard beside an old trampoline. And Bevin heard the farmers saying that they were told to come to 31 Bethlehem Street by a message tied to a helium balloon. 

Bevin yelled out, 

"that was the same as us, Stacy got hit in the head by a helium balloon. And it told us to bring this package here, but at least you got an actual address, we were just told bethlehem"

Then Stacy held up the wriggling white cloth package and said

"Does this belong to anyone"

and at that moment, the music stopped and everyone dropped to their knees.

Better come up with a good story

(image)