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Act One text
Act Two text
Continuity Plot
Notes on the text
Shamanism &
Mental Illness
Paris in the 20s
Set design considerations
The theatre in genera
Harriet Weaver,
Joyce's patron


Much as Sc125, LUCIA sits at a table working on a large puzzle under an implied veranda on the E side of the stage. She is by turns fretful and artificially jolly. A NURSE sits watchfully opposite her.

In another part of the stage (the pool) an ARTIST paints JOYCE's portrait. His eyes are unbandaged but have the uninquisitive quality of a blind person's.

LUCIA         When I was small I only had 2 toys: a golf ball and a gray rubber dolly called Glas. I was very fond of Glas but she fell out of the window and her head all broke open. My parents promised to find me another but they never did. I was a dancer, you see.

NURSE        Yes I've seen you.

LUCIA         I always chose my father's tie. He had a lot, it was very hard. We always lived in 2 rooms that was why I'm not very clever. I always slept with my parents.

NURSE        Did you!

LUCIA         Yes in Trieste it was with uncle Stani and his family. We had such fun; it was hard to get to sleep when it was hot, with so many people. I went to school there, I can still say Il Senato.

                     Then we lived in Zurich. I don't know why, I think it was the war. We were very very poor. I had to keep changing schools because we moved all the time. One week it'd be a german school and the next italian. Giorgio got into trouble for not keeping up.

NURSE        conventionally And where's Giorgio now?

LUCIA         becomes very confused and nervous O? O? I don't know. I think he went to America. Yes, they wouldn't let me hold the baby. She grows distressed.

NURSE        That's alright Lucia, that's alright. Calm down. You were telling me about your life in Zurich.

LUCIA         O, well. They used to go out in the evening a lot and leave us lonely, locked in like pigs in a sty. Giorgio would yell out of the window as they left. But it made me very unhappy. They seemed to be abandoning us. I used to help Nanno churn the butter. We had no money to buy it until we came to Paris. I had to use tessera to get sugar and things to eat.

There is a light shower

NURSE        O isn't that pretty. I wonder if there's a rainbow?

LUCIA         threatened by hope A rainbow. What use would that be now?

The ARTIST occasionally addresses JOYCE to turn his head.

JOYCE        It's queer what different people remember. If things'd been different ... but we'd no choice. It was an Odyssey - I had to plow on, chartless across unnavigable seas -how else?- the gunwale never more than a flickering inch away from the green engulfing depths. In every surge there were infinite turnings /none at all. A shabby language teacher? A jostled nobody on the clanking tram, getting off 2 stops early to save fares.

                     If only could've spouted words without reflection, like a journalist's! To've uttered the profoundest commonplaces, been understood, applauded, and forgotten: floating momentarily on the swirling effluent of public thought. And after a lifetime of good lunches the ultimate accolade: a Collected Writings ... remaindered in paperback. Posterity be buggered! Get your snouts in trough boys. What they won't shell out for today ain't worth a blue fart tomorrow.

NURSE        Look, maybe that bit goes there?

LUCIA         All those purple bits, what do they mean?

NURSE        Mean?

LUCIA         Yes, they must mean something?

NURSE        O they look like part of a parasol to me.

LUCIA         No, that's what they are. I want to know what they mean ...

NURSE        But they don't mean anything, they're just part of the picture.

LUCIA         No no. Everything makes a pattern: there are no accidents. It's all part of a whole. That's why I ... That's why I ... It's just I can't see what it is.

NURSE        O we can never really know everything.

LUCIA         Why not? Someone must. Everything must fit together, it must, cause otherwise ... There are no edges, no borders, to make a frame. Somebody's lost the box. I haven't a picture to work from.

NURSE        O it's an old puzzle.

LUCIA         Stupid to have a puzzle without a box lid.

NURSE        Why don't you collect up all the sky?

LUCIA         So that it can mock me thru the bars?

NURSE        Well, it would ... sort things out.

LUCIA         How? It's old.

NURSE        It's still a good puzzle.

LUCIA         If I solved yesterday's puzzle, how'd it help today?

NURSE        You learn from it.

LUCIA         No, no; the past is a ferocious dog, tied up, waiting to bite you; I went there to see who I was and now I can't get back out.

JOYCE        To lose your sight is like losing a limb - nothing's crueler. Your brain still thinks it's there -in your mind you feel it- but you can no longer be touched. I could reach thru time to touch others, and know I have done it, yet who will now comfort me?

                     O the more you understand, the more is taken away from you. See nothing: die content as an unhearing monkey. In this hour of fame I have a heart of weeds. Praise is nauseous to me, and all the stupid questions like burning rags.

JOYCE turns towards where LUCIA is. The lights dims on the ARTIST. Eventually JOYCE stands, addressing her but having noone to lead him thither.

                     O Lucia, Lucia. You are the only one who required no explanations, gone under the hill, all of them, all of them, like layer upon layer of felt, burying the past in a blanket of uniformity; yet felt feeling can penetrate it, cutting thru sharply age after age after age: grief the knife that severs and binds.

                     To be known is perhaps the one wish of god. If s/he could've said it, why bother to create a world, and people it? If it could be said. What are the words? What are the words, Lucia? You know because you would not use them.

                     One bed after another, and only the graceless fumblcling, the grunted intimacies of strangers. And after, no search for meaning, only the desperate thrust for another fix, another sliming fast of shutters, of punting to be submerged in the strong mask of a rhythmic male buddy. O I saw it all, but what could a father do? The opened door one can never enter?

NURSE        Look that's a whole section done now. What is it?

LUCIA         having lost interest Gray rats crawling on a rotting pile of rubbish.

NURSE        No it isn't silly. Those aren't rats, they're ...

LUCIA         Dirty washing.

NURSE        No, they're victorian ladies and gentlemen.

LUCIA         Same thing. Someone's talking to me, I know but I can't hear ... they've given me those pills to make sure I can't hear what I think.

NURSE        Now don't go upsetting yourself. You're seeing Dr Jung after lunch. You don't want to be in a state, do you?

LUCIA         A state of grace.

Thinking back to Sc105 LUCIA walks out into the rain and stands looking down into the Ôpool' where JOYCE & the ARTIST are stationary.

NURSE        O come in now, y'might catch cold.

LUCIA         So what. Come and look.

NURSE        What at?

LUCIA         The world. The real world.

NURSE comes over reluctantly

NURSE        I see nothing but wind-whipt trees and the shredded clouds.

The pool fills with dry ice.

LUCIA         That's right. That's all you see.

NURSE        Come in, there'll be a storm!

The octopus film is projected onto the swirling vapour.

LUCIA         But in that mirrored world is my reality. There I don't fail everyone's expectation of me. I go straight to the very heart of existence - and I know. I am at one.

She suddenly flings herself into billows. LUCIA is borne on the surface for a little while by JOYCE and the ARTIST before sinking. JOYCE and the ARTIST disappear. The NURSE shrieks and rushes toward her, struggling vainly on the upper steps of the pool. A MALE NURSE rushes in.

M NURSE    Don't think this is going to do much for my modeling career.

The substance evaporates and LUCIA is discovered lying at the bottom. They make no attempt to raise her.


JUNG is suspended upsidown from the catwalk. As he speaks he swings slowly from side to side like an enormous pendulum. LUCIA gives slow dreamy answers under hypnosis.

LUCIA         I can't come in yet.

JUNG          And when can you?

LUCIA         In the fullness of time.

JUNG          And when will that be?

LUCIA         Never, if you keep stopping it.

JUNG          The fire?

LUCIA         Yes, and the lake - and others ... I could've -

JUNG waits.

                     Zelda's already gone in.

JUNG          Uhhuh?

LUCIA         I saw her amid the flames: bright - dazzling - burn(ish)ed like a jewel; Zelda is of fire too, like me.

JUNG          You still see her?

LUCIA         No: now she's dull and scorched beneath the ashes - children's voices play above the wreckage.

JUNG jumps down.

JUNG          You saw this? How?

He gets straight into an electric wheelchair which he drives over to the poolside.

LUCIA         Are you that stupid? No wonder you can't cure anyone. You see too much to understand anything.

JUNG          I haven't got your eyes.

LUCIA         You don't need eyes.

JUNG          How do you know?

LUCIA turns on her front and begins to get up with some of her old energy.

LUCIA         You just know. You feel it, like you feel a rithm.

JUNG          How tho?

She starts to move predatorily towards him.

LUCIA         There's a tap turned on between your tummy and your head. It warms your whole body like sex. You've never had it?

JUNG prepares to back off.

JUNG          Did you discuss any of this with Zelda?

LUCIA         We didn't need to. We both knew.

JUNG          About the lake.

LUCIA describes a large circle around JUNG, circumscribing him. At first he turns on the spot, watching her.

LUCIA         When it's clear, a tall island lies on the water like an abandoned thunderbolt. Pink geraniums burst out from a forest of pebbles. There's a twisting road that runs right to it's heart ... And that's (becomes agitated) In it, in there, it dances, I dance ...

JUNG wonders whether to call a nurse, but is trapt by her.

                     But when I suffocating as smoke CANT GET THRU -SICK- THE SURFACE. Jangles in my head like a migraine, gouges sick! my eyeballs out with a fork. That's when ... S-i-ckkkkk sounds skewer my brain from ear to ear.

JUNG tries to escape but is hexed within the circle. He dodges around in the vehicle

JUNG          But what happens inside the island?

LUCIA         seductively approaching In the limitless ocean of desire there are tides that sweep far from the groins of land. Mmhm, yes. (She begins to caress him) Weightless, on the farthest shores of my mind I walk down strange deserted streets, and in unpeopled palaces build luxurious orgies of imagination. I could have gone any other way: all routes converge, tho the same route has all destinations.

She reclines on him.

                     Can you unlock the hidden vestige of your heart, Doctor Jung, here, before these people? What of the little white-coated researcher, the mousey one whose glasses glinted in the faded winter light of a deserted lab as you buried your face in her bum -Mm?- respected professor?

LUCIA moves into the audience, addressing 2 only of these paras to appropriate INDIVIDUALS.

                     Don't you wish the act could last for ever, so that the dying embers would continue to send sparks shooting thru your brain? Admit it.

(to a respectable older woman) That time after lunch, so long forgotten, when a cheap hotel seemed the obvious step. Alan, Alex, what was his name? You never did it again. But sometimes, off guard, you catch yourself thirsting for the memory of what can never be acknowledged.

(to a young middle-aged couple) God, you were a rat. But you could never tell her. She was having your child, and you were blasting away with the girl you'd met at a conference. Even on the day your child was born you had to snatch at the starburst ecstasy in a carpark.

(to any leather queen) Don't you long for domination, to savour the exquisite freedom of total restraint? Just the smell of the rubber gives you a terrifying hardon. But it's your secret, yours and mine.

(to a gay man) You saw him in a corridor, didn't you, and followed him to the photocopier. ÒWhile you're at it, will you do this for me?Ó and he did. It was the sweetness of his young unquestioning acceptance you long to recapture. Of course you'd lose your job if anyone found out.

        The dream returns time after time. (to a woman) Never so sweet as when you fell asleep with her on the sofa after a student party.

                     Oh the buried secrets of an enigmatic stranger in the grunted silence of that darkened room who takes you as you have ever since childhood dreamt of being taken.

Moves back to JUNG, speaking with the hard emotionless quality of the psychotic.

                     You see, I am mad. I can speak of these things. You, you cannot. You dare not express what you really want for you fear no decent person would ever let you near them again. If there were no secrets you would have no hiding-place. But I have no hiding-place. I am a patient: with no rights. I am naked and defenceless before the storm - reaching forever t'ward the outer limit of desire. There is only - a room - somewhere I must get to - a space, it's beyond this - but the only way is ... I don't know any other way (but struggle).

JUNG          holding up a Commdia mask What about dance?

LUCIA         O yes. Time wasn't right. I was trapt outside the beat. I did the movements but my voice didn't come out until my body stopt.

JUNG          Who locked you out?

LUCIA         Babbo - Nanno - all of you - with your petty rules and inhibitions.

JUNG          The open sky?

LUCIA         Dancing, music. Feeling as you want to feel, making love to the one you want. But in my cell, to dream of the open sky would send me mad. I'm so afraid of time running out.

JUNG          How could it?

LUCIA         But it already has. Everyone's against me, it's just Ôa matter of time'.

JUNG wheels round and changes his mask.

JUNG          I too?

LUCIA         Of course. You're just an acceptable way of locking me up so I don't frighten people.

JUNG wheels round and changes to a female mask.

JUNG          I want to help you break out.

LUCIA         You're not free yourself. Yours is just a larger cage with more people, where you all agree not to mention the bars.

LUCIA scrubs out the imaginary line with her foot. JUNG crosses it.

                     There. Now let there be no more agony. Perhaps this'll be the last time. Know what I've discovered? nothing exists. Even what you enjoy you must not enjoy - illusion itself is only another illusion. There is nowhere to lose your mind, Time stalks you down, and it all ends the same way.

JUNG          You're searching for a fulcrum.

LUCIA         I was. Now I crawl blindly over the earth seeking for a crack to enter the antechamber of the silent world and sleep forever in the long meadows of my mind.

JUNG produces a hypodermic

JUNG          I'll give you freedom!

JUNG chases her in his wheelchair. LUCIA evades him easily.

LUCIA         Ha. You're all woodlice in the crevices of a wall, with no concept of existence beyond your own little territory. taunting him like a toreador. C'mon.

JUNG makes a pass. Sidestepping, LUCIA grabs the handles and tips JUNG sprawling onto the floor. She runs off.


The lighting changes to a louche red nightclubby feel, which distorts the faces almost unrecognisably. There is a wooden S/M cross with arm and leg straps on a wheeled stand. Everyone wears shades. JOYCE & BECKETT are seated at a table with several bottles of white wine. JUNG limps over to them, putting his dark glasses on. He is definitely Ôoff duty', making no attempt to perform or charm.

JUNG          I don't approve of places like this, you know.

JOYCE        Neither do I - but it's one of the few places where one's anonymity is respected.

BECKETT    blowing out a cloud of smoke We don't know you - you don't know us.

A blowsy alcoholic MADAME comes out in a peignoir with a GIRL whom she presents to JOYCE. Both also wear shades. The GIRL has a long wig on so that she is more a female image than a real person. They all sit together.

JOYCE        And there are consolations.

JUNG          There are, consolations - ja?

BECKETT    Wine?

JOYCE        expansively Ma voi chi siete a cui tanto distilla quant'i veggio dolor? [3]

GIRL           Qu'estce qu'il dit, le po?te? [4]

JUNG          C'est un morceau apropos de la mortalit? et de l'amour. [5]

GIRL           dismissively Oh bien sur.

MADAME    She is not yet hard, this one. I saved her for you.

JOYCE        rhetorically Why should that make a difference, when one does not come here to fall in love?

JUNG          Love can often get in the way of sex, yet there are, ¾sthetic considerations.

MADAME    If I suspect any of my girls are sweet on a punter I sling em out. Love is bad for business. We're here to provide a service. You're here to pay for it. If you want to get it for nothing - go home - work out if it comes any cheaper!

BECKETT    And you ma cherie?

GIRL           with a affected cynicism Can you imagine a brothel for women - where men would sit around in pyjamas - and women would come in, none too clean or reeking of booze and fags to plunder them - before staggering home to their husbands and families with limp excuses about bumping into an old friend?

JUNG          Ah but we men had the sense to organise things differently!

As in a regular routine, MADAME beckons JUNG to the horse,

BECKETT    So if there were a male brothel you'd not matronise it?

GIRL           Go in boasting about my cunt you mean, and then spend an hour unable to orgasm with a stubbly old pox-carrier?

JOYCE        to JUNG I have a daughter.

        GIRL   O don't they all.

JOYCE        O no, but this is different. I love her deeply.

        GIRL   Yes, yes.

JOYCE        I don't want her - tho she excites me.

        GIRL   And that's where I come in.

JOYCE        What would you do, my friend?

MADAME begins to strap JUNG onto the horse

JUNG          Well, as it happens, I have a professional interest: I am the object of emotional projection by my patients.

        MADAME    Send em here, we'll soon sort em out!

JUNG          Each of us has a male and female side.

        GIRL   giggling to B Which do you prefer? My male or fee male?

        BECKETT    Does either come without a fee?

JUNG          to JOYCE You're projecting an inner search onto external reality. It's a search for wholeness.

        MADAME    You can say that again!

JOYCE        The image of femininity tantalises.

JUNG          To embrace her body is the physical manifestation of a desire to absorb her soul.

MADAME fits an SM hood on JUNG.

        MADAME    I'll give you physical manifestation.

JUNG          We are taught by Society ...

        MADAME    You need correction, you're spouting.

JUNG          to suppress the shadow side of our personalities, that which we fear:

She zips each aperture on the mask one by one.

        MADAME    I'll make you slaver like a beast.

JUNG          but attraction & fear are 2 sides of the same coin.

        MADAME    You want Excitement? I'll give you excrement.

JUNG          When your blood is on fire you can no longer tell whether it was love or hate that inflamed it. Passion is one.

        MADAME    Keep still, damn you! slaps him around the face How do you hope to come off if you keep thinking?

JUNG          What could we Ôfall in love' with but the distant pre-echo of our own sexual hypothesis?

        MADAME    You really a very stupid stupid professor. You know you never have an orgasm if you're not afraid? What am I supposed to do?

JUNG          We perceive Search and Achievement as separate but Desire is no more than a mirror to which Fulfilment is magnetically attracted. O put on your stiletto heels, please Madame, I beg of you, I implore you.

        MADAME    O God! I can't be bothered.

She zips up his mouth, and stands there holding a vibrator to his cock in extreme boredom. Each speaks the 3 following lines quite alienated from the other.

JOYCE        But I find here, with her, what I cannot find in real life. So which is Reality?

BECKETT    I may not care very much for her, but at least, here, no-body is doing any-body-else a favour. I pay and that concludes the relationship.

GIRL           If you're drunk it helps you to forget that it's supposed to mean something.

MADAME    By and large men come here because they've had enough of ruling the roost. They long to submit.

GIRL           I think of all the nice little girls in private schools, and all their nice little mummies sitting at home like rows of preserved pears in a bottle. But their men prefer to bring their cream to me: they can't be bothered to take the bottles off the shelf at home. Anyway it would spoil the look of the dresser and might leave a mark. Given a choice between a dish of strawberries with champagne and a cup of horlicks - which would you save your cream for?

BECKETT    But to a man it's the mere expression of body fluid.

GIRL           For a woman to submit implies a sort of acceptance.

JOYCE        You two seem to have a very limited view of sex - but you're still young, I suppose.

MADAME idly flicks JUNG with a cat of 9 tails.

MADAME    All experience is a whole: you may expand it but you can never exceed it.

JOYCE        ÔO circle of Tresmagistus when shall I come to perceive your circumference.'

JUNG          XXXX


MADAME    Okay that's enough now. You can come out. How was it?

JUNG          No, nothing. I couldn't get off at all.

MADAME    It's yer own fault, philosophy's useless - if you want an erection. Which'll you do first, cherie?

GIRL           Him.

GIRL & BECKETT leave together

MADAME    Drink up gentlemen. I'll get you another bottle.

JOYCE        What do you think I should do about my daughter? She's very highly sexed.

JUNG          professionally Send her to me!

JOYCE        It's like a drug: she's hooked.

JUNG          Or a hooker?

JOYCE        O God, that's what I fear. I dread finding her here.

JUNG          Yet nature dictates that all these girls are someone's daughter.

JOYCE        I'm at my wit's end. At least here I can keep thought at bay.

JUNG          Mightn't it be so for her too?

JOYCE        I just don't understand ...

JUNG          Understanding's worse - it accentuates your impotence.

JOYCE        Why then strive with abstract matters of such profound indifference to my peers?

JUNG          Perhaps it's your function in the order of things?

JOYCE        And my poor afflicted child - what is her function?

JUNG          Would it help to know?

JOYCE        Explanation is a morphine, calming the worst agonies of our condition. To name is to tame, to cauterise the dread. We have to know. It's Adam's curse,

JUNG          Or salvation. No doubt your daughter is groping toward some, experience her inner self needs.

JOYCE        But it's all so - squalid, so ignoble.

JUNG          So she's had enough of airy-fairy nobility and wants something dirty to roll in, to feel? Her understanding of masculinity comes from you!

JOYCE        Ha, God help her.

JUNG          If infinity overwhelms her, how is she to work out a common denominator?

JOYCE gestures helplessly at the empty bottle. They are both well pissed. .

                     Another drink? Madame. On meurt de soif ici! [6]

                     You know I like you, stranger. We have shared something uniquely personal together this evening.

JUNG          Ah, the whispered freemasonry of deviance.

The GIRL returns with BECKETT & a bottle.

JOYCE        Thank Christ for that.

They all fall to drinking in a moment's reflective silence.

JOYCE        poss V/O Theirs are no sickrets, maybe know more. But in your fuse his refuse, seed of no life. If we are, then poor, falling forever in a direction not downwards - metamorphosis from singing insects to sky-darkened clamour, dry-as-velvet stiffling for love.

With a glance, JOYCE & the GIRL get up together, and prepare to leave. JOYCE is very drunk. In the exit he embraces her for the first time, almost timidly.

                     live My arms alone craddle you. At my birth you were always a part (of me), never apart. In safety there is hurt - your wounded blood a memory of unachievable security: not being yours, it shall be noone's.

                     light voice processing that sends his consonants sparkling around the auditorium Low overhead they terror and behind whichway stands the man of gray betrayal. It is too late for properly. Or all.

                     In Poland shadows splinter before my enemy's uniform enemy, and breaks my heart, the forest sunlight freezes fear on erect bayonets before the downward scream still watching her from a distance, and terror the blood that dries too soon off the panic open eyes of the staring earth screaming.

                     V/o as they exit Eyes, memory, go too late into a world of dusty kitchens and long echoing corridors. Her. Alone or slumped against a wall, empty. Accusing me. Staring closed.


NORA         Jim, what is it you find to jabber about all the livelong night? Hm, you've brought him home drunk again - for me to look after. You're as dumb as an oyster now - both of you, God help me.

When the lights go up a robed NORA is confronting JOYCE across the same table. BECKETT sits uncomfortably at the end. She gets up to fix him a restorative. JOYCE signs to BECKETT to keep schtumm.

                     Where've you been? Eh? Le BÏuf by the look of you - or down at Les Halles ...

BECKETT    O no!

NORA         Well, where then?

JOYCE        O we were ... several places. It was a - n'unusual night. Montparnasse ...

NORA         returning O no it wasn't. It's after becoming a regular thing - all hours of the night or morning.

JOYCE        Well, we bumped into ... ahm, that writer, American, Hemingway ...

NORA         O yeah?

BECKETT    Him an' Fitzgerald, you remember.

JOYCE        O my head.

NORA         sniffing disgustedly So you all went to Armagnac - and bought the entire output of Lancome!!

BECKETT    If I could explain ...

NORA         If you needed to! At home never a word, but at night with y' friends ...

JOYCE        groggily 30 years of marriage there're so few words left.

NORA         You'd best go Mr Beckett. Thanks for getting him home.


                     Now then! Don't think I haven't had enough of this!

JOYCE        O no Nora don't - in the morning.

NORA         No we're going to have this out now. I've had enough of y' prevaricatin and clever words. You may be the most famous writer in the world but you're no damn use to me. I'm disgusted at the state of y'. Dr Zacher told you in one syllable what'll happen if you go on drinking. (pointing to her own eyes) One syllable.

JOYCE        Doctors always 'xaggerate.

NORA         So it's yer own funeral. But why drag us down too? There's Lucia halfway to hell, and you changing her around, running up hospital bills like the Aga Khan. It's rest she needs!

JOYCE feebly tries to interject

                     You're the mad one. Now listen. I'm taking her home to Ireland, maybe there's a chance. And your faither, surely you'll never be wanting him to die first?

JOYCE        I can't, not Ireland ...

NORA         What if there's to be another war ...?

JOYCE gesticulates and flaps his mouth wordlessly

                     Jim, you've got to think of us, of her for once.

JOYCE        mumbles I think of nothing else.

NORA         But only from your own viewpoint - never hers. It was the same with me when you wanted me to go with another man so you'd have something to write about.

JOYCE        I never did.

NORA         You did and so! That frightful man, you know!, always seating us together in restaurants and getting him to see me home - O'Sullivan, well thank god he's disappeared from the scene. At least that's one less person for you to waste your money on.

JOYCE feebly tries to interject

                     My hair's falling out with all the worry. And there's Giorgio far away - and you useless! useless! useless!

As she cries JOYCE falls forward asleep on the table. NORA rushes round to him. Helping him up they stagger to bed.

                     O Jim, are y'alright. Jim? Jim? O come on. God, I don't know what we're to do.

JOYCE        Don't you think I'm in despair too?


In the Asylum there are 2 tables (with chessboards). Between them is a single chair. To the W of the W table is the cut-out of LUCIA: to the E of the E table is the cut-out of ZELDA. JUNG enters with LUCIA /ZELDA, who is so costumed that a/c to which way she's facing her clothes present the opposite character to the one she looks at. She should ? face diametrically opposite for each character's dialog. Despite JUNG's glitzy opening, the lighting is mysteriously dappled and chiaroscuro, in which there is an occasional texture suggesting rain or distant lightning.

JUNG          Zelda Fitzgerald! Meet Lucia Joyce! Your challenger and contestant in the final round of the Insanity Rules Knockout Chess Tournament.

ZELDA         Why am I here? Why must I play with her? She's nobody.

LUCIA         I was hoping (we could be friends) ... O what's the use?

JUNG          Now here's the scoreboard.

ZELDA         I should've been at class hours ago. My body's going to rack and ruin.

JUNG          If you 2 can agree on something you both gain a point: for a disagreement you score nothing. So lose separately - or win, together!

In his closed fists JUNG holds out a white pawn. ZELDA takes it, her face expressing scorn for such a lowly rank. JUNG withdraws to watch from the shadows. Sitting down as ZELDA (ie, facing W) picks up LUCIA's King and hurls it away.

LUCIA         Hey! She can't do that. God, god, where are you? There are rules aren't there?

JUNG          bright and unhelpful The only rules are what you agree.

ZELDA         angrily I don't want any Kings.

LUCIA         Throw your own away.

ZELDA         No. I'm not ready to.

LUCIA         That's unfair!

LUCIA maintains her outraged pleading while JOYCE steps up to the board and appears to interrogate ZELDA

JUNG          Do you agree it was unfair? No. Then I'm afraid it's still all pointless. No Points. Zero Points.

He retires. LUCIA shyly pushes a Knight across the board.

ZELDA         Are you giving me a black Knight? Why not? The white ones all got broken lances! Look, he may only be a pawn he still gets more of a look-in than us.

LUCIA         taking it But what if he refused to accept it and decided he wanted to be a Bishop?

LUCIA begins to swap pieces, first white ones, then miscegenating them.

                     Are we all born with a boilerplate riveted to our foreds? ÔDaughter of famous writer!' BUT I DONT WANT TO BE! IVE JUST GOT THIS BLOODY SIGN I CANT GET OFF! Cant we ever change the way other people see us?

ZELDA         Look Lucia, I don't know why we're playing this game at all. We're not even represented: we don't count because we haven't got cocks. The Queen's just an honorary man - who'd want to be a den mother to all these faggots? Sometimes you only find tenderness in another woman.

She reaches across the board to her imaginary opponent.

LUCIA         Let's arrange them to look nice. Why can't they just accept each other? Suppose they didn't want to fight? And what's point of a Bishop if there's no God to make rules? Why bother with such a pointless game? I don't even understand what you're supposed to do - all these squares and things - it's so confusing - why not diagonally? Ha! A trap. O yes he still wants us to play on his board. Well I wont!

LUCIA starts to remove the chessboard from under the pieces. JUNG bounds forward eagerly.

JUNG          Now then Zelda, you going to let her get away with that?

As ZELDA, she now removes the other board.

ZELDA         Sure. Who needs a silly chequerboard anyway?

JUNG          out of character Silly? Who says it's silly! You're destroying a wealth of symbolic meanings.

LUCIA         Then symballs to you. We'll get along fine.

JUNG          sulkily Nobody'll want to play with you. They wont understand your terminology.

LUCIA         They can bloody well learn. It's my game.

JUNG          Maybe, but it wont Chess any more ...

LUCIA         Who cares? It's mine. This is how I feel about it.

JUNG          Without a name nobody'll know what it is.

LUCIA         Then that's their problem. Hey Zelda.

LUCIA throws a piece across the table as if at ZELDA. Changing roles ZELDA reacts as if she had been deep in thought when hit by the missile.

ZELDA         What the hell was that for? She threw a rook at me!

JUNG          Well, rooks fly: there are no more rules. You agreed.

ZELDA         Yes I know, but throwing things ...

JUNG          Listen, I'll give you a point for agreeing about the board. From now on, your on your own.

They all freeze -in strobe?- on the video ZELDA, in leotard. In the shot she is crumpled on the ground then jet?es towards the camera joyously while motion progressively slows to a point just before her foot returns to the ground. The action then reverses. It runs continuously so there is a constant reversal of emotion. Their voices are acoustically treated.

ZELDA         on TV One day the world around me stopped. I was dragged on by a magnet to jump higher than ever, but after I'd be sick.

ZELDA         Okay, whose move?

LUCIA         on TV I don't know how we're going to reverse time, erase and begin again.

Suddenly the screen goes blank. The live action recommences.

LUCIA         Mine, and I'm having this and this and this and this. You stole them from me.

Turning to assume the other persona ZELDA grabs all LUCIA's pieces.

ZELDA         O you don't get away with that.

     ZELDA /LUCIA argue with each other, then fight over possession of the chess piece. Her (their) frantic turning gradually becomes a pirouette before she (they) runs howling to a corner and pulls with all her might on the cord that draws the bars of the cage across the E quadrant of the audience. It is now half complete.

JUNG          No, no, Lucia, Zelda, don't!

Z/L               spitting with fury I'll do whatever I fucking like. Inside is a labyrinth, I know they way to the centre, and if you're not clever enough to find it you'll get no help from me. All you do is blame me, blame! blame! There's no justice - no quiet place in this world any more. Every day a bit more of me dies with this bitter and incessant beating. (pathetically) I believed I could be a salamander, but I was only a stone, a stumbling block.

She runs off.


JUNG clears things up somewhat. JOYCE shuffles on (with birdcage?) JUNG greets him formally but with a certain weariness.

JUNG          Ach, Herr Joyce.

JOYCE        Now listen, Herr Professor Doktor, it's been 3 weeks -

JOYCE is extremely persistent in an aggressively quiet way. JUNG begins to juggle with a couple of chess pieces.

JUNG          Not long in a condition that took years to develop ... but I can't talk now, I've other patients.

JOYCE picks up a third piece and throws it to JUNG to incorporate. JUNG speaks progressively faster during the scene.

JOYCE        At $500 a consultation we're entitled to results ...

JUNG          Haste is fatal. Too many ill-considered decisions have brought her to where she is now.

JOYCE picks up a fourth piece and throws it to JUNG to incorporate.

JOYCE        Restrict your comments to the patient if you please.

JUNG          Lucia is paranoid, convinced people are stealing things: fundamentally she believes her youth has been stolen, her originality, her soul. Of course her heart knows the identity of the thief,

JOYCE advances with silent menace, forcing JUNG to retreat.

                     but this person is also the author of her world. And since no fairy story can have a hero who is also a devil, external demons must be invented.

JOYCE relaxes his pressure.

                     Her contact with reality is so tenuous there's no distinction between the quick and the dead. Unless you will agree to her certification as -

JOYCE immediately resumes a more threatening advance. JUNG side-steps the M word.

                     as matters currently stand, we cannot prescribe an effective therapy.

JOYCE precipitates the collapse of JUNG's juggling. He speaks very coldly indeed.

JOYCE        Her insights are piercing bolts of lightning in the night sky. She stands convicted, not of madness, but of failing to fit in with your clinical knowledge. Admit it.

JUNG          Never!

 JUNG does a couple of back flips but these bring him up against bottle-wielding FITZGERALD.

FITZG             This is Zelda's passport. 5 years ago she was someone I loved, not the metal mask she's become.

JUNG tosses the photo aside and hurries off, dodging FITZGERALD without actually been seen to run. They career around the stage and up down and around the catwalks, pausing behind obstacles as if both were armed.

                     For godsake do something! I spend days, tragically alone, clinging to the wreckage of our frantic dream.

JUNG          Have you never thought that tho she has the symptoms, yours is the disease?

FITZG          O Christ don't, the devil himself couldn't load more guilt on me. But you see, at parties Zelda was the hell-raiser: the more she drank the gayer she'd grow. I thought ballet might help her.

JUNG          You haven't answered the question.

FITZG          She was going crazy by numbers and calling it genius. Listen, I denied myself the many women that fame offered, and now you're accusing my drinking of causing her sickness. Your job is to fix Zelda!

JUNG          You really think it's that simple?

FITZG          Simple? Hell no! or we wouldn't be here!

FITZGERALD walks off in disgust. Thinking he has escaped JUNG heaves a sigh of relief but immediately bumps into JOYCE.

JOYCE        Could her sickness arise from a childhood infection?

JUNG          Possibly, but science doesn't yet fully understand ...

JOYCE        While you exchange platitudes and publish papers, my child's condition deteriorates: her affection for me is her last handhold above the abyss. Surely there must be mercy in the Universe?

 JUNG         Science is like cantilevering across a void: you know where the section up ahead ought to be, but you can't move onto it till the intervening structure is complete. I assure you, Herr Joyce, if she falls, she would have fallen anyway.

Once more, JUNG escapes only to fall prey again to FITZGERALD who drives him backwards with a jabbing forefinger. JUNG escapes: FITZGERALD doesn't even notice.

FITZG          Anyone outside our glib circle could see ... In the end nothing mattered any longer - not even her calling me a fairy in the Rue Palatine. Perplexed to find himself alone. At least, if we ruined ourselves I never thought we ruined each other.


JUNG returns walking on stilts, wearing strange opticians' glasses, accompanied by adoring ACOLYTES in white coats. He speaks slowly, relishing his authority.

JUNG          Now we note, do we not, a common factor in these 2 cases? Adler?

ADLER        Ahm. Zeyre bos sick. Paranoid. Schizophrenic?

JUNG          No dumbkopf! I alone, the great Jung, have the insight!

V FRANZ     O yes Doctor, you're so insightful! You're insight leg is ...

JUNG          No, no! None of you blockheads have spotted this simple fact - the dominant male relatives of both patients are authors! Gasps of astonishment I could see this at once, thanks to my X-ray vision, which noonelse in the world -and certainly not in Vienna- has, haus, gestumpft, verloren! Now what else? V FRANZ?

V FRANZ     Oh. Zey bos seek to compensate for zeir lack of penises by indulching in male-imitative behaviour.

JUNG          You mean they pee standing up?

Others in the group laugh sardonically at this simplisme

                     No. Both write elaborate explications of the patients' histories from their own viewpoints. Gasps of astonishment.

ADLER does an excited dance.

                     And there is another common link!

They abruptly become alarmed at the prospect of a further question.

                     Hm? Bettelheim?

BETTEL        Ah yes, I sought so meinselbst. In fact I had a prepared answer to zis one ... but I forget now vat it is.

JUNG          To be surrounded by idiots! Oh for one intelligent student, just one! \

ADLER        What about Wilhelm Reich?

JUNG freezes him with a magisterial glance

JUNG          Medical student. For 2 centuries we doctors fought to establish our exclusive right to declare what is or is not medical knowledge. We must not allow that position to be eroded by anyone with an unorthodox approach,

They look aghast.

                     except of course myself - but then I merely redefine orthodoxy. Which is totally different.

All are happy again Now then.

                     There is a clear case of Bleuler's Burgholzli syndrome here.

All look very wise

                     We see a classic reluctance of the male relatives -in one case husband, in the other father- to accept or allow for the patient's autonomous emotional development!! You will find the cases set out in Volume 64 of my collected writings. I hope you have bought a copy Bettelheim?

BETTEL        Well ze sing is Herr Professor Doktor Wonderful Counsellor Prophet ze Prince of Peace - I have been a bit short of ze readies, zis month, und I am only up to wolume 35 ...

JUNG          I don't want to have to speak about it again. You know my used toilet paper is available to personal students as bookmarks.

BETTEL        Indeed Herr Professor Doktor Wonderful Coun ...

JUNG          This is a remarkable concession because of the astronomical prices good quality bullshit is now commanding on the open market.

All nod to each other clubbily

                     SO. By defering to the supposedly superior powers of expression and insight of the male author, what does the female patient therefore become unable to accept? V FRANZ?

V FRANZ     Zat her own insights have any autonomous validity?

JUNG          smiling condescendingly, explaining slowly as if to an idiot No. That her own insights have any autonomous validity.

V FRANZ     O sank you, sank you, Herr Doktor Professor for finding les mots chustes to cloze my incoherent soughts.

JUNG          That's quite alright V FRANZ, you're coming along excellently. Very soon your stature will be sufficiently high to lick my posterior without a ... stool. Sycophantic laughter Thus the patient reaches an impasse that precludes normal progress towards actualising any sense of personal identity. Continue from page 3471 Bettelheim, oh no you're out of it. Um Adler.

ADLER        reading eagerly During the husband's visits, Mrs F developed acute eczema, which remitted within 3-4 days of his departure. The couple invariably had furious rows, and all but one visit ended in an unpleasant scene. In this case I found ritual ablutions were highly efficacious, and I would perform them whenever asked for an opinion. After leaving my care, the condition of Mrs F deteriorated, but I consider this only natural since no other practitioner could reasonably have been expected to succeed where I failed.

JUNG          Very good, very well read. Perhaps tho, you underplayed that final sentence a little? Read it again Adler.

ADLER        After leaving my care, the condition of Mrs F deteriorated, but I consider this only natural since no other practitioner could reasonably have been expected to succeed where I failed.

JUNG          Yes yes. That's more like it.

BETTEL        But Miss Joyce?

JUNG          Miss Joyce, ah. Seconal 50 4x daily with alternating shots of iprobrupine at hourly intervals. Oh and Adler, while she's out, fetch that copy of Zipper to my office I want to see where these fantasies come from.


JOYCE shuffles in angrily followed by an attentive and perplexed BECKETT. The caged birds are on the table (or carried in).

JOYCE        I can only say this Mr Beckett: ye've abused my hospitality in a most dasgraceful way.

BECKETT    I .. don't know .. how?

JOYCE        Don't know Huh! So ye'll play the innocent??

BECKETT    You are assigning me another role?

JOYCE        Most certainly. Deep-dyed drop-dead villain.

BECKETT    Excuse me, it'll take a moment to prepare.

JOYCE        You know the character; just add a layer of slime, and serpentine cunning.

BECKETT begins to assume the required character.

                     ironically O excellent! unironic I saw it all along. You viper!

BECKETT    retaining character, but speaking in his normal voice You haven't told me what I'm to do yet.

JOYCE        Ha ha no. I don't need to - you know that!

BECKETT    Actually, I don't.

JOYCE        with suppressed but rising anger Then practise oiling yourself around me, would you? Insinuate your poison into my most intimate domestic circle ...

BECKETT    in his new character (as an ambitious arts administrator), Over: With pleasure, Mr Joyce.

JOYCE        And then when you have spread a blanket over my suspicions ...

BECKETT    A blanket?

JOYCE        worm your slimy way ...

BECKETT    Would that be a glass of blanket, Mr Joyce?

JOYCE        more furious at being interupted Yes yes of course.

BECKETT immediately hands him a full glass. Drinking it JOYCE calms somewhat.

                     Ah that's better.

BECKETT    Then you'd like a chair? He places one by the canary cage.

JOYCE acknowledges his attention grouchily. BECKETT settles him in comfort.

                     A rug for your knees? Your writing things, Mr Joyce?

JOYCE        with some asperity Toad, you know the part by heart.

BECKETT    as Beckett I assure you not, (as Snake) but anything you say Mr Joyce.

JOYCE        looking beadily at him Now you know what to do next.

BECKETT    I confess I don't.

JOYCE        While the drug of confidence benumbs my inner eye creep around me, would you Mr Beckett, and fetter me in a silken web of obligations. Give me galley proofs to correct.

BECKETT reaches adeptly into the case

BECKETT    laughing snidely A perfect slave master, you are.

JOYCE        The lash is an inverted way of showing regard.

BECKETT    suddenly cold And then?

JOYCE        Then? you hypocrite! All the time your gaze has been on the birdcage, my precious canaries. The younger one, the plumpest - the female. When my back is turned ...

BECKETT    O that's nothing. That's easy.

JOYCE        with suppressed fury Then how did you do it? Have ye no shame? A little slip of a thing.

BECKETT    It's rarely necessary to do anything. Heavens, you Victorians! These days a woman will usually do everything that's necessary.

JOYCE        I know as well as anyone what a woman will do - but not a girl! Not a fresh-faced angel that only this morning was no larger than my hand.

BECKETT    And you never noticing that all of sudden she'd grown hot and was sniffing the wind?

JOYCE        No no, a little frisky maybe; coltish, but that's all.

BECKETT    So that her hand would glide over my trousers while your back was turned like a furtive mouse looking for a gap in the wainscot?

JOYCE        leaping up in a fury, scattering papers So you admit it! What did she know, poor young innocent girl? No father would stand for it, leading her on like that, and you a trusted friend!

BECKETT    unemotionally, in a character halfway between the SNAKE & his own I never led her on, never gave her a glance of encouragement, did not so much as touch her!

JOYCE        But you just admitted it!

BECKETT    No. You expected me to play a certain part - I did so, to the best of my ability.

JOYCE        But dammit you were completely convincing - how otherwise could you've known?

BECKETT    Then your own writing must convict you.

JOYCE        Writing's different.

BECKETT    Not at all. Writing is the emotional cripple's means of revenge upon a careless world. We need a space where we can use our own deck of cards, instead of having to take what we're dealt by fate.

JOYCE        in a voice of thunder She told me you tried to rape her!

BECKETT    Is the wish the father to the deed: or is the father to wish the deed?

JOYCE        How, dare, you!

BECKETT    How convenient it would be, cher maitre, if I had left an imprint of my drilling rig on the soft desert of her stomach. You could point to the swelling dune as proof positive that I was the mounteback who so fertiley deflowered her.

JOYCE        If I had my sight I'd throw y'out an no mistake.

BECKETT    That way it would never be your fault.

BECKETT    moves stealthily towards the birdcage. An interloper, a cunning gray-legged interloper could be blamed, for playing havoc with your precious chicks. But what if they got free of their own accord? He thrusts open the cage door. What if they escaped of their own volition?

JOYCE        in a panic No no, leave them alone, you'd destroy my world ...?

BECKETT    Yes? and instead you would prefer to destroy me. If dis-ingenious myth of Lucia's corruption is to be credited as anonymously as you wish, you need a foxywhiskered devil for your dirty work. Nice shot, but my balls never left the side-pockets, so unless you can get some other guy's nuts up there on cue I would say you were snookered. You want me to close the cage door?

JOYCE        frostily Yes. Go. Our friendship is at an end. I misjudged you.

BECKETT    No, you just put a little to much screw on the shot.


There is a sense of oppressive darkness everywhere except in the pool on which there is focus of dim light, but the darkness is flecked with an image of stronger rain. LUCIA sits in front of the mirror(s) used in Sc121 (Bal Bullier). She is getting into a crumpled male evening dress, and behaves very vacantly. We become aware of JOYCE watching her from afar - the top of the stairs?

JOYCE        Of all I hungered for those constricted years it was not this. Why chisel out the hollow words only to create a chasm of split infinity, and into it my young jewel endlessly falling? O waste of semen that it should fertilise such grief. Can this be my dream? Attaining it, as few men do, have I realised my terror not my hope? - black horses racing for ever over the moorland where five roads meet, with fiery-nostrils and eyes bulging in panic at the pursuing dark.

                     Now there are moments and hours when I have nothing in my heart but rage and despair - a blind man's vomit and diarea. Half my capital is exhausted thanks to that complacent fat swissler! I am alone as I have never been alone. She who understood is no more. In the bedroom lies an empty bed but it is full of her memories. She would cry if we took her out and whimper in her dreams - and so she always slept, always slept alone with us. Forever close, yet as foreign as a distant land.

He descends bearing a cake done up with a bow in a shiny cakebox. LUCIA turns to greet him, we suddenly realise she has painted her face black. JOYCE is very startled, and remains nervous of her, but determined not to show it.

JOYCE        Good morning teso'.

LUCIA         distantly O Babbo, I'm so glad you came. (pause) I wrote to Petrarch about you yesterday. I thought he ought to know.

JOYCE        Thank you. Look, I've brought a cake.

A mysterious drumming crosses the threshold of hearing, like a very distant pulse of thunder.

LUCIA         Che bello, Che bello! (suddenly) But I'm on hunger strike of course.

JOYCE        O? Why?

LUCIA         They don't answer. They'll have to if I die.

JOYCE        wryly You'd be able to tell them in person.

LUCIA         Of course. But they don't want that yet.

JOYCE        surprised How do you know?

LUCIA         O they're here all the time. (changes tack violently) YOU'RE BEHIND THE LETTERING AREN'T YOU!

JOYCE        No my dear, the publisher contacted you because he liked what I showed him. Dr Jung will bear me out.

LUCIA         He's gaga. All psychiatrists are. So am I they say. I meant to write to the Pope (about you).

JOYCE        You'd best watch your grammar then, he's a learned man.

LUCIA         So why doesn't he reconcile Ireland to you?

JOYCE        O what can he do? What can I do? What can anyone do? It's hopeless. Play for me, I'll sing y' Mr Dooley.

LUCIA gets up, but instead of going to the piano she draw bars, across the third side of the catwalk. JOYCE is unable to see what's happening.

                     What are you doing?

LUCIA         They're stealing things: it's the nurses. I caught one with my coloured inks the other day.

JOYCE        No, surely not. How are your designs?

JOYCE sighs, he seems about to commiserate, but LUCIA turns suddenly and intensely on him.

LUCIA         If I draw back the covers of my mind / I am blinded by the fury of my honesty: Here in this timeless desert of thought / Where every exit threatens I wander Prisoner of an aimless will;

JOYCE is mesmerised the beauty, struck dumb by the casual horror, of these utterances - which he alone hears.

                     To form coherent words coherently is a wasted luxury. Why was I born to be afraid at others? To live this life half blinded and half dead ... Oh but the half undead is worst for that half has yet feeling - Where there is death there is no pain.

The NURSE leans over a balcony in amused exasperation

NURSE        Mad people surely are like fish, they feel no pain ...? Why then, how d'you explain their silence? - it's not normal. I am hurt: I cry. I'm amused: I laugh. I'm afraid: I cower. But you, well, you do these things without reason: You laugh where there is no humour, cower unthreatened, and cry at will. You have no way of engaging my sympathy - Your world doesn't synchronise with mine.

LUCIA         ironically And so the circular logic goes:

NURSE        You're angry - why?

LUCIA         in a temper tantrum I'm angry - so?

NURSE        merely perplexed Goddammit, why?

LUCIA         ... the hell not. Asshole.

NURSE        Ordinary people don't ...

LUCIA         But I do!

NURSE        gently Yes Lucia, but who's normal?

LUCIA         restarting And bit by bit the syllogistic noose tightens round your neck till rational response grows impossible.

NURSE        harder You're a danger to others!

LUCIA         No only to myself.

NURSE        personally threatened You attack them with insecurity: / your freedom is subversive!

LUCIA         Ah, oh, I'm choking. Ah! / My life harms noone.

NURSE        almost vicious O yes, society's given you a sacred trust.

LUCIA         My ass, society's given me a collar of fire and a bandage of quicklime.

The NURSE fades away. The distant drumming grows closer.

                     Oh I'm too tired to fight, / tho if I didn't have myself to talk to, / why I'd have nobody.

LUCIA         walks up into the rain My eyes see past despair. Dry marbles / scanning the faint gray beneath my door. The smell of my shit is like an unhealed wound - the floor is caked in the shit of dead women! - but at least it takes the chill off the stones / where I sleep, watching for death's scurrying tail across the floor ... but he never comes.

She returns, standing before him - a separate, self- possessed, tho infinitely damaged, human being. JOYCE becomes aware of her erotically as an adult. There is a pause of maximal length and intensity as the drumming loudens. JOYCE is as profoundly shocked by the whole experience as he possibly could be. But he knows no other response than to baby LUCIA. The drumming dips but only, we feel, temporarily.

JOYCE        I'd read to her of the spaces between the words, sharpen them up insight out. ÔIf you peep thru, go on peep thru, each of the little sylla-buggers, look, look, starlight, d'y see? Neee-uw worr-ll-dd-ss within the spaces.

LUCIA leans nostalgically against his legs.

LUCIA         Yes, Babbo, lightning hits the back of the words, and the meanings spin off like marionettes, leaving vowels rich as peat, and consonants that barrack & quarantine the sounds. There is another kind of language, I know there is.

JOYCE        Like a virtuoso (in a single breath)  There is, for every inch-light meaning skating like scattered sparks over the roofs of the wise headed babbies and their daddies, the wizened shriven men with no souls and feet like centaurs shot in the night where all nights meet. And any if any there be there, they're of Noah, the many- coupled denizens of the long and ravening sea ride, crying aloud for love in a waterless landlocked ocean of desire till freed at last by the guile of the dove, and all sea-birds her lovers, under the white foam of the tuftless sand bringing and bearing and skying and flating downward homeward the intense and longed-for gift of the long-forgotten promise of failed hope and unuttered cries in the silent secret hold of the sleeping down-filled dreams beneath your slender beach-berthed head on the shingling surf where you turn unknowing and unknown, half-out of this world and into.

There is another pause of unutterable compassion, LUCIA flickers a sleepy eyelid. The drumming returns with renewed passion. The rain intensifies. There is a sudden crack of thunder. In a flash LUCIA tries to strangle her father.


NURSES rush in to restrain her


JOYCE        How? Lucia! How? How? How could I give you something I never had?

LUCIA         O you had it alright - as much as you wanted. But you wouldn't let us ... wouldn't share.

JOYCE        What?

LUCIA         Everything! Everything! What've I got? Shards, tatters, remnants of fabric, a few second-hand chords, my strained muscles. Nothing.

NURSE motions him to leave

JOYCE        Lucia I must go now.

LUCIA         bewildered Go? Yes, you must - go. I don't - want ... It's the same, always. I can't ... just simply. Anyway. So. They'll be finished

JOYCE        hopelessly Lucia, teso', look on the bright side now.

LUCIA         No no, the moon has turned. My only light is darkness. I hope I'm not too revolting, but my problem is being Irish.

JOYCE        defeated I'll go now.


The thunder dies away, but the rain patterns continues making a sweetly sad autumnal texture. On the acting area there is a texture of laser light like the beveled glass surface of a choppy sea. JOYCE, in the pit, seems like a drowning man walks. He looks up and sees JUNG tap-dancing on a suspended platform in front of a computer terminal. Ideally this computer terminal will be the mobile lighting control for the theatre (or appear to be!). There are a number of preset lighting sequences. He punches between them like a kid in a video arcade, the rhythm matching his dancing, with his back to JOYCE as the platform descends just below the catwalk level. JUNG is (or seems to be) also conjuring with light - eg throwing light-streamers out into the audience.

The sounds are at different time a mixture of a distant disco, an aqualung, and mysterious clunks and groans.

JOYCE        shouting How dare you call her mad? She has just uttered some of the most poetic words I've ever heard.

JUNG          over his shoulder All poets try to strangle you?

JOYCE        A perfectly logical response.

JUNG          To an enemy perhaps, not to a friend.

JOYCE        A friend is only an enemy who happens to be present!

JUNG drops halfway down to the stage and turns to face JOYCE who, like an ancient Neptune, appears to have difficulty in ascending from the depth. JUNG varies his step, lightening it or reducing the beat as he gets more involved in the conversation.

JUNG          Listen this is a tough one, my friend ...

JOYCE        Fiend - don't wave your Rs at me!

JUNG          Just sugaring the pill: you must give her up.

JOYCE        Give her up! After all I've gone thru for her?

JUNG          Ha! Which matters more: Lucia's recovery or your investment in her sickness?

JOYCE takes a swipe with his stick at JUNG who hovers insouciantly out of reach.

JOYCE        That's outrageous! If you knew what we've all suffered!

JUNG descends to about a foot above the stage

JUNG          not unkindly O I see it every day. It's the small change of a soul doctor's life.

JOYCE        Damn you! Must I relinquish what's most precious to me?

JUNG gets off the platform and seems to tap-dance on the waves. JOYCE continues to try and rise.

JUNG          Only to save her.

JOYCE        And who will? Not you!

JUNG          No. Not me. Lucia herself ... if anyone.

JOYCE        The risk's too great. What assurance do I have that your commitment is any deeper than my purse?

JUNG          Many wrong turnings in the dark have at last brought you here.

JOYCE        In desperation you accept any hand extended.

JUNG          standing over him  But they were blind alleys because you have no trust. Be merciful: relax your iron grip: trust Lucia to find her own way out of the labyrinth. Her vulnerability is a wound, an opening to higher power: you the minotaur she both flees and seeks. In protecting her you prevent healing, and so imprison her soul within an earthbound energy.

Their heads are almost conspiratorially close

JOYCE        You make it sound as if, as if I were a, sorcerer, a spell-binder of some kind.

JUNG          pausing in his dance And aren't you? If the whispered sounds by which Romanies control horses were common knowledge we'd admit it as a science, but it's easier to dismiss what we are too lazy to understand.

JOYCE is intrigued by this argument. JUNG resumes his rhythm.

                     You know about incantations, do you not? Surely you create tintinabulary word-patterns whose effect tickles our sophisticated ear -

JOYCE        That has at times been my intention.

JUNG backs very slowly, almost wooing JOYCE

JUNG          - just as spells & runes must have once tantalised an illiterate one. In the undeveloped mind of a child your incantations may have had an effect they would not've done in an adult's.

JOYCE        involuntarily An appalling /fascinating thought.

JUNG          You write from the cold, shadow side of consciousness

JOYCE rises a little from the pit with an ambiguous head movement. He rises a little more with each of his lines of dialog..

                     So you need an external focus for your ideas.

JOYCE        grudgingly Maybe.

JUNG          Who would it be if not Lucia?

JOYCE        stopping I depict the whole gamut of humanity.

JUNG          You may be the camera, but she is the lens, your femme inspiratrice. Without her you'd be blind.

JOYCE doesn't reply, but during the next speech resumes his emergence.

                     Molly Bloom & Anna Livia returned feminine awareness to public thought: but, after centuries of neglect, you had to dive deep deep beneath the silt of an ancient river.

JOYCE        flattered If one could see for the Guinness!

Seeing his success, JUNG redoubles his tap-dancing, and includes some light-magic with his hands.

JUNG          Only the devil's grandmother knows so much about female psychology! But you chose to dive. Lucia is your satellite, she is drawn by the pull of your planet - falling, falling to that dark abyss.

                     You are free to surface whenever you want. She isn't: she will drown. If she cannot escape your magnetism she will surely drown. Allow her to float free and she might, just might, be able to return to the surface. No doubt you would sacrifice yourself for Lucia ...

JOYCE is almost out of the pit. JUNG is on the verge of triumph and his virtuoso juggling mesmerises JOYCE. As casually as he can, JUNG pops the big one:

                     but could you sacrifice your work?

Stung on an open nerve JUNG turns and begins to descend the steps again, feeling his way with his stick.

JOYCE        You no more understand me -or her- than you understand my work. Why, the Jesuits in Rome have understood me better than you. Your remarks are an insult to the intelligence.

JUNG follows him to the edge of the steps.

JUNG          My remarks are not addressed to the intelligence. There is a logic to the heart that the head can never appreciate. If you really suppose the Jesuits can cure your daughter go to them.

JUNG climbs back on his platform. JOYCE turns up to him, furious.

JOYCE        How much! How much do I owe you?

Slowly beginning to ascend, JUNG unwraps some chewing gum, as he punches the computer. He gives a few after beats.

JUNG          I see. Like that! Well, for the clinic, 7000 francs: for me, 3600. But maybe 10,000 for cash. Sort it out with the secretary as you leave.

He suddenly sees the GIRL IN THE AUDIENCE he chatted up earlier.

                     O hi XXXX! Say you wanna ride? I can take you higher! than you've ever been before.

JUNG accelerates to the roof, as JOYCE stumbles off into the depths.


It is an earlier time. In smart day clothes NORA is decorating the stage with flowers and other festive tokens. LUCIA enters somewhat absently, looking her loveliest in an engagement gown.

NORA         pleasantly Well there, you've taken your time.

LUCIA         unaware of the irony O I've got plenty of it left. Sometimes I try to reel it in to see if there's anything at the end. But it stretches so far down I get scared looking.

NORA         used to not paying attention What on earth are you talking about?

LUCIA         Time. Time! I've got so much of it that there's none left!

NORA         You do go on. Here, help me spread this tablecloth teso'.

LUCIA         If I could know how long time was I'd know the shape of things.

NORA         Not another one in the family! Leave that kind of thing to y' faither.

LUCIA         God Nanno, you never listen to what I say.

NORA         Lucia darling, calm down. We don't want any scenes this evening. It's your night. Okay? You've got what you wanted.

LUCIA         sullenly But not who I wanted.

NORA         Draw the curtains would you teso'. It's after being a fact that getting what you want can be a bitter disappointment. The truth is y'can be a lot happier with what you didn't want, for y've no expectations to confound.

LUCIA         Where d'you want these?

NORA         gesturing absent-mindedly And in the dark one man is much the same as another.

LUCIA goes to draw the curtains. Pulling on a rope she draw the bars across the remaining side of the stage and lies down on a couch near a window. The cool wind sings of the dusty street, the moon smells old. NORA continues to set the table.

LUCIA         How could I ... with him? In the room with a faded green ceiling ... Is this what the rest of my life is to be - just one unfolding compromise? Till what - till I'm paralysed with boredom?

The wind begins to blow, gently at first

                     If this is the inside what's so special? Yet in the darkness I can feel there's something inside that's really me.

As the wind very gradually rises LUCIA dances - ecstatically, beautifully

                     Right inside, it's like a seed that only the longest penis can reach. They're going to have to pay attention to me.

Her movements are becoming felinely sexual. Shouting defiantly:

                     Yes! Yes! Alright. Bring him on -my husband!- let battle commence. We'll have a lifetime of grinding attrition together.

A fat, uncertain ALEX PONISOVSKY (Giorgio character) enters, leading JOYCE by the arm, yet directed by him. He is so plainly decent it's unbearable. The wind rises, they have to hold onto their hats.

JOYCE        I think this calls for a glass of champagne.

LUCIA         How wonderful! I'll have someone to be unfaithful to! It'll add a delicious spice to stolen afternoons in the room with a green ceiling - knowing how I am hurting his fat stupid face because he has no idea what I'm really like.

NORA looks round, surprised not to have noticed the men's arrival, and goes to join the party, not yet paying attention to what is happening. JOYCE is oblivious. The wind rises to gale force as the couple approach each other and begins to blow things off the table. LUCIA gets down on all fours and lifts her skirt to him.

                     Go on. Fuck me. Here! Now! In front of all these people.

ALEX           half tempted O! G-g-good Lord, L-l-ucia. You c-can't m-mean it.

As soon as NORA sees what's going on she immediately grabs LUCIA Ôs skirt and tries to make her stand up.

NORA         I wont have a dauter of mine make an exhibition of herself like this. Bed's the place for making love.

LUCIA         O? Who's did you do it in? Because you never did it with Babbo!

NORA smacks her as hard as she can. LUCIA socks her back and runs to the piano. She plays a furious Rachmaninovian piece like an angel. Terrified, NORA shepherds JOYCE away, ALEX follows sheepishly.


The wind drops abruptly, leaving the stage looking like a football stadium after a lost home game. LUCIA staggers about it, falling to her knees and crawling across like someone dying in a desert. She makes inarticulate sounds in an attempt to communicate: Look at me. Love me. Accept me as I am. But because of her inability to use language we are hardly able to comprehend her.

Rain is falling. It is a pitiable, heartbreaking sight, this beautiful woman reduced to such degradation. LUCIA knows she is falling, further and further away from human contact. JUNG, masked as a strange doctor, gives her an injection. She offers her arm without resistance, leaning against him as the drug takes effect, grateful for even this much human contact. As LUCIA passes out he just lets her fall on the floor and exits.

She lies there like so much discarded rubbish for a long time with nothing happening except suggestions of echoing, mournful music. Slowly we become aware of a row offstage between JOYCE & NORA.

NORA         Have you taken leave of your senses? B' Jesus I think you're madder than what she is. What in heavens name could she want with a thing like that where she is!

JOYCE        I just thought Nora, it would make her feel -

NORA         O give me patience! For all your writing, you know nothing about women do you?

They enter, NORA guiding JOYCE, who carries a fur coat over his arm, and holds a white stick. He is hardly getting a word in.

NORA         Nothing at all. Now listen Jim. I've had enough of this squandermania. What're you going to do when our money all runs out Jim? You may be the great panjandrum that all those Fitzgeralds and Hemingways want to pay court to but what's it actually mean in francs?

JOYCE        I suppose I can always go back to teaching ... ÒMr James Joyce. Incorrect english. Learn what you'll never need to know.Ó

NORA         God help me, I'd leave you for good and go home to Ireland ...

JOYCE        O no, Nora, you'd not?

NORA         ... before I'd go thru all that we had to suffer in Trieste. You murdered us, murdered their childhood, that's why, ...

She cannot complete the sentence. They are standing either side of the prostrate LUCIA now.

JOYCE        Holy God, my curse was to have been born sighted in the land of the blind. Our Society places no value on its future because it's so busy sucking dry the precious present. We live in a culture of lies.

NORA         O you'll never change. Society? Culture? It's all my eye and Betty Martin. Blame who you want - it's yourself wrecking her chances of a cure.

It begins to snow all over the stage, very lightly.

JOYCE        beginning to be riled Nora, y' being unfair.

NORA turns away, trying not to let him see the tears.

NORA         O God, y' can never know what it feels like for a mother to see this: that little bundle of hope and love who invaded your life and pushed out your belly; whose pink bottom you dried on your knee in front of the grumbling fire - hands as small as a mouse's; always asking Ôwhat's a ... what's a ...
(her voice breaks down)

                     What answers did I give that were so wrong? Why did I ever bother letting out her skirts and shifting buttons over if this was to be the end of it?
They are both weeping, but neither wants the other to see.

JOYCE        Nora, don't, you're tearing me to shreds.

NORA         O my mind is torn up like a letter scattered to the 43 winds. There's no hope of piecing it togever again.

JOYCE        Nora ...

NORA         I don't want you any more Jim. I don't want you because I don't need you. I've cried till I can cry no more, till the salt in my tears no longer flows. (walking around LUCIA) In the long sleepless night I stare out of the window at the walls and know there is no way out, no way at all but death. She is dead, dead to us.

JOYCE        No ... No ...

NORA         O God in Heaven, God, how I've prayed! but brass resounding silence swallows up my empty litany of barren words, dry and useless as these once-nurtured breasts.

JOYCE half groans

                     I've led and guided you all, but now I need some space for myself.

She starts to go, leaving footprints in the snow as her voice fades.

JOYCE        I followed the light as it was given to me ...

NORA         I'm sure y' did Jim.

JOYCE        And if I wasn't - good enough ... well, a barbed vice caught us on the wire as we fled, held flutering in a g3⁄4l of ancient hatred.

NORA         We have the same wounds, you and I, Jim.

JOYCE        O Jesus, don't ask me to pray - I'm begging you, alone ... Don't go! Don't, go!!

But she has, and he knows she has. JOYCE spreads the coat over LUCIA.

                     Little one: you're sleeping now so peacefully, as one day you must, at last, sleep - when I can, at the last our dust intermingles, the fury past. O pointless charade, played out in shade, where blindness and night are two turnings on an unmarked road. I would have carried you in my arms, weak as they are, along that path of light-brushed beeches that leads to the grove amid the whispering poplars where the moon sprinkles goldfish into an enchanted fountain. We could have drunk together of the night's uncried tears.

                     And after? swum in the velvet-breathed air in a kind of peace ... at one in the clear and silent cloud-wrack. But now the flickering cooling minutes call me, pain apart, out into the murmuring dark. Cracked uncertain footfall of light growing dim give iridescence to the gusted leaves. My coat is buttoned now: as if it afforded shelter mid the spectres! Wise or unwarned, eluded or sought, the end's the same: In Time you should have become your maker, focusing anger from tired eyes along the mud-flanged pitfalls others must cross before your vacant frame buds green life dying.

                     But ... But ... But ... all ran out and left you falling timeless between the two hands towards a dismal void. Then, with bitter irony, as you clutched unhandheld in the wandering dark Time crept up again and in malicious saftness robed you as you slept -with every Tom, Dick, and enemy: and in th' unraveling garment you disappeared as every stitch unpicked. Now all that's left is a fraying fragment of the fabric Ôbout your heart.

Attempting practicality, JOYCE contemplates lifting her. Plaintively, he addresses her as a child

                     O no, no, no. This will never do. Come with me - Lucia!

She half raises her head, groggily.

                     Here my nagelk, put this on.

Blindly, he tucks the coat around her and then turns to walk slowly off. On the steps appears a MAN IN A FULL-LENGTH BLACK LEATHER COAT, spotlit from immediately above, a hat shadowing his face. Slowly the light shrinks to a narrow pool around JOYCE.

NAZI            The shutters are going up. Breaking glass echoes from the next street. Somebody's catching it. But what can anyone do?

JOYCE pauses to look back at LUCIA, then, isolated by a spotlight, turns terrified in his sightlessness that he is surrounded inescapably by a hostile circle. The MAN gains intensity without adding any emotion. Underlined words are plucked and held by the sound processing.

                     Behind the man in the bloody gutter stands one in a gray uniform with no face, and behind him are men in black. Within the reticulated shadows the forest sunlight freezes Fear on erect bayonets before Ghast the downward scream and the blood that dries Terror too soon off the Panic open eyes of the staring earth Screaming. (hissed, almost in satisfaction) There are no words left to utter it.

[1] Ah, dear Doctor, how good of you to come.

[2] My dearest Joyce, it is indeed an honour.

[3] But who are you on whose cheeks trickle down such dews of sorrow? Dante

[4] What was the pÏt-bloke saying?

[5] O some rubbish about death and love.

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