Short+Sweet Festival 2013
This is a confession.I've manipulated my morals, given up goodwill, and surrendered my soul to temptation. This post is proof of my prostitution. The words you are about to read are nothing more than a publicity stunt, an artificial article written in exchange for my materialistic whims.
I have sold out.
And what better thing to sell out for than free tickets to KLpac's Short+Sweet Festival 2013! No, really. The arts scene is something I feel very strongly for, and it needs all the help it can get. Sadly, it feels as if the hard work and effort that people put into producing stage magic just doesn't receive the exposure it really deserves. Like an erotic dancer playing hide and seek, great entertainment exists, if only you could find it. This post shall be the middle man.
The festival is divided into weekly categories; comedy, musical, and two weeks for dance and theatre. For four nights each week, audiences are entertained by ten different productions, and at the end of it all they vote for their favourites. As explained by the name, those productions are "short and sweet"; limiting themselves to around ten minutes of stage time to win your heart and vote.
As an introduction to the theatre scene in Kuala Lumpur, there's nothing more welcoming than this festival. It's far better experienced than read, and I sincerely urge you to for yourselves.
Details so you can experience the wonders of Short+Sweet Theatre
Theatre Week 1: 16-19 Oct @ 8.30pm
Theatre Week 2: 23-26 Oct @ 8.30pm
Gala Night: 27 Oct @ 8.30pm
Tickets: RM28 (adult), RM23 (students, disabled, and TAS card members)
Gala: RM43 (adult), RM38 (students, disabled, and TAS card members)
Grace, Saved
"God" read the word scrawled out unevenly on white in blunt penciled writing. "My nem is Ahmad" it continued. His fingers were barely large enough to even grasp a pencil properly. "I wud like to mit you".
His teacher moved from child to child with a waltz-like grace as she tended each innocent mind with an encouraging smile. Her pupils called her Miss Grace. She was young and hopeful, though she never really knew what she hoped for.
Ahmad waited for his turn. As a final touch, he added an ineligible scribble at the foot of his letter, mimicking the scribbles he'd seen adults do to pay for food at restaurants and clothes and things like that. His teacher looked busy.
Miss Grace loved her job. She was doing her kids a favour, saving them from the future, letting them grow like plants under her watchful eye. She talked to her plants often.
Ahmad looked up. Miss Grace stood over him, smiling - have you finished? Good - then crouched beside him. She asked him to read his letter. He read it.
"Oh, sweetheart, that's a lovely letter, but I don't think you will ever meet God. You can't even see him!" She smiled carefully. "Maybe you should write to someone who isn't so hard to find."
--------
Ahmad had just turned forty. He felt old. The young and hopeful days were far behind him, and he'd already forgotten what he used to hope for. He hadn't yet met God, but then again he'd never really tried looking.
Headlights
It's the risk that comes with the kissA gentle press of lip on lip
On borrowed time in a car backseat
To an audience of an empty street
With a pulse as rushed as my fumbled touches
A dress pulled over a pair of shoulders
In this moment
We are neither young nor old
Just a consequence of our fears and desires like two moths and a dance of fire
Here, I have found you
The only sounds we hear are the breaths that escape
Too alive to stay within this feeble frame but believe me
I would hold every breath if I could
Force my lungs to spare no air
Keep it stashed between my heart and diaphragm as all I have
A treasure chest
Of flesh and breath
Your hands find mine in the absence of light
As you breathe harder your hand holds tight and
Skin and friction and all we've ever been
Collide like our existence depends on this
This single moment of temporary bliss
He was hers and she was his
Like those love stories we listened to as if they ever spoke the truth
Kiss
Headlights paint the sunroof above you
Patterned
Refracted
Toned
By the rain on the windows
Replacement constellations
A passing sky for unseen lovers
A starting engine
An empty street
Morning.
Landlocked Blues
He was lying down.Or at least it seemed like it. The man had his right cheek pressed against the pavement, his eyes were closed, and his limbs were stretched out like a starfish. From the view of any justifiably concerned passer-by, the man merely seemed to be lying down. He wasn't, though.
The man was, in fact, hugging the floor.
It was an awkward sort of hug. It was the type of hug you encountered at reluctantly attended family reunions with distant relatives you'd never even met, let alone enjoy physical contact with. But it was still a hug, and the man had been in need of some compassion. He enjoyed it nonetheless.
He'd been on the floor for a while now, though he couldn't exactly remember how long. It was quite long, he remembered. It began when the fear he'd kept inside became too much for him to handle, though he felt that he had succumbed to it in a very practical way. He was, after all, rather comfortable.
The Earth was a very old thing, he thought, and wondered if anyone else had ever hugged it. The thought flitted around his mind as he adjusted his head so as to be pressing the left cheek of his face down instead. Slowly, he opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings. Most people gave him a confused stare before walking on past him. Others seemed unperturbed, not even noticing the strange sight of a man sprawled right in the middle of a walkway.
The man was puzzled by this. The people around him appeared fearless, briskly strutting the streets and going about their day without even remembering that the Earth was spinning constantly. More than a five hundred miles an hour, he recalled. He couldn't remember the exact speed but it was very, very fast. This book he read said so.
He wondered why no-one else was scared by this. Any second, gravity might stop working or the Earth might suddenly stop like a car braking hard and everyone in the world would be flung off through the atmosphere into space and die.
Except him. He was safe.
Sighing, the man closed his eyes again and gripped the ground tightly in a tangy mix of fear and anticipation.
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