In this Issue:
We lit a fire in the library annex and improvised a lantern in an ancient helmet. Miss Feathers played a suite of spectral music on her clavichord. Shortly before midnight, the ghost appeared. The Reverend stepped forward and asked if we could be of service. Read more...
Why does a body fall?
Because there is a gravitational field.
Why? Because space-time is curved. And so on.
You are replacing one description with another deeper description,
the sole purpose of which is to explain the thing you started with, namely,
falling bodies — Paul Davies.
It was a New York city of ash.
There was grey-ness in our mouths and in our ears. A soft and acrid grey on our tongues. It fell around us and filled the spaces between us. Read more...
Directions to the Room of Pendulums: Listen closely. Through a keyhole in the granite doorway you may smell the sea. A staircase of colored smoke will bear you to the room where we keep the pendulums. Make sure you know the plurals of various words for 'dust.' Hone those conversation skills! Your new avatar speaks Greek, Catalan, Sanskrit, Wolof, Algonquin and Silence.
The Pendulum Polisher squats on a divan. With a voice like bassoons, she holds you spoolbound. Read more...
ROSE: Bertha’s caregiver. Depraved.
POTTZ: Old and cracked and may be Mrs Pottz.
SET: It is a faded Edwardian lounge, cluttered, dingy and threadbare. There is an old high-backed easy chair or a couch upon which Bertha sits throughout. A small occasional table. A small seat or cottage chair which may be used by the other actors if desired.
NOTE : Taihape (Tie-Happy) is an inland New Zealand town in the middle of nowhere and the last place you would want to go for a holiday. Overseas productions might wish to choose a similar local town. Read more...
“All the lights and baubles on the trees, they are watching us, a thousand twinkling eyes across the city.”
The Lookout stood in the theatre’s storehouse, surrounded by dusty props, retired costumes and calm shadows.
“They swim in the mulled wine, burrow through the gingerbread, jump along the garlands, drip from the mistletoes. Read more...
That’s Otokar, standing in the shadow of the Old Calendar, talking to a marmite; she’s taller than he is and she’s incredibly sure of herself. Her pelt is dark with spots of blond; her blue gown gleams with ostentatious scales. There’s a minnow taking the measurement of Otokar’s left big toe.
“But what does it feel like?” she asks, checking her reflection in her little clam shell mirror, its reflective face a polished disk of 2am. Read more...
About Our Coffee and Other Fare
Please Note: All of the coffee served at The Irreal Cafe is fair trade, organic, shade-grown and not real. All of the food served at The Irreal Cafe is organic, vegan, locally sourced and not real. See "At Our Cafe" for more about what we would serve at The Irreal Cafe and how we would serve it if there were an Irreal Cafe.