Boo

Out of the tangled ancient
history of humanity,
with my distant ancestors
and your distant ancestors
here we are,
me and you,
here in this modern place.

We talk of the days
and the days,
and the days
of mundane things,
and eventually we talk
of the meaningful things.

The things that are really important to us
right now.

Did you read that poem?
Did read that short story
Who is your favourite writer?
Did you see that movie?
Did you write that story
Did you write that poem?
Did you do that thing?

Did I mention,
how much I like talking to you?
And listening to you,
you with your distant ancestors,
and me with my distant ancestors,
here and now,
in this modern place.

Today In The Cafe... You Never Regret Kindness

Today in the cafe... An older couple came into the cafe just after the kitchen had technically closed. They wanted some hot food. They liked the look of the soup. Sometimes you get a feeling about people, they just need some soup and a warm and quiet place to sit. I said yeah, sure, of course we're still open. The husband thanked me and apologised, saying they would have been here three hours earlier, but they had been stuck in St Vincent's Hospital. They loved the soup. I don't know their story, but I do know they needed that soup and that time out in a quiet and warm place more than I needed to go home.

Short time later, a paramedic walks in, clearly ready to walk back out again because clearly, we are closed.

Are you closed? she asks.

Yes we are closed, I tell her, but what were you after?

Just a couple of coffees...

An imploring look.

Of course I can do you a couple of coffees.

She was so grateful because, she told me, she had had such a busy day and had been trying to get coffee for most of the day but just didn't get the chance.

A paramedic's busy day isn't quite the same as a barista's busy day.

I was happy to end the day on two acts of kindness, because as a friend just pointed out, you never regret kindness.

Almost Face To Face, Stephen House At Butterfly Club, Review

Almost Face To Face

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



It's difficult to determine who the real star is in this piece; the exquisite writing, or the equally perfect performance. That both are the work of the same person... truly impressive stuff.

Almost Face To Face is a one hour dramatic monologue – just one raw man on a bare stage - by master of the form Stephen House. It recounts his stories of his time in Dublin, living with an overweight prostitute/landlord. Don't be mistaken, these are stories of fringe-dwellers, the truly down and out, the broken ones we see on the periphery of our comfortable lives. Prostitution, drug addiction, alcoholism, sex with strangers... it's all here, and it all feels so very, unflinchingly real.

Using the word exquisite when dealing with such subject matter might seem odd, but the writing of these gritty stories is absolutely exquisite. At times the monologues actually morph into poetry, a form I suspect Stephen House enjoys quite a lot. There is tenderness at times in the words, sometimes sadness, often anger.

And the delivery is equally well-executed. As a performer, Mr House has an impressive range. He can be a gentle soul, a weary soul, a broken soul and an angry soul all in a very short time. Sometimes as he prowls the tiny stage at The Butterfly club, so real is his passion that you may find yourself in goosebumps.

There is an authenticity to Stephen's work that makes them important works we should pay attention to. In a review of another of his pieces (Appalling Behaviour, which is referenced in this piece), I think I said he gives a voice to those fringe dwellers we never really interact with. The fact that he has lived much of his material and is so eloquently able to share such gritty stories with us – and indeed that he is so willing to do so – is theatrically and personally impressive. If you're open to this kind of thing, you'll find yourself in a gentle state of awe, and you'll probably feel a sense of gratitude.

Not all is gutter and grime. There is actually much humour, in these stories of these broken humans. There are a few chuckle-out-loud moments, but there are many other moments where something is so tragically fucked up and kind of funny that rather than laugh, your heart melts. It's so funny, you'll think, but so fucking sad.

If you get out of your comfortable home for just one performance this week, make it this one. I promise, you will feel enriched.

At The Butterfly Club until 12th May 2018. Touring to other capitals afterwards.