Darius - a play

Part I

In the small tea room, it is desirable for every utensil to be less than adequate. There

are those who dislike a piece when it is even slightly damaged; such an attitude shows

a complete lack of comprehension.

Zoomed in on lapping of ocean

Darius barely clothed, is stretched out asleep across the cold morning sands

Morning, sun rising. Seagulls caw, golf ball hits him. Soundtrack: Vivaldi

He has morning potency. He smiles in his sleep. Philosopher walks by in the background (robed man)

Voice [whispering]: Darius, Darius

Darius: (startled, groggily) Pray thee, who dane to speaketh to me? God?

Voice (woman): Nay, It is me, alma mater, Gaia, Mother Nature.

Darius: [pause] Forsooth, this is hard to believe. Why hast I been awakened from my hypnotic spell?

sheets wave in front of camera. A cat hisses.

Darius holds sand in his hand and watches it slip through his fingers. (still prostrate)

Gaia: See how the crystals of sand blow like the seeds of a ripe poppy; I have ordained a pattern to everything here.

Darius: Of what relevance is this to me? Leave me in peace.

Gaia: As you wish.

Darius returns to his slumber. [Fade to black]

Part II

The Taoists relate that at the great beginning of the No-Beginning, Spirit and Matter met in mortal combat. At last the Yellow Emperor, the Sun of Heaven, triumphed over Shuhyung, the demon of darkness and earth. The Titan, in his death agony, struck his head against the solar vault and shivered the blue dome of jade into fragments. The stars lost their nests, the moon wandered aimlessly among the wild chasms of the night .everyone has to build anew his sky of hope and peace.

The pale orange sun rises over the sandy spit and Darius is roused from his temporary oblivion.

A fire is going on around him, they are cooking dead seagull. Two men, wearing tweed and ties, but no pants  

Darius [clutching at the sand]: The grains are bound together with frost, it is another cold day.

Darius walks along the sands in the direction of the estuary. His sodden loin cloth blows in the nipping breeze. (he has a beard)

Darius looks displeased, but continues to walk for some time. [2 mins or so]

(no longer has beard)

A loaf of bread is found partially buried under the sand by Darius.

He eats it, urinates, eats some more.

Darius spends many minutes collecting dry bracken and logs to start a fire with and after a pile of deadwood has been formed he removes a flint from his loincloth. (the barbeque-ing men are now sitting reading newspapers, They are now dressed as monks)

He strikes his flint against the rock seven times. But few sparks are produced and he cuts his forefinger. (he has an orgasm of anger, his loin cloth is ever more soiled with his own excrements) (soundtrack: more vivaldi)

Part III

Hastings: Say my name (for 30 seconds, zoomed in on his mouth)

Darius continues his path down the beach towards the estuary.

He happens across two monks in the embrace of a passionate clothed sodomy. The one being penetrated is weeping and chanting da pacem dominum

Darius sees the monks and quotes Ecclesiastes:

 2 “Meaningless! Meaningless!”
“Utterly meaningless!
   Everything is meaningless.”

 3 What do people gain from all their labors
   at which they toil under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go,
   but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises and the sun sets,
   and hurries back to where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
   and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
   ever returning on its course.
7 All streams flow into the sea,
   yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
   there they return again.
8 All things are wearisome,
   more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
   nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again,
   what has been done will be done again;
   there is nothing new under the sun.

Monk fondles his orbs of virility upon the beach,

Tongue licks nipple

Darius is chased along the beach by the two men clothed in tweed, they brutally beat him with golf clubs and he screams in prolonged agony (soundtrack Zadok the Priest)

            when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup. Mankind has done worse.

Sand blows over a ‘really nice’ tea cup for a long time