SORRY FI DISTURB YUH: THEATRICAL EXCERPT
In compliment to this weeks’ GOOD WICKEDRY film screening of short spoken word film SORRY FI DISTURB YUH (showing from 11th to 18th November 2020), we’re also publishing an excerpt from poet Russeni Fisher’s upcoming play of the same name. The play tells the tale of two friends about to embark on a birthday night out in London, which one having recently lost his grandfather. As the night unfolds, grief, crime, depression and conflicted masculinity spill into what should have been your average night out, and the lengths & limits of their brotherhood is tested.
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The drinks have truly settled in the system, best friend leaves like the music faded. Waved goodbye, can’t wait for us to do it again! Go on a bender until we is numb in the head and wobble at the knees. Started with pre drinks, cab drinking and then we’re in the club yet again drowning our throats.
I be standing in the same spot with my right-hand man of the manor. There isn’t a secret he’s not entitled to apart from this one. Granddad, I just can’t seem to tell him, I haven’t been the same since you passed over to have your seat with the Lord. I can hear you say ‘Grandson yuh cannot be afraid fi tell people how yuh feel’. I’m hearing, just not ready to listen. Please let the speakers blast! I’ll say it out loud, but only myself will hear.
I haven’t been nowhere the same since your funeral.
I’ve been laying in bed coffin still, I come alive with bright lights, rum and dance floor. Can’t seem to process my emotions, what man can? But you’ll find a smile hanging from my cheeks jumping from all the forced banter. Knock, knock all you want but I can’t open up. I know, ‘A problem shared is a problem solved’ - sorry but I’m not trying to disturb anyone, feelings stay between me myself and I.
Granddad there were no warning signs; there should have been warning signs. Where was the fucking warning sign?
I keep pinching myself cause I must be on that fourth stage of grief: depression. Feels like I started here cause I haven’t seen the first three. Reality isn’t where I want to be, take me back before the all black attire. Feel like I should have visited you more, said thank you over and over again but I can’t. I’m losing your memories in a haze of hangovers and let’s do it again.
Sometimes I think okay, maybe if I sit down with an uncle and a few of your nephews, we can write out your legacy and stories. But for some reason details aren’t so clear anymore. All I see are dominos are flying, aunties are crying, and before you know it, nine night is ruined.
Everyone is mourning, no one’s talking and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I just want to be somewhere moving my feet as if I’m floating, don't let me touch the atmosphere. Let the music drown out what’s going on up here.
Like I said I’m sorry but I don’t want to disturb anyone with what’s really going on. I'm feeling drained from from your death my emotions and tonight. I’m over this life! I’ll sit on the edge, deep breath, rest up just to do it again.
By Russeni Fisher
