ALEX SENIOR, Australia

Alex Senior is currently enrolled in a Masters in Creative Writing at The University of Melbourne. His thesis titled "The Fall of Foetus da Padua" will portray the demise of a promising 15th century Italian medical student. Alex also holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts (Hons.) from the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology. Reviews of Alex's visual artworks have appeared in Art/Text, Aug-Oct 1999, p. 99; The Adelaide Review, July 1996, p. 23; The Adelaide Review, March 1995, p. 26; The Herald Sun, 12th October 1994, p. 77; and The Advertiser, 13th November 1991, p. 15.

Katherine: a monologue
by Alex Senior

Imagine a lean short man in his late 50s standing on a stage. He is slightly hunched and wearing spectacles. A hat stand with a scarf, a hat and a coat is positioned down the back of the stage on the right. Also imagine on the back wall a large clock set at one minute to twelve. The second hand moves around the clock face but the minute and hour hands are static. Below the clock is a calendar. In the centre of the stage is a table strewn with papers, a desk lamp, which is switched on, and a chair.

Addressing the audience. I am an actor. Pause. As you probably all know, I am an actor. Pause. You may well think...old Joseph; he's been in movies and plays-he probably feels quite at home addressing a large group of people. Well tonight, I must say, I'm feeling a little bit nervous. Thinks. Rubs his chin. Starts again. I'm probably quite a familiar face to a lot of you. You may have seen me in a play or two; for instance, just last year I played the first clown in Hamlet. Strikes a pose. "A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was, sir, Yorick's skull, the King's jester." Thinks. It is probably more likely that you have seen me on television. Let's see. Pause. Strokes his chin. I was in the series "Sunset Beach." Thinks. A few years ago I was in "Sheds and Gardens." Looks down. Or was it "Gardens and Sheds." Shuffles about distractedly, mumbling the words sheds and gardens. Swings around to face the audience. Gestures. I am an actor. In my profession one is usually composed when addressing an audience. Tonight however, I'm sure you will excuse me for being a bit nervous. After all it's not every night a man stands before an audience of family and friends to wish his daughter all the best on her honeymoon. Especially when it is his only child. Thinks. Yes...yes...yes...that's it! Mumbles while moving to the writing desk. Begins to write. Softly. After all it's not every night a man stands before an audience. Voice trails off. Moves back to face the audience with the writing paper still in his hand. It's a night of mixed feelings for me. Looks at his papers. Pause. On the one hand I am extremely happy for Katherine. She has been waiting for this day…let's see…it must be. Counts on his fingers. Close to 35 years. Smiling. Distant. On the other hand, I'm losing my only child. Reflective. Long pause. The wedding speech! Katherine is getting married tomorrow. Confused. Tomorrow and… it is tomorrow-isn't it? Pause. Turns to look at the calendar. Yes tomorrow! It's the first day of spring. Smiles. That's when Katie wanted to get married. Pause. That is when she's getting married...Yes, it's tomorrow. Distant. Oh Emma, if only you could be around to see me give her away to um...to…Ron...no…it's not Ron. Now, that's odd, I'm usually so good with names. Snaps his fingers. It's Rob…Bob…Robert…Rob…Bob…Speeds up. Bobby. Bobby. Bob, Yes it's Bob. They use to play together when they were children. When my Katie was a child. Smiles. She loved to pretend that she was married. I remember her saying, "I'm going to pick my husband by his last name. He must have a beautiful last name-one that goes well with Katherine; and we will be married on the first day of spring." She would pull a white sheet from the linen-press and drape it over her head and shoulders and we would go arm in arm from the kitchen into the middle of the lounge with Emma pretending to be the minister, laughing and humming the wedding march. Pretends to walk arm in arm with his daughter. I loved that house. Smiles. Remembering. 3 King St. Smile fades. Or was it 3 Duke St? Shuffles slowly back to his desk and reads through his speech then starts to write. Mumbles. After all, it's not every night a man stands. Pause. A man stands. Stands and looks over to the hat stand. Softly. Emma. Leaves all the notes on the desk and shuffles over to the hat stand. Caresses the scarf. Oh, Emma. Pause. Emma, if only you were here now. Steps back. You won't be seeing her on her wedding day…will you? Distant. Mumbles. Or will you, after all? Pause. Smiles. Brighter tone. After all…it's not every night a father stands before an audience of family and friends to wish his daughter all the best on her honeymoon.

Shuffles over to face the audience. Smiles. Addressing the audience. It was a miracle that I was there for Kate's birth. I was doing a show down at the Royal Court Theatre on Jetty Road…or was it Bridges Road. It was "A Death in Vienna" by Mann. Now, that doesn't sound right. Pause. Confused. Softer. Was it by Nagg or by Mann? Or by Hamm?...Hamm. Pause. Mann. That's it! Snaps his fingers. It was Jetty Road. It was adapted for the stage. Full-sized gondolas and beach sand everywhere. It was a funny set of events. Anton, the actor playing the role of Gustav, comes up to me minutes before the show was to go on to tell me that the boy playing Tarzo had fallen sick. Being fairly lean and short and looking young for my age, I was asked to play the boy. I was just about to step onto the stage for the final beach scene when I get this call. Emma was just about to give birth. I had caught the train to the theatre and the only person who had driven was Anton who had come by motorbike! Chuckles. There we were speeding through the city; Anton in a tuxedo with lipstick and mascara, and me a thirty-two-year-old man in a red-and-white striped full-length swimsuit! Gently laughs.

I don't think the world can be changed. Not much anyway. Not when you get to my age. All that idealism-that's the place of youth. Pause. I remember when I met my dear wife Emma. I didn't think there would be a time when we would not be together. I should have gone with her. But who would have looked after Katie? Pause. Worried. Who's looking after Katie? Pause. Brighter. Emma made me laugh. And it was always at inappropriate moments. She was a frustrated actor. Always performing-putting on accents-that sort of thing. Chuckles. I was a guest speaker at a conference many years ago. Emma stood up in the audience and in a perfect Louisianan accent asked me, "Whad ya think aboud Tennessee Williams' misogynistic preocupashun with the femme fatale?" She sat down and listened as I commented on his play "Sweet Bird of Youth" with a stupid grin on my face. Or the time when we were driving down to Seaport. Fondly. We use to go down there on holidays. Katie would always want to sit in the front passenger seat. On this occasion I sat in the back and let Emma drive. It was cold and wet…I think It was August…or June…and the heater wasn't working in the little Mini. Pause. Was it a Mini? No, I think it was a Volkswagen. Yes, it was a Volkswagen. I remember because the officer explained, with a lot of hoo-ha I might add, how Volkswagens have their engine in the back of the car. He kept telling me how, in most cars, the engine in the front offers at least some form of protection. Pause. Where was I? Oh yes. Emma was singing a nursery rhyme for Katie; she was using her Indian accent. Smiles. I remember Katie giggling. That was her favourite accent. She always copied Emma with a few little head wobbles. We all started to laugh. The rhyme always finished with three loud hand claps. Emma took her hands off the steering wheel and…Gives three loud claps.

I remember saying to the officer. Pause. No…wait. Voice rising. That's right, there was a lot of noise-I had to shout! I was pointing to something in the front seat and yelling "that same skull sir, was, sir, Yorick's skull." The officer got quite angry with me. I guess he didn't like Hamlet…or clowns. Looks at his left hand, which is in the position of cradling a head. His right hand points to this imaginary object. Quietly. "Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft." Looks up. Ah, Seaport. Confused. Now where was I? Moves back to his desk and rustles through his notes. Oh yes! The wedding speech! Sits. Reads from his notes. Stands. Shuffles to the front of the stage with a handful of notes. Looks down at the notes. Looks up, smiles and addresses the audience.

I am an actor. Lights out.