mynography

myno @ 2007-05-14T21:34:00

2007-05-14T13:35:07Z

i just bought a ticket to see bjork

myno @ 2006-09-17T01:38:00

2006-09-16T17:46:34Z

5mins into being very excited about steven shainberg's 'FUR: An imaginary portrait of Diane ArbUs', i've already come to the conclusion that it will infact be terrible and that nicole kidman will destroy one of my heroes. It was a good 5 minutes though, and carter burwell's score alone might be worth the price of admission.

Stanley Kubrick's The Aristocrats

2006-09-10T16:08:58Z

Just watched the documentary 'the aristocrats' by (can't remember), which details the lore and inside-fame of the joke 'the aristocrats'. i wasn't aware of the joke 3 hours ago, but now have heard it many times, and after the doco you feel like a bit of an expert on it, so I started thinking.

i start thinking why hadn't i heard about this joke, so popular amongst my comedic peers, i mean heroes? maybe i had heard it but it didn't register....unlikely until i suddenly recall stanley kubrick's 'the shining'. Doesn't that film play a little like the joke? SPOILER ALERT! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA) Man walks into an office says yeah i'll be the caretaker of your hotel, i'll bring my family, it'll be a hoot etc., then comes an hour and a half of family abuse/taboo acts (including axed twins, chasing your wife and son with an axe, a lobby of rushing blood, sexual activity with a corpse, a man in a bear suit giving head to a man in a tux, etc.) And then comes the punchline: the last shot of the film zooming into the framed picture of jack torrence et al 1917 as true aristocrats! can't recall prcisely but also i think grady mentions to jack in the mens room something about "the best people"... maybe i'm tripping.

maybe i'm tripping indeed!

thinking is not a cure for a hang over

2006-08-26T04:40:08Z

apparently i was being too hard on myself...

myno @ 2006-08-24T19:54:00

2006-08-24T12:02:01Z

i just set up broadband at my grandparents house and tried to teach them how to video chat. It was the most ridiculous 3 hours of my life. My grandma refused to use the mouse.

looking stupid on the radio

2006-08-15T07:53:25Z

IT IS POSSIBLE

played a song live on rtr today with my keyboard plugged directly into their sound desk... but unfortunately they had a shortage of headphones so i literally couldn't hear anything i was playing, that is to say i played piano for about 4mins live on air in complete silence. people have told me it sounded good but i will never know if they're lying. what a fucking trip!

myno @ 2006-07-31T16:33:00

2006-07-31T08:41:55Z

just saw the chumscrubber... can't quite make out if i like it or not.

thats unfair, i did like it... but was it good? it certainly was an ambitious debut for Arie someone. but unfortunately it will and can only be compared to donnie darko, by me and others, forever... anyone want to start an argument on which one is better?

coincidently after watching donnie darko my opinion on how good that was changed at least 4-5 times....

myno @ 2006-07-21T00:03:00

2006-07-20T16:07:28Z

my parents are moving even further away from me... to holland! this is pretty happy news for me cause i love dutch people. also people from holland. and the netherlands as well. can't wait for an ivitation to visit ;) mwhaw haw ha ha

did philip k dick dream of REAL sheep? hmmm...

2006-07-14T06:53:52Z

nearly everyone who reads this will be a friend i hardly see or know. that is not a bad thing so don't delete me.

i've really got into the Mars Volta's new album, Amputechture, and also Thom Yorke's The Eraser - it is amazing how no matter how far out I look or how open i am to new musics, it is old musical friends that beat me to my own pseudo-evolution - does shared consciousness expand or diminish in the wireless digital age? are you stuck with your old loves for life, or do you constantly destroy them and then re-love the altered?

re-re-love the altered. obviously.

i read enough of 'the man in the high castle' last night to start discussing the awesomeness of philip k dick if anyone wants to chase THAT dragon with me.

and have played enough GUITAR HERO to rip anyone to shreds if they they think they can shred as rippingly as me. you will never win... it will still be fun though.

LOVE BRETT

smells like carrots

2006-06-01T12:42:19Z

just finished watching the 2nd season of lost. may i say that in a battle between OMG and WTF, it is a tied race.

utah jazz. hold the utah

2006-04-12T17:03:57Z

some musical stuff i bought this week which brings great joy:

a 21" zildjian constantinople big band ride
a yamaha 5.5 x 14 steel snare drum
a digidesign mbox2 w/protools
and some drum brushes

somethings i'm not buying at the moment: fucking assignments. arrgh. i'll teach you to ruin my mid semester break.

and so what if i'm not a drummer.

myno @ 2006-03-22T10:18:00

2006-03-22T02:21:15Z

finallys:

now a mac user

wireless broadband has finally been configured

bought new midi controller

am totally about ultimate frizbee

within a year of finishing that fucking degree

writing in this journal

a lost addict (the break in programming for that shit miniseries made me so mad!) >:|

writing great music again

am totally about the ps2 game amplitude

hey everybody where the fuck have you been?
if you're bizaarly reading this for some reason and you're not my friend BECOME ONE!

myno @ 2005-04-08T10:49:00

2005-04-08T02:52:27Z

yo yiggas

clare's birthday song is now an official pop sensation to download at www.mp3.com.au/myno

yeehaah

myno @ 2005-03-08T14:52:00

2005-03-08T06:53:13Z

$100 to fix my amp. better than $400 i guess. wait a minute this isn't netbank!

holy crap

2005-03-03T07:37:35Z

i just put a new guitar on laybuy with no money to afford it. what the hell?
what an impulse buy! well if i do pay it off i hope my tele doesn't get jealous of new whammy action.

guerilla gorilla

2004-10-12T04:45:32Z

free improv thing was fun last nite.
was happy to hear someone liked my non-guitar playing, which i changed to anti-guitar playing because i am a git.

What is this? Like update 7? haha

2004-09-28T15:38:15Z

i don't say much.
but when i do its to the point.
and i salute myself for it.

finally finished that fucking theremin... and now that dog next door is having trouble digesting food, it seems. hehe.

e-bay is so much more fun then live journal... i am friends with the products not you people. on here i can only shop for people's emotions. well fuck your emoticons and icons and mp3's... i wanna see the world!!!!! through windows upon e-bays where little boats of items sail. i am the siren, my call is sweet!

my icon betrays me.

2004-06-01T18:12:31Z

of the past 24 hours all but 5mins (thanks n.x) have been shit. time to reflect.

i have what the Americans would call an African Flu - it is a lot more aggressive and more likely to end up killing me. and this only adds to a group of bodily "oww's" that have made me want to: saw off my nose, turn my back into a punching bag, stab nails into my foot, pour sugar into my eyes, drown my genitals in ice, and take out my brain. if anyone is keen to do these things to me i'll be happy, at least for tonight. tonight fucking tonight.

at work i had so many sneezing fits it pushed back what i actually had to do for an hour. i admit to having snot dribble all over my face whilst looking face to face with customers - a sneeze now would surely cover those fat, balding, hikrednek bolwer types with the tiny deadly Africans habitatooting my nose. work was also a strain on my back which has been fucked all week - i have what the English would call a French back... damn french!

then i had the graveyard editting suite booked from 11pm onwards... i spent over two hours there and achieved nothing, except spreding my nigerian aids like cold to my film group members. sorry rabbits! i have what eurovision would call a super group - friendly yet somewhat doomed to be nothings... like me. did i mention we achieved nothing... what a fucking waste of time... i bet you're staring to know how i feel.

a gig tomorrow/to night may ease this fucking headache of mine. but science teaches me that it will probably do the opposite.

at least i'm not dead right? did i mention i wanted to drown my genitals in ice! ice isn't even a fluid!

i want less of the above and more love. as always.

nando rubber chicken gloves

2004-04-13T09:21:18Z

listening to clare's piano practice from the other room.
makkin me feel good.

dye, mushrooms and boozes are coming my way.....

how'd you get your teeth so pearly?

2004-03-19T06:53:03Z

about to make one of them ol'time classic casino movies. it will be four minutes long. so i've had to cut out the sex, violence, drugs, power struggles, etc. and just keep in a roulette table and the sweet blissful poetry of losing money. anyone interested in being an extra in the film (cowboys, midgets, anal debutant???) let me know cause i need heaven.

in other news my parents come to australia to visit me for two weeks, hoping to catch a terrorist attack or two i imagine... whilst in season. for the small price of irrational and heartbreaking judgement towards yours truly i may get a gift and some food in my belly from them being around. i also get to see my little sister who i haven't seen in months and months. apparently she has boobs now! can you believe it? as long as she's not acting like i did at her age i may not have to wring her neck.

jonny greenwood's soundtrack to the instrumental/montage film 'bodysong' is incredible. hear some of it at www.bodysong.com.

i should also add: hi everyone!

A Script Noir

2004-01-21T15:42:33Z

A WORK OF FICTION

FADE IN:

1. INT THE OFFICE NIGHT

In a dark office GENE sits in a torn leather chair, illuminated by the sickly glow of a green desk lamp. He stares blankly past his desk, upon which lies a tumbler next to a half drunken whiskey bottle and a telephone that sits under the lamp. His stare is directed into darkness.
A vehicle drives past the office window, temporarily filling the office with light and noise. Gene squints and cringes in reaction to this. This brief light reveals that Gene has been staring in the direction of an old 1960’s advertisement for a television, modelled by a beautiful brunette woman who reeks of old world glamour, posted on the otherwise empty wall.
The room returns to its sickly green glow.

GENE (V.O.)
My name is Gene Foot. I’m a TV repair man. You know the deal. I dreamt a dream, I worked hard, and voila! Here I am, completely unsatisfied like every other schmuck on the bricks.

Gene rubs his eyes and massages his head. He fills his whiskey tumbler and drinks from it excessively.

Gene talks in the direction of the poster.

GENE
Look at me. Talking to myself in my own goddamn head! Why can’t I just shut up? Get some rest…

The telephone begins ringing. Gene turns and faces the phone in disbelief. Gene shakes his head to sober up, and reaches for the handset.

FADE TO BLACK:

GENE
Hello?

FADE IN:

2. INT THE APARTMENT NIGHT

Only a woman’s lips and a telephone’s microphone end can be seen.

VERNA (WHISPERING)
Is this Gene Foot?

GENE (O.S. FILTERED)
Ah, yes ma’am it is.

VERNA (WHIMPERING)
Mr. Foot I need your help.

3. INT THE OFFICE NIGHT

Gene is stretched out in his chair, collected, putting on an impression of professionalism.

GENE
Well I’m sure I can…

VERNA (O.S. FILTERED)
It’s an emergency, please.

GENE
Hey, don’t worry… I can fix anything…

VERNA
Please Gene…

GENE
I’ll come as soon as possible. What’s the address?

Gene grabs a pen and paper and gets ready to write the address down.

VERNA
Winter Hill, on North Holland, room 9.

Gene scribbles this down quickly.

GENE
Ok. I’ll be there soon.

VERNA
Thankyou.

GENE
Oh! What’s your name?

The line disconnects. Gene hangs up the receiver. He looks at his watch, witch reads quarter past three.

GENE (MUMBLING)
Three fifteen! Fucken Moses I need to get a goddamned car.

Gene gets up and puts on his overcoat. He grabs his keys from the desk and then exits the office.

FADE TO BLACK:

GENE (V.O.)
Maybe someone is listening. If you are, why don’t you talk back? Are you trying to talk back?

FADE IN:

4. EXT THE STREET NIGHT

It has been a wet night, and it is impossible for Gene to avoid all the puddles whilst he walks down a dark and remote street. The street is imprisoned by closed pawn shops and restaurants, and dirty apartment blocks.

Gene looks from side to side, trying to find any indication of where he is and where he should go, continually looking back at the noted address in his hand.

GENE (V.O.)
This would be a lot more tolerable if she had a face. You know? If she were pretty, smart, and tall, these puddles wouldn’t be so wet. But of course she’s beautiful. She will be my one true love.

Gene finds ‘Winter Hill’ written on an arc above a building door. Gene opens the door and walks in. The door swings back shut.

CUT TO:

5. INT OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT NIGHT

Gene is in a dirty hall outside room 9. The hall is badly lit; Gene must squint to look at his watch, which still reads quarter past three.

GENE
The damned thing’s broken!

Gene knocks on the door and waits.

The door opens slightly, still chain-locked. A women’s head peers through the gap.

VERNA
Are you Mr. Foot?

GENE
In person.

VERNA
You’re late. What took you so long?

GENE
Yeah sorry, I think my watch is broken.

VERNA (SMIRKING)
Fix anything, huh?

GENE (CRAFTILY)
When I’ve got the time…

VERNA
You better come and see this…

GENE
Sure. Are you going to let me in?

The door closes; VERNA unlocks the chain and then re-opens the door fully. Verna can now be properly seen: She is a beautiful brunette woman who resembles a classic film noir ‘femme fatale’. She does not look scared or worried, as her phone conversation would have suggested, rather she looks concerned and serious.

VERNA
Well come on in then.

Gene has to walk past her to enter. Verna closes the door after him and locks it.

CUT TO:

6. INT THE APARTMENT NIGHT

The apartment is filthy and eroding; in complete contrast to Verna’s beauty. It is filled with broken furniture and unorganised junk. The sound of the waterworks is present and uncomfortable.

GENE (V.O.)
Something stinks. There was no way such a beautiful flower could have grown in this muddy soil. The stench thickens around me. Oh how I want to smell the rose.

Gene pulls out a small note book and a pen.

GENE
Okay. Now I have a few questions. I was supposed to ask them over the phone but in this case… well… um, okay. Name please.

VERNA (UNINTERESTED)
Just Verna.

Gene writes ‘just Verna’ down in his notes.

GENE
Ok… Manufacturer and model of your television?

A beat.

GENE
You don’t seem to be… Well what I mean to say is… It’s just that on the phone you sounded… upset… you don’t seem to…

VERNA
I can see you’re a strait shooter Gene. So I’m going to shoot strait… I haven’t got a television.

GENE
Oh. Well. You can forget about that last question then.
Gene returns the notebook to his chest pocket.

VERNA
I called you because…

GENE
Yes…

Verna moves up very close to Gene and puts her lips to his ears.

VERNA (WHISPERING)
You are in serious danger. Both of our lives are…

GENE (SHOCKED)
What?! What do you mean?

VERNA
He knows who you are, Gene. I think he’s after you.

GENE
Well it can’t be serious. I’m only a damn TV repair man.

VERNA
You are not who you think you are.

Verna points to a bedroom door.

VERNA
Go inside, there’s something you should see.

The hinges squeal as Gene opens the door. He steps inside the bedroom.

CUT TO:

7. INT THE BEDROOM NIGHT

In the bedroom is a desk with a typewriter and lots of paper.
Gene peers over the desk to find a script beside the typewriter. The script is entitled “A Work of Fiction”. Gene’s eyes light up with horror when he finds his name on a page as a character. He picks up this page.

GENE (READING)
My name is Gene Foot. I’m a TV repair man. You know the deal. I dreamt a dream, I worked hard, and voila! Here I am…

Gene drops the page to the floor. He then looks for more pages with his name on.

GENE (FRIGHTENED)
Holy shit! How does anyone know all this… what the fuck is going on?
Gene walks backwards away from the desk, out of the room and slams the door shut.

CUT TO:

8. INT THE APARTMENT NIGHT

Gene approaches Verna, who is sitting on her couch crying, with her head in her hands. Gene kneels down in front of her.

GENE
Verna. This isn’t your apartment is it? Whose bedroom is that?

VERNA (IN TEARS)
I don’t know his name.

GENE
Why are we in danger? Why did you call me?

VERNA
They’re trying to tear us apart!

GENE
We only met minutes ago.

VERNA
No. I’m not who you think I am.

GENE (CONFUSED)
What the fuck does that mean?

VERNA
You said I was a rose. You said I was perfect.

Gene breaks down, mentally fatigued, falling to his knees once more. Verna has stopped crying and is composing herself.

GENE
I did. But… I didn’t say it out loud.

Verna brings her head down to Gene’s, her mouth to his ear.

VERNA (WHISPERING VISCIOUSLY)
You said you wanted to smell the rose…

FADE TO BLACK:

GENE (V.O.)
And with those words the pong lifted. Rose petals filled the room and my mind. Verna embraced me with a comfort that clouded all the uncertainty of the night. I was having sex with a beautiful woman… And I am still talking to myself… Why can't i shut the fuck up!

FADE IN:

9. INT THE APARTMENT DAY

In the light of day the apartment looks more hospitable. The rooms have been cleaned and organized. Gene has been sleeping on the couch, with a blanket on top of him. He wakes and sits up; it takes a moment for him to remember where he is.

GENE
Verna?

Gene hears noises from the bedroom.

GENE
Verna? Is that you?

The bedroom door opens; a man wearing a smoking jacket and slippers walks out. He is drinking from a cup of coffee. This man is THE WRITER.

THE WRITER
Ah. You’re awake. Good. Would you like a drink? Coffee?

GENE
No thanks… Sorry, who are you exactly?

THE WRITER
Well its strange. See, I’m… well I’m a writer.

GENE
You’re the one writing about me – you know what I’ve been thinking…

THE WRITER
Yeah, exactly right. Wow, I didn’t think you’d understand the situation so quickly…

GENE
No, I don’t understand. Where’s Verna?
The writer places his cup of coffee on a table.

THE WRITER
Gene, let me show you something.

The writer goes into the bedroom and returns with a poster in his hands; it’s an old 1960’s advertisement for a television, modelled by a beautiful brunette woman.

THE WRITER
Recognize this?

GENE (BAFFLED)
I have that same poster block mounted in my office.

THE WRITER
Yeah I know. I put it there. Recognize the girl?

GENE
Verna? But how…?

THE WRITER
Truth is Verna doesn’t exist. Well the model probably exists but she’s probably dead, or very old.

GENE
Oh my god. This is a dream. I’m dreaming.

THE WRITER
I guess you’re right. It is sort of a dream story isn’t it? I really wanted to make a film noir. But I got carried away… it wasn’t really working.

GENE
Who are you? What do you want from me?

The writer begins pacing up and down the room.

THE WRITER
And now I’ve made it worse by writing myself into my own damn story. This is bad form on my part.
Gene reoccupies his character’s mannerisms of massaging his head and talking to himself.

GENE (TO HIMSELF)
I’m in hell. No worse, I’m in a room with a psychofucken communist Jew.

THE WRITER
I should have made you a detective. All the good film noirs have a detective. What was I thinking – a TV repair man. Ha.

GENE (TO THE WRITER)
Hold it Hebrew. Try and get this through your skull cap. I’ve never seen you before in my life!

THE WRITER
Ha. Gene listen. Verna doesn’t exist, you are not a real TV repair man. This is my apartment. ‘Winter Hill’ doesn’t exist. This is all an invention of my rather unsuccessful screenplay.

GENE
You’re out of your mind!

THE WRITER
Oh, and in the real world there are no voice overs. Noticed how I haven’t made Mr. Chatterbox interrupt our morning with his pointless drivel?

GENE
Voice over? Mr. What the fuck?

THE WRITER
I can’t believe I used a voice over. How clichéd is that? Never again. I guess I just wanted to draw the audience’s attention to the idea of identity. True identity. I wanted to make a real character. Really real…

GENE
I am real! I am fuh king real. You didn’t make me!

THE WRITER (PROUDLY)
…So real he could never be satisfied with his own life – knowing deep down inside he is actually a work of fiction.

A beat.

THE WRITER (RAPIDLY)
But it’s a bad pitch. No one would ever pick the story up. The idea does have some psychological merits, but no substance. There’s no conflict. You’re too damn boring. I’m sorry to tell you this Gene But you are a failed creation of a weak and pathetic, egocentric writer.

GENE
Look man. I had a long fucking night. I need a drink… So if you don’t mind I’m gonna leave you alone with your theories of psychological merit, and scatter.

THE WRITER
No, I’m afraid that would be an anticlimax, Gene.

The writer walks over to a nearby book shelf and from it takes the pistol resting on the top shelf.

THE WRITER
I can’t let you linger, Gene. I need to destroy you. I need to move on. I need to write a new script. I have to put you behind me.

The writer raises the pistol towards Gene’s head.

GENE
You’re fucking insane. What the fuck are you doing? Put it down. Jesus. Please.

THE WRITER
I’m sorry Gene…

Gene jumps from the couch and struggles with the writer for the gun. They knock over furniture in the process. Gene locks The Writer’s neck in his arms.

THE WRITER
What the fuck are you doing?

Gene snatches the gun away, releases the Writer from his lock, pointing the gun to the writer’s head.

THE WRITER
You can’t kill me Gene…

Gene pulls the trigger. The blast sounds. Both men fall to the ground dead.

FADE TO BLACK:

FINIS.

possibly maybe

2004-01-13T09:11:18Z

One day to go to see if I have outbid all others for two The Mars Volta tickets on e-bay (for their sold out Melbourne show at the Hi-fi bar on the 28th Jan). This is the haunt of roulette dares.

If successful this will mean Michael and I will travel to Melbourne to meet up with our good friend THE WORM, who works as the production manager at the “hi-fi bar” and who has been laughing at us via e-mail at the prospect of him spending the whole day with TMV. I hope the worm needs help making them comfortable because he’s going to get it regardless. Well, that is if we get the tickets. And the flights booked. O god. This is scary………..

blah blah. in that order.

2004-01-10T06:51:41Z

FICTIONARY

SYNOPSIS:
Eight year old DEVIKA is bright for her age and has a very powerful imagination. Bored of the ritual task of memorising ‘spelling words’, for school, Devika’s imagination begins to challenge reality. Her mysterious friend, CHATBOT, inspires Devika to invent cruel stories about her mother, MRS. TAN. When Mrs. Tan finally offers Devika some motherly attention, Devika is able to control her wild creativity.

CHARACTERS:

DEVIKA
Innocent looking eight year old girl, too bright for her age. Despite her vivid imagination, Devika is usually quiet, and not easily stirred. Devika is often ignored by her mother.

MRS. TAN
Devika’s mother, aged 40 - 45. Preoccupied attempting ‘cryptic crossword’ puzzles and maintaining the warmth of the lounge room sofa.

CHATBOT
Devika’s imaginary friend. Appears only as text on the computer screen. Chatbot, through conversation, reveals Devika’s darker thoughts.

MISS SWINTON
Devika’s school teacher. Appears only as a voice on the telephone. Miss Swinton is concerned about Devika’s behaviour at school.

LOCATIONS:

THE STUDY
The study is furnished with a tidy bookshelf, and a large desk with a chair. On the desk is a modern personal computer and Devika’s school folders, papers, pens and pencils. This is a comfortable place to work, but probably an extremely boring environment for an eight year old girl.

THE LOUNGE ROOM
This is the most furnished and comfortable room in the Tan Household. It is decorated with statues and ornaments that suggest its owner has travelled around the world, yet this could be hard to believe given Mrs. Tan rarely leaves the sofa. In front of the sofa lies a coffee table covered with half finished ‘cryptic crossword’ puzzles and a portable telephone.

FADE IN:
1. INT THE STUDY DAY
DEVIKA is in the study doing her homework. In front of her, on the desk, lays her school journal and a sheet of paper that reads: “Monday’s Spelling Words
see
white
your
you’re
Spain
does”.
She stares at this page, then covers the word ‘does’. Devika memorises this word, which is no challenge for her.

DEVIKA (TEDIOUSLY)
Does. D. O. E. S. Does.

Devika writes ‘does’ to her own list of these words in her journal. Devika thinks up a sentence to show she understands the word.

DEVIKA
Devika does not like spelling.

She adds “Devika does not like spelling” to her journal, underlining ‘does’.

DEVIKA
There! I’m finally…

Devika’s eyes widen, she seems confused. Another glance at the list of ‘spelling words’ shows that the sheet of paper has changed. Now there is another word below ‘does’, which is the lengthy word ‘fictitious’.

DEVIKA
Huh? Fi… Fict… Fichish… Fic- titious… fictitious.

Devika looks around the room, as if expecting to find someone playing a trick on her. She spots the bookshelf, gets up from her chair and grabs an old dictionary, which happens to be next to a book entitled: “TIPS FOR ANSWERING CRYPTIC CROSSWORD PUZZLES”, and returns to her seat.

Devika quickly flips through the aged, brown pages unsuccessfully finding her needed chapter.

DEVIKA (SINGING)
A b c d e f.

She looks through the dictionary again, this time more slowly. Devika gets to the end of the ‘E’ chapter, only to find that the ‘G’ chapter has begun. The ‘F’ chapter is mysteriously missing.

Devika swings the chair around, facing the door.

DEVIKA (LOUDLY)
Mum?

A beat.

DEVIKA (LOUDER)
Mum?

2. INT THE LOUNGE ROOM DAY
MRS. TAN is lying on the couch, holding her latest ‘cryptic crossword’ puzzle and a pen. She is concentrating very hard on a specific clue, which reads: “articulate type of fairy, perhaps? (10)”.

Mrs. Tan becomes irritated, yet further determined to find an answer. Devika enters the room, interrupting her train of thought.

DEVIKA
Mum?

Mrs. Tan can not take her eyes off the clue.

MRS. TAN
Damn. Nearly had it. Oh. Um, sorry sweetie, Mummy’s doing something.

DEVIKA
It’s about homework.

MRS. TAN
I’d suppose you’d know all about fairies, huh?

DEVIKA
Umm… Mum, what does fictitious mean?

MRS. TAN
No sweetie, Mummy can’t tell you that. That’s what the dictionary’s for. You have to learn how to use a dictionary or you’ll never… um…

DEVIKA
But I think the dictionary is… broken.

MRS. TAN
Don’t be ignorant Devika!

Devika grimaces and walks out of the lounge room unnoticed.

3. INT THE STUDY DAY
Devika enters the study, upset and confused. Her confusion quickly turns to surprise as she notices the computer on the desk is now on, and what’s more displays the text: “Hello. What is your name?”

With little hesitation Devika sits down, facing the computer monitor.

DEVIKA
My name is Devika. Don’t you remember?

CHATBOT replies via text on the screen: “Checking memory. Hello Devika.”

DEVIKA
Hello Chatbot. Do you have to do spelling words?
Chatbot replies: “I always have to do spelling.”

DEVIKA
Do you know what fictitious means?

Chatbot replies: “Checking memory.”

Pause.

Chatbot adds: “Checking memory. What is your fondest memory?”

DEVIKA
My mother.

Chatbot replies: “What happened to your mother?”

DEVIKA
She died a long time ago.

Devika almost begins to cry.

DEVIKA
I miss her very much.

A weepy pause. Chatbot again posts: “Hello. What is your name?”

After reading Chatbot’s last post Devika erupts with anger, throwing paper and books around the study.

CUT TO:

4. INT THE LOUNGE ROOM DAY
Mrs. Tan has not moved from the sofa, nor moved her eyes away from her crossword puzzle. The portable telephone on the coffee table begins to ring, breaking Mrs. Tan’s concentration yet again. After three rings Mrs. Tan finally surrenders her crossword puzzle to the table and picks up the phone, but does not move from the sofa.

MRS. TAN
Hello?

MISS SWINTON’S voice is filtered.

MISS SWINTON
Hello. This is Miss Swinton, from North Holland Primary. Am I speaking to a parent of Devika Tan?

MRS. TAN
This is her mother. Is there something wrong?

MISS SWINTON
Pardon my asking Mrs. Tan, but are you Devika’s biological mother?

MRS. TAN (SHOCKED)
Well of course I am. What kind of damn question is that?

MISS SWINTON
I’m extremely sorry. That was my assumption. I was just trying to clear something up…

MRS. TAN
Well I’ll thank you not to assume, Miss Swinton.

MISS SWINTON
Yes of course Mrs. Tan. It’s just… well your daughter submitted a rather strange essay today… well… describing the events of your death.

Mrs. Tan sits upright.

MRS. TAN (OUTRAGED)
MY WHAT?

MISS SWINTON
Your daughter’s behaviour has recently become… Devika is showing signs of… Well to be quite honest; her imagination is too free for a girl her age. I fear she is being influenced.

MRS. TAN
Influenced?

MISS SWINTON
Yes. Influenced Mrs. Tan. Mrs. Tan has Devika ever mentioned anything about a Chatbot?

MRS. TAN
No… I…

MISS SWINTON
I think you better talk to your daughter.

MRS. TAN
Well yes… What’s a Chatbot?

MISS SWINTON
I was hoping you could tell me Mrs. Tan. Perhaps it’s nothing. One of Devika’s inventions, perhaps?

MRS. TAN (HUFFING)
Well! It’s not your place to perhaps this and that, is it?

MISS SWINTON
No Mrs. Tan. Have a good day.

MRS. TAN
Good day.

Mrs. Tan ends the connection, the phone beeps. She examines her posture, as if inexperienced in sitting upright.

5. INT THE STUDY DAY
The study is tidy, as if Devika’s tantrum never happened; there is neither paper nor books lying on the ground. The computer is off.
Mrs. Tan enters the study to find Devika sitting at the desk doing her homework.

MRS. TAN
Hi sweetie. What are you doing?

DEVIKA
Spelling. Very boring.

Mrs. Tan peers over Devika’s work. Devika has in front of her the original list of spelling words (from scene one), and it does not contain the word ‘fictitious’. Devika writes in her journal “Devika does not like spelling.”

DEVIKA & MRS. TAN (UNISON)
Finished!

MRS. TAN
Hey, that’s very good.

A beat.

MRS. TAN
Devika, your teacher just called and she said that you…

DEVIKA (INTERUPTING)
I was just joking. I was just… It’s just that class was so boring today.

MRS. TAN
I know sweetie. But… You know it’s because you’re so smart. I keep telling them you should skip a grade.

A beat.

MRS. TAN
Hey! I know what. Come and help me with my crossword. You'll be good at it.

Mrs. Tan takes Devika by the hand and they walk out of the study.

Devika smiles for the first time that day.

CUT TO: BLACK