Domdaniel: <Jess> Stayed up all night writing, which I don't do very much anymore. I ought to, if I'm ever to amaze the world with four simultaneous and seemingly unrelated books ... followed by deeper astonishment as the depth of invisible connections sinks in. <Dommerie> will be the *New Thing*, a cross between <Droit de Seigneur> and <gaucherie>.You can interview me, but I'll alternate between <Droit de Seigneur> and <gaucherie>.
When I've sorted more stuff out I'll send you a sampler. Meanwhile, a 'cinematic' piece of ecrivanity publishing.
The backstory: some years ago, Neil Jordan made an okay-ish film called Michael Collins, about the charismatic Irish leader of the early 1920s. Among others vying for this story was Michael Cimino, who apparently had a screenplay titled <MICK!>.
This extract from MICK! deals with our hero's date with destiny at Beal na mBlath (The Mouth of the Flowers) in West Cork ...
<*<MICK!>>
Day. Ext. West Cork, Ireland. Two mean-looking outlaws have Michael 'Mick' Collins at gunpoint. Collins is bleeding from a flesh wound. His unit lies dead around him, having fought to the last man like Custer's Last Stand or the Alamo. But they fought well, as we can see hundreds of enemy dead. An armoured car is burning nearby. These three are the only survivors of the battle.
The outlaws, MIAH and CORNY, had hidden in a cactus during the fight. Just as MICK scented victory they crept out like ornery yeller dogs and got the drop on him.
CORNY
Reach for the sky, Mick, I do have the drop on yeh.
MICK
Sure, amn't I always reaching for the sky? And you'll find, my oul' segocia, that I am the one who has the drop on him. It's in me pocket, here.
MIAH
Careful, now, boyo. I know you're glad to see me, but no tricky stuff. You could be hiding a machine gun in that coat.
MICK
A machine gun? And what's that when it's at home? No tricky stuff, no sticky stuff, scout's honour. The drop to which I refer is merely a drop of the craythur -- the hard stuff -- a bottle of whiskey.
CORNY
Whiskey, be the hokey! Tis long nights we've been out here waitin' to shoot yeh.
MIAH
And nary a pub...
MICK
Aye, nary a pub for miles. Unless Mrs MacCarthy would let ye into her shebeen in the schoolhouse over beyond, which I rather doubt given the side ye're on, and yer general wickedness. Not to mention the fact that she won't serve liars and fictional characters. Well, have a drink on me, lads.
MIAH
Is it really whiskey?
MICK
Better still, tis Poteen. From a better still, if ye like. I got it from the Injuns, ehh, I mean the Tinkers. Drink up.
CORNY and MIAH each take a swig from the bottle. As they start to fight for the rest of it, MICK takes a machine gun from his other pocket and shoots them both. MIAH dies at once, plugged between the eyes. CORNY, wounded in the heart, drops to his knees and looks pleadingly at MICK
CORNY
What did yeh do that for, yeh oul' fecker, yeh?
MICK
All's fair in civil love and civil war. Did I tell you I married Lady Lavery in a registry office?
[to be continued]
Kibitzing
