for string trio and narrator
Inside a big wooden house in a small village of the Austrian countryside, a day goes by in the blink of an eye. No important events, no news, just some household tasks and a scattered mind.
“Rosemary chicken and potatoes for dinner” is a piece that deals with the personal world, with different thoughts that run freely when one is alone in an uneventful day.
Stage set up:
In front of narrator there is a table with a teapot and a cup.
Narrator walks in after musicians are seated.
(Narrator enters stage and pours tea in the cup.
Drinks a sip and puts cup back on the table.
Narrator: The day starts with a cup of tea. Earl Grey, no sugar, no milk.
The day starts in Autumn. A cold breeze, wet wood, the sun burning low. Black silhouettes stretching over the pale blue. Their fragile arms, their twisted legs, exposed.
Faded green, yellow, falling, beige, cinnamon, red, fruits, orange, juice, brown, bread, butter, cheese, something sweet, some marmalade, or maybe some (wa)…
I can’t believe he ate all the waffles!
The day starts with a cup of tea. Earl Grey, no sugar, no milk. Bread and butter. No waffles.
II. Washing dishes
(all singing) “Washing the dishes, it’s more fun when you sing it, it’s so…”
Narrator: Mmhh. I should have left the dishes in water.
(all singing) “shubidu shubidu shubi wawawa,
I should’ve left overnight all the plates in water,
shubidu shubidu shubi scrub scrub scrub x2
scrub scrub scrub sponge sponge sponge sponge sponge sponge”
Narrator: Buy sponge.
Narrator: The rest of the day is a nebula. I don’t even notice the change from winter to spring. It is quiet and then messy all over again. I puff the cushion. I vacuum. I sit on the couch. I stand up. I come back, I arrange the cushion again. I make the bed. I walk from here to there. I open the window. I sit on the couch.
I stand up. (stop playing and stands up). I re arrange the cushion. And I stay up.
(Pours tea into cup. Drinks a sip. Sits down again. Looks straight to the front.)
I am staring at the space between the chair and the table. I am staring at the distance in between them. I am staring the gap. There is a thread of something invisible, no longer a void between them.
And then I see it all around the room. The distance from one object to the other has a volume, a shape, even a color. Every piece of furniture, every wrinkle of the couch’s cushions, every crack in the wooden chairs, is filled with time.
The table is slightly off center and the water rings are printed on it’s surface. No, wait. It was tea. The tea from the morning perhaps, or the one from the day before.
(Pours last drops of tea into cup. Puts teapot aside.)
Buy tea, buy bread… buy marmalade.
All of the sudden, I see it in a corner. The left overs of yesterday’s evening, or maybe some evenings before.
[SONG 2 – Lament]
(Violin singing) “The glass reflects my face as I hold it gently. I see the wine is dry, how long has this glass been sitting here?”
Mmm, with rice?
No, not rice. Potatoes would be better.
(all singing) “Shu wap”
Narrator: Rosemary chicken? Yes, that’s it!
(all singing) “Shu wap” x3
(to public) The day ends in summer with rosemary chicken and potatoes for dinner.
V. Pealing Potatoes
(all singing) “I saw you from the window, I was pealing potatoes” (x2)
(all to public) “Shu wap”