dispelling amsterdam?

one-act play

london. 2001. f in a basement flat. locked up. in her own private snow-swirling idaho
phone rings. again. again.
f picks up reluctantly

j: heft. where are you?
f: i'm in asterdam
j: you are?
f: mmm yes. i'll be back in a couple of days.


since then "going to amsterdam" has particular conotations for the frap. it's a state of mind. not a good one. and of course, i've avoided ever going to the actual city. superstitiously.

all that is about to change. i may be finally ready to confront my demons. with a little bit of help. namely

a concert i cannot miss/an obsession i cannot ignore


playing in the room upstairs at the Paradiso

The lack of light, hollow sea
Poison beaches, limousines
Toothless dentists, cops that kill

My baby's got the lonesome lows, don't quite go away overnight
Doctor Blind, just prescribe the blue ones
If the dizzying highs don't subside overnight
Doctor Blind, just prescribe the red ... (help)

and



and naturally throwing stones at tourists tastelessly and greedily lining up to see poor anne frank's attic.