Monday, July 9, 2012

ROARAWAR FEARTATA: Small Catastrophe's 2012

Devised and performed by ROARAWAR FEARTATA (Benjamin Cittadini & Craig Peade)
Punctum Inc. Seedpod
Bendigo, 18 - 23 June, 2012 

 We are very proud to present ROARAWAR FEARTATA’s Small Catastrophe’s preliminary findings. As the future unfolds, so do our challenges including the small catastrophes along the way. Successfully embracing our changing environments is the pathway to a positive outlook. Drawing from the Bendogolian community’s own view and small catastrophisms, this data is beyond the exclusive official council reports documenting this great city’s demographicalities. 

12.498% participating respondents registered small cultural catastrophe’s with 60% subjected to the lows of Bendigo’s culture. 20% nominated Bendigo’s culture also as too local or exotic. 
Interestingly, 40% hazard Bendigo’s culture as too different whilst 60% are too familiar with it.  

 This predicament inexplicably manifests itself on Wednesdays for 20% of Bendigolians whilst 40% experience it as either a weekly phenomenon or just a Monday-thing. 
16.63%  are mildly culturally catastrophised at 9am or 1pm whilst 33.25% do either at exactly 5pm or after.

 20% are mildly culturally moribund for 5-20 minutes while 80% of Bendigo’s population are perpetually slightly perplexed.
17.36% fist clench, 13.02% pffff, 8.68% exaggeratedly exhale, foot stomp, directionlessly mope or proffer empty, non-violent threats. 4.34% across the board alternatively head scratch, drop their arms exasperatedly, mutter rebukes, hand wring, indirectly complain, roll eyes, smile ruefully or resign themselves to slight cultural enfeeblements. 

 16.63%  believe these reactions are not appropriate whilst a whopping 83.37%  do.
80%  ruminate upon this tiny cultural disability, whilst 20% do so regularly.

 40% believe there is no chance they dreamt their mild cultural inadequacies, whilst 20% evenly believe this is but a daydream, possible but unlikely or not unlikely. 

I dreamt I remember it was a bad dream. Me and my friends were all playing left for dead, then I was Australia’s best coffee roaster. Then I went to Japan and bought a live Pokeman. I might as well have taken acid. I was a Pokeman trainer and I got attacked by everything. I don’t even remember playing Pokemon.  I fell off a tower but I never landed, no I don’t have any dreams.

8.332%  of the total 24 respondents were partially catastrophised with food and in particular this was divided 50% between those of the processed variety and that of beverages. 
Again, sliced straight down the middle, 50% believed they had either too little or too much, as you would expect.   

And once again 50% of these incidences occurred Wednesdays or Fridays before 9am and after 5pm.

Furthermore, the duration of these incidental culinary misadventures was 50% each way between 5-20 minutes and on-going.
50% muttered rebukes while the other half rolled their eyes. 

50%  never think about the incident whilst the other 50%  occasionally do.
50%  believed there was no chance daydreaming occurred whilst 50% also possibly daydreamt. It was, however, unlikely. 

I dreamt of an old Victorian house.

12.498% of total participating respondents are experiencing or have had a small catastrophe with God. 
These are evenly spread at 33.1/3% across the board between finding or discovering there is a god, doubting such a presence exists or having misplaced it.
66 and 2/3% believe this mildly catastrophic encounter is because it is just too simple whilst 331/3% believe the concept too exclusive. 

25% are conflicted with this metaphysical dilemma on either Thursday or Saturday, whilst 50% are predictably troubled Sundays. 
66.2/3% are cosmologically fraught at 10am and 33.1/3% after 5pm.

66.2/3% have the duration of this minute theological crisis occur for 1-2 hours whilst for 33.1/3% it is ongoing or one might say eternal. 
Interestingly of the 100% of people in a mild existential turmoil chose other as their reaction in response to their mystical quandary by either teeth grinding, stressing, swearing or losing faith in said God. 

Curiously also, 66.2/3%  believe this appropriate whilst 33.1/3% believe otherwise and that in hindsight they might have calmed down and focused rather than stress and swear.
33.1/3% think about the minutiae of their catastrophic deism not very often, whilst 66.2/3% believe they do occasionally.

66.2/3% believe there is no chance they were daydreaming when this incidental transcendentalism occurred whilst 33.1/3% are convinced such mildly catastrophic mysterium tremendum et fascinans was nothing but a daydream!

Difficulty remembering dreams. There was an intruder in the house stealing paintings mounted to the wall. And I told them to go away. They didn’t so I tried to trip them and thenmy wife woke up because I kicked her. And then I woke up going to a party with 400 people. OUR DREAMS ARE TALES TOLD IN DIM EDEN.

12.483% of total 24 participating respondents registered small catastrophic relationships evenly spread out at 33.1/3% across the classifications of incidental, collegiate and unauthorized. 

Again each were divided 33.1/3% for being either too needy, short or safe. 66.2/3% of these miniscule catastrophic relationships occur Saturdays, which makes sense and the other 33.1/3% Wednesdays. 
In fact 100% of the small catastrophic realtionships of the collegiate variety occurred on Wednesdays. 

Again, spread equitably 33.1/3% the duration of these ever so-slight catastrophic relationships ranged from less than one minute, 5-20 minutes and 1-2 hours. 66.2/3% of these minutely troubling relationships wrought rueful smiles whilst the other 33.1/3% only mildly vented their spleens or proffered empty non-violent threats.   

100% were adamant these were appropriate. 
66.2/3% occasionally ruminated upon their brief bout of relational misfortune whilst the other 33.1/3% do so “not very often”. 

66.2/3% of these purport no chance of daydreaming, whilst 33.1/3% realised their microscopic relational regret was a daydream.

Unexpectedly intimate with a close friend I dreamt about 360 degrees and slept with the sunny cow girls. 

20.83% of  participating respondents take issue with the small catastrophism of travel, with 80% experiencing a small catastrophic encounter upon public transport and the other 20% as jet-setting aeronautic travelers. 
42.25% believe this is because it is too crowded, 28.25% because too late and anomalously because 14.25% because it is too fast and slow, too early and late, too crowded and tiring.  Another 14.25% believe aeronautical travel is too hot. 

25% experience these mildly catastrophic forms of mobility on Mondays or Tuesdays; 37.5% Fridays and 12.5% on a weekly basis. Interestingly, or rather, curiously, 100% of aeronautical jet-setters small catastrophic experiences are isolated to Fridays. These incidences occur evenly at 20% whenever the clock strikes 10am, 2-3 & 4pm as well as daily. 

The duration of the incidences registered by respondents were 40% between 5-20 minutes whilst 20% reported less than a minute, 1-2 hours and on-going. 
20% preferred muttered rebukes, whilst 40% favoured indirect complpaining whilst another 40% chose “other” including “freaking out” and “swearing”. 

100% believe all their responses were appropriate.
20% of respondents they think of the incident either never, very often or all the time whilst 40% believe not very often.   

100% of small catastrophants believe there is no chance they were daydreaming when such incidences occurred.

Colourfully, there I was, putting crumpets in the toaster, rainbow and lollipops eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex made of ants. This one time was at … no, that didn’t happen.

24.996%  of  participating respondents have small meteorological catastrophes with 16.63% across the board having issues indoor, seasonally and with forecasts while 50% had incidences occur unexpectedly outdoor. Also, data reflects predictably 60% think it too cold during winter while 20% are divided between it being too wet and dry!

37.5% have their meteorological catastrophes Monday, 25% Thursday and Fridays and 12.5% weekly. 
27.16% experience this meteorological small catastrophism before 9am or after 5pm. Another 18.16% at 4pm and 9.16% at 12-3 & 4pm or daily. 

22.143% prefer to express their qualms with the vicissitudes of mother nature’s temperament via exaggerated exhalations or indirect complaining whilst across the board 11.143% alternatively fist clench, foot stomp, mutter rebukes, directionlessly mope or choose to become paralytic or immobile. 

75% of people taking issue with the climate believe definitively that they were not daydreaming. 25% think daydreaming might have been a possibility.

100% of Bendogolian’s believe these are appropriate and evenly across the board 25%  believe they think about their meteorological grievances either not very often, occasionally, regularly or very often. 

Never remember my dreams. I have no dreams just walking, long, long road, no exits, no pathways, distant horizons, sunshine, no clouds, just walking. Walking. I was on a boat. I don’t remember my dreams.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

ROARAWAR FEARTATA: "Bunny", Melbourne Fringe Festival 2011

written & directed by Benjamin Cittadini
performed by Craig Peade & David Quirk
2011 Melbourne Fringe Festival "Innovation in Theatre" Award 
Nominated for two Green Room Awards

photo's by Nick Stevenson

ROARAWAR FEARTATA: AURA project, Collingwood Housing Estate, Feb/March/April 2011

The Tower Anagogues
performed on thursday June 2nd by roarawar feartata (craig peade & benjamin cittadini)
sound by Nick Beer
photo's by Nick Stephenson & Brigid Jackson
Underground Carpark
Collingwood Housing Estate

24hr Tower People

clouds are now and this
is the bottomless sleep,
time taken
is time best given away
child's eyes cling
whilst parents
drag their eyes away

small doors close
dreams open automatically

old men with late autumn eyes
grow invisible
when standing in their pyjamas

the man behind the hand
reaches out
and touches no-one
night gardeners
set their watches aglow,
worn hands harvest
the slow moon

your face may be familiar
but you intentions are undeclared -
swipe your card, sign in,
I forget you

Wasted my time
made me laugh
I'm the pizza man
let me out

workers of the night
and the early morning
stare straight ahead
and dream
every second builds
a balloon
slide open
slide in
slide up
slide down slide down . . .
too many children
are without balloons tonight

for bed
I forgot my teeth

it's out time together-
between this door and that
between the post boxes and the elevator
between "what are you doing" and "I'm not sure"
between a midnight cigarette and breakfast at noon
-it's our time together
sally is a dog
of few words,
her master
my body is a victim
of my lack of foresight
space grows darker
the longer I stare at it
with a renewed sense of loss
I reach in to the hole that defines me

it's very
very hard
to get australian residency
these days
even at the darkest hour
stray cats are snoring
my touchscreen is beautiful
but my wife cannot get a visa

when I think of you
I fall
into the arms
of the rising sun
the Tower is short on sleepwalkers:
elevators stand idle, waiting to come down.
mist spills off the roof
and settles quietly
on the streets below

birthday cards are blank
the blankets are unfurling,
dirty white delivery vans stall
and the smallest birds are hungry
fresh scented necks
stretch out into the frigid air
sleeps long arms
hang heavily by my side

I am not dying
it's no secret
the cleaners
keep the peace
security guards can really sing
when their shift is nearly over

 The afternoon of the autumn estate

Beginning the task of reclaiming glass shattered in an act of pointless annihilation by the Sky God of Desolation

The Perpetual Race of Achilles and the Tortoise as recounted and refuted by Jorge luis Borges, perambulated and divulged for avian consideration.

The Tower bristles in the sharp autumnal sunshine; it's somebody's birthday today. Security guards leave their cards in the shade.

The Sacred Remains of an Oblated Mattress

People of the Tower
People of the Hidden Door
People of the Wine Cask
People of the Car Headlights
People of the Footpaths
People of the Leaking Roof
People of the Sky Windows
People of the Hungry Dogs
People of the Lost $20
People of the Narrow Path
People of the Guarded Look
People of the Cloven Pottery
People of the Twilight Garden
People of the Dreaming Seas


1. Almond croissant (unfinished)
2. "Monsac" briefcase
3. "The Rock Version of the Lords' Prayer" LP
4. Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot LP
5. 12 pack of jotter pads
6. Whiteboard markers
7. Short black and a strong latte
8. Small green cigarette lighter
9. 5 x Pints & 3 x pots of beer

1. 3 x Newspapers
2. Tobacco, Filters, papers
3. Chili & Lemongrass vegetables, Crispy skin chicken & rice
4. 4 x strong latte's, short black
5. Rocky road

1. Fisherman's Friends
2. Short Black
3. Ping Pong balls
4. Aviary Mesh

1. Tuna baguette
2. 2x strong, watery Aldo coffee's
3. 10x packet of 12 ping pong balls
4. 2x masking tape
5. short black
6. 3x Italian-Vietnamese handmade spring rolls
7. Daily "news"
8. 3x pints, 1x pot beer
9. packet of peter stuyvesant cigarettes
10. spinach & cheese indigestion inducing pide
1. Tuna toasted sandwich
2. Strong cafe latte
3. Pack of 72 wooden pegs
4. Barbecue chicken roll
5. Chocolate profiterole

1. 3x 10m power cables
2. 2x power board
3. 2x 5m roll of 3mm clear vinyl tube
4. cafe "normale"
5. cassette adaptor
6. Translucent bucket
7. "Pasticciotti"

1. Short black, strong cafe latte
2. 1x "Pasticciotti"
3. The Ting Tings-"We started nothing" CD
4. Pristine bound collection of Paul Robeson 78's

1. 'Daily News'
2. Panadol
3. organic orange, carrot, raspberry, blueberry, beetroot juice

1. LED Torch
2. 4x AAA batteries
3. Panadol
4. Votive candles
5. 3x gold leaf necklaces
3x gold bauble necklace
1x fake pearl brooch
6. short black
7. supa-glue

1. Box of Green Tea
2. Alarm clock
3. Tea cup
4. LED lamp
5. Bag of Xmas Bells

1. Short Black
1. Non-Aldo strong latte
2. Block of Cadbury's Black Forest Chocolate
3. Pre-made egg & ham salad roll
1. 1x halogen lamp

1. Short black
2. Rice paper rolls
3. 20x photocopies

1. 2x disposable overalls
2. 2x yard gloves
3. metal bucket
4. rake
5. black whiteboard marker

Recovered Objects

Behind the Tower, beneath the ground, secrets are absorbed like moisture. Whilst people with dogs curse as they beat the paths above, below the tinkering of arcane visions keeps rhythm with the seeping water. The roots of the Tower descend deep into mystery.

The Lost Keys and the Missing Pieces of the Puzzle

Recovered Objects

Raindrops are briefly glimpsed, set apart by their fluid nature from that of the Tower - the Immovable Mover. Each window is an eye with its corresponding raindrop held in fascination for a moment. They both glint and convex the world before withdrawing and falling into their respective pools of reflection. A young boy with his schoolshirt torn open drinks from a large bottle of red soft-drink - he splashes through reflected pools.

Community Consultation with Analogue Survey Device

The charred outlines of spontaneous oblations attest to the devotion of the residents. As bread rolls sail down from the windows above, it becomes apparent there are different paths for different sets of feet - the path directly beneath the tower is primarily for single walkers in single file, pushing up into the one-wind; or security guards warily walking in circles.

The tower rises like a blue flame, steady and unprovoked. Cool heads are kept down and mosquitoes breed. The god of desolation lumbers down the passageways, annihilating the worth of personal possessions and ejecting them out the windows to become dust with the desert below.

The Sky God of Desolation

The wind only blows in one direction - there is no left or right, only behind. Children's voices bounce around the internal passageways and are carried away by the one-wind. Sometimes the shadow of a face projects above the surrounding rooftops.

The tower creates a space, a blustering impermanence, its gaps unstoppable, its languages unknowable. The cycle of lost and found - songs, shoelaces, faces etc. - begins again each day.

Songs Composed on Forgotten Piano
  1. "Music of the spheres"
  2. "Untitled"
  3. "goodnight my cave"
  4. "The grounds frolicked dizzyingly toward my gaze"
  5. "Rose, my rose"
  6. "Rain machine"
  7. "Anatomical reliquary for a votive mattress"
  8. "It's so serene . . . be here forever alltime"
  9. "Rain (versus the world after dragon)"
  10. "Calling name, calling me"
  11. "Is this home"
  12. "Beneath each footfall is a minor scale'"
  13. "The wind blows cockroaches onto their backs"
  14. "The cockroach gets back on its feet"
  15. "Look! The stars spin me out (navel gazing at the moon)"
  16. "The Cockroach Variations"

Morning spectres travelate towards the tea and coffee. Compact ladies have been slicing vegetables in their sleep - a waking dream where hands and words cut quickly through the mire outside. From another corner a scramble of volatile fingers scratch away at the keys of an ill-tuned piano - inchoate music that sways unsteadily beneath a tower of uncertainty.

Recovered fantasy from young person's bedroom door

Weathervane for atmospheric pressure assumptions - consequently confiscated by Dept. of Housing for contravening Atmospheric Pressure Assumption Rules