Scene Two

[Scene 2. Outside. A group of bloggers moves down the street.]

Enlighten: We have fair weather for such a journey,
And fair hope soon to meet our web-worn friends.

Nightfly: One doth approach that we have lately missed.

[Enter Gigglechick.]

Hondo:
Erin! What news? Thou art so arrayed
As to attend a banquet or a ball.

Gigglechick:
No such luck; though I could use a drink.
The day was spent in artists’ studios,
Sitting for a portrait.

Nightfly: For a job?

Gigglechick:
For a gig. Needs must keep up-to-date,
Lest a jaded public, quick to scorn,
Say of Erin, “Looks and jokes are worn.”

Enlighten: No fear of either!

Gigglechick: Pull the other one.

Nightfly: And who is this that follows in thy train?

Gigglechick: Came she not with me.

Nightfly: Shamrocketship?

SRS: Who calls?

Enlighten:
The Carnival of Jersey Blogs.
Hast thou forgotten?

SRS:
No. Or, marry, aye;
Or I know not what – I am not clear.

Nightfly: Art not thou well?

SRS:
Nay, tis no fault of health,
But one of time. The new job tasks me thus
That mind no longer masters all its thoughts,
And distracted run all my hours.

Nightfly: Yet writing still. Pray thee, get some rest.

[Exit Shamrocketship. The other continue and cross a group of bloggers yelling.]

Nightfly: What affray is this?

Enlighten: Methinks I know.

Frogsdong:
‘Tis the Carnival? Aye, just in time.
I’ve heard that dreadful man give dreadful speech
Under fair-seeming, forked tongue,
Words of feignéd comfort. ‘Tis a lie!
True meaning have I written in its place.

Tami:
I fear ‘tis so – though speeches move me not.
More ticked am I that nothing more was done
To swiftly succor suffering Orleáns.

Fausta:
Say you so? For I have heard much else.
You were not with us at the Hive, I think,
Or wouldst have heard yourself.

Frogsdong:
Hast thou heard well?
Or hearest only that which thou choosest?

XPat:
Hearing isn’t always to believe,
But marry! Even I don’t like that man,
And yet admit that what I heard from him
Seem’d encouraging. And there is this:
We all agree that further help must come,
Or come too late to help at all.

Nordette:
And more,
We feed and clothe, and soon rebuild –
Needful things, but not all things needful.
All alike shall need to grieve, and heal.

Mamacita: I saw this news, though he that gave the news
Was apt for mockery. He spoke at length,
But sooth, a quiet fool is more preferred
Than he that cannot choose to quiet down.

Mr. Snitch: Dost anyone hear music?

Hondo:
Now that you say,
I say I do.

Nightfly: There is a light ahead.

[Enter Jersey Beat.]

JB:
Thou hast arrivéd late. The show’s begun,
What with music, cheering, and the crowd,
With DJ, band, and audience alike
Most energized.

Enlighten: Can we still get in?

JB:
Wishest thou? I wonder. Every year
The players remain as they ever were
As I advance. I find that, day by day,
As festivals proceed, I lag behind –
I have my daytime duties to perform
And, pleasing as the music tends to be,
One week is much for me.

Nightfly:
And yet thou came,
As music is thy trade, thy passion’s pride;
I rarely take a show. And, when I do,
They tend, like to these groups, to be home-grown.
One local band has stood above the rest.

JD:
You have missed much. I saw a Thursday show,
In major venue, with a headline band
Much more accomplished, well-renowned,
Of such long standing stature as to cause
Aspiring artists, jealous-wrapt,
To term them old, and jest upon their names,
Whilst treasuring the self-same fate for theirs.

JB:
Enjoyed thou the show?

JD:
Be well-assured,
The gentlemen doth rock, and that right well.

Steven Hart:
For each so markéd with Fame's fading pen
Stand dozens near-forsaken. Such a one
Was Burnside. Not a polished songsmith he,
Nor held as top-tiered talent in the blues -
Yet there is merit to be heard in him.
But he has played his coda to the world;
His music lives, recorded, without him.

Nightfly: Shall we enter?

Enlighten:
All are not arrived,
Nor spoken all they have to say.

Nightfly:
Indeed.
Yet pause at whiles: an hour’s brief delay
Cannot hinder. Then we shall resume
The Carnival.

JB:
I pray thee, tarry.
Company shall blot my weariness.

[Exuent.]