1: Hello and good evening. Wow – what a turn out! Thanks for joining us.
2: It’s amazing. Thanks for coming. You’re all very welcome.
1: Absolutely. It makes us feel that what we’re doing here is really – er – relevant, actually. You know, that we’re not just hosting this event for nothing; that it is really important. Um, we’ll get you to fill in some forms later if that’s ok? Nothing scary, just basic details – but first of all let’s introduce everyone. I’m (1) And this is (2)
2: Hello
1: And these two you’ll be meeting in a minute. They’ve been members a long time. This is (3) and sitting there is (4). So yes, welcome to Disappearing Deviants ( or DD for short). We’re an organisation that’s been running for fifteen years now. I know that as you’re here you’ll no doubt have an idea of what we’re about but (2) will explain the work of the organisation in a bit more detail.
2: Right. Well, as (1) says Disappearing Deviants was created fifteen years ago, and its function really is to offer help and support to those of us who in some way or another become addicted to disappearing. When people begin disappearing: (it could be running away from home at a young age or truanting from school or just getting really obsessed about playing hide and seek really) it’s often excused or explained away. For example, Ronnie truanted because he hated the Maths teacher; Anna left home because she didn’t get on with her new step-dad, and so on. The thing is, like any kind of addictive behaviour, disappearing can be a big turn-on to start with – it can seem quite sexy. For example, a young male teenager may boast about the number of girlfriends he’s had (and dumped). It can also seem exciting to be on the move constantly because that means we don’t have to deal with the monotony of long-term relationships or face up to consequences of the mistakes we make. All this ties in with our very twenty-first century concept of freedom, the individual ego and the individual’s right to an independent existence.
However, disappearing can become extremely damaging, both for the person who is addicted to doing it and to those around them. We’ve all heard of serial monogomists, serial killers, splitters, heart-breakers, cads, slags, nomads and hermits. We’ve all seen or experienced the irresponsible disappearances of others once the murder’s done, the affair is over, the children are in bed; before the bill arrives on the mat or the arrest warrant comes or the bailiffs or the mad ex-wife, screaming blue murder. Disappearance wrecks lives –we know it – and yet we’re drawn to it. We want to be in transit, blown on the wind, like a rollling stone, a shooting star, zooming out of space out of here and now forever, gone to oblivion, to pastures new, flying, up, up and away, into silver clouds and silver screen and oblivion, obliteration, intoxication, defenestration, over the rainbow where the sun never shines and up, up, up…
1: Um, (2) have you taken your medication today?
2: Shit, oops… I was doing it again, wasn’t I? I’m so sorry. I did practise it. Well, I meant to but something came up and… I meant to talk about the downs, you know… not the ups/ Like, the loneliness and isolation…
1: No, (2) it’s ok, really. Come on. It’s ok. Let’s move on. / Let’s just show everyone what a regular DD meeting would look and sound like. Ok. (3) perhaps you would like to kick us off.
2: Sorry
3: Just like a sort of regular meeting you mean?
1: Exactly that
4: Like we rehearsed earlier. Oh no, but you weren’t here either were you?
3: Welcome everyone. We start by introducing ourselves like this: My name is (3) and I’m a Disappearing Deviant. I last disappeared...
Improvise
- Date and circumstance of last disappearance
- Why you did it
- What the consequence was on you and others
- How and why you’re trying to keep clean
- Invite comments from other deviants
