Monologue

Hey cats!

First off, I leave for Nebraska tomorrow--so I gotsta pack my shite... but in the meantime, here's a monologue from the play I'm writing!

Now--the way it works--or the way it's supposed to work, this is performed simultaneously with another monologue (which I may post later.) For the most part, the monologues overlap, but for a little while they're spoken in unison. You'll get the idea as you read this one.

MAN A. "It’s kinda weird. I’m kicking this…can down the street and sometimes it clatters off into an alleyway. You know, I always get a little bit upset about that. It’s not an important can. I wasn’t gonna’ use it later or anything, but for some reason I get the tiniest sinking feeling when it rolls under that dumpster. Of course in another block, there’s another can. I pick up right where I left off with the last one. Just kickin’ away, enjoying the little sound it makes when it rolls over gravel or a grate. After a while I had to stop and cross the street, and when I looked up, there were two cars lined up to make a right turn on this corner. The blinkers are on, y’know tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. I watch these cars and I realize that those turn signals are very very slightly out of rhythm. It’s like each car has its own incremental speed for turn signals or something. The important thing, what happened was, they would be off. Totally off, completely in opposition for a second or two, but then they’d start to overlap, and then suddenly they’re going at the exact same time. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. And for those few seconds, while you’re standing there waiting for the light to change, waiting for the oppressive red glove to disappear and make way for the triumphant tall white guy, for that instant, everything is perfect. The sounds of the traffic become a hundred-piece orchestra--I nod my head to the tenor horns and bob to the base notes of the timpani blasting from trunk speakers. All of a sudden, the can is just so so upsetting now. The simple fact that it is means it will never be again. Your connections, your rolodex of connections to all of these people and machines and systems you can rely on become nothing in an instant. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. Sometimes life is just too too much. It hits you so damn hard that you have to double over and put your heart back inside. You cram it back in and nail up another layer of hard calloused skin. And those people in our lives--those actors we loved so much a moment ago are hailing cabs outside, or standing in groups of backslapping friends and fans, or smoking cigarettes while talking on their cell phones. Those liars stand there and they lord their normalcy over you. Somehow they can get away with pretending like it never happened. Like they never laughed, screamed, or died in agony. Minutes ago, things seemed so goddamn important, and we always want them to be that way. And yet, our skin sags and our cats die. We turn the heat up, then put a jacket on. The river changes direction. The signals are in time, apart, and then one 90 degree turn later--they’re off. But really…I think that’s beautiful. So so upsetting, but beautiful."

Love love love, and perhaps a real post soon!

-Dak Black