Monologue Fest! (Part Four)

Here's another! Yum yum honeybuns...I took a break there for a bit, but I don't want to miss my deadline. Again, at the end, I'll have you vote on which one I should perform.

Shazam

A woman stands down-center, a look of exasperation on her face. She wears elaborate star-dusted robes and a tall pointed hat. SL of her is a standing table holding a large dark pot. The woman shakes her head and takes a deep breath before rambling through her words.

You have to listen to what I’m saying--it’s a lost cause. I’m sorry you spent so much money and time and effort tracking us down--we are a very secretive organization, and I do appreciate that you specifically selected me to be your liaison…but there is absolutely nothing I can do. Nothing I can do that would work, that is. I know the tendency with you people is to dig into the bowels of history and science in order to extract the quickest fix. The longshot. Without really understanding the implications of what you’re getting yourselves into, you dive right in and hope for the best. It’s the exact same lack of perspective that got you into this mess in the first place! And…I mean come on, just because you haven’t inherited ‘The Sight’ (all hail the sixty moons of Saturn for bestowing upon us the gift of the infinite eye) doesn’t mean you can simply ignore your impact on the very tomorrow you live in! For the sake of the universe, you can’t just ignore the things you can’t see.

The woman calms herself down. Takes a deep breath and glides to her large pot.

Here, for example.

She removes a beer can from the cauldron.

This is a drinking receptacle. It’s made of aluminum.

She places the can into the pot and closes the lid--a second later, her eyes roll back and she enters a trance. Her hands caress the air around the pot for a few seconds…then as soon as it happens, it stops. She blinks awake and opens the lid, removing a sheet of aluminum from the pot.

Alright? That’s it! That’s all I can do for you! It’s still here, and it’s still aluminum. Yes, I can change it into a liquid or a gas or…a plasma, whatever. Sure…but you’re not seeing the main issue here.

She speaks as if addressing a child.

When you close your eyes, do you think the world disappears? No. You’re right. It’s still there. If you can’t see something, does it not exist? Does…oh…say…Siberia exist? Yes. Yes it does. How about…Lisbon? Sure it does. Riiight. What about…oh….gee….the refuse you threw out last week? Yes. You betcha. It’s still there. How about…oohh…next week? That is to say…does next week exist? If you're not looking at next week, is it still there? Are we…are we having trouble with this one?

Her exasperation builds.

YES IT FUCKING IS! COME ON, PEOPLE!! USE YOUR IMAGINATIONS AT LEAST! And whether or not you’ll be here to see it, it’s still going to HAPPEN.

Look…I’m not trying to come off like an environmentalist. If I’m an activist for anything, it’s thinking. Rational thought. This…fooling ourselves it’s just…

She sighs.

Come the fuck on. You can’t fix your problems if you refuse to think. For fuck's sake, I’m an alchemist, not a magician.

Love,
Dakotah

Monologue Fest! (Part Three)

Here's the next one! It's pretty out there, but they've all been that way I guess. Enjoy!!

Saint

An extremely run-down young man shuffles onstage, staggers for a moment, then looks up as if the light bothers him. He grimaces, looks about tensely, breathes out a puff of air and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

I know you don't really know me or nothin', but I wanna' say thank you. Thank you for savin' my life. Now no, don't go thinkin' it was givin' blood or nothin'. It wasn't anything like that. You just...you've just been there fer me. So...thank you.

The young man starts pacing.

Like one time I was on acid, right? Y'know...among other shit. I was with some other guys, but I was havin' this real bad trip, right? Like...I get all up in my head on that shit. I'm like...I'm like that anyway, but like—this time was real intense. Real like—metaphysical personal shit. I started seein' these eyes and shit everywhere. The walls started like...bleeding and there was this red glow from the lights and it got like...it was just bad y'know? So anyway, everybody like...went to bed and everything, but I was still awake—just trippin' out and getting' the shakes and all that sorta' shit. I couldn't stay warm, right? I wrapped a blanket around myself and I still kept shiverin' like it wouldn't stop. I didn't know what else to do so... The man laughs. Look, I'm sorry. You prolly don't wanna' hear this part...but I just gotta' get it off my chest. I start jackin' off, right? Cuz like—I dunno, somethin' about is just...it's familiar. Y'know? I don't care if it makes sense. Anyway, I wasn't...gettin' anywhere. Y'know? I started thinkin' about all sort of shit, but nothin' was doin' it for me. And like..my heart was pounding like crazy cuz I was still trippin' balls. I was feverish. I couldn't stop sweatin' and clenchin' my jaw. And fuck, man, I was still seein' shit. That—darkness was tryin' to claw its way into my brain through my eyelids and just...suddenly...you were there. I don't know why. You just...you showed up.

The man smiles.

This might sound weird...but...my heart slowed down. I calmed down. I don't know if it was cuz' I was still seein' shit or whatever, but you—listen, again sorry but—you took me in one hand and with the other you pushed my face up to yours and kissed me. I remember you wore this...I dunno...gypsy costume or something. Ocean blues and greens...and...from there we. Well...look, you can probably guess the rest. Right? But look—I don't know what it was about that, but after we finished, you poured a golden light over my whole body and whispered into my ear until I fell asleep.

It wasn't 'till later that I found out I was in the early stages of an OD. Y'know. If I hadn't slowed my heart rate down, it woulda been...well yeah, it woulda' been bad. So just...thank you. I've never told you that, but thank you.

The man begins to walk away.

But um...let's not talk about it, alright? It's weird.

Hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them!

Love,
Dakotah

Monologue Fest! (Part Two)

Here's number 2 of 5. Yahoo!

Casual Encounter

Lights up on an attractive man typing away on a laptop. 'The Girl From Ipanema' plays from the speaker. He clicks around a bit, then stops and looks at his screen. He looks up.

“Tongue in your bung. M for W. I get pleasure from giving your nice sweet ass oral until you (finger quotes) 'Assgasm'. You need to be very clean...et cetra et cetra....I will lick and tongue your backdoor for as long you like.” The man lets out a sigh and shakes his head. Definitely not one of mine. The man puts his laptop aside. Who would wanna' go on a rollercoaster called “There are three loops in it”? Hm? “This one spins around”? There's no...mystery here. No excitement. No, sweetie—this was clearly made in haste. You've got to take your time, even with Casual Encounters.

Oh I'm sorry--you are...familiar?

Oh, honey--let me educate you! In the era of technology, where everything is at your fingertips—hmm—we still need that extra little bit of connection. Not just talking to an old college friend, not just gettin' coffee witcher coworkers, but—well—fuckin'. Even the magical iPhone hasn't solved that problem. I can press a button to find the nearest sushi restaurant, make a reservation, and have drinks on the table by the time I get there—but my dick certainly won't suck itself. Pause To be crass. So they've got a little place online where you can write out a one-line personal ad to get—hmm--what you want. The only problem is that most people are not the eloquent type. They want what they want and they can't think of anything else. For example. The man picks up his laptop again, clicks around a bit, then looks at his screen with satisfaction. “Hey, where's the giant cocks at? Hungry for deepthroat and a tight ass.” Man cocks his eyebrow. I won't even get into the spellin' errors, but this definitely does not serve to entice. It's written like bathroom scrawl. Utterly no magic at all. This nervous little boy should have come to me. I am what you'd call a 'Marketing Expert'. People come to me to add a little flavor to their—hm—'invitations'. For example this lady e-mails me one day, says “Look, I'm twenty-eight, gorgeous, and a dancer—and all I want is a good no-strings-attached fuck.” I say to her “Sweetie, you've got to be eloquent. Mysterious. A little witty, a little charming. You've gotta' sell it. None o' this hamfisted 'light brown hair, blue eyes, huge breasts' junk. Lure em in~” So for a little fee, I turned her desire into a regular rolex ad. Ahem--

The man clicks around on his laptop, grins, then looks at the audience.

First line--”You got one leg over your shoulder.” Intrigued? Of course you are. The man clicks dramatically. Ka-lick-ka. “Now contact me. You won't be sorry. I'm willing, open minded and I am able to bend to both of our wills and twist into some pretty crazy positions. Let's show the Kama Sutra what we can do!” Now that is an ad. That was written by yours truly. Y'see, there's a major difference between....the man clicks around ...ah—'Young Stud Em for Em'—aaaand...the man clicks around again...'Part saving the world...part savoring it'. Isn't there? Now--the man closes his laptop and leans forward --what can I do for you?

P.S. All of the examples in this monologue are REAL CRAIGSLIST ADS.

Monologue Fest!

Well..not the UCSB Monologue Festival (which was awesome.) This is the Dakotah Brown monologue festival. By that, I mean--I'm going to write five monologues by next Friday and I'd like you AVID READERS to select the best one out of the group. I'll memorize and perform it via YouTube or...y'know...just on here. Maybe I can develop this into a submission-based thing-a-ma-bob, but for now I just need to increase my body of self-written work.

SO, widdout furder a doo-doo sticks. Here's the first one!

Deals

How's it goin'? How are ya'? How's the family? Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and have a seat there.

The man in a suit arranges some papers on his desk.

Aaaalright. So I've been looking through your file and it looks like just about everything is in order. You must have a good...guy. It's all up to date. You've got documentation for everything. Good. We can get down to brass tacks. The real..ah..meat of the deal. So- The man folds his hands -I've prepared a few deals for you based on your current financial situation, and I think you're going to enjoy what I've come up with. First off, you've got your basic deal. You have free access to the green paved roads, with bonus days on Sunday and Thursday, where you can use the red and blue roads from seven pm until midnight. All the standard pedestrian walkways are free and the premium walking paths are pay-as-you-go. You don't have to worry about that, though—I'm looking through your usual routes on here...aaaaand yeah, no you'll be good. Oop, wait—you'll have to take a slightly more scenic path to and from the grocery store, but that's fine. We could all use the exercise, am I right? I'll go ahead and throw in public toilets within a certain area and, if you don't mind the small surcharge, you can have access to 'raising your voice'. That's a good deal. If I were you, I'd keep that one in the docket. You won't find an access deal much better than that.

Hm? Go on?

Alright! I knew you had a nose for values, my friend. The next deal is a bit tricky. I had to do some finagling to draw this one up, but I know my loopholes. This is like the last one; green roads anytime, bonus days, walking paths—no premium walking paths at all, but whatever you'd be paying for those goes directly into talking with premium members. How's that? Say you go to a bar—well, assuming you pay for entertainment access of course—but say you go to a bar, see a nice looking lady across the way—but boom, you realize she's paying for premium access. You'd never be able to speak to her. Or, y'know, more specifically the anvil in her inner ear is tuned to a wavelength that doesn't accept incoming sound from public sources. You can talk all you want—at a normal volume until you pay to upgrade—and she wouldn't hear a word of it. But now, with this other deal, you can give her a 'hello'. Spring for a few drinks and take her home along the green roads. Of course you'd only be able to converse once you're back there. I mean...it's a shame they don't make other options available for more...ah..frugal individuals...but y'know how it is. I don't make the rules here. Hey, if you get that raise though—we might be able to tack on a basic touching plan. Get some interaction going on? Hm? Anyway, I would take that one. That one's veeery—huh? Oh. I gotcha. Okay, nothing flashy. That's fine. I understand that. You're saving up. That's great. I totally respect that. We can dial it down so you can afford it. Are you interested in the..ah...no-frills deal?

Okay, yeah—just let me...

The Man in the Suit flips through the papers on his desk, singles one out with a slight hint of disgust.

..Alright, here we are. Ultra-Basic. You get green roads on weekdays from six am to five pm. After that they're off-limits...so try not to drive before or after that. It'd be an automatic violation, and nobody wants to see that happen, am I right? Standard pedestrian walkways are free on weekdays, but the tolls are in effect on weekends and holidays. In addition, there are blackout days where...ah...where I suggest you find something really good on TV.

The Man laughs.

Speech is basic-to-basic, 'raising your voice' is charged per-use and you have an exertion cap of forty minutes total...weekly aaand no more than ten minutes a day. You'll have to ahh...cut the jogging routes a little shorter now, eh? That's about it, if you're interested. It's a good deal, don't get me wrong. If I could afford to cut back on some of the finer things, I'd be on it myself. Unfortunately the ol' yacht won't sail itself. Am I right? Huh? Am I right?

Childrens' Books

Working at a bookstore, I find myself staring at kids' books often. I see Goosebumps books in my sleep. That said, I feel like some books could use alternate titles. For example...




Could possibly be changed to something like this.

And this...


Might be better as this...

And then there's this classic that I've mentioned before...



With this subtle change.

That's all for now. I turn old on Friday. Join me for drinks--I'll tell you where eventually.

Love,
Dak

...but not on the bed I'm sleepin' on.

No, the title doesn't have anything to do with anything. It's just the second half of the number one hit jam, "Come on, girl (get your pee-pee on) [but not on the bed I'm sleepin' on]" Which is incidentally the mathematic formula for AWESOME. (Solve for 'Pee-pee')

I played some Bayonetta over at McJew's place, a game which actually provoked some thought after perusing (read: McJew reading it aloud while I kick angels in the head with THUNDER FEET) this article.

In essence, the game is pure ridiculous overblown action. Honestly, it crams God of War 2's design ethic down its throat. The tutorial has you using four goddamn guns to blast angels into smithereens in slow motion while "Fly Me To The Moon" jazzes all over your sweaty back. Oh wait--no...that's the second half of the tutorial. The prologue has you falling through the air on a massive chunk of building debris while you and your rival obliterate hordes of heavilyarmed dragoons on all sides. Many flips are involved. In short, this game does action the best. No. Shut the fuck up. THE BEST.

And yes, she kicks high. The article mentions that Bayonetta dodges the objectifying women bullet by being utterly in control and completely aware of her sexuality. More often than not, you see the "Don't touch me, I'm a ballbuster" stereotype or the "I'm demure and made of BOOOOOBS" situation...or as the article suggests "Yeah, I'm a chick...but it has nothing to do with my character" thing. She is none of these. Everything this character does is deliberate--and it makes the player feel like a badass--AND IT GIZ U A BONNER. I found myself more connected to her than to a character like...say...Mai Shiranui from King of Fighters. About 95 percent of the women in gaming right now have that "Oops, am I sexy?" attitude that I find myself rolling my eyes at. Bayonetta is a welcome dose of "I'm hot as shit, I know I'm awesome, and you're going to want to play as me." As opposed to finding myself embarrassed by her ridiculous antics, I was thinking "Holy shit, girl--you're ridiculous and I love it." Just the way you'd get behind Dante or Kratos because of their overwhelming personalities.

Anyway...look...you should play the game.

ALSO--while working last night I heard one of the best quotes ever.

"Ugh...it's a WEEKEND, I don't wanna' stare at BOOKS. If I wanted to look at BOOKS, I'd be at SCHOOL."

To which I wish I'd been close enough to reply,

"Totally. Did you know there are people who actually spend their weekends staring at these filthy things?"

And lastly, y'all negroes know I'm all about the Ted Talks. And, this one? This one is one of the best.

Love,
Dakonettah

Come on girl, get yo' Pee-Pee on...

Visiting SB for long periods of time always makes me feel a little out of it. Lemme' break it down into videogame terms.

I beat that level....right? I mean, save for some missed trophies and such I figure I did pretty well. I got most of the hidden weapons and didn't Game Over at all...so I figure that's good stuff. Then I come back to the fucking first level in the game...except for some reason, most of my abilities are reset. It's like... "Where's double-jump? Where's that wind spell that helped me clear Shattered Basin of all those Deathhawks?" I'm sitting here with...like...water. Water magic. Water magic always sucks. I don't care if you think I'm wrong--it's because you're wrong and you're stupid.

At work...er...in the cave here in the first area, my controls keep freezing up--and when I finally manage to actually pull off one of my high-level techniques, I get penalized for it. I feel like I'm losing score fast. The game's been stuck at 24% completion and hasn't budged since Macbeth a few months ago. On top of that, I'm tired of my own bitching. ("So are we." Mutter the masses. "Yeah, well eat a dick." I reply.)

Fundamentally it's a problem with motion. Despite the fact that I've actually come an incredibly long way in a stupidly short time keeps getting lost behind the fact that I don't have a car yet, and I'm shitty with money, and I haven't produced a webcomic or a performance art piece down here. (When I say "Down here", I am gesturing to my scrotal sack.) Going away was so amazing--but therein lies the problem...it was SOOO AMAZING. I've just gotta' find the freedom and the enjoyment that ARE here in TEH EFFING GODDAMN VALLEY. Maybe if I resented it less.

Sure, I'll just fucking flip that switch.

Thanks for letting me vent.

Love love love--srsly. :)

Dakotah

P.S. On the real, though--I'll work on enjoying myself more.

I'm Weird

Everyone talks to themselves. Not everyone does so aloud. Fewer yet do so aloud in Japanese.

Except in Japan, I suppose.

I get phrases from games and anime stuck in my head with alarming frequency, and I have this compulsion to repeat them. They just sound COOL. And no, they aren't cool. Not in real life. There's a reason IKUZE!!! ('Let's Go!'--with an emphasis on "I'm gonna' punch you in the manberries") is generally left to the 2D plane is because it'd be silly to shout that unless you were going to hit somebody with a pipe--or conversely you REALLY REALLY needed to go to the market for some milk.

In addition, I say things like "Dokomademo, AGAITERU!" (anywhere, I will fight!) and "Shanto Shina~" (Do it right.) Because I heard them somewhere and I like how they sound. I should really start singing aloud instead. I might get fewer weird looks.

Though frankly--I enjoy the weird looks.

Love,
Dakotah

The Sequel To A Space Odyssey

Cleaning my room this morning, I came across last year's weekly schedule. Instantly, I remembered buying it over a year ago at a stationary store in Santa Cruz with Erin. Flipping through it now is a trip--seeing all the Tech dates for Antiapathy and rehearsals for La Ninera...and of course the random days where I wrote stuff like "BOOOBS" and "LOGISTICS!!"

So now I'm listening to my funk station on Pandora (by the way, if you still haven't heard Mayer Hawthorne or Eli Paperboy Reed--you're missing out, evidently white people are really cool now) and realizing that I have absolutely no fucking clue where things are going to go from here. It's really really exciting. Sure, now I'm working at the ol' Bee N Enn and waiting for Othello to begin, but in the intervening period I've decided to quit dogging myself so much about not being where I'm 'supposed to be'. I mean hell--how the fuck am I supposed to know that?

So yup yup yup! Good things in a bucket.

Love love AND LOVE ON PURPOSE,
Dakotah

Re-Solutions

I figured, like Beans, I ought to scrawl down my resolutions here. It's only fitting--and besides, once you write them down it feels more like you're contractually bound to them.

So here goes-!

2010 Looks like--

Following Impulses
Being Honest With Myself
Traveling (Japan again, at very least)
Honing My Craft
Finishing Hard Reset
Writing Flyboy
Writing Another One Person Show
Performing Said One Person Show
Reuniting With My Fantasmic 09'ers
Focusing On One Thing At A Time
Allowing Time For Quiet
READING MORE BOOKS (I'm looking at YOU)
Letting Myself Be a Little More Crazy and a Little Less Reserved

I think that does it so far...now I'm off to get in some sit-ups before running errands/finding some SUUUPER douchey aviators on the cheap.

Love LOVE LOVE,
Dakotah