Monday, 1 August 2016

Kim Kutledge Monologue by Josh Weckesser

Kim Kutledge's Monologue
By Josh Weckesser
My name is Kim Kutledge and I am broken. I'm not really broken in the way that a tree becomes broken in a tropical storm or the way an egg becomes broken when it is dropped to the kitchen floor before it can be put in the omelet. I am broken like a bone, painfully and somewhat grotesque to look at, but under the right conditions and proper care I will heal. [beat] What I mean to say is that I am a poet. Really, I am. Listen to this. It's a love poem. [clears throat]
Excuse me, but if you would
Give me the chance, I think I could
Do what I need to make you feel good
[long pause] What? No applause? Now you see what I'm talking about, broken. I wasn't even blessed with being tortured, Poe and Dante were tortured, I am simply ineffectual and unloved. I know what you're thinking, "Surely you jest, who would not love you?" The answer is the source of my pain and the reason I cannot heal. I do not love me. I'm like that one guy in that one 80's movie, I do everything that everyone tells me to do. On the plus side nothing is ever my fault, I can always point the finger at someone else. On the down side I talk to myself a lot. Like now for example. None of you are real. I bet you didn't know that, and I kinda hate to break it to you because I'm sure you think you're real, but I just made every one of you up. That's gotta be depressing, but don't worry about it, you'll cease to exist once I've finished thinking about you. But you wanna know the worst part? Would Keanu Reeves please stand up? [pause] See? He's not here! He's never here! I'm so broken that I can't even control my own hallucinations even after I've accepted that fact that they're hallucinations. I know you're wondering about the whole Keanu Reeves thing, but even if he can't act he can say "woah" with the best of them and if he wore his Matrix costume he wouldn't have to say a thing. [beat] Maybe I should go see a psychiatrist about this. I'm pretty sure it's not normal. He'd most likely tell me it was 'advanced projected schizophrenia' or something. I'm sure he'd ask me, "Do you occasionally feel like you're on stage?" and I'd say no but he'd see though it because he'd be a good psychiatrist, and I'd never go see a bad one. So I'd admit to sometimes feeling like I'm on stage and he'd ask me if I'd like to see Keanu Reeves appear and I'd deny that too, but he'd see though it again. So then I'd tell him that Keanu never showed, with or without his leather Matrix jacket. Then I'd ask him how he knew and he'd tell me that it's a pretty common thing, he used to go though something similar. It's hero worship gone horribly awry, something about not having the confidence to want to see someone actually interesting. All I'd have to do to avoid these things was to believe in myself, have some confidence. [epiphany] Yes, I think that's it! Of course that's it. I can do that. I can love myself, I can. And I will. [pause] Right?

Just looking by Kellie Powell

Just Looking

By Kellie Powell

Angela is at the center of a complex love polygon, all set behind the scenes of a summer theatre program. Brian and Ryan are best friends who are both infatuated with Debbie, Debbie has cheated on Brian with Alex - who was briefly a love interest of Angela. Angela feels responsible for Brian's heartache because she is responsible for introducing him to Debbie - but perhaps there is more to it than that.

This monologue is from ACT II. Angela confides in Ryan that Debbie has cheated on Brian with Alex (who Angela has also had a bit of a fling with), and vents about her resulting anxiety.
Things are so amazingly fucked-up right now! I mean, Debbie and Brian were not doing well... It's just, the logic escapes me. She feels like he doesn't trust her, like he's waiting for her to cheat - so she DOES. Instead of saying, "Brian, I don't feel like you trust me," she hooks up with Alex! What THE HELL is THAT? People are fucking INSANE! I...
The thing is, I feel inextricably linked to the whole mess, because I wanted them to be together, to work out, to stay together... And I end up sharing Alex The Walking Bag of Disease with her. I... She's the one who told me to have a fling, anyway! I guess she decided to take her own advice. She... She didn't know what I needed; she knew what she wanted.
I feel responsible for this. How else am I supposed to feel?
(Pause.) I need to stop feeling people's pain for them, trying to step between my friends and their scars.

Later in ACT II. Angela has just realized the real reason she's been crazy: Her infatuation with Brian.
I have feelings for you. Not just, like, strange, uncontrollable physical attraction, although, I feel that... I have since we were in Oedipus together, since before I even broke up with Luke. And not just that bizarre combination of admiration and fascination that keeps you on my permanent good side no matter how drastically you cross the line or how much of a little whiny bitch you can sometimes be - although, obviously, I feel that. And not just that totally annoying and inescapable feeling that I want to take care of you, because I made you promise to treat her right, and I should've made her make that same promise, so you'd never have to feel the kind of pain I feel when I see her let you down - even though I feel that, too. It's all those things, and it's more, more than I can ever put into words.
Listen, don't say anything. Because you need to spend some time on your own, be alone for a while, and you're going to need time to let all that sink in.
I'm going to need time to let all that sink in.
But... if the time ever comes in your life, when you're ready... please consider me. I'll be here. I'll be waiting.

ACT III. Many months later, Angela is finally with Brian, but is very uncertain about their relationship.
I used to have horrible insomnia. For years... And... I used to play all these games, you know, in my head, to try to relax and get to sleep... Like, I would count how long I could keep my eyes open. And then I would count how long I could keep them closed... And one night, after Luke and I broke up, I set my mind to trying to imagine the perfect guy. I did that for a really long time, until I had it down to microscopic detail, I knew exactly, precisely what I wanted. And then... Deb... she knew it before I did. She made me realize... it was you.
I stayed with my first boyfriend too long, because I was terrified of being alone again, and because I didn't know that I deserved better. And then, when I finally broke up with him, being alone was scary, but I got through that. I even started to like it. I found out I was pretty good at being alone. I found out that I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. And I just want you to know... that I like you, and I love being with you... but you're not perfect. And I... am no more lucky to be with you than you are to be with me. And... I need for you to tell me that you aren't with me just because you're afraid of being alone, just because you want to be with someone.

Because of Beth by Elana Gartner

Because of Beth

By Elana Gartner

Cara's mother has just died, and left custody of her sister, Penny, to Cara. This monologue is from Act I, Scene III. Cara enters, carrying a six pack of beer. She wanders through the tombstones until she gets to a fresh grave. She sits down next to it, takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. She looks down at the grave.
I'm really sorry, Mom. (long pause) I know I should have been there. I had so many chances to say goodbye to you and you kept telling me... say goodbye now, you never know... and I didn't want to. Well, so, are you happy? You were right. You were fucking right. (sighs) All that time and I never said goodbye to you. (finishes the cigarette and opens a beer. She sits down.) And let's get something clear: I'm not saying goodbye to you now. That's not why I'm here. I came to talk to you. Just talk. You and me. (stands up and starts pacing)So let's talk... (looks at grave. Short laugh.) I always wanted you to listen to me... now that I have your attention, I don't know what to... (long pause. Cara stares at the grave. Screams, frustrated.) Aaaaauuuuuughhhh! This fucking sucks! I can't believe how much this sucks! You're not supposed to be gone yet, Mom! This whole fucking mess sucks! Penny? She's so fucking whiny! It's like she has no other way to relate to me except to sob on me. And who do I have? No one! My friends aren't here. (pause) None of those people today cared about you, Mom. (gets quiet) I did. I cared about you. (pause) It's worse than when Dad left because at least then I had you. Now I don't have anyone. Oh, and what's with him showing up at the funeral? I mean, what the fuck is that, Mom? (Angrily) Since when does Dad even have a clue what the hell is going on in our lives? Do you think maybe you could tell me that? It's sick, you know. It's like I only get to have one parent surfacing at a time. Well, luckily, he's gone again. What a bastard! This is so fucking unreal. You have to come home! You have to! (accusing) You didn't even wait for me to show up so I could say goodbye to you! It wasn't my fault! I couldn't get here any faster! Couldn't you have waited just another fifteen minutes? And now Stanley wants to take Penny, the only family that I have left. It's not going to happen. Penny's my sister, not his daughter. Stanley wants me to go with him to the lawyers' tomorrow. He said he thinks Dad's going to try to take Penny. (looks uncomfortable) Dad can't do that, can he? He hasn't been here in forever. He can't just come and take custody, right? (long pause as she thinks) He won't. He won't get custody. I'll go to the lawyers' and make sure. I'll have to be in the grave next to you for him to get custody, Mom! (Quietly)I'm the only one left who actually knows, who remembers everything about you... I do. Even Penny doesn't. I remember the night Dad left. No one else knows about that. (sits down next to the grave) Remember how you came into my room and you were crying... and you couldn't tell me what was wrong, but you just crawled into my bed and asked me to give you huggies to make Mommy better. And I did. I gave you huggies. But it didn't get better. And I started crying and we fell asleep crying. (long pause as she chokes back tears)Mommy, I need huggies to make it better. I need huggies. Make it better. (starts sobbing and shaking. Rocks herself in her sobs.)

Because of Beth By Elana Gartner

Because of Beth
By Elana Gartner
When teenage Penny's long-missing father doesn't recognize her at her mother's funeral, she risks her relationship with her irresponsible older sister (Cara) to learn about him and possibly overturn the guardianship her mother chose. In her quest, Penny learns how post-death experiences for the living can be treacherous when secrets are fresh, plentiful and powerful. This monologue is from Act I, Scene VI, and takes place in a graveyard. There is a fresh grave without a headstone. It is late afternoon. Penny enters with her bike. Her backpack is in the basket and she is carrying her violin case. She is looking at each gravestone. She finally comes to the fresh grave. She puts her bike and violin case down and goes to the grave. She looks at it a moment, then leans down, picks up a handful of dirt and throws it at the grave angrily.
Well, Mom, it looks like we have a few things to talk about! I don't know how things are in that nice coffin of yours, but out here, they kind of suck a lot! How could you give Cara custody of me? Don't you think you could have talked to me about it? I mean, it's about me, don't you think you could have asked what I wanted? All anyone ever says is that I have to be older. Well, when do I get old enough for you to discuss these kinds of things with me? Is there some age limit like drinking and voting? Suddenly you can talk to me about what would happen to me if you died? I am always the last one to know about what happens to me! It's not fair! You make decisions! Cara makes decisions! Stanley makes decisions! And Stanley wants custody! Yeah, he wants custody! He's not my father. He just wants custody because I'm your daughter. (pause)You told me that you would always be there. You're not. Where are you now? Oh, and just so you know, no matter how many people tell me, I'm not going to believe that mumbo jumbo crap about you being with me all the time. It's not the same. Who am I going to talk to about Peter? You were the only one who knew about him. God, I'm never going to go out with Peter because I have to move to Arlington! You are wrecking my life! Cara fights with Stanley all the time. Stanley's so out of it he can barely make it through the day. He didn't wake Cara up to go to your funeral because he knew Dad was going to be there. Oh, and keeping a few secrets about him, huh? (takes out something from her bag) You're really lucky that Cara didn't find this when we were going through the boxes. (she opens a T-shirt that says "Proud dad of a George Mason grad") So what the hell is this? I know this wasn't for Stanley. Cara would have flipped out if you ever called Stanley her dad. So I'm thinking this was supposed to be for DAD. What the hell were you thinking, Mom? (she crumples it back up and shoves it in her bag) What's up with you lying about how you met Stanley? You and Dad and Stanley being friends in college? You know, we used to tell each other everything, Mom! Everything! Or at least I told you everything. All of my friends thought you were so cool because they could come and talk to you when they couldn't talk to their own moms! And you know what's so stupid? They still think that! Georgia calls me, crying and shit because you're gone and I'm finding out all this stuff about who you really were! You were my mom! When Dad left, it was you and me and Cara! And then when Cara left, it was just you and me! It was always us. Even when Stanley moved in. You weren't supposed to keep secrets from me! You were still supposed to be my mom! Because of you, I spent my whole life thinking Dad was this awful person. Well, I met him, Mom! And you know what? He's not an awful person; he's just hard to get to know. I hate Cara! She sent him away! She doesn't understand that I never knew him. I never got the chance to make my own decision about whether or not to hate him. I had to get that decision from you and her, too. I'm tired of this. You were supposed to be different. But you were like every other mom who makes choices for their kids. You told me that you weren't like that but you were. And I never realized how much until you died. (long pause) I came here to tell you that I'm leaving. I don't care what you said about my custody and I don't care if you left me stuff. I'm going to Chicago or somewhere else where nobody can find me. I'm going to be a musician. I'm going to start making my own decisions. (glares at the grave for a long time. Starts to tear up and angrily brushes it away. Stomps away defiantly to her bike.)

The piaggi suite by Diane Grant

The Piaggi Suite
By Diane Grant
"The Piaggi Suite" is a romantic comedy in which a monstrously self-absorbed and powerful diva visits a legendary New England musicians' retreat that has seen better days. Dangling the prospects of celebrity and success, she manipulates the collection of resident musicians as they struggle with the conflicts between career and love, the dangers of ambition, the perils of success, the pain of loss, and the glory of music. In this scene, Darlene, a seventeen year old composer, meets her hero, rock star Ziggy Martiin.
Ziggy Martin. Is it you? Is it really? I saw you with Dave Matthews. In Syracuse. It was the most beautiful night of my entire life. Did you really sit in with Sting?
I was at the Black Hole when you were there. I'm mad about the Hole. It's the best club ever. I had this song I wrote for you but they wouldn't let me go backstage. In November, two years ago. I was sitting right in front, surrounded by an entourage of coffee cups. I'd had eight cups of coffee and I was high.
I don't drink alcohol anymore. I had this boyfriend, Gary, he's twenty one, and he does catering and we used to finish off the booze at the end of parties. One night, we finished off four or five Daiquiris and then we found a bottle with some gin in it. There were some Zimas but we didn't touch them. Gary said we should avoid the Zimas. I was so sick, I kept throwing up and the next morning, all I could eat was a pint of Ben and Jerry's.
He's not my boyfriend, anymore. He went out with my friend Gloria and then he dumped her, too.
Gary's a drummer, he just does catering for the money when he doesn't have a gig. He drums like God but he's kind of stunned and I'm glad we broke up because I think you're the most exciting and most creative man I've ever met.
I know you're into alternative pop-rock so the song I wrote for you is really retro. Do you want to hear it? Really? Really?
Listen to my history rant.
Gonna tell you about Adam Ant
Bad Religion, Alice in Chains
Beck and Bjork and The Leaving Trains
Beastie Boys and Dead Kennedys
Talking Heads and Screaming Trees
Germ, Fear, Violent Femmes
Sisters of Mercy and R.E.M.
Devo and Rage Against the Machine
Pearl Jam, Garbage, Hole and Ween
Echo and The Bunnymen, Ministry
Flaming Lips and Fugazi
Pixies, Primus, Pere Ubu
(slowing down)
Jane's Addiction,
(slows to stop)

Do you like it? Really? Really? (smothers a scream) This is the most beautiful day of my entire life.

The prism by Ed Friedman

The Prism
By Ed Friedman
The Prism is a one-act play consisting of seven monologues which express our perception of aging in the U.S. through the lens of culture and economic class. Gloria is an Italian-American waitress in her early forties living and working in the Bronx. She is sitting at a booth in the diner where she works, wearing her uniform, emptying half empty bottles into other half empty bottles and talking to another waitress (unseen) sitting opposite her.
(Her eyes trailing someone walking by her.) You see that? That guy with the old lady? That's his mother. They're in here three times a week. Sometimes he just comes in by himself to get her some cheesecake. Ya know what it would take to get one of my brothers to do something for my mother? She'd have to be held hostage by terrorists. I'm not kidding. Nine brothers, none of them do squat. She has to go to the doctor, I take her. She needs shopping, I do it. She wants to visit somebody, go to a wedding, go to a funeral, its me, me and me. I don't mind, but come on. If I had a couple of sisters ok, but it's just me. Plus, 'cause I'm divorced and got no kids, the sky's the limit. (Pause.) If that asshole I married woulda kept it in his pants, I woulda already been livin' upstate twenty years. Instead I'm still livin' in my mother's building. I swear if it wasn't rent controlled I'd be outta there...
This is what I mean: her friend's granddaughter was getting married in Brooklyn. My mother just wanted to go to the church. I was planning to get my hair done that day. I hadn't done it in about two months so I say to her, "Ma, I'm kinda busy, do you think one of the boys can take you?" "Who?" she says. "Who? How about Anthony, Emilio, Vincent..." I start goin' down the list. She goes, "They're busy with their families." I don't even get into that, that's a crock of shit, so I say, "What about John?" "He's got a girlfriend." "What about Danny?" "Oh Danny works so hard." So I say, "Are you kiddin me Ma? I'm on my feet sixty hours a week." Know what she says? "Forget it, I'll stay home." ...What'd I do? Look at my hair, whadda think I did? Ya know all that stuff about Jewish guilt? My mother could teach them, lemme tell ya. Ya know why she's like this don'tcha? You wouldn't get this, you're not Italian. In Italian families, the sons don't do nothin', they're all princes. The daughters got to do everything. That's the way she was raised. That's the way they were all raised around here. When my grandmother got married she had no say. Her father said, "See that guy? He's gonna be your husband." And that was that. When the family went to my grandparents for dinner, the women would be running around cooking and serving and making sure the men had everything. The wives were like slaves. When the men were finished then they could eat. And these women, when their husbands died, they'd dress in black - I mean, forever, no matter how old they were when their husbands died. (She laughs at what she's about to remember.) When I was young, I thought the women who wore black were letting the men know they were available. I'm not kidding. (Beat.)
And nothing ever changes. About two weeks ago, I'm in my mother's apartment. I'm ironing, right? Who comes in? My brother Vincent. You woulda thought he just came back from the war. He runs a goddam exterminating business in Bellmore. But he's like the waddayacall, prodigal son. Shit, they're all the prodigal son. And guess who has to wait on him? ...Good guess. Before he has his coat off, my mother goes. "Gloria, make some coffee, make Vincent a sandwich." And you know if I didn't do it, he'd sit there and let her wait on him. So, not to make my mother do it, I'm makin' the coffee, makin' the sandwich. Him? He just sits on his ass like a king, eatin' and drinkin'. God forbid he brings her something. How do you get raised in an Italian family and come over somebody's house empty-handed? Ya think he asks her how she's feeling? Not that she'd complain to him, that she saves for me. Or ya think he'd say to me, "I know this is all on you, can you use any help?" Nah. He just leaves after an hour, and I gotta watch this pathetic scene:
"Vincent, come next week with Rosemarie and the kids."
"I'll try Ma. But the kids have so much goin' on with school, and homework, and soccer. Rosemarie's got her hands full with the house and the kids..."
I know he's not comin' back any time soon, but I see her slip him two tens and she says, "Here, for the kids."
"Thanks, Ma; they'll give you a call."
They don't call. They could give a shit. You know when they see her? Once a year, Christmas. Each year one of the sisters-in-laws gets stuck makin' dinner. Thank God they all have houses and I'm still in an apartment or I'd be doin' that too. So this past Christmas, it's Anthony and Donna's turn. Of course, I take my mother. They're all seein' that she can't make it from the dinner table to the bathroom without help, but all they say is "Gee, doesn't Mom look great?" They don't pick up that she hears like every fifth word they're sayin'. And she won't let them know she can't hear. But between the pasta and the roast beef she'll grab my arm and like sneakily try to whisper, "Who are they talking about?"
...What? Please, the wives are as bad as my brothers. Last time we were at Emilio's, I grabbed his wife Lorraine to the side. I want her to try to get my brother to do the right thing, right? So I say to her, "Lorraine, ya know Mom's not doin so good. It would be nice if you guys came by, ya know for a visit, bring the kids." So she says to me, "Oh sure, but you know we've been so busy. And ya know it's not like she's on death's door, she'll be around for a long time." And I'm thinking, "She's eighty-six, what do you consider a long time?" So I try Victoria, Joey's wife and I'm tryin' to be honest. I say, "Vicki, I'm really getting worn down with Ma and work, and I'm just havin' trouble takin care of her. So I thought maybe you could talk to the other girls and come over once in a while to help take care of her." So she goes, "Ya know who's upstate, (by the way they consider Westchester upstate) who's out on the island, and let's face it, Glo, nobody can take care of her like you. You know what she likes, what she needs. She don't want us there. Besides, I'll tell ya, she looks like she's doin OK. Maybe you just need some vitamins." So I go, "Why don't you take this vitamin, my foot up your ass."
...No, but I wanted to. I was just so pissed. So, I grab Anthony in between football games, and I go, "Listen I can't manage her anymore, I'm gonna look for a nursing home." He looks at me like I'm speakin' Martian. I tell him that I can't take care of her by myself, and he goes, "Whadda ya talking about, she's fine."I say, "She can't be by herself anymore. I'm nervous when I leave to go to work. When I'm home she don't want me to go out. I'm gonna bring somebody in." "Fuggedaboutit, he goes," they're all moolinyam. She don't want one in her house, and I don't want one neither. Why don't you just move into her apartment? You'll be right there and you'll save on rent." I just fuckin' lost it. "Are you listenin' to me?" I tell him. "I have no life, I have no energy, and she needs more help. So she's goin' into a nursing home. You can ignore her there the same way you do now." So now he's getting crazy, turning red. "You listen to me. My mother's not goin' into a fuckin' nursing home and that's that." And he leaves. And I realize, I'm screwed, I'm just screwed.

Sometimes when my Mother makes me so mad I could spit nails, I imagine packin' up all her stuff without her knowin', puttin' it in the trunk and say, "Mom, we're goin to Vincent's." I'd drive up there, ring the bell and when they'd open the door, I'd say, "She's all yours, good luck." I'd get back in the car and keep driving till I got to Florida. I could never really do that, but I'm standin' there in my brother's den, hearin' all the voices upstairs and thinking I can't be here another minute. So I grab my coat, get in the car and go. Seriously. I didn't say goodbye to nobody, I didn't even say anything to my Mother. I just went home. They called my house, yellin' into my machine, "How could you leave your mother here?" Stuff like that. I knew eventually one of them would bring her home. (Pause.) I could never leave my Mother. I used to be mad at her for bein' the way she is. Then I got even more pissed at my brothers. Now I'm thinking, maybe this is my own fault. I've been goin' along with this for so many years. How the hell did this happen?