Write: write-like-hell! Throw it up. Spit it out of you!
-Just because I can imagine something, does not make it real. (I’m like a hamster jotting this down on his notepad, glasses.)
-Did you know I’m actually a real good singer? Showtunes! Jazzy!
It’s like hey! I just learned how to talk. One of us is always on the more physical, feet firmly planted on the floor, walkin around, runnin errands, gettin shit done. The other one, over here, whatever that is “tied” like with one piece of kitchen twine around the pointer finger keeping you here. Like , damn can you- will you chill out a minute? (It’s like hey! I just learned how to talk.) Filling up this space around me. Sorry can you shut, the fuck up for a second. (Can’t write with a pen and paper fast enough.) It is one thing to need time it’s another thing to HAVE it. God fucking dammit motherfucker you have it! Have it like the callous on your foot.
Feel it! (Feel it!) Why do you gotta be up on that stage with some (corded) microphone. Is there gotta be a top hat? This is like the wrap up to the, maybe rising action to some agonizing climax that I’VE BEEN SITTING IN THIS UNCOMFORTABLE CHAIR. And god would you just give it a rest. You cannot predict. You cannot, predict. Instead you get to stew in this soupy uncertainty forever and you get to treasure it. Swim around and pick up those tasty vegetables, little chops and bits of them that sit in your hand like a lump of dough, take a bite out of them! And sit! And feel it! Feel it.
Why do you need to run to cross the road when you’re not even on a timeline, not even got some deadline in front-ahead of you. It takes, time. Okay, nothing without intention, but it takes, time. And, nothing without intention? Don’t check! that damn screen again don’t tap! it with that pretty finger. You need to recognize the things you do to yourself, have you forgotten what it means to hold an angel in front of you, with your hands, have him sit in the palm of your hands, can you do it gently? Can you hold him there, gently, will you take the time to listen.
Listen to what he’s telling you. (This is the part of the monologue where she’s like taking those pauses in the wrong places and getting a bit desperate looking to the audience little side eye but she’s got it right, still on track.) God and feel it but take the time to say it properly. WRITE IT DOWN. If nothing else write it down. Hold it out in front of you and really look at it. (Angel sleeping in the palm of your hand.) Angel, Angel! Reach out! And then you gotta wait, I’m sorry to say it. You gotta wait. W-e-i-g-h-t. And, can you believe it. Got a weight in your hand. Feel it.
Baby you still got it.
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