monologue for lucky the loser by maya nul.exe
lucky the loser:
what is the difference between onion and garlic?
what is the difference between analog and digital cell phones?
*********************
frantic monologue in subway map for lucky the loser
1. she said
: tension
: expression
: terrible
: isolation
: oh my
2. i guess
: transparency
: it's amazing
: communal life
0. liberation
: she gave up
3. never ever
: actually
: exile
: i scare
: integration
: unbelievable
: synchronization
4. communication
: wonderful
: immortality
: dependency
: she's a
: papacy
: incredible
: intimacy
: her boyfriend is
: superstition.
curtain
************************
The critic is silent, while Mabel speaks to critic.
Mabel: Are your eyes okay? The look red. Especially, the right eye. Near the
pupil. I have some eye drops. You put two drops in. Wait a minute. See if
the red is gone. If not, you do it again. Let me see your left eye.
(critic looks away)
You know, I like the nose spray better than the eye drops. I hold a Kleenex
in one hand, do the spray, and blow. Eye drops can make your eyes tear five
minutes later. Where's the Kleenex then? That's what I say. It's across the
room. Or, in the bathroom. You said you like jellied spring salad? No? How
do you like your gelatine mold? Would you like some selzer? Do you like the
gelatine mold too? Would you like both? My jello is flavored. I used to make
unflavored gelatine. No more. The grocery store sells flavored gelatine. But
not the unflavored. I don't go there. I walk by it. The owner knows me. She
waves. I wave back. But do I go in? No. Yesterday, I renewed my magazine subscription.
I talked to the nicest man. He went to City College. I told him I took Physics
there. For fun, mind you. He took a Calculus class for fun. We talked five
minutes. It was an eight-hundred number. His dime. To start, I always boil
some water. Was it the jellied spring mold or the gelatine mold you liked?
(critic looks away)
I watched Happy Days. The Fonz had two girl friends. One was smart. One was
pretty. The Fonz could not make up his mind. It turned out the smart one was
pretty too. She took off her glasses and put her hair down. He chose her.
Have you seen it? I've seen it twice. Guess how many times I've seen a Hawaii
Five-O show? Five times. I can say the lines before they can them. "Get
your gun." See? I have not been offered cable. I will not take it. Mrs.
Smith said she would take cable. She would. Your left eye is red. So is your
right one.
The eye drops are in my purse. Down the hall. Would you like me to find a
wash cloth Or a Kleenex?
(critic looks away)
When I was nineteen, I went to Stanley Lake. We rented a boat. The boat was
fast. There were four of us. All boys. Boats are bigger now. Have you heard
of a cigarette boat? I have. A recreational boat. That's what I want. Mrs.
Smith said she would take a cigarette boat. She would. Maybe she has eye drops
too.
(looks into critic's eyes)
Both are red. Like my gelatine mold. Also, reminds me of a fish. That's it.
A live fish. You know, in an aquarium. Swimming. Or, maybe in a lake. Like
Stanley Lake. Perhaps, I will go visit a lake. By then, I will have a boat.
I will build a cabin. What do you think? A one story . . .or . . .a two story?
Sun heated with panels. On the roof. They stick up. They are called solar
heating.
(a beat)
I broke a bottle. Today. It broke in half. Have you heard of such a thing?
Breaking a bottle in half? It was for my dairy product flame. Milk spilled
on the counter. I wiped it. The bottle is in a bag. For you, to see. You can
keep the bottle. I washed it. Washed it good. There is no dairy product. I
will buy some.
(points to art)
This salad? They're guns. See the bananas? The lettuce? There's a spot on
the salad. See? Where is a rag? To wipe. To scrub. Ha, ha. I can't.
(holds it up)
I use it.
(flourishes it)
Like this.
(flourishes it again)
And like this. Has no back. Is no chair or couch.
(puts it down)
There's a cobweb. In the corner. It has been there. For a long time. It has.
(end)
Morg
*********************************
monologue for luna paradise
by nulexe
part 1
: if thought is a proof of existence it always has a form of dialogue.
any monologue is just bigger part of dialogue, and finally stares
for answer.
: dialogue is not a mere exchange of useful information or etiquette.
: primary base of communication is beyond the surface of q&a's and it
has a name of wonder.
: from it comes thought as in a dialogue form. It is followed by
speech, action, or silence. unfortunately the process is usually
interrupted by
re-thinking, and this is mistaken for thinking itself.
: re-thinking is conditioned by non-confidence, sometimes by politics.
part 2
: though almost look alike, there's difference between garlic and
onion. we know it.
: there could be no incomes in self-trade. thinking that's not
intended for other, for prospective other at last, is a self-trade
without any values.
: illumination is for two. not for one, or "everyone".
: we should not expect results from ourselves.
: nobody can sleep on behalf of you.
*****************************
luna critic
on stilts all in white large glasses.
of course you are fools to listen to me want me to speak.
we love you the way butterfly collectors love pretty insects.
on the head of a pin or inside a glass case.
there's nothing alive or happening when...
we spread your vitals on a slide, slicing innards thin.
did you ever realize that when light hits inside an organ
the gut dies. we wish you dead trussed
up on needles flesh sliced thin.
as we walk near you you feel a twinge pain jolts all over your body.
it's thrilling as we walk near. you need us to put you in stocks.
when in stocks, head under the cross bar, arms out...
now the public sees you you are on public view. the public flies to
us.
watch how the public a vast ocean flies to us hangs on our what we
say.
the world falls apart falls apart in their minds. the world
is impossible as the vast ocean of public thinks about the world.
watch me speak softly with authority. hear my sweetness.
this one is good i say a must see because it is real.
this one is false i say not real, only a circus trick, no weight
color,
stay away from this one. a magician has made this one, a shaman.
i am the only shaman alive today. no cure is possible without me.
sickness spreads is everywhere. happy to find the land of oedipus.
the sphinx never happened we made her up.
ask us any question. love to hear an anxious question.
all of you out there are nervous and confused.
you are full of anxiety obsessions compulsions.
pray pray for an addiction something to make you mind dead.
listen as i softly and sweetly help you stop...
**********************************************
Dear Katie,
Today is like any other day. The reflection of
sunlight off the earth is bright, but cold. I'm cold.
The brochures were all wrong. The radio
advertisements. I want to go home.
Pierre is here. He is lying over there, just so. I
wish you could see his blue hands.
When I come home, Katie, I will need a new boyfriend,
okay? Someone who doesn't mind riding the subway.
There are worse things.
Love,
Lucky
***************************
eggs are very popular in:
fad diets
philosophy
chickens
diners
females
decorating
fancy food: caviar
clown shows
and this boy: www.dinosaurdiscoverycenter.com/
(cut and paste to view)
maybe a monologue?
*********************
luna paradise
(on inside)
lately, i've found i can look inside of things.
all kinds of things. live things and dead things.
i stare and stare. suddenly, the surface rips off.
it's like xray vision only stronger and in color.
what do you see.
tubes and dots mostly. and circles. tinkertoys.
it all looks like tinkertoys. only smaller.
and flexible. very very flexible. the colors.
the colors. i can't really call the colors red or blue...
i see burnt orange. magenta. mixed up colors...
one color going into flowing into another.
i can't really name the true colors of what's inside.
magenta, burnt orange, red-black, yellow-purple.
it would be very inaccurate if i gave you names
for the colors i see inside things.
************************************
don't look at me. you really need to look at someone else.
stare stare stare. your father's a chair. your mother's a
bear.
stare stare stare. go look in the mirror sometime.
look in a mirror and stare at yourself, stare at yourself
for a whole minute. that'll make you crazy.
**************************************
lately, i've found i can look inside of things.
all kinds of things. live things and dead things.
i stare and stare. suddenly, the surface rips off.
it's like xray vision only stronger and in color.
what do you see.
tubes and dots mostly. and circles. tinkertoys.
it all looks like tinkertoys. only smaller.
and flexible. very very flexible. the colors.
the colors. i can't really call the colors red or blue...
i see burnt orange. magenta. mixed up colors...
one color going into flowing into another.
i can't really name the true colors of what's inside.
magenta, burnt orange, red-black, yellow-purple.
*******************************
know when i'm working well because it hurts a lot.
for instance, about ten years ago i was writing a woman
who had survived the holocaust. i was writing
her character for a theater piece. it wasn't going well.
i thought about the woman riding in a boxcar going to the camps.
a hundred people or so jammed in one car.
people were dying all around her. they died.
and couldn't even fall down to the floor.
they died and they were held up standing because
everyone was jammed together so close. the ride
went on for four or five days without food or water.
it was very hot and very cold. a lot of people died.
the woman survived the experience by staring.
she stared through a crack in wooden car. she stared
at a crack of blue sky. i kept trying to write her
write her character. but got no where.
then one night i woke up in middle of the night
and felt my body vibrating all over. it felt like there
were hollowed out places all over my body
where skin and muscles went into spasm.
i felt crazy like i was going crazy...
often i feel crazy like i'm going crazy
when i work. i hit a point where it feels
wooden and forced and doesn't go any where.
then i feel crazy...
************************
i had a glitch in my safari browser. that's why there are some no author
no
subject posts. worked around it for the moment. tho no author no subject
sounds kinda neat. maybe could use...
*****************************
luna critic
on stilts all in white large glasses
i spread your vitals on a slide, slicing innards thin.
when light hits an organ the gut dies.
i want you trussed up on needles flesh sliced thin.
a twinge pain jolts all over your body.
it's thrilling as i walk near.
i speak softly hear my sweetness.
this one is good i say, a must see, because it is real.
sickness spreads everywhere, happy to find the land of oedipus.
the sphinx never happened i made her up.
ask me any question, love to hear an anxious question.
you out there nervous and confused
listen as i softly sweetly help you stop.
************************
Dear Maybelle,
I am watching your back. You say you have a
manifesto, and I am nearly persuaded. Your manifesto,
as you call it, should be preserved in aspic for all
eternity. Right here in my refrigerator.
But as I watch your back, I see the lines of your
shoulderblades. They are unmistakeable. I can tell
that your hands are criss-crossed upon your breasts
just so. What you don't know is that I recognize this
pose. I call this pose "the critic." Yes, laugh. I
know you want to laugh. Critic.
Fake weapons cannot laugh back.
Sincerely.
(as reported to oscar zamora zamora)
******************************
It’s been a year since Father died. When Mother died,
I was only seven and three quarters but I had to
become the mother to you both as well as your older
sister. Did I do right by you? I tried, you know.
I had to learn how to be a woman from television.
“One Life to Live,” “Days of Our Lives,” “All
My
Children,” “General Hospital,” “Daylight Menagerie,”
“Passionate Embrace,” “Dallas” and the magazines of
course. I skipped Seventeen and went straight to
Mademoiselle, Ms., Playgirl, Good Housekeeping, Home
and Garden, House and Kitchen, Modern Woman, Lady of
Leisure. I stayed home like a mother would and
studied, catalogued every gesture and practiced
practiced to be an adult so that you didn’t have to.
Then when you came home I would show you what I had
learned and you would smile. Because I had kept you
from the pain and from the responsibility of being a
woman.
****************************
For maybelle
Last time I saw the moll and her twin they were taking down the Bowery with
a Gatling gun and a hundred gallons of pure grain alcohol. Everyone was egging
them on until thespray picked up a priest, a priest on the only Gotham thoroughfare
without a church. Ministering to the poor prostitutes. Low life indeed, we
thought we'd ice him, all of them, but they just trickled by. Everyone hold
still and let the heat go for now. The barrell cools in the naked, sliding
sunlight, shaking like a stutterer's lower lip. Bust out of this racket, tear
off the door. The kids can't hold still.
How many brothers divided by two in this burg, lovely brotherhood left to
its own vices. We got landlocked here, parchment paving the streets and the
empty sound of a shell cracked through by the echo of the birth of a nation.
All men created half-habilified maybe, dudes reaching for the new suit, a
whole shitload of talk in the shady lane, a dream of new appliances and alliances
and resounding truth, the nightly vision of epileptic youth.
***************************
Hi Maybelle,
One of the best parts about making weapons at home, from our own
materials, is our ability to be creative and really have fun with it.
It lets us put a little bit our own personality into every weapon.
Thanks so much for your comments.
Love,
Kay
Well "Hi" to you, too, Kay!
You are so upbeat and all so creative, aren't you!
But please, get a clue, will you? A decorative weapon IS NOT a
weapon. It's an oxymoron, you moron.
Now a decorative personality is another matter. That might well
exist. So I am sure there is a little bit of you in every "weapon"
you
make.
Kay, did you ever hear of a "pie in the face." Well, it's not really
a weapon of course, it's pie, but I baked one with your name on it.
See you at your next cookbook signing.
Yours truly, not decoratively,
Maybelle
*****
Hi again Maybelle,
I find that a thin but even coating of butter over the inside of the
mold will ensure that your piece will slide out easily and quickly with
little or no distortion or damage to the jello. Also, one can use the
butter to fill in any air holes or errors in the mold--just chill it
for about 30 minutes before pouring the jello in.
It is always so rewarding to know that there are others out there in TV
land : ) who are also enjoying the process of making weapons from
things we might otherwise simply throw away! In the end, however, I
know I receive far more inspiration from you and your ideas than I
could ever return to you. That's what so exciting about this crazy
buiness!!
XOX,
Kay
****
kay,
your lame and flaccid jello guns cannot hit me, except in the most annoying,
gnat like way...but your friendly missives are like AK47 rounds ripping
through me. And you know that Kay. the others may be fooled, but I see
through you. make a weapon, not a knick knack.
maybelle
***************************************
to kay?
there are ways of looking in things. dead things and living things.
not my fault i’ve the gift. your thin skin inly has a little pigment.
you can’t block what i’m looking at. looking at inside of you.
some of us are born cute. i wasn’t.
but you score high as a cute being.
these days being cute is worth more than being rich.
an inversion is inevitable. the evangalists got it wrong.
maybelle gravis and my tribe will soon rise up go to the top.
the evangelists are going biserk on television. don’t get it wrong.
maybelle gravis, my tribe, will rise soon to the top.
******************
hey kay, i've been eatin' polish.
check it out. stuffed cabbage is the bomb. bang.
(makes gun with her fingers, shoots)
cholah french toast. cholah fresnch toast.
very decorative, ethnic, lays in the stomach won't go anywhere.
it's a killer.
the cute business. the cute business.
can you do something heavy with your hair.
**************
i had dream kay that we were bookends
some kind of freudian feminist joke.
what are opposites except two sides of
the same idea... ideas on the inside...
like a fig newton or an orio. either one is
a sexy squishy and a tasty mouthful.
well kay girl you make me hungary.
high on my list of attractive personality
traits. what are we except what we eat.
anything we put inside that gets inside.
hey it's rollin in the machinery making
up the morsels of what we think. chew
on that... i was always scared of t.v. food.
that's why i cook everything frim scratch
or eat in old fashioned restaurants like diners.
yeah... definitely eating,.... good vibes...
big issues with me.
honey you throw me some good vibes.
you're a very subversive personality.
hallmark cards, whitman's chocolates,
can't get past any of that. like those
old television jingles that made a million.
jello j-e-l-l-o. jello to you, kay
from your bud,
maybelle gravis
********************
nanologue versions
catch egg.
i'm worried
i just care
what am i every day
they are different
When I was little, I was angry like you. I had little
fists that wanted to hurt. I had a heart that cried
when my fists made contact. I had lungs that heaved
with my child tears.
Now I am old and I am disgruntled. I don't need your
grunting to fill up my misery.
Tap tap at me with your negativity. Spread it thickWhen I was little, I was angry like you. I had little
fists that wanted to hurt. I had a heart that cried
when my fists made contact. I had lungs that heaved
with my child tears.
Now I am old and I am disgruntled. I don't need your
grunting to fill up my misery.
There's many a trick between can opener and dinner that can make a really
good
meal and that's all I want and have always wanted. Right, Kay? But this
clever cook won't whip together an edible meal. No, she has ambition.
(to video) Oh look, the devilish charm of the simulacrum on her eggish
errand. Watch her vacuity in TV land's even coating of butter. See? Cheese
container Tommy gun usurps blood-line-fore-ordained corpse attaining. Why
aren't you putting sunshine into my meals, Kay? Just vague flitting Jell-O
guns served on your prettiest platter. Or umbilical corded dairy flame
throwers impotently standing. Oh, Kay. It's Kay, isn't it? (to
audience) Jell-O ejaculations Weapons mono-mania-molds Frosty blue foil wrap
Egg carton mace plumped in earnest All Hermaphrodital art Decoration is
cannibal spectral play. Maybelle (word seamstress)