40: A Monologue To Memorialize The Need To Be Seen (SIXTH PART)

In 41 days I will be 30

I am writing a trashy novella in honour of my upcoming show in the Toronto Fringe Festival: The Queen’s Eulogy (it’s a play performed in a pile of trash). Enjoy.

Sixth Part: A Monologue To Memorialize The Need To Be Seen

The entire bar is watching me, phones are emerging from peoples pockets, I am being taped, I am being Storied, I am being placed on the Internet but I am supposed to leave the Internet alone, I am supposed to leave the Internet alone.

I scream louder, “STOP FILMING ME, DON’T FILM ME, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING! DON’T PUT THIS ON THE INTERNET, YOU CANNOT PUT THIS ON THE INTERNET! I AM SUPPOSED TO LEAVE THE INTERNET ALONE! WE WILL BURN! WE. WILL. BUUUURRRNNNNN”

People are laughing, especially women because all women love to see a beautiful thin sex magnet cry.

I am being filmed. I am being shot. I am being watched.

I cry harder. I cry tears of insistence. I cry tears of FUCK YOU, “FUCK YOU,” I let them know and in a monologue to memorialize the NEED TO BE SEEN, I open up. I monologue for them, I monologue for the generations before us who fought real wars, who starved through real famines, who weren’t just fighting and hungry for Attention, 

“YOU ARE GROSS PEOPLE, you are gross people, you are such gross people, I am the internet and you are the gross people. Look at yourselves. Turn your cameras around and look at yourselves.  LOOK AT YOUR SELVES.” If we are making a movie, we are making a really good fucking movie, I yell and I yell louder, “LOOOOOOKKKK ATTT YOURSELLVESS. YOU ARE NO ONESSSS….We are not important anymore. We are not IMPORTANT anymore!! Think of your mother!  My mother was a pilot in a war we call Child Birth. My father watched her land a life on Earth. That was real drama. And my grandmother! She was a witness to one of the world’s worst crimes, TO ALL of the world’s worst crimes as she watched my grandfather suffer through alcoholism everyday, every night bringing home prostitutes just so he could judge them,” I am making things up, “AND THEIR FRIENDS, the friends of my parents and my grandparents, they are the queens and kings of our time, sitting on the thrones of generations, waving flags because they have defeated the vermin and now they have POPULATED THE WORLD. I LOVE THEM. I NEED THEM. YOU LOVE THEM. YOU NEED THEM.” I am being watched. I am being filmed. “LISTEN TO THE LOVE THAT WAS GIVEN TO YOU. LISTEN to the love that was taken away. And, from your listening you will be given three chances: Love back. Hate back. Or die. AND IF YOU CHOOSE TO DIE,” I am a preacher, I am a saint, “you will only rot from a lack of giving, for love is the only way to purify the Earth. Put your phones away. Leave the Internet alone. It is only a vehicle for hate.” I wail, “PLEASE”, grasping nothing in each hand, securing my fists as icons of HELL YES FUCK I AM GREAT to the sky, I fall to the ground, yelling, “PLEASE love where you have come from, PLEASE take a look take a look take a look takealook takealook takealooktakealooktakeatlook at yourselves. Leave the internet alone. And if you still want to die. Do it. With Love.” I bow my head.

Extreme applause.

I look up, mouth tense and eyes tense because that gives people the impression that I am truely intense.

The phone is still fused to my hand. I can see the Internet. I can see the trends. I am a trend. I am trending. I am famous. The restaurant explodes. The flames yell a loud laughter. The walls are on fire. We are standing still. Alive and safe. Engulfed. Pleasantly warm. Totally fine.

Everyone’s phone is on fire.

No one is burning.

 

Thank you for reading!

Please Share on your social media and come back tomorrow for another installment.

Also, don’t forget to come see The Queen’s Eulogy (written by ME) at The Toronto Fringe Festival.  Tickets and more info on the Fringe Website.