Friday, April 18, 2014

Pterodactyls/ Emma/ Nicky Silver

Hello everybody. I’m dead. How are you? I’m glad I killed myself. I’m not reccomending it for others, mind you - no Dr. Kevorkian am I. But it’s worked out for me. Looking back, I don’t think I ever was supposed to have been born with to begin with. Of course, the idea that ‘supposed to be’ implies a master plan„ and I don’t believe in that kind of thing. When I say I shouldn’t have been born, I mean that my life was never all that pleasant. And there was no real reason for it. I was pretty. I had money. I was lucky enough to be born into a time and a class where I had nothing but opportunities. I look around and there is crippled people and blind people and refugees and I can’t believe I had the gall to whine about anything! I had my health - oh sure, I complained a lot, but really I was fine. And I had love! Granted the object of my affections was a latent, or not-so-latent homosexual as it turned out who was affected with the HIV virus, who in turn infected me and my unborn baby—but isn’t that really picking nits? I can never thank Todd enough for giving me the gun, because for the first time, I’m happy. The pain is gone and I remember everything. Tommy is here but we’re not speaking. He spends all his time with Montgomery Clift and George Cukor talking about movies. I assume. And I’ve been reunited with Alice Paulker. We went to school together. She was shot last year by a disgruntled postal worker. She has long wavy brown hair and skin so pale you can see right through it - I don’t mean it’s really transparent and you can see her guts and everything. It’s just pale. And she has very big eyes. Green. And we listen to music and go for walks. And take turns read aloud to each other. She reads poems by Emily Bronte and I read chapters from The Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. She was always classier than me. And sometimes we just hold each other. and I run my fingers through her hair and she touches her lips, gently, along my cheek. She makes soft sounds, comforting sounds and she takes her time and runs her tongue around the edge of my ear. We take off our clothes and just look at each other. I was shy at first, but Alice helped me and never rushed me. She held my breasts in her hand and ran her lips between them, down my stomach. I touch her eyelids and her forehead and her hair and her fingers and the back of her neck. And she enters me and I am everywhere at once and nowhere at all. And I remember everything and find that nothing matters. And for a moment, for a moment or two that lasts forever we become one person. And I forget, we forget, that we were ever alive. And everything makes perfect sense. 

Tuesday, March 25, 2014
I do not regret one professional enemy I have made. Any actor who doesn’t dare to make an enemy should get out of the business. Bette Davis (via theatremama)
Monday, March 24, 2014

The Metal Children/ Adam Rapp/ Vera

Why get pregnant? Because we can. Existentially speaking, aside from suicide, it’s the most meaningful choice a young woman can make. We control our own fate. Not parents or priests or politicians. Not coaches or teachers of textbooks preapproved by the educational oligarchy. Not middle aged men with prostate problems and hairy ears. We get pregnant, our community automatically exiles us, our parents disown us. No man wants to be with a single teen mother. We take control of our destiny. Whether you like it or not, your novel showed us that, Mr. Falmouth. Now we only have about thirty minutes. before my aunt starts making rounds of the units. Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases. I’m ovulating and actually quite excited about the prospect of the creator of our great text being my host. There’s powerful poetry at play. You’re not sterile are you? Your fertility is sort of paramount to this actually happening Mr. Falmouth. 

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

The Optimist/ Jason Chimonides/ Declan

I am obsessed. It’s startling, isn’t it? I mean, look out there. Every one of those tragic bipeds, indeed, each and every one of us, Noel is the result of a single tussled gooey act of sex. What if you could see it? Through some sort of crazy telekinetic, portal thing? What if you could see in like, this searing flash, the fuck from whence they came? Like this fat Asian guy,- “reverse cowgirl”?… or that crumpled granny woman over there, with the Medicaid sunglasses on: a melancholic missionary position. Certainly not, “upright doggy”…”suspended Congress” maybe? I wonder what it was like when we were conceived. Probably Mom was on top. I wouldn’t doubt it. I bet she was a hellcat in her day. I hope we were conceived in like a sweaty, febrile, primate kinda way. Not in the sort of lovey dovey Sunday afternoon kinda way. I hope it was like: teeth gnashing, feet folding, tangled sheets kinda sex.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

"I ate the divorce papers"

Monologue is from play “Goodbye Charles” by Gabriel Davis

I ate them. That’s right. I ate the divorce papers, Charles. I ate them with ketchup. And they were good…goooood. You probably want me to get serious about our divorce. The thing is you always called our marriage a joke. So let’s use logic here: If A we never had a serious marriage then B we can’t have a serious divorce. No. We can’t. The whole thing’s a farce, Charles – a farce that tastes good with ketchup.

I mean, wasn’t it last week, your dad asked you the reason you walked down that aisle with me, and you said “for the exercise.” Ha, ha. That’s funny. You’re a funny guy, Charles. I’m laughing, not a crying. Ha, ha. I’m laughing because you’re about to give up on a woman who is infinitely lovable.

Continue reading on Gabriel’s website, Monologue Genie!

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Anonymous asked: Hi, I'm seventeen about to audition to get into a college theatre program, and I need a one minute comedy monologue. Does anyone have a suggestion.

Putting this open to the public. Let’s all help one another here.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

hail-aphrodite asked: Quite possibly a stupid question, but are we allowed to submit monologues? I'm an actress as well and have some to add. (Thanks by the way for this blog. Extremely useful)

YES! I haven’t been able to update this in the longest time so I’d love for any extra input!

Saturday, September 28, 2013

It’s a silly word, girl.
(from Translations)


It’s a silly word, girl.

(from Translations)

Friday, August 23, 2013

claudiajanette asked: I am auditioning for my college's fall play this coming Monday or Tuesday. I am a 19-year-old female. I've been reading plays, but I'm having a hard time finding an appropriate monologue. (Obviously, I'm not reading the right ones.) Auditions were announced today, so it's very short-noticed. I need a one-minute contemporary monologue. I was thinking either Margaret from "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" or Blanche from "Streetcar." Our school did Streetcar two years ago, so is that one a bad idea?

Streetcar is fine! I would only caution against doing it if they had performed it within the last year. Do what you love and enjoy. 

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Anonymous asked: Hey there! I'm Paige. I'm an aspiring young actress and frequent creeper of this blog! Anyway, I've been trying Naturalistic Drama on camera, which is something I've never done before. I've been looking for some tips and constructive criticism and a share on your lovely would be so valuable to me! The video is on youtube! /watch?v=cc1S0jRs4Ig

 Ch-che-check it out