Laura's Monologue from The Arcata Promise

I came to live with you because I loved you. I stayed with you because I loved you. (pause). I endured you because I couldn't imagine life without you. (pause). I feel battered. Ignored. Belittled. (pause). I didn't care for you because you're a famous actor. You remember talking about that party where we met? Well when you came over and talked to me- I thought I'd never seen a man so haunted. So defensive and uptight. (Pause). I never thought you'd find me attractive. I never thought you'd see me again. (pause). When you asked me to, I said yes for you.Not because I was impressed, or flattered, or anything like that. I almost didn't dare to think you'd have any serious interest in me. (pause) But you did. (pause) Girls at school used to laugh at me because I said I wouldn't go to bed until it was somebody I loved. Very old-fashioned, or whatever. At my school you were considered freaky if you were still a virgin after sixteen (Pause). And because of you- I was glad. I was happy I'd never been with anyone else. (Pause), I've been happy with you- but to sad as well. Too sad as well. Too humiliated. (Pause). Too hurt. (Pause) I never thought it mattered at all your being so much older. Now I can see it does. Not the years. Not the difference in experience. (pause). It's that you'll go on being exactly the same. (her voice rising). And I'm changing.... (standing), I've loved you. I believe you love me. But you've lived and behaved exactly as you wanted- with me like some kind of appendage. (pause). Where have I been? Who did anybody ever think I was? Some of your friends still can't even remember my surname! Others pity me. I can count on one hand the number of items I've ever been asked a question about myself. I image people find me dull and boring. You drink. You talk. You dominate. I'm the one who drives you home. You rant. You rave. You're the evening's entertainment. I'm the one you turn on when we get home. I should think I'm despised. Not because anyone's taken the trouble to find out what I'm like. No. But because I must seem like your bloody shadows. (Pause). I'm not envious. I admire your acting and respect it as much as anybody else does. But I'm not just a servicing arrangement to your needs. I'm something else. (Pause). And I'm going to find out what that is. 

Laura
The Arcata Promise by David Mercer

Dr. Igloo's Monologue from Couch Potato Santa

It's just that when a person says something like "I wanted movies to be my life" the other person should say something like "well, what happened? Why aren't they your life?" Well, I'll tell you why they aren't. I was brought up by a mean step-3rd cousin. My step-3rd cousin you ask? Well, she was my step-mother's 2nd cousin on her father's side. What happened to your step-mother you ask? She died at the hairdresser's under one of those industrial-strength hair dryers. She went in for a perm, dehydrated to begin with--she was a sun worshipper--and the dryer just sucked the last drop of moisture from her body. She shrivelled up like a prune. Anyway, to make a long story short, my mean step 3rd cousin thought I should be a doctor. I wanted to be a director--you know, make independent films about ordinary people who work in buildings--but it was "you have to go to medical school" everyday of my life. I'd ask over and over "Please, can I watch a movie?" and she'd just say "Movies are evil. Movies are evil. MOVIES ARE EVIL!" And, now, here I am. I'm sad. Sad, you ask? Yes, I'm very unhappy. My life is all about me. I live alone--I don't count the parakeet--and all I do is play Nintendo and listen to Miss Britney Spears--I like to keep up with the youth of America. I need...I need...I don't know what I need. Just help me. Please. Tell me what to do, Santa. I thought I'd try the personal ads, but such things are for losers. Plus, what if I place an ad and no one answers? Well, I'll just die, that's what. But if I don't get out and meet someone, it'll be me and the parakeet forever. But what if I do meet someone and she/he doesn't like Miss Britney? I don't think I could date someone who doesn't like Miss Britney. No, I can't--"movies are evil, movies are evil, movies are evil..."

Dr. Igloo

Couch Potato Santa by Jimmy Brunelle

Rose's Monologue from Slow Dance on the Killing Ground

If you knew me better, you'd see that this is exactly the kind of thing that's likely to happen to me. Getting knocked up, I mean. The point is it was my first time, I was a virgin before that. Wouldn't you know it, I'd get caught? Aside from everything else, I'm not lucky, either. You see, if I was lucky, Harold and I could've succumbed to our silly little passion and that would've been that, the end of it. And New Rochelle, of all places. At least if it'd been in some nice apartment in the Village, say, with the sound coming through the window of traffic and people, the breeze blowing the curtain over the bed, like in the movies. But no. I lost my virginity in the attic of an old house in New Rochelle. Harold's grandmother's house. On a rainy day in spring on the floor of the attic in his grandmothers house, listening to the rain on the roof, breathing the dust of old things...And what comes next but his grandmother who was supposed to be in the city for the day. But instead, she's suddenly standing there, screaming: "Stop that! Stop that this instant!" Needless to say, it was out of the question. Stopping. At that particular moment. I mean, sex is like a flight over the sea, one reaches the point of no return...I guess it sounds funny now, but you know, at the time...it was pretty rotten. Sordid, I mean...it wasn't at all the way it's supposed to be. And Harold, of all people. A girl finds herself in this predicament, this condition, she'd at least like to think the cause of it was some clever, handsome guy with charm and experience, just returned from spending a year in Rome, say, on a Guggenheim fellowship. But Harold. Harold is six foot two, about a hundred and twenty five pounds, tops, and an Economics major at CCNY...That's about the best I'll ever be able to do, I know it. Ever since I found out I was pregnant I've been walking around with a face down to here and my mother kept saying, "What's the matter with you, anyway? I just don't know what's gotten into you lately." So, finally, I told her: a kid named Harold, as a matter of fact. 

Rose
Slow Dance on the Killing Ground by William Hanley

A Dog's Monologue from Sylvia

Hey! I’m looking around. I gotta get used to things. I’m not ready to sit. I’m too nervous to sit. I’m worried about where I sleep. Do I sleep on this couch? (Reacts to a quick smack) Ouch. I’m sitting, I’m sitting. You don’t have to hit, you know. It most certainly did hurt. You ought to be sorry. O.k. (Master reads, Sylvia sits looking at him) I love you. I really do. Even when you hit me, I love you. I think you’re God, if you want to know. I want to sit near you. Nearer, my God, to thee. You saved my life. You did. You saved my life. I never would have survived out there on my own. Oh no, not just anyone would have done the same thing. Someone else might have ignored me. Or shooed me away. Or even turned me in. Not you. You welcomed me with open arms. I really appreciate that. I hardly knew where to turn. I was beginning to panic. I thought my days were numbered. Then there you were. I felt some immediate connection. Didn’t you? I feel it now. I know you will try to give me a good home. And I’ll try to show my appreciation. (Hearing something, she begins to bark)Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Someone’s there! (Reacting) This is your wife, Kate? Hello, Kate. I’m just trying to make friends. You don’t like me, do you? You don’t like dogs. You’re prejudiced. I think you’re prejudiced against dogs. O.k., fine. No problem. I’ll just stay out of your hair. (Steps onto couch and settles) Off? Me? You speaking to me? I’m just relaxing. Can’t I even relax? Easy! Take it easy! ....Jesus! I’ve sat on couches before, you know. I’ve sat on plenty of couches. (Getting up, easing onto the chair) Can’t I at least sit on a chair? No!? (Slumping back onto the floor) Piss. What do you mean this is not going to work? The pound??? Hey, I’m sitting, aren’t I? I’m sitting on the floor. Look how quickly I sat. O.K. I get the picture. I’ll avoid the furniture. I’m not dumb. I don’t mind. I’ll sleep. I’ll chew things. All right, I won’t chew things. Just show me the rules and I’ll follow them, I swear. (She watches Kate go off) Dig her! She doesn’t like me. She makes me nervous. I sense the clock ticking away. It took her two years to say she’d marry you?!? Two years!? Jesus, Greg! If you multiply that by seven why that’s...um...carry the two...I make that fourteen years, dog time! That’s too long, Greg! Can’t I do something to speed things up? I’m tired of being just a houseguest around here. I want to feel totally at home. (She looks at the moon that Greg has pointed out to her) Yeah. Nice moon.....I suppose you’d like me to sit down and howl at it? Well, I don’t think I can do that, Greg. Sorry. I like to think I’ve grown beyond that kind of behavior. I think I’ll just take my nap.

A Dog
Sylvia by A.R. Gurney

Hattie's Monologue from Laundry and Bourbon

Say mind if I use your phone? Figure I better check on the kids. No telling what devilment they've gotten up to. (Dialing.) Everything gonna turn out fine you'll see. (On the phone.) Hello? Cheryl? Cheryl dear, this is Mommy. . . Mommy. . . your mother. (Aside.) Child needs a hearing aid. What's that dear? Vernon Jr. threw a rock at you? Well, throw one back at him, honey. Show him who's boss. Cheryl, sweetheart, put Grandma on the phone. . . Cheryl this week! (Pause.) Sounds -like they're running her ragged. Hello? Little Roger. Is that you. I don't want to talk to you right now punkin, I want to talk to Grandma. . . 'cause I want to talk to Grandma . . . yes Grandma does have baggy elbows. Now lemme talk to her. . . what's that? Honey of course Mommy loves you. . . I love you all the same. . . Do I love you more than who? Fred Flintstone. Yes. More than Paul Newman no, but Fred Flintstone yes. . . It's a grown-up joke honey. Now put Grandma on . . . She's what? Tied up! You untie her you hear me? You want a switchin'? . . . Then you untie her, right now. . . Marion? That you. . . Oh, you were playin' . . . Oh good I thought they had you tied up for real. . . How they doing. . . yes . . . yes. . . yes I agree there is too much violence on TV. . . yes I'll pick them up at five. . . No I won't be late. . . You have my solemn word. . . Goodbye. What's that? Little Roger? . . . Yes it's nice to hear your voice again too . . . You're playing what? Sniper? Vernon Jr. has climbed a tree in the backyard and he has a brick? Well, little Roger, listen and listen carefully, under no circumstances go under that tree. . . He's gonna drop the brick on your head, sweetheart. . . So don't go under the tree. That's just what he wants. . . OK . . . OK . . . "Yabba dabb doo" to you too. (She hangs up.) He'll walk right under that tree. The child has no more sense than God gave a screwdriver.

Hattie

Laundry and Bourbon by James McClure

Bette's Monologue from the Marriage of Bette and Boo

Hurry up, Boo. I want to use the shower. (Speaks to the audience, who seems to be her great friend:) First I was a tomboy. I used to climb trees and beat up my brother Tom. Then I used to try to break my sister Joanie's voice box because she liked to sing.  She always scratched me though, so instead I tried to play Emily's cello.  Except I don't have a lot of musical talent, but I'm very popular.  And I know more about the cello than people who don't know anything.  I don't like the cello, it's too much work and besides, keeping my legs open that way made me feel funny.  I asked Emily if it made her feel funny and she didn't know what I meant:; and then when I told her she cried for two whole hours and then went to confession twice, just in case the priest didn't understand her the first time. Dopey Emily. She means well. (Calls offstage:) Booey! I'm pregnant! (To audience:) Actually I couldn't be because I'm a virgin.  A married man tried to have an affair with me, but he was married and so it would have been pointless.  I didn't know he was married until two months ago. Then I met Booey, sort of on the rebound. He seems fine though. (Calls out:) Booey! (To audience:) I went to confession about the cello practicing, but I don't think the priest heard me. He didn't say anything. He didn't even give me a penance. I wonder if nobody was in there. But as long as your conscience is all right, then so is your soul. (Calls, giddy, happy:) Booey, come on!

Bette

the Marriage of Bette and Boo by Christopher Durang

Babe's Monologue from Crimes of the Heart

And we were just standing around on the back porch playing with Dog.  Well, suddenly Zackery comes from around the side of the house,  And he startled me ‘cause he’s supposed to be away at the office, and there he is coming from ‘round the side of the house.  Anyway he says to Willie Jay “Hey, boy, what are you doing back here?”  And I said, “He’s not doing anything. You just run right on Home.”  Well, before he can move, Zackery comes up and knocks him once right across the face and then shoves him down the porch steps, causing him to skin up his elbow real bad on that hard concrete.  Then he says, “Don’t you ever come around here again, or I’ll have them cut out your gizzard!”  Well, Willie Jay starts crying, these tears come streaming down his face then he gets up real quick and runs away with Dog following off after him.  After that, I don’t remember much too clearly; let’s see… I went on into the living room, and I went right up to the davenport and opened the drawer where we keep the burglar gun,,, I took it out,  Then I—I brought it up to my ear,  That’s right. I put it right inside my ear, Why, I was gonna shoot off my own head!  That’s what I was gonna do.  Then I heard the back door slamming and suddenly, for some reason, I thought about mama…how she’d hung herself,  And here I was about ready to shoot myself,  Then I realized—that’s right I realized how I didn’t want to kill myself!  And she—she probably didn’t want to kill herself,  She wanted to kill him and I wanted to kill him, too. I wanted to kill Zackery, not myself ‘Cause I__ I wanted to live!  So I waited for him to come on into the living room.  Then I held out the gun, and I pulled the trigger, aiming for his heart, but getting him in the stomach…  It’s funny that I really did that.

Babe
Crimes of the Heart by Beth Henley

Sue's Monologue from She Was Lost and Is Found

I don’t know if I really want to marry Walter. I know I accepted his proposal, but, Mother, you encouraged it. Maybe I was so used to trying to please you that I just went along—until, before I knew it—we were engaged. You and Dad were certainly pleased about it. I did not say I didn't love Walter. I said I'm not sure now that I'm ready to marry him. Things just aren't as clear now. You never really asked, did you? Neither of you. Mother, for all of my life, you have planned my every move. You have created a perfect daughter, and for the past two years—since Janie disappeared— you've buried your life in what I've been doing. I've become the living antidote for what Janie did to our family reputation. And you, Dad, you've always petted your daughters and bragged to others about how charming we were—that is, when you had time. We've never really talked, have we? We don't really know each other very well. You've attended the important ceremonies of our lives, and you've paid our bills. But what did this tell you about us as individuals? For the last two years, you've been involved with only two things—your job and finding Janie. This has been a silent household when the three of us have been here. Haven't we always been interested mostly in achievements and in recognition, not in feelings or personalities? We're in the same house but on different wave lengths. I want to be looked on as something more than a Blue Ribbon winner at the Child Show. I—I think Janie did, too. Yes, you showed me you loved me, and all you gave me you fave from love. I know that. Yes, you have given us a great deal. You've given us everything, and I do appreciate it. But you didn't give us a chance to give. Maybe we had something to give you . . . if you'd just let us.

Sue
She Was Lost and Is Found by Richard Hensley

Eve's Monologue from The General of Hot Desire

The words? I'm still naming things? This damn tree. We chop it down. We carve its wood. We eat its leaves, constantly mistaking knowledge for mercy - we keep constantly taking from that tree - that's all we know. All God knows how to do is expel us from Eden. Over and over. All man knows is how to try to get back. Play on wooden pipes. Sing songs - make a sonnet.

ababcdcdefef gg.
Can fourteen lines bear so much weight?
The weight of auditioning for God?
Hoping this time He will hear us?
A symphony, a drawing, a dance, a sonnet.
These fragile inventions of man's are man's only defense against the silence of God.

And we keep trying to contact that which cannot be contacted, name that which cannot be named, define that which can never be defined. What are our tools? Something as paltry as a sonnet -
A song -
A dance -
A story -
Is a hazy reminder of what we had in that garden when the Tree of Knowledge still grew alongside forests of mercy.

God, we wanted mercy and all you gave us was knowledge.

Eve
The General of Hot Desire by John Guare

The Project

Here's the assignment:

Monologues
1-2 minutes
As many as I can find

Then, when summer rolls around...
Memorize one each week.

I am an actor. No, not professionally, not yet. And I don't particularly think I'm ever going to be on Broadway, or even on a major city stage. But I am an actor. I will play any part I am given. The tricky part of the equation is getting the parts. So this is an exercise that is supposed to help me. I'll try to post as frequently as I can. This is very open right now. Different months may have different themes: it's all up in the air. I just need something to focus on, and this is something I can get behind.