A little insight into my psyche and daily life.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
SUBWAY Monologue
I performed the following monologue tonight at New York Comedy Club as part of The Grown-Up's Playground Improv Company's "SUBWAY" show. I presented it in two parts, but it's meant to be a single piece. I may be returning on a rotating basis as a possible regular in the improv group, too. More on that as it develops.
....................................................................................
I have a confession to make. I’m from New Jersey.
Whoo! Wow! It’s is SO good to get that off my chest! Oh, man! It’s so free-ing!
I’ve lived in New Jersey my entire life, and for a person from New Jersey the subway is a rite of passage. You grow up in New Jersey listening to so much mythology about New York City and the subway. You might as well read Lord of the Rings. “Don’t go down there. The subway is like a labyrinth of underground caves from which you may never return! It’s dark and dirty! There’s a map but only New Yorkers can read it, and if you make a mistake you’ll get on the wrong train and be eaten by the Minotaur, ooh.”
As a result of this, I was 24 years old the first time I ever rode the subway without supervision. Now, there is some crazy shit that goes on down on the subway, but the solution is really kind of simple, and every New Yorker seems to be imbued with it. No matter what happens, as long as no one is getting hurt, everyone stays in their own invisible shell that they can’t see out of.
It’s when people break their invisible shell that things start to get interesting. I’ve done it once or twice. I remember one night I stepped onto a train and it was pretty much empty except for a few. I sit down, and in my periphery I noticed that someone was sitting diagonally across from me, and for a split second, I looked. I swear it was only for a millisecond, a nano-instant, but I made eye contact and this guy went crazy. I’m talking YouTube fuck crazy, and he started shouting at me. Shouting. Angry shouting.
“What, muthahfuckah? What you want? Huh? You see me. I know you see me. You a real vampire muthafuckah, huh? Yeah, you a real vampire lookin’ muthahfuckah!”
The vampire comment really stuck out in my mind because I wasn’t sure how to take it. Whenever I’ve seen a vampire in popular culture, they are usually portrayed as pretty slick looking dudes, so either my self-image is askew, or this guy has seen some pretty hefty vampires in his day.
“What muthahfuckah? What? You vampire, vampire muthahfuckah.” Over and over and over again he’s going on and on and on, and people now are starting to get on the train at other stops. They pay no mind. They stay I their invisible shells. Yeah, it’s the stories like that which keeps the mythology alive.
There was another time I broke the eye contact rule. It was the same station, same platform, waiting for my train. Now I have a little “trick” that I employ every now and again, where I’ll put my iPod earbuds in, but leave the volume low so that I can keep an awareness of the people around me (I’m sure I’m the ONLY ONE to EVER use this brilliant form of espionage). I noticed a guy motioning at me, trying to get my attention. What do I do? I turn, and without even thinking I take the earbuds out of my ears.
There was this guy on a bench. He had a baseball hat, and glasses, and was real frail looking, with a book in his hand. He looked to be in his mid 50’s. He motioned to me,
“Hey, um.
Excuse me?
Eh…
Yeah, could I…
Oh, no, I…
Well…
Sorry, I uh, I didn’t see your earphones, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just wondering if I could ask you a question.
Yeah.
Well, um, I’m…I’m homeless, as you can see, and…uh…well, you see, I, uh…I don’t like to beg because, um, I’m Italian, and I got a lot of pride, I’m very proud, but um….well, I’m down on my luck right now, and um, so, when I see someone that looks like they may be a bit, um…copasetic…[I had to Google that when I got home]
I uh, I like to ask them if they could help me out with a little something, anything, really.
Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Really. God bless. Really, I appreciate it. God bless. What’s your name? Vernon? Vren… Brendan, oh, ok. Brendan, that’s a good Irish name, right? Yeah, I thought so.
Do you live around here, Brendan?
Oh, yeah? What do you do?
Ohhhh, ok. So you’re an actor? Wow. I’ll bet that’s hard, especially in this city, right? You know, I used to be an actor, when I was much younger.”
That was great. Yeah, that’s exactly what a struggling actor wants to hear from a homeless guy on the subway.
He went on to explain how he had been a child actor a long time ago, and how later he’d lost all of his money in 3 divorces, etc. I kept all of my responses to short, few worded answers, but at one point I said something to him about how I hoped his luck turned around. He tugged at a white hospital bracelet on his wrist and said, “Yeah, well, I…I don’t think I’ll be around much longer, you know, another year or two, maybe.”
That got me. That got me, because while I know that it would take a lot of really bad unforeseeable problems, I could see how that might happen to someone. I could see how I could end up in a situation like that. What if that were me down there on the subway, taking refuge from the cold? After that, whenever I saw him there, I’d throw him a buck or two. Even if his story about being an actor wasn’t true, he performed it so well that he’d earned the dollar.
....................................................................................
I have a confession to make. I’m from New Jersey.
Whoo! Wow! It’s is SO good to get that off my chest! Oh, man! It’s so free-ing!
I’ve lived in New Jersey my entire life, and for a person from New Jersey the subway is a rite of passage. You grow up in New Jersey listening to so much mythology about New York City and the subway. You might as well read Lord of the Rings. “Don’t go down there. The subway is like a labyrinth of underground caves from which you may never return! It’s dark and dirty! There’s a map but only New Yorkers can read it, and if you make a mistake you’ll get on the wrong train and be eaten by the Minotaur, ooh.”
As a result of this, I was 24 years old the first time I ever rode the subway without supervision. Now, there is some crazy shit that goes on down on the subway, but the solution is really kind of simple, and every New Yorker seems to be imbued with it. No matter what happens, as long as no one is getting hurt, everyone stays in their own invisible shell that they can’t see out of.
It’s when people break their invisible shell that things start to get interesting. I’ve done it once or twice. I remember one night I stepped onto a train and it was pretty much empty except for a few. I sit down, and in my periphery I noticed that someone was sitting diagonally across from me, and for a split second, I looked. I swear it was only for a millisecond, a nano-instant, but I made eye contact and this guy went crazy. I’m talking YouTube fuck crazy, and he started shouting at me. Shouting. Angry shouting.
“What, muthahfuckah? What you want? Huh? You see me. I know you see me. You a real vampire muthafuckah, huh? Yeah, you a real vampire lookin’ muthahfuckah!”
The vampire comment really stuck out in my mind because I wasn’t sure how to take it. Whenever I’ve seen a vampire in popular culture, they are usually portrayed as pretty slick looking dudes, so either my self-image is askew, or this guy has seen some pretty hefty vampires in his day.
“What muthahfuckah? What? You vampire, vampire muthahfuckah.” Over and over and over again he’s going on and on and on, and people now are starting to get on the train at other stops. They pay no mind. They stay I their invisible shells. Yeah, it’s the stories like that which keeps the mythology alive.
There was another time I broke the eye contact rule. It was the same station, same platform, waiting for my train. Now I have a little “trick” that I employ every now and again, where I’ll put my iPod earbuds in, but leave the volume low so that I can keep an awareness of the people around me (I’m sure I’m the ONLY ONE to EVER use this brilliant form of espionage). I noticed a guy motioning at me, trying to get my attention. What do I do? I turn, and without even thinking I take the earbuds out of my ears.
There was this guy on a bench. He had a baseball hat, and glasses, and was real frail looking, with a book in his hand. He looked to be in his mid 50’s. He motioned to me,
“Hey, um.
Excuse me?
Eh…
Yeah, could I…
Oh, no, I…
Well…
Sorry, I uh, I didn’t see your earphones, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just wondering if I could ask you a question.
Yeah.
Well, um, I’m…I’m homeless, as you can see, and…uh…well, you see, I, uh…I don’t like to beg because, um, I’m Italian, and I got a lot of pride, I’m very proud, but um….well, I’m down on my luck right now, and um, so, when I see someone that looks like they may be a bit, um…copasetic…[I had to Google that when I got home]
I uh, I like to ask them if they could help me out with a little something, anything, really.
Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Really. God bless. Really, I appreciate it. God bless. What’s your name? Vernon? Vren… Brendan, oh, ok. Brendan, that’s a good Irish name, right? Yeah, I thought so.
Do you live around here, Brendan?
Oh, yeah? What do you do?
Ohhhh, ok. So you’re an actor? Wow. I’ll bet that’s hard, especially in this city, right? You know, I used to be an actor, when I was much younger.”
That was great. Yeah, that’s exactly what a struggling actor wants to hear from a homeless guy on the subway.
He went on to explain how he had been a child actor a long time ago, and how later he’d lost all of his money in 3 divorces, etc. I kept all of my responses to short, few worded answers, but at one point I said something to him about how I hoped his luck turned around. He tugged at a white hospital bracelet on his wrist and said, “Yeah, well, I…I don’t think I’ll be around much longer, you know, another year or two, maybe.”
That got me. That got me, because while I know that it would take a lot of really bad unforeseeable problems, I could see how that might happen to someone. I could see how I could end up in a situation like that. What if that were me down there on the subway, taking refuge from the cold? After that, whenever I saw him there, I’d throw him a buck or two. Even if his story about being an actor wasn’t true, he performed it so well that he’d earned the dollar.
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