sábado, 22 de dezembro de 2012

Procurando bons monólogos

Sinto que o intuito desse blog vai mudar muito agora que minha orientação vocacional parece ter mudado bastante. Ando procurando bons monólogos. Em inglês. É difícil. Eu detesto monólogos melodramáticos e os que eu acho bons, ou estão na lista de "overused" ou algum clipe no YouTube estraga eles pra mim. Shakespeare então nem se fala...é um porre. Então, para acalmar minha mente decidi fazer uma colagem de partes de peças que eu gosto e fazer uma "colcha de retalhos". Meu monólogo perfeito.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you for rejecting me by never being there, fuck you for making me feel shit about myself, fuck you for bleeding the fucking love and life out of me, fuck my father for fucking up my life for good and fuck my mother for not leaving him, but most of all, fuck you God for making me love a person who does not exist, FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. People were always giving me shit. Ya know what? Once I was in a play. I was real glad I was in a play, cause I thought they were just for pretty people, and I had my dumb eye patch and those metal plate shoes to correct my duck foot. It was The Ugly Duckling, and I really dug that cause of the happy ending and shit. But you know what they did, Slim? At the end of the play I had to kneel on the stage and cover my head with a black shawl and this real pretty blonde-haired girl dressed in a white ballet dress rose up behind me as the swan. It was really shitty, man. I never got to be the fucking swan. Boy, I ran to my hideout and cried and cried. I cry allll the time; but deep inside, so nobody can see me. I cry all the time. And Georgie cries all the time, too. We both cry all the time, and then, what we do, we cry, and we take our tears, and we put 'em in the ice box, in the goddamn ice trays... until they're all frozen (Laughs) and then... we put them... in our... drinks. Why can’t you lose your good looks Brick? Most drinking men lose theirs. Why can’t you. I think you’ve even gotten better looking since you weren’t on the bottle. You were such a wonderful love. … You were so exciting to be in love with. Mostly I guess because you were … If I thought you’d never never made love to me again, why I’d find me the longest sharpest knife I could and I’d stick it straight into my heart. I’d do that. I need a man who will hold me and comfort me and then rub me, and lick me, and finger me and fuck me to as many orgasms as each of us can have. I need to be taken to a state of complete exhaustion. I'm not saying this is for everyone. I'm just saying this is how I am. And when they showed me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. I like being animals. You know why? I never heard of a famous animal. Oh, a couple of Lassies—an occasional Trigger—but, by and large, animals weren't meant to be famous. People who are lonely, people left alone, sit talking nonsense to the air, imagining... Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. 

Extraído de:
"4.48 Psychosis" - Sarah Kane
"Cowboy Mouth" - Sam Shepard
"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" - Edward Albee
"Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - Tennessee Williams
"True Love" - Charles L. Mee
"Titus Andronicus" - William Shakespeare
"The House of Blue Leaves" - John Guare
"Angels in America" - Tony Kushner
"A Streetcar Named Desire" - Tennessee Williams

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