Wandering in Melancholy

I think I love her. I am moderately certain of this unknowable fact.

I am so confused already. You don’t know her. You don’t even know her first name yet you know her middle and last names. What’s going on here?

Love, I think. I may or may not be in love. Isn’t that wonderful?

Well, yes, I would say it was wonderful if I thought you were at all sane or well, but you aren’t.

What do you know? I know love. You don’t know love. I’m a romantic, man.

Okay. Well, that’s great for you. I hope love and marriage will treat you very well.

Marriage? Who said anything about marriage? What? Do you think I’m stupid?

Well..,

Shut up. No I will never get married. I even would sing about it if we were in a musical right now but we’re never in a musical- we’re always in our living room discussing our latest romantic escapades while the television is blaring away for the background noise, and the only time the phone rings is when someone wants to make some money, or an old “friend” needs some silly favor. I’m going to get some orange soda. You may join me if you like.

I guess I’d like. Orange soda is much more interesting than listening to you stammer away.

I hate you so much. So, she and I will have many good times together. I want to write a novel called Good Times.

Yeah but you never read. I don’t even think you know what a novel is.

Oh yeah I almost forgot. I was reading this novel yesterday about wars happening in the future because you know wars will always happen

Yeah we’re pretty stupid so you’re right

And these wars are killing millions yet beauty and splendor continues to be rampant throughout the universe. Oh, shoot, I’m in the school play. We’re doing some play written by this depressed guy…. Ummm ohany or something

O’Neill?

Sure, that gay guy.

He wasn’t gay

He wrote plays. Believe me he was gay.

Kill me now.

Anyway it’s called short day’s navigation into morning

Well you’re making me enter a state of mourning right now.

Was that supposed to be witty?

Sure, I can’t see a reason to say why it wasn’t. How many lines do you have?

I don’t know the play is so depressing I haven’t even read past the opening stage directions.

Okay well that’s wonderful. Which role are you playing?

I’m one of the gay guys.

I know the play- there are no gay guys in it, and even if they were gay guys, must you refer to them as such What’s wrong with you exactly?

Well, since you’ve asked what’s wrong with me- Let’s see here: I’m lazy, I’m unambitous, I’m uneducated, poorly read, I loathe curisoty and truth. I am tired and sick and weary of everything, world weary and all. I’m sick of half-truths, fake friends, temporary friends who want nothing but money, comfort and computer advice from you and don’t give you anything in return. So why should I feel obligated rto sit down and memorize a bunch of second-rate poetry from some guy who never got over his traumatic past.

Wow you actually seem to understand what he was writing about. Being unfulfilled, always feeling lonely and confused and unwanted and unloved and alone and weary and exhausted and felt completely cut off from the rest of the world to the point that he wish he would have been born a fish or a seagull rather than a human being. God, he was a depressing. Why is there so much depression in the American drama?

Speaking of the American drama, what do you think of these new authors attempting to make sense out of the totally senseless… can’t they realize something is senseless for a reason…you know the fact that no matter how much one questions or probes not even a little bit of it will make the least amount of sense. Dumbasses.

Yes but Dumbasses are always completely unaware of how much dumbassery they give off every time they enter a room. Anyway, the thing with senselessness…. Wait there is no way I am going to sit here with you and have a conversation about senselessness… you know why is it in the theatre, all these authors feel they need to churn out these pieces about how no one can communicate and nothing exits anymore…. Why do they feel the need to remind us of how squalid we all are… and you know what the real kicker is? I don’t think any of us are all that squalid.

Oh, we’re squalid, man. We’re squalid as f**k.

Squalid as f**k? How does one go about being as squalid as f**k?

Oh, you don’t care for the way I speak now., What else don’t you like about me?

I am sick of having this conversation with you.

You think you’re better than me.

When did I ever say I was better than you? I don’t remmeber saying that. Did I say that?

I’m just stressed out.

From what? Not reading so much as the stage directions to the play?

Can it.

I have a date tonight.

When will she be getting out of the psych ward?

You have no respect. No respect.

I don’t have a date. Should I go cut myself?

Well, you can always cut yourself. It’s all up to you.

You don’t care about me.

Not at the moment, no.

But you should always care about me.

I don’t.

You’re unbelievable. You know that?

I’m sure I’ve realized it a few times.

Tell me something. Anything that isn’t completely ridiculous.

I slept six hours last night.

You see. You see. Nothing is important to you.

I guess you have me all figured out now.

Well, that’s enough of that. Why…. Why..


Can we please stop asking why and when and where and how and to what extent? Can’t we just enjoy life for a little while?

Well, yeah, but why would you want to do that?

Why not?

Hmm. Not a bad point.

Of course it isn’t I came up with it.

I wish it would rain already.

I wish you would shut up.

We need some rain. A thunderstorm would be absolutely fantastic though.

I just want to get fucked up and fucked, you know. That’s what I want more than anything else. I am an average male. I want booze and sex and that’s all. I’ll work some meaningless job for far too many hours and die shortly before or after retirement and I’ll never really be secure or happy, but who the f**k cares? I’ll hide my pessimism away behind watching lots of porn and football and bitching about politiciaNS  and ther stockm market, and going to church although only a total idiot would believe there is some transcendent being running this fucked-up universe. I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired and being unaware of how senseless this world actually is. Well, I need to get out of here for a little while. Would you like to come along?
Where would we go? What would we do? Who would we be?

This doesn’t have to be a search for the self you know.

It doesn’t have to be but you know it’s going to be.

But I don’t want it to be.

But you can’t alter fate and reality.

But can’t I try.

You could try buit why bother trying when your failure appears most futile

Because perhaps a miracle will occur.

A miracle of that sort does not happen to guys like us

But this could be an exception to the rule

I think I heard there was an exception to this rule just yesterday so come on, stop fooling yourself.

Now you’re just being a smart-a*s.

Damn I need a woman. Or at least someone who will listen to me. That would be a nice change of pace.

That’ll never happen. We’re fucked to the end, brother. Listen? Just no.

So, no one cares and we’re going to die without ever being loved or cared abour or understood or recognized.

Sure. It happens. It’s real. It’s reality.

But that sucks!

I suck. You suck. We all suck together. The one thing you get out of life: all people suck and will hurt you and will only teach you how not to treat others. Oh well. It’ll be over one day. And maybe the next life won’t be so s****y.

You shouldn’t talk.

Neither should you.

Yeah. I hate myself. I hate you. I hate everyone and everything. I understand why serial killers and suicide bombers do what they do. Nothing is sacred.

Yep. What can one do about such a s****y realization?

Nothing except f**k up or keep going and be certain that it will all be a waste of time.

Yep. Well let’s go do something.

Such as?

I don’t know. But we can always think of something.

Are you sure?

I don’t see why we can’t think of something or make something up or pretend. You know: lying, cheating, stealing. None of it matters.

Yep.

(They exit. Curtain.)