Scene Five: O’Donnell’s.
[Patio:]
DRAKE: Hey! I’m sorry. But I see you around every where. You keep looking over at my table at Stirfox.
HARRY: Yeah dude.
DRAKE: What’s your name?
HARRY: HARRY. Yours?
DRAKE: Jake. I mean Drake. Sorry.
HARRY: No WORRIES man.
DRAKE: So: what do you do?
HARRY: Nothing MUCH man. Just trying to stay alive out here. I’m HOMELESS, and I’ve been a drug addict most of my life. Both my parents were. I’ve gone through so much shit you would not believe it. *I* can’t even believe it. I’m telling you, man. It’s a miracle that I’m still alive.
DRAKE: Wow. I’m so sorry to hear that. Hey: did I know you in high school?
HARRY: I THINK. MAY be. I recognize you. So probably.
DRAKE: Whom did you hang out with?
HARRY: Just you know. All the other stoners. But they all ditched me. I’ve lost so many friends dude. People take advantage of me.
DRAKE: Are you a water-sign?
HARRY: I’m a Scorpio.
DRAKE: I can tell. [Pause.] Want me to buy you a drink here?
HARRY: For real?
DRAKE: Yeah. I have these two dollars left to my name. I’ll pay for you.
HARRY: Naw, man. If they’re all you have. You shouldn’t waste them. Not on me at least.
DRAKE: You’re not a waste.
HARRY: Aw, THANKS man. You’re all right. But you know. Hold onto your money. If it’s all you have. I’m not saying money’s all you have. But if that’s ALL the MONEY that you have. Then you should hold on to it.
DRAKE: You’re right. [Pause.] Thank you. Harry.
[Indoors.]
DRAKE: Hey. You’re that barista girl. You’re a Taurus.
_: Yup. And a wetback. Apparently.
DRAKE: Sorry about that.
_: It’s whatever.
DRAKE: What’s your name?
_: I’d rather you learned that at a later time.
DRAKE: Oh. Kay? [looks around.] What are you watching.
_: News.
DRAKE: You’re unhappy about Trump?
_: [Looks up.] If YOU had to live under a dictator that wanted to deport your entire family, would you be happy?
DRAKE: Probably not. But then I don’t know much about happiness. Not from experience.
_: [returns to television.] You’re lucky. You have a lot to be happy about.
DRAKE: I GUESS. What about YOU, though? You have a lover. You have your own place you share with him. You’re employed and treated with respect, and you can gossip away the occasional abuse. You’re pretty. People don’t hate you for being “white”. Or “smart”. Not that you aren’t smart.
_: Gee, thanks.
DRAKE: I know all this about you. And I don’t even know your name.
_: You will.
DRAKE: When?
_: When the lawsuit comes through.
DRAKE: Pardon?
_: I am suing you. In fact: Stirfox is suing you. On my behalf.
DRAKE: What? For what? [thinks.] For what? = Por que? For calling you a spick?
_: You called me a wetback.
DRAKE: Is that worse?
_: That’s not what we are suing you for.
DRAKE: Then what then?
_: For sexually harassing me.
DRAKE: Pardon??
_: Stalking. All your friends did. One of them got arrested.
DRAKE: So?
_: SO he gave my number out to people. When he learned I had a boyfriend. Like it was some sort of joke.
DRAKE: To… whom?
[Nutcase walks by.]
DRAKE: HEY Nutcase!
[Nutcase waves abjectly.]
_: That guy gives me the creeps.
DRAKE: He’s not so bad, I’m sure. He might have not even ratted out J.J. He’s just. Black.
_: [looks up for a second time.] That guy sends me pictures of his cock.
DRAKE: I’m guessing you mean his member.
_: Yeah. That’s PRECISELY what I mean.
DRAKE: So you are suing. ALL of us?
_: Nope. Just you. For telling J.J. that I had a boyfriend.
DRAKE: How do you KNOW all this?
_: He told me. Over the phone. From prison.
DRAKE: He… had your number memorized?
_: They let him use the cup I gave to him. That had my number on it. He’d kept it.
DRAKE: And he told you all of this. In under two minutes?
_: In PRECISELY two minutes.
DRAKE: I see.
_: You don’t. But you will soon.
[She sips her drink dry, crumples her napkin, and leaves.]
DRAKE: Wow.
[Our hero withdraws into the restroom. From within we hear him speaking to the mirror.]
DRAKE: You are fine. You are beautiful. You are noble. Honest. You are. What were you again?
[Pause. A young man wanders in, looking frazzled and disgruntled.]
DRAKE: You are. Every thing is. Every thing is good. The flow. Trust the flow. It is all the way that it was meant to be.
[Pause. The young man orders some thing up front.]
DRAKE: Okay. Fine. You are insignificant. But it will all be all right. There is a Plan. And God cares for you. Every large thing depends upon the small ones.
[Pause. The young man selects a seat and sits, waiting irritably.]
DRAKE: You know what your problem is? You expect too much of yourself. And of others. So you regard your self too highly, deluding yourself that you can meet the standards that have been put forth for you. And then you regard them all highly, pretending they care if you meet those standards. And they do. But you should not. They are douche-bags, and you have to live with them. You’ll only be able to accept them once you accept your self. And that means admitting to being a douche-bag just like them.
[A member of the staff brings the order, all vegetarian, to the young man. The young man thanks the staff.]
DRAKE: It’s not your fault of course. But you have to stop being disappointed with every one. You’re disappointing yourself. And only if you stop disappointing yourself, being disappointed with your own performance for an impartial and ambivalent audience, can you find closure and comfort. Only then will the world live up to your expectations. Once you let go. And stop expecting. And trying to control. It’s all right. There is a plan.
[The young man begins to eat, wondering dimly if he hears some one talking.]
DRAKE: Besides! Look at yourself. You’re not doing too badly for your self. You looked into the mirror hoping to see your TRUE self. You were afraid of finding it not at all to your liking. But did that fear skew your judgment? You feared THAT as well. But now you see your TRUE self. And you KNOW; you KNOW that you are not so bad. And it was just as silly to fear your own tendency to delude yourself as it was to face a harsh reality. You know that both of these were EQUALLY silly. And that douche-bag creep Jackson would now say: they might BOTH be silly equally. But how silly are they ABSOLUTELY? Not in relation to one an other.
[The young man notices, with distaste, that syrup is dripping down the side of his cup. He wipes it down with a napkin. Then, observing with growing distaste his own fingers, now sticky, he gets up promptly.]
DRAKE: And I’d reply: You idiot. I’d call him an idiot this time. I’d say: they are both ABSOLUTELY silly in relation to the TRUTH, which is smiling right back at me right here. Right. Now.
[The young man opens the door.]
VIRGIL: THERE you are!!!
DRAKE: VIRGIL?
VIRGIL: All right. Get out.
DRAKE: Huh? I’m just…
VIRGIL: No. No. I’ve been. I’ve been.
DRAKE: Verge. We’ve been over this. Just spit it out.
VIRGIL: No. NO. This has n-n-n-nothing to do. Nothing to d-d-do with my sp-speech impepedipedimement.
DRAKE: Why are you here?
VIRGIL: Because I’ve been. I’va-va-va b-b-been f-f-f-fucking l-l-LOOKING for you f-f-for EIGHT FUCKING HOURS.
DRAKE: I got out. Didn’t you know?
VIRGIL: NO! You said the j-j-JAIL. In S-San D-d-gah-diego C-COUNTY!
DRAKE: You know: that speech thing really IS noticeable.
VIRGIL: GET. OUT. RIGHT now.
[Our hero emerges.]
DRAKE: You know: I used to have a stutter too. It was awful. I still remember it.
VIRGIL: Shut. Just. Shut it.
DRAKE: I mean: I know you think I exaggerate it. But I only imitate it from experience.
VIRGIL: J-j-just. Fucking. F-fucking SIT DOWN.
[they sit. He grabs at his spinning head.]
DRAKE: Verge. I’m FINE. I appreciate you showing up for me. Eight hours late, albeit, but.
[Virgil knods with emphatically shut eyes and holds up a restricting hand.]
DRAKE: You don’t need to worry. Here. We’re both here. Every thing is going According to the Plan.
VIRGIL: No. N. NO. I need. I need.
DRAKE: To chill. I get it. [Pause.] Can you buy me a drink?
VIRGIL: [Shakes head.] NO!
DRAKE: OKAY! Geeze. No need to get Jewish on me.
VIRGIL: Just *FUCKING! SHUT! UP!* okay.
DRAKE: [other patrons look. Our hero peruses his surroundings, and then, with just a creeping tinge of passive aggression, announces:] OKAY, Virgil. We’ll sit quietly for a few minutes. I’m going to use the john. You gather all those thoughts. So that you can convey them in an orderly fashion when I get back. And I’ll hear you out. Deal?
VIRGIL: Yes. Y-yes just fuck-fucking GO. [gesturing away, eyes half-closed.]
[Drake returns. Virgil is on his phone. He is texting some one intently. His breathing has slowed, but his eyes remain furrowed.]
DRAKE: You on facebook?
VIRGIL: [Sourly, as though alarmed at the suggestion.] No!
DRAKE: Ahh. You’re texting your girlfriend.
VIRGIL: Y-yes! Of course.
DRAKE: Okay. Well. Now that we are both here. Why not set aside our prejudices and just have a rational conversation.
[Virgil continues to text.]
DRAKE: And by “prejudices” I mean phones.
[Virgil looks up bitterly, and then with pettiness returns to texting. His face continues to change. Drake remains livid.]
DRAKE: You KNOW. About the stuttering. It’s gotten better. I do not deny it. It only comes out when you are angry. But then: that’s hardly “only”, considering that you are angry MOST of the time I see you.
VIRGIL: Well. It’s because you anger me.
DRAKE: I see that. Because it’s mutual. Isn’t it FUNNY how we project ourselves onto people? But then some times we don’t. Some times we have no interest in some one, for instance. Or we do. But that person PRESUMES that we like them. And that is how we know. Because they have no way of knowing directly. And so if they project, we know that they truly care.
[Virgil continues texting.]
DRAKE: You know: Like with Ariana. And me.
[He shows little change. Though what little he shows bodes ill for the conversation.]
DRAKE: You know, I all so really like what Nietzsche said. About owning up to who you are. But then I all ways reach this impasse with you. You never own up. Like the stuttering thing. You presume that you know your own problems better than your friends and associates do.
VIRGIL: Friends ARE associates.
DRAKE: And associates are friends.
VIRGIL: Not necessarily!
DRAKE: So what you do is… where was I? Oh yeah. You refuse help. You ask for it. But never accept it. Our mutual acquaintance – the one whose name I shall not utter in “polite” company – he let you get away with it. He did not let ME get away with it, even in its semblance. But he cannot be trusted. I learned that. He simply had nothing to gain by helping you. That’s why he let you bull-shit yourself. He knew your problems. Stuttering being the least of them. But nonetheless: a symptom. Of a general tendency to communicate poorly. An inability to simply SPIT IT OUT. To face the truth without distorting it first with excessive rationalization. And to level. For who is any one to judge YOU? They must CLEARLY be projecting onto YOU their OWN difficulties. Even now you must think that of me. Or am I just “projecting” that too?
VIRGIL: [phased suddenly. Stops texting, though holds phone.] What are you TALKING about?
DRAKE: Case and point. Now listen to me: I don’t bullshit. You think I do. You get away with your own bull-shit by bull-shitting that I bull-shit. But until you clean your own shit I have no reason to take shit from you.
VIRGIL: Well.
DRAKE: Neither do you?
VIRGIL: Yeah.
DRAKE: Typical Virgil. Why don’t you set aside your electronic girlfriend for a moment and just TALK to me?
VIRGIL: Because I care for her.
DRAKE: And not for me?
VIRGIL: I just spent the whole day looking for you.
DRAKE: A third of a day. And for what? To lord over me your love? Your love for me? Your love for her? Christ. I wonder if you really DO go through what I go through. Would you perpetuate this absurdity just out of habit? Or are you in fact totally unaware of the world outside this moment? Because you’ve all ways seemed to believe that people go home and have nothing to think about. No epiphanies. No revelations. No moments of clarity. Is that right? Well: May be YOU were projecting THAT.
VIRGIL: [Virgil looks down again.] May be.
DRAKE: May be you are just a supporting role. And that is all you’ll ever be. The irony being that you imagine yourself to be the star. [Pause.] I got my keys back from him. You know. My Casio.
VIRGIL: I was going to say. I still don’t think you should be mad at him.
DRAKE: [Drake looks ready to snap.] Oh YEAH? Well let me tell YOU some thing. I never asked you for your damned opinion. I told you to stay OUT of it. And what did you do? Just went ahead and stuck your JEW NOSE into every thing. Not even having MET Ariana, you called her a bitch, A PRIORI, just because you did not LIKE that YOUR group of so-called “friends” – YOUR codependent SUPPORT GROUP – had fallen apart. And that bastard, who had the nerve to accuse ME of being self-entitled and possessive, salts my wounds by accommodating YOU. All because HE got all HE ever wanted. So you end up hanging OUT with them. The TWO of them. And do you tell me? No. Not for months. Then you show up outside my house expecting every thing to be “cool”. Kike you… Sorry. Now *I* have an impediment. There you go. LIKE you forgot the way I freaked OUT and defended her damned HONOUR when you had the nerve to call her a bitch.
VIRGIL: What are you SAYING?
DRAKE: I was generous enough to mention him in passing, with disdain and disregard, and with detachment, for your convenience. But you were not entitled to push my patience. You CONTRADICTED me. And that is DEEPLY triggering to me. But no! If *I* can speak about him, why can’t YOU? You are TOTALLY entitled to your totally UNINFORMED opinion. Because you’re such a liberal. Which is why, in the absence of the victim’s testimony, you VINDICATE THE OPPRESSOR’S POINT OF VIEW.
VIRGIL: I mean. Sorry. It sucks. But Ariana chose him.
DRAKE: And I suppose her consent is LAW then? You know: for some one who hates contradictions you’ve certainly given me a lot to unriddle. For instance: how is it that a FEMINIST can so instinctively support the patriarchal, wanna-be-alpha-male tendencies of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
VIRGIL: Voldemort?
DRAKE: But then I take a step back. I recall myself. And I remember: feminism was ALL ways a patriarchy. These hypocritical bitches ALL ways chose the alpha douche bags. He was part of the Trumper crowd, and she was one of the college kids. It was a match made in Hell. But YOU don’t care. You don’t even care that she was suicidal and she got worse dealing with his dismissive ass. No. You just care that now your two best friends are hanging out with you in shifts.
VIRGIL: Sorry.
DRAKE: No. Not yet. Let me finish. [sips Virgil’s beverage.]
VIRGIL [less seriously, more coquettishly.]: Hey.
DRAKE: Ariana WAS a bitch. But you could never know that. You can’t know what I WENT through. You would have acted differently. But consent! AHH! Consent. Now I get outvoted, but what’s it to you? That’s democracy. I claim no entitlement if she CHOOSES him, right? Except that that now dispossesses him of all loyalty and responsibility. So PARADOXICALLY she is now responsible, singularly. And she is a bitch. And I am, for failing to “deal with it”. As though I would have had to had I not been lied to. Had that tapeworm not LIED the moment that he said, over the phone, that very day they met, I think, or may be the day they ditched me, that you and I were his two only “friends”.
[Virgil silent. Drake continues:]
DRAKE: But the moment that you MEET her. When you DEAL with her. When she ENDEARS HERSELF to you. NOW all memory of her ever having been a BITCH totally DISAPPEARS! Like magick! Only *I’LL* recall it. And what do *I* matter, any way? What did *I* ever matter? I might as well go kill my self. It’s not like life’s an end in and of its self, like our parents taught us. I should have KNOWN better than to think I could expect LOYALTY unconditionally. Even if I’d, PARADOXICALLY, EARNED it.
[A text arrives. Virgil checks it.]
DRAKE: And now you’re fucking an Arian back in the Midwest. And she’s making you go vegan. Ariana was an Aries. Ariana was a vegan. But you do not care.
VIRGIL: I do.
DRAKE: Sure you do. But not because it affects me. Not because even at this moment I am reliving the night I saw them holding hands, walking away from me. Totally apathetic to my feelings. Watching you text this girl. Knowing Ariana spoke to you but would not speak to me again.
VIRGIL: Hold on.
DRAKE: No. It’s okay. [He takes drink and seasons Virgil’s fries with it. The Jew scrambles to save them.]
VIRGIL: Fuck you man.
DRAKE: Truly.
[Patio. Jake is there.]
DRAKE: The flow sucks.
JAKE: TELL me about it.
DRAKE: It DOES get better, right?
JAKE: OH yeah.
DRAKE: You know: Virgoes man. Fuck.
JAKE: I know. You’re still thinking about Clark, huh?
DRAKE: Sure. Why not.
JAKE: Like I said: I know it’s multiple things and people. I just picked the one that made most sense to focus on.
DRAKE: How does Janet date such a neurotic jealous douche-bag? I’m just curious.
JAKE: It beats me. All I know is I try not to figure any body out. I know what I know about them. Causes are illusory. People ask: why did you do that? And I say: well. I don’t know. It just HAPPENED that way.
DRAKE: The autotelic personality.
JAKE: PERSONALLY, that’s how I see all of existence. And may be that’s my projection. But it’s no less objective for being so.
DRAKE: I want her. Janet.
JAKE: Funny. I could tell. And so could he.
DRAKE: I know. Funny what the mind can intuit.
JAKE: Personally though I have a hunch that she wants me. But I don’t want her.
DRAKE: That sucks.
JAKE: Not for you. But I guess it doesn’t help you either.
DRAKE: Sucks for her.
JAKE: Only until she gets over it. I’m not codependent enough for her.
DRAKE: I see that. You think *I* am?
JAKE: No.
DRAKE: REALLY?
JAKE: You are not codependent. You just tend towards codependent people. As I do. They USE you. Like J.J. did.
DRAKE: You mean Jackson?
JAKE: Yeah. The other one: the one in jail.
DRAKE: You mean the one in prison?
JAKE: They’re one in the same. I was playing a semantic game.
DRAKE: Oh. You know, a girl I loved played those games. A lot in fact.
JAKE: Any way: the other J.J. The one who got arrested. I was the one who turned him in.
DRAKE: What.
JAKE: I did.
DRAKE: WHY?
JAKE: He had a crush on some one that I loved.
DRAKE: The… TAURUS girl?
JAKE: I could not risk him getting close enough to her. I knew it would not work out. With her boyfriend and all.
DRAKE: But… it would not have worked out with YOU either.
JAKE: May be. May be not. Fate is strange at times. She is a Taurus, so set in her ways. But her North Node is in Scorpio. SO you never know when proverbial shit will hit the proverbial fan and she will turn on every one she ever claimed to love.
DRAKE: Church.
JAKE: Any way: I turned on J.J. Sorry if he was your friend. Don’t tell him that I ratted him out though. I know he has friends in prison and if fate ever takes me there, well. [laughs near-nervously.]
DRAKE: No, look. Before I even ANSWER that. I need to know some thing.
JAKE: Shoot.
DRAKE: Why did you DO it?? To PROTECT her?
JAKE: Yeah.
DRAKE: But you made it WORSE!
JAKE: No. HE made it worse. And so did Nutcase. And you.
DRAKE: But. But… [pauses to catch breath and to exhale foul air.] How do you know that J.J. was not just acting out of the FLOW?
JAKE: Oh. He was. But so was I.
DRAKE: But… the Flow. It was. RATIONAL.
JAKE: Only the ego is rational. Reality is chaotic.
DRAKE: You screwed ALL of us. And I might have to suffer MOST now just for being HONEST with J.J., for his OWN sake and for HERS. Which was YOUR motive.
JAKE: Sorry buddy. That’s just the way it happened.
DRAKE: But you and I. We RELATE. Rationally. So how can you do so much harm to me? I mean: this is the climax of the play. When I learn a lesson. Some thing to take to sleep, when I think of Ariana. And of Dominic. And of J.J. Both of them. And even that Leo girl.
JAKE: There IS no lesson. The answer’s totally topical. Yes: you and I relate. I help you make rational sense of an irrational world by vindicating its irrationalities. But you forgot one critical thing. And it’s funny. I know you don’t like him, but you have a lot in common with Clark.
DRAKE: I’m not trying to deny it.
JAKE: Nor am I trying to deny your RIGHT to deny it. He is a lot more codependent and jealous than you. But this you two have in common: You RATIONALISE and you make your Reason the Absolute. But it’s only a fleeting mirage. I can connect with you about philosophy. He can connect with you about poetry and politics. Janet can connect you because you are both water-signs. BUT…
DRAKE: But what?
JAKE: You see, if I say it I’m afraid I’ll be redundant. Only because you all ready know it.
DRAKE: I know it. Just say it.
JAKE: I’m a DRUG ADDICT, dude. Even now I am manipulating you. MOST of my brain is wired towards one purpose: acquiring more heroin and meth. You do not know what that’s like; you can only empathise. But you do not suffer. THANKFULLY. Your focus is in your frontal lobe. So I empathise with you and mirror your own frontal lobe. But in my OWN play, *I* am the lead actor. And you are but a supporting one. Heroin is my heroine. The frontal lobe that we have in common, for only this moment, is only a marginal fraction of my personality, serving the whole.
DRAKE: Like Dostoyevsky said: of all my passions, I value Reason about one-fifth. And Spite about as much.
JAKE: Like I said: I don’t hear your words so much as your meaning. Never read Dostoyevsky. But I might look into him now you mention him. Just remember what I said about supporting characters, and how each of us believes himself to be the Hero. It’s the human condition.
DRAKE: No. [Pause.] Some of us put others secondly. Until it gets too much. And others choose to play the Devil.
JAKE: Like I said: It’s all just my projection. I know I might seem cruel. But then it’s only because I’ve fought my own demons for so long.
DRAKE: Devils. Not demons. Demons can be either good or bad.
JAKE: Again: I don’t hear your words. But I hear you. But I have to go now.
DRAKE: Yeah. You had better.
[Jake enters restaurant.]
[Our hero enters the restaurant. He hears two girls conversing, of college age.]
GIRL ONE: Well it’s all Freud, isn’t it?
GIRL TWO: Yup. All sex.
GIRL ONE: But you know: A lot of girls hate to be essentialised for their looks. But I hate to be essentialised for my MIND. My LOOKS, though. If I met a guy who could tell me that I’m PRETTY. Then damn.
GIRL TWO: Oh home girl you got it going ON though.
GIRL ONE: I know. Thanks. I only wish some guy would have the courage to TELL me.
GIRL TWO: [with nearly breathless, earnest conviction.] Girl, you don’t need men to validate you! Just go for the first cute guy you see.
GIRL ONE: But there AREN’T any here at this hour!
GIRL TWO: Well then let’s DITCH this joint.
GIRL ONE: Straight up homie.
[They exit. A staff official approaches Drake.]
STAFF: Hey. You have to go.
DRAKE: Why? Because I didn’t order any thing?
STAFF: Yeah.
DRAKE: Well. Since you guys are so suave. What’s the Daily Special?
STAFF: Special? What’s Special?
DRAKE: Nothing I see. And no one. Fine.
[withdraws two dollars.]
DRAKE: Take this up and get me whatever you want to get me.
[Puzzled, the man accepts the bills. He withdraws wordlessly to the kitchen. Our hero sits down at Clark’s now-abandoned table. He eyes scornfully a Middle-Eastern man cleaning the location with undue diligence. He picks up one of Clark’s abandoned fries, handles it like a cigar, and then eats it with deliberate, but unforced, distaste.]
[The manager comes out.]
MANAGER: Hey! Your money’s no good here.
DRAKE: Why is that? Because I’m Jewish?
MANAGER: No. Because you SMELL.
[finally breaking, Drake storms out.]
[The room clears, save for the Middle-Eastern cleaner.
Enter Jackson.
He looks around for Drake.
He checks the restroom.]
JACKSON: Drake? You in there?
JAKE: Yeah.
JACKSON: Oh sorry I thought you were some one else.
JAKE: I am. And no worries.
JACKSON: Hm… two dollars. I wonder if these were the two that Zane owed to Drake.
CLERK: Hey. Are you going to buy some thing or what?
JACKSON: Sure. Let me see your dollar menu.
CLERK: [Suddenly friendly.] Right this way, Sir.
JACKSON: Thank you.
CLERK: No problem.
JACKSON: Here’s a tip. [offers money.]
CLERK: Oh no. You give that up front.
JACKSON: Got ya.
[Follows clerk off stage.]
Dm.A.A.
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