The Character – A short monologic play

The Character – A short monologic play

the_character_play

Characters:
Pablo
Wife
The Character
The character’s colleague

A café in Copenhagen. 1pm on a Thursday. Pablo sits 
on a vintage sofa next to his wife. Across them sit 
a pair of colleagues that discuss, in a profound tone, 
the “science of marketing”.

[The Character gets up, apologizes to his colleague for taking up two hours of her time. Begins to put on his coat and scarf on.]

Pablo: [addressing his wife] What a character, that guy.

The Character: What did you just say?

Pablo: [impassive] That you’re quite a character.

The Character: What the hell is the problem with you?

Pablo: What? Me? What are you talking about? What do you know about my world, my conception of the world, my inner drama, my subjective constructs? Do you have any idea what I mean by the word ‘character’ and could you have suspected that I see the world as a stage where we are all characters that pretend to be this or that, and some of us are better at it, and some are portraying so bizarrely absurd roles, that they deserve being pointed out and addressed as “one-of-a-kind characters”? I am conscious that saying out loud, “what a character” may connote a derogatory sense to the word. I am aware that we pretend to be immersed in a kind of social nebula, where things appear the same to all members of the community. But I’m sorry to say, that is not the case, we don’t all share the same monotonous perceptual paradigm and I’ll keep calling you and everybody else characters, yes characters in…

[The Character and colleague exit café]

Pablo: … in the absurd drama of the earth.

The End.

soldier of ruin

Nihilistic Poetry

The sadness of the suit –
hung

the window shop
like a memory
carrying the scent
of an effete cosmos,
the wrinkles engraved
as snakes on a dead desert
of polyester,
the trapezoids existing
shadows in the skin
of the pattern,
and the sadness of the suit
saturated with the rust
of a regret, the shoes
of temple sacrifice-
the suit gray and occidental
ail and sober
standing brave
as the soldier of ruin.

Nihilistic Poetry Blog