Blacktop Sky – Monologue (Klass)

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A monologue from the play by Christina Anderson


You may not be fully aware of the times we’re livin’ in. The times that they don’t print in our papers or splash across our screens or pump through our radios. I suggest you might not be aware, because I see you. 

I watch you. I see you holding on to what little sanity and security you have left, squeezing it so tight that the color is leaving your fingers, draining from your hands. 

The squeezing is causing your muscles to ache. Jaws to clinch. And you think that pain is a sign of sanity? Security? It’s not, my friends. It’s not. [Pause] There’s a wind blowin’ through you.

 [Pause] A violent gust of truth. [Pause] It starts out as a breeze somewhere in here . . .  [Points at his heart ] . . . and it wakes up all the noise inside of you. Then that breeze gets in your blood. 

Travels through every vein. Head to toe. It gathers enough speed to the point where it won’t let you sleep at night. That breeze becomes a gust and that gust won’t let you be still. 

Won’t keep your troubles quiet. You sit on stoops, lean against cars, stand under the moon—restless. You walk to one end of your neighborhood then back to the other end, go sit back on that same stoop, sit under the sun—restless. 

The gust is stirring your soul. It’s pulling up memories from way down deep, from the cracks and crevices covered with scabs and scars. We swallow what we think is liquor, inhale what we think is weed, inject what we think is freedom. 

We alter our state of reality so we don’t have to participate in it. So we can’t be responsible, aware, dependable. And what happens when we hear a scream? When we see someone who looks like us, cornered? 

Pleading? Hm? [KLASS turns away as if he’s ignoring a weeping soul] We cross the street. We turn the music up a little louder. We drink, smoke, squeeze . . . but we still hear it. 

It never goes away. The wind, the noise, that somebody pleading . . . it’s not going away. And then the next somebody is cornered. [KLASS turns away] And then the next one . . . 

[He turns away] And then the next—until it’s you. And then you want to know why no one’s coming to save you, to take you to a safe place?

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