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A monologue from the play by Ira Gamerman
PATRICK
(Direct Address) I spent the next two weeks seeking out Chrissy Summerfit and asking her every conceivable question that popped into my mind.
What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite article of clothing? Body part? Facial Feature? Childhood stuffed animal? What are your parents like?
Where do you see yourself in 5 years? What are your feelings on Israeli Palestinian Conflict? Stem Cell Research? The probability of life on other planets?
The existence of a higher being? And with every question I felt like I was floundering.
Like I was wearing some giant neon beacon that was practically screaming “I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA! PLEASE LOVE ME!!!!!!” And then just when I was about to give up, it STRUCK ME.
Out of absolutely nowhere. And suddenly, A million puzzle pieces of random information came together and formed a coherent picture of a three dimensional human-being.
