Wednesday, February 22, 2012


I'm going to write down the monologues I have memorized so far, as well as the one I want to memorize next.  Also, perhaps I'm going to buy a keyboard.
And I would like to try my dance videos from the library.

I want to memorize the following monologue.  It is named, Glass Eels, written by Nell Leyshon.  It goes like this:

       I think I'm like my mother. 
       She came down here at night.
       I know I shouldn't come, but I can't stop myself.
       I know she came here.  Sat here.  Swam in there.
       She's not in the house anymore.
       I used to look for her.  I found things she touched.  I found a piece of paper with her handwriting.  I found a shoe in the garden.  A dress she'd worn.
      It hadn't been washed.  (Lily sits up).
      I want to tell you this thing.  But I don't want you to look at me.
      Look away.  That's it.
      If you look at me I'll stop.
      I used to think everyone had dead bodies in their houses.  I'd go in the room where he got them ready.  He caught me one day, looking at the powder he used on their skin to tighten it.
      I was gonna use it on me but he took it from me, said it was only for dead skin.
      I started going down at night and if we had one I'd lift the sheet from their faces.
      I used to think if I looked at them long enough I could bring them back to life, make them breathe again.
      One night there was a new one there.  I took the sheet and peeled it down.  Stood and stared.
      It was my mother.
      (Kenneth looks.)
      No.  Don't look at me.
      It had happened late at night and no one had woken me to tell me.  That's how I found out.
      Her skin was streaked with mud.  Her hair still damp from the river.  A piece of weed in it. 
      I stood there and tried to make her breathe again.  Tried to make her chest move.
      Nothing happened.
      So I reached out and pulled her eyelids up, to get her to open her eyes and look at me.  But her eyes had rolled back and there was just the whites.
      I tried to pull the lids back down but they had stuck.
      I had to go upstairs and into my dad's room.  I had to tell him to come with me, to see what I'd done.
      He followed me down and I showed him.
      He saw and then he turned and grabbed my arm, too tight.  He shook me and screamed at me, told me I shouldn't have gone and then he hit me.  Here.  (Touches face.)
      Some things that happen to you, you get them in here.
     (Touching face) And you can't get them out.
     I wish you could take it out so I didn't have to remember it.

And this is what is given to me in the monologue book.  This is the description:
     Lily, a confused and emotionally fragile young girl, struggles to confront her own internal conflicts with faith, spirituality, and the intrinsic value of human life.  The only person she is able to share her nightmare story with is Kenneth, a family friend who has known her all her life.  Here, late at night, Lily is mysteriously drawn to the river where her mother died and where thousands of eels are stirring as they anticipate their solitary migration to the sea.  Lily now recalls a childhood memory about her father and appears to be asking us what went wrong...and why.

Yeah, so, any thoughts? I go back to...may I use my real name yet?  ;)
Miss Rae :*

Tuesday, February 21, 2012