May 23, 2015

(a play)

by Jesse Hewit / Writing

(two people sitting in chairs facing each other, speaking into mics on mic stands)

what type are you?

I’m here.

thats not a type.

its not?

no, when i say what type are you, i mean, like, what are you and how can i understand myself by sitting across from you like this? whats your category? whats your function? what….what?

oh. um.

yeah. ……you seem like maybe you’re a witch. like…maybe you’re the last of a dying breed. like ones who trust feelings and colors and rushes of god and the weather. would you say that that is you?

i’d say that I’m somewhere in there.

yeah. or maybe you’re a holder. like one who acts as a big bowl. we all scoop from you and you maintain this generous shape and kind of stay copious for us. ……people like that are really important. you’re potentially really very important if you’re one of these….types.

well….i wouldn’t say that i grasp this idea of importance. i think I’m more of a neon hooker baker athlete kind of animal person. as in, i stay pretty simple and bright and i like to please people. and my legs are fucking crazy strong. like….really fucking strong.

yes, i can see this in you. yeah. okay, so maybe just tell me your story and we’ll piece everything together starting with that.

okay. um. so…..sculpted out of blue slime, details by artisanal gender tropes, corn dog-fed, southern belle then easy shapeless pacific northwest person, mostly sad, 34 years old, six names, 3 jobs, 2 friends, recent cuts through 7 of my critical meridians, pierced brain, brown eyes, moms name is janet dad’s name is captain, no siblings, too much violence, horny on thursdays, summers in the closet, sensitive to time, never been in water, coming up on my 5th virginity, and pursuing a certification program in smearing shit on things.

whats your moon sign?

virgo.

okay. so first of all: i forgive you. okay? thats…just some fundamental information that really needs to be in the room, so…yeah: i forgive you.

thank you.

sure. and um….secondly: i just fell out.

fell out of what.

the bowl

oh shit.

no it’s fine. i assumed that if you hit on certain points in your story that we’d inevitably end up in the room with some old flames and teachers and I’m sensitive too, so….i fell. but its not a problem, i just want you to know so that we can position ourselves in the room in a way that makes sense for everyone, yeah?

that makes total sense.

thanks. i think that sweet dead citizen is in the corner, so… we should probably breath some space over there.

got it, 1-2-3.

(they both blow and breathe space for their ancestor into a corner of the room)

ah and while I’m thinking of it, did you read who died today?

it was me.

oh okay. ……thats not what i heard.

what did you hear?

i heard to was the dogs and the cats

hmmm….i could have sworn it was me, but….my reading is for shit, so…..could easily be the dogs and cats.

i think it was.

sure.

are you starting to feel ready for my dancing?

i am….i am but i have been craving some kind of snack. first. is that weird?

i don’t think its weird, necessarily, but it does feel a little rushed.

i think so too, but if you can just give me 2 minutes……

okay

(eats a snack, and drenches themselves in water)

okay

alright so this is just a little thing about my mom and getting lost in space and aging and having big misunderstandings about what the world has to offer.

okay, great.

i might start at the end.

(nods)

(dances)

oh so that’s a dance about escapism.

yeah, it’s a dance mostly about caving into your nostalgia and eating your own face.

right it’s like….a redux of a person dealing with politics and military culture.

yes, AND it’s a dirge. an offering, like an art piece and seizure in the context of a conversation about car accidents.

right….thanks for doing that.

thank YOU.

so what type are you?

force fuck.

is that a type?

it is. its a purple angular thing with a thick accent and a truckload of conflict and guilt. but you know….at the end of the day it’s the thing that makes the clouds break open and really give it to us with the water and the color and and the air quality….ya know….

force fuck

yeah, force fuck.

hmm.

who else is like you?

mostly people i meet when I’m traveling. like generally, if we can strike the possession/dispossession balance in a given space together, then I’m open for business. but its a matter of trust for sure. i mean there are all kinds of slippery slopes around rape culture and fetish and the dismembering of men, so the company kind of has to be just right, you know?

i do know….i have scenarios like that too.

yeah.

oh i have a question for you…

shoot.

why do you think that older men are so sexy?
whats my threshold?
why can’t i remember excitement?
whats the connection between feminism and time?
why are we only born once?
am i safe here?
can i get AIDS by chewing on dicks too hard?
can you hear me?
is war just misogyny made manifest?
what should i call myself?

because their balls are bigger, it’s when you forget that your limbs are steady, excitement changes as you accrue more experiences, time is increasingly a phenomenological construct of capitalism and may only be salvaged by applying feminist existentialism to our practical uses of it, so far it’s the only explainable way, you’re never safe anywhere but it doesn’t actually matter, you have a 1 in 100,000 chance, you are absolutely crystalline in your aural resonance for me, 100% yes, i think jim suits you.

(maybe this is read in a question/answer format interspersed by the asker with “ah” after each answer is given)

ah jim. like the australian protagonist who keeps it simple and perseveres.

yes. him.

i like that.

i like you.

i like you too. i like thinking about you.

 

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/cover photo by Michiel Keuper