When the "Many Faces of Love" festival rolled around again and I wanted to see if I could turn it into a monologue, one that ran 2-3 minutes. The artistic director of the festival accepted the piece, but asked it I could change the point of view to a First Person narrative, make it into a monologue from the guy in the story. I discovered I couldn't. Or as I responded;
As for point-of-view…I’d been over that when I first wrote the original. It was written like a fairy tale. There needs to be a buffer between the audience and this guy’s actions. There’s betrayal and disloyalty here. I think watching him try to explain it away or “justify” his actions would lose any sympathy for the story teller, IMO.
As for the recording...my cell phone froze up near the end of the piece. It's the only recording I have of the event, so sorry about that. But it played very well, and I was very happy with it, even as it comes from my less-nurturing side.
Okay, now the technical issues; this was the year I first attended the performances. I was determined to record it with my new iPhone. My new iPhone had other ideas. It cut off toward the end. A dedicated author would have gone back to the second night's show to try it again. I, however, didn't. So, this is the only record I have of that night...
A Guy's Story
(based on a short story)
By Dan Fiorella
NARRATOR: Dave married his high school sweetheart right out of college. They had a good life together. His job was secure. The house was paid off. And yet---
“Dave, you’re not going to wear that shirt, are you?” his wife asked one morning, as she often did.
With that remark, a fact was noted; Dave had ceased to be happy. Though not a struggle, his life had become a chore; A series of things that had to be done. A routine to be completed: commute to work, work, commute home, sleep and repeat. It had gone from routine to rut. And he knew how to dress himself.
Then one morning on the train, it suddenly lurched at a switching point. His coffee cup lid wasn’t on the coffee tight enough. Usually his coffee guy is really good about that. It spilled out onto a woman. On her blouse. It was a coffee stain. Dave offered to spill some club soda on her at the next stop. That elicited a smile. A bright, gleaming smile of joy. Her name was Lisa.
In the city, Dave and Lisa went off in search of a reasonably priced dry-cleaner with same-day service. But first they stopped at Macy’s to buy her a new blouse, which went on his card. They became travel buddies, commuter comrades, transit team members.
The long commute became less tedious and soul-sucking now. They would talk of film and art and the way the light danced upon the morning dew. Books were discussed. Politics debated. Over time they realized there wasn’t much to debate. They were simpatico on most every topic.
Soon spring arrived, when a young man’s fancy turns to hooky. “A mental health day” they
They ditched work and took in the town. They strolled through the park. They dined al fresco. They strolled some more. And then, an awkward moment arose. An exciting, electric, magical, mind-bending awkward moment as they stepped into each other’s lips like a magnet to metal. And just as suddenly, Dave’s life was filled with wonder, delight and…lust. Lunchtime trysts were arranged. Late hours were fabricated to allow for post-employment canoodling. The spring in Dave’s step returned. His inner child was filled with glee and life was a marvel.
Naturally, his wife suspected something.
She was going over the credit card bills and found a charge from Macy’s in the city. For a blouse.
Sure, Dave could have told her he was a cross-dresser but he realized that perhaps it was time to follow his bliss, to escape his rut and challenge the norm. He unfolded the truth before her like a treasured family linen while attempting to paint himself in a sympathetic light.
Didn’t fly. But there was no going back. Ties had been severed and Dave would re-assemble his future from the gray void that had been his existence. He saw it as a new beginning. He saw it as redemption, a second chance to get it right.
Lisa was his now, free and clear.
Together they would remain and the future they would face together, as one. Dave’s life re-sparked, the gears caught and he lurched forward once again.
(Narrator mimes putting on a shirt and tie.)
“You aren’t going to wear that shirt, are you?” Lisa asked.
(Narrator goes wide-eyed with concern. )