New Monologue

This monologue was written, by me, over at myspace.
It was written for Stephanie, who happens to be one of the best young actors in NYC.
She gave me a topic, and I ran with it in another direction.
I think she liked it.
You kind find out more about this kind of stuff over at the myspace page.

And...you can suggest a topic for me to write about.
You might even get a monologue out of it.

So this one is written for Stephanie to perform, but I don't think she'd mind if other women chose to perform it in auditions too.
Or other guys--we don't discriminate.

What I'm saying is, you all have my permission to audition with this piece if you so choose.
Just make sure you credit me if anyone asks.

My left shoe and my right shoe are the same shoe but opposite. Same purpose, same style, and completely at odds. My right shoe can't possibly do the job of my left. And I love my shoes, both of my shoes, and I love them together, and I think they love me, but I don't think they love me together.

No wait. That's not--

My left shoe and my right shoe are the same shoe, but opposite, and I need both of them, I mean, both of my feet are soft on the underside. Both of my feet are in danger of being sliced by stray shattered glass if I walk around with them unprotected. My left shoe protects my left foot. My left shoe can't protect my right foot. That doesn't mean I have any less respect for what the left shoe can do.

That's what I told him. I don't think he, like, got it.

"I'm not a shoe," he told me, and I told him "I know you're not a shoe," and he said "I can protect both of your feet, all of your feet, tops and bottoms, and your legs, and" -- and then he went in great detail describing all the body parts of mine he wanted to protect, and he took a lot more time protecting certain parts than other parts, you can guess. And I told him it wasn't about protecting my feet or my ass or my tits, and that the fact that he went from my feet to my ass to my tits just proved the point I was trying to make in the first place, because, because, because well, she wouldn't have jumped from my feet to my ass to my tits.

And I told him "look, I don't mind that those are the parts you plan to protect," and I didn't tell him that I knew that when he said "protect" he meant "violate" or maybe not violate, but something dirtier and more boy than "protect", and I didn't mind that, because he is a boy, and I like him being a boy, so the feet, the ass, the tits--protect away, right? "But you protect those parts, and the other parts need protecting. I don't expect you to be responsible for my overall protection, the overall protection of all my parts, but my parts still need protecting. Feet, legs, ass, tits, you got 'em covered. But I've got other parts. I need another shoe."

"Shoes don't protect anything other than feet."

He's astute.

I told him "I know shoes don't--this isn't about shoes. You. And She. Are the exact same to me, for me, around me, to me. You give me something and she gives me something and it's the same and the job overlaps, but you do it one way and she does another way and all together you and she protect me, top to bottom, head to toe, right foot to left foot." And that's what I was telling him, that I needed them both, and I realized that this could be problematic to understand, but that's why I brought up the shoes.

"I'm not a shoe." He was pretty adamant about this point.

"I know you're not a shoe!" And I took my left shoe off, and I threw it at him.