“THE SHAPE OF THINGS”

Male Serio-Comic Contemporary Monologue

Me? Nah…we had some fun, right? But, hey, that’s subjective. That I had
some fun, fell in love and all that…and you got yourself a grade and a
column an inch or two in the college paper. Congrats. Seriously…but do me
a favor, don’t fool yourself and think that this is ‘art’. Okay? It’s a sick
fucking joke, but it is not ‘art’. You know, when Picasso took a shit, he
didn’t call it a ‘sculpture’. He knew the difference. That’s what made him
Picasso. And if I’m wrong about that, I mean, if I totally miss the point here
and somehow puking up your own little shitty neuroses all over people’s
laps is actually art, then you oughta at least realize there’s a price to it all…
you know? Somebody pays for your two minutes on CNN. Someone always
pays for people like you. And if you don’t get that, if you can’t see at least
that much…then you’re about two inches away from using babies to make
lamp shades and calling it ‘furniture’…Look, I know they call it the “art
scene’, but that’s not all it should make. A scene. It should be more than
that. Anybody can be provocative, or shocking. Stand up in a class, or a
mall, wherever, and take a piss, paint yourself blue and run naked through a
church screaming out the names of people you’ve slept with. Is that art, or
did you just forget to take your Ritalin? There’s gotta be a line. For art to
exist, there has to be a line out there somewhere. A line between really
saying something and just…needing something…I guess I’m done.