Charles is lounging on the couch, he has been for several hours. He’s watching the longest documentary on American history I have ever seen. Complete with paintings of battles, people standing by as their lives are destroyed.
It began with the revolutionary war, that was the last time I walked outside with talk of soldiers coming through and SMASHING people’s property, taking their possessions. A map—France is coming.
This time, I walked out—and he hasn’t moved his body at all — and I believe we’re onto the Civil War now, as slavery was mentioned along with a black and white photograph of liberated man, I think, with a wheelbarrow of skeletons — the narrator in a flat tone spoke of raping women and hanging their husbands…
I think, people thought these four years I spent on Miracle Mile were unbelievable… and I sort of feel, sometimes, when you have a good idea, it just might develop, because it’s sort of really true. Black men have been encouraging me, specifically, to keep coming back to open mics, to forgo the comedy a sec, just keep talking… liking my singing videos… referencing things I’m listening or thinking about… randomly. Acknowleding my presence in Ubers, on the street, wishing me happy holidays… just like that, nothing more. No attachments. My Black roommate, male, is now watching this documentary… I just think it’s funny.
Hours…he’s spent hours watching American history, and every time I walk out, here’s a shocking, terrible thing someone did to someone else, though it’s not shocking, it’s like my mother putting on an outrageous performance for the priest, which is fair, but what about their "normal” act? It doesn’t have the same shock value, “how crazy,” um, yeah?
I don’t mention it in this short version of it, I won’t have to, but in the book that comes into the play, briefly, as I flipped out the older I got—just how much of my mother I saw in the world… racism, for example. A totally insane premise that becomes your fault. Homosexuality too, like, sex isn’t a crime, Catholics. I hated the Catholics. There’s nothing criminal about sex, molesting children, yes. And there’s Dr. J — rejecting sex, getting lude, flipping between the two.
Anyway that’s for later, but I appreciate Charles’ entrances and exits…