I was sitting with my neighbour Dirk, talking about marvelous plays.  He started waxing poetic about Shakespeare’s Macbeth.  I just listened, transfixed by his love of drama.

And then a word came into my mind: monologue.  “How strange,” I thought.  “What’s it doing there?” 

I sat some more, falling into all that I don’t know.  And then more words came calling …

“I want to recite a monologue”

Huh?  Alrighty then.  I wondered what else would bubble up from my lips as minutes flowed into days.

I’ve known for months that singing for people is what I want to do.  But reciting someone’s speech from a play?  Who knew?  Certainly not me.

And so I retreated to Google, who kindly presented Gloumov to me.  He had much to say to his beloved Kleopatra in The Diary of a Scoundrel by Alexander Ostrovsky.

“I could be Gloumov!”

Why not?

Although my current ability to memorize is a question, I want to launch into something new.  First I’m learning two songs: Blowin’ in the Wind and Day Is Done, which I’ll sing in March at open mic sessions.  No performances in April since I’ll be in Canada.

But May beckons!

Here’s Gloumov, holding hands with Kleopatra:

Look into my eyes.  Can’t you see there that I’d rather die than cause you a moment’s pain?  Until I met you, I was a shy, timid boy, uncertain of myself, always troubled with longings and desires which you, and you alone, have taught me to understand. 

I was so lonely that I thought I’d lose my reason sometimes, and always I was searching, searching for the one woman in the world on whom I could pin my dreams and hopes.  But I was poor, insignificant and women turned away from me. 

And then I met you.  I shall never forget the first time I saw you – you were wearing that beautiful pink dress with brown bows on.  My heart missed a beat and then started to pound so violently that I thought I should faint.  You were so young, so beautiful, so far, far above me! … When we were introduced, I hardly dared to speak. 

But you didn’t turn away, you weren’t cold and cruel like the other great society ladies of today, you were sweet and gracious and when I told you I loved you, Kleopatra, you listened.  Oh, if you only knew how many times your sweet, gentle smile has stopped me on the very brink of impropriety. 

But even that day when I forgot myself, you didn’t turn me from the house!  Oh, my God, what happiness you’ve given me.  What happiness, what happiness!

I can do this

I want to do this

I will do this