Apology for 2005

This is the script to a monologue I performed at a solo performance show at Space 55 in Phoenix.  The text in bold was featured on a large cue card.  The livejournal entry referred to can be found here.  I changed some of the wording to make the content A) Fit on a cue card and B) Have more impact.  None of the changes change the meaning or were in any way at odds with how I felt at the time.  The italicized text is a fictional phone conversation with my dad during the show.  I had three phone alarms set so it would ring like crazy during the show so I could occasionally duck out of the monologue to have a conversation.  I forget exactly when I made the interruptions, the placement below is an estimate.

Apology for 2005

I think that maturity is measured by the number of years between now and the most recent time you could look back at yourself and say, “What the hell was wrong with me back then?”  The more years, the more mature you are.  By “you”, I mean me.  I’m trying to make it sound universal so this all seems less narcissistic, but that’s kinda silly, this is a solo performance show after all.  I call this piece “Apologizing for 2005”.  2005 was the peak of my Oscar Wilde phase, except instead of master and redefine multiple genres and forms of literature, I drank expensive booze and tried to come up with witty things to say on livejournal.  2005 can be summed up with my first entry: “Subject: I suck the milk from the teats of broken dreams after filling my mouth with the chocolate syrup of cynicism.  Current mood: Slotch. (it was supposed to say "scotch", it was an intentional typo, for affect).  Today I alphabetized all of my vintage designer ties by country of origin. They’re all American, so I just left them all over the floor.”  Any mundane personal detail or embarrassing temporary opinion I could express in a strained clever phrase wound up in my livejournal.  I will focus my apology on one particular post.  It was a post about a woman I briefly dated.  I had decided I no longer want to be involved with her, and like a gentleman, instead of personally discussing this with her, I figured I would just spare her the awkward conversation and ignore all of her calls and texts.  Since I never told her about my livejournal and I wanted to feel good about what I did, I decided to publicly post a list of things I hated about her.   Unfortunately, she googled me and found my callous, enumerated buzzfeed-style list of all her shortcomings.  Her response was drunk and pretentious enough for me to not consider how hurtful and unfair what I said was, and how I misrepresented her to make myself seem like not an asshole.  I never forgave myself for this, so tonight I am going to reveal the most shameful parts of the list and call 2005 Me out on his bullshit.  So, “Things I didn’t like about Julia in 2005.”  I should note that I was living in New Jersey at the time, while she lived in Philadelphia.

Cocaine addiction. Ah, cocaine. A good first item, this will get everyone on your side by associating her with the drug of choice for greedy record execs and trust fund hipsters.  Everybody hates an obnoxious coke head, and you’ll seem like a martyr for putting up with her for as long as you did.  So sure, exploit her detrimental habit to make yourself look like a hero.

(Phone rings, and has been ringing and I keep ignoring until now) 

Oh jeez. Sorry everyone, I'm in the middle of buying a new car, and my dad is insisting on helping me with my search and giving me advice. 

(Answer phone) 

Hi.  Yeah make it quick, I’m in the middle of something. (pause) No.  (pause) No, I don’t want to buy another American car, I’m tired of being on a first name basis with the staff at Pep Boys. The head mechanic just invited me to his son’s christening. (pause) I wanna buy a Toyota Prius. (pause)  I know you don’t, but I’m the one buying the car. (pause)  It’s not just about the gas mileage, it’s about the environment. (pause) If you wanna help me, that’s what I want. Gotta go.

Made me sit through her fake concern for the victims of Hurricane Katrina.  Oh, let me guess: you’re one of those people who thinks everyone only pretends to care about human suffering to make themselves seem cool.  I bet you also think that all news sources are biased by corporate funding, not because you have done any research, but if all news is fake and nobody really cares, then you are absolved of personal responsibility so you can keep drinking and ignoring the human condition. 

Occasional mustache. Clearly you must see this as telling the hard truths nobody wants to hear, and if you offend someone it is their fault because reality doesn’t care about feelings. You are wielding the mighty sword of truth. You are the “Like it is” express, running over anyone with an artificially high opinion of themselves.  I’m sure you don’t see this as shaming someone for not conforming to what society thinks they ought to maintain their upper lip.

(Phone rings again)

Hey. (pause) Actually I read a few articles since our last conversation, and apparently hybrids are worse for the environment when you factor in the inefficient production.  (pause)  I know you just went through all that effort, and I appreciate it, but did you know that the metals used in the batter y cells are rare Earth metals that require these complicated mining operations in third world countries? (pause)  No, that doesn’t mean I want another Ford Focus. Just because I don’t want a hybrid doesn’t mean we’re back to square one.  Maybe a Toyota Corolla? (pause) Yeah, do that.  Thanks. Thanks.

Shows no interest in reciprocating sexual acts, bar tabs, and heaven forbid she meet me in New Jersey for once.  What you didn’t say was that you were really just using her because she was showing you cool spots in Philly.  You were not interested in her reciprocating sexual acts because you didn’t actually find her attractive and let’s face it: by the time you got back to her place you were too drunk to get it up anyway.  You didn’t want her to pay bar tabs because it gave you perverse joy to continue to spoil her the way her parents have.  Her being spoiled helped keep your personal guilt at bay.  And you didn’t want her to come to New Jersey because then you wouldn’t be going to underground Philly drum and bass nights and warehouse parties.

Loose vagina. Seriously, how many guys did she let rail her out in her college slut phase? OK 2005 Ian, in the future, there are these things called “memes”, and they will educate you on basic female anatomy and slut shaming.

Spoiled trust fund hipster.  So she used to make you share ear buds with her and listen to The Postal Service and Basement Jaxx in faux dive bars. Why the hell was that such a big deal? You placed a disproportionately large amount of loathing on this specific behavior, which you saw as selling out and being the cliché hipster couple you secretly wanted to be.  So by all means, keep running away from yourself, see where you end up. (Under breath) Phoenix

(Phone rings again)

Talk to me. (pause) Wait, why are you looking at more hybrids? (pause) You think mining could be a valuable source of industry in places that need it most?  How have you managed to make electric cars evil?  (pause)  No, they’re not gonna mine in an environmentally sustainable way, that doesn’t make sense! (pause) No, don’t invest your stock in Lithium, invest it in Oxygen! Oxygen isn’t traded on the stock market, it is traded between humans and nature. I was being- (pause)  Whatever, I don’t need your advice, I’ll just read consumer reviews. Yeah bye.“

Said I was rude to her friend, but her friend is a coke head who sleeps with morons.  Hey, remember that time you got to dictate to women who they can sleep with?  No? Because it never fuckin’ happened!

The moral of the story: don't date me unless you want me to tell people on the internet how much you suck.  Whew, glad you acknowledged that what you’re doing is wrong otherwise this post would make you look like a jerk. Because everything is OK, as long as there’s an ironic self-referential kicker.

My journal points to a person whose privilege has insulated him from reality and deluded his grasp of cause and effect.  In 2005, I was a terrible argument against the belief that my generation is lazy and entitled.  Fortunately, reality beat me up until I became everything I ridiculed in my early twenties.  Most people rebel against their parents, but spend their lives finding little excuses to become more like them, but not me.  I invent my own set of undesirable traits that I will gradually grow to embody.  Until you stop coming up with reasons to despise people, you are doomed to end up becoming them.  Did I say “you” again? I meant me.

Bonus - alternate ending I did not use:

God, I hate that ending, it comes off too poppy, like I tacked it on to make it work as a solo piece with a meaningful conclusion.  It's a good thing I said I didn't like the ending, then performed it anyway. Otherwise, this monologue would make me look like someone who slings around wise-sounding nonsense meant to sound deep and make you think just long enough for me to escape and start writing my next monologue.