My senior work (untitled) presents three spoken-word monologues accentuated by archival footage from the public domain. The three monologues/diary entries represent my characters Wayne, Jane, and Loretta. Wayne and Loretta are lovers, as well as clowns in a traveling carnival, during an undisclosed time period. Jane is Wayne’s therapist. This story is concerned not with their professions necessarily but rather the delusional and hallucinogenic mind state of Wayne as he grapples with his fading sanity. Moreover, the monologues highlight how Wayne’s increasingly deranged paranoia impacts the other two characters. A lot of people suffer from delusions and mental illness and, as such, I have always been interested in exploring the less-traveled catacombs of the unconscious. I find clowns suitable subjects of research for their true identities are hidden by makeup and goofy clothing, as in the case of serial killer John Wayne Gacy (Pogo the Clown), who proved once again that playful smiles and colorful attire are not always a genuine representation of one’s identity. I also explore this notion in my other works, namely in my poetry. Ideally, I plan on broadening my field of vision and creative style as I continue to experience the thrills of our breathtaking universe. However, currently I’m consumed by a passion for the seemingly bizarre and perverse impulses that silently “terrorize” the concept of normalcy imposed by society.
Excerpt from Monologue #1, Character: Wayne:
Every Friday night, I walk into the center of the tent and laugh at all the reaching eyes, like strange jello hands, like my curiosity all those years ago. I dream of squirrels afterwards, and willingly accept my attention taken as a hostage, duck-taped and left for dead, but at the very least entertained. The audience howls with laughter while a malnourished lion lunges for my throat, and I disappear down an alleyway just in time to rinse my face in a moonlit puddle, born again yet lost once more in some midnight jig. Please don’t follow me, just watch and laugh as I tiptoe past growling high beams and gather acorns for nostalgia’s sake.