John Malkovich Monologues

The Glass Menagerie (Tom Wingfield)

I didn’t go to the moon. I went much further, for time is the longest distance between two places. Not long after that I left St. Louis. I descended the steps of our fire escape for the last time and from then on I followed in my father’s footsteps attempting to find in motion what was lost in space. I traveled around a great deal. The city swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly colored but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped but I was pursued by something that always came upon me unawares taking me all together by surprise. Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass. Perhaps I’m walking along the street at night in some strange city before I have found companions. And I pass a lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. Windows filled with pieces of colored glass. Tiny transparent bottles and delicate colors like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister touches my shoulder and I turn around and look into her eyes. … Laura. Laura. I tried so hard to leave you behind me but I am more faithful than I intended to be. I reach for a cigarette, I cross a street, I run to the movies or to a bar. I buy a drink. I speak to the nearest stranger. Anything that will blow your candles out. For nowadays the world is lit by lightning. Blow out your candles Laura. And so goodbye.

In the Line of Fire (Mitch “Booth” Leary)

November 1963. Kennedy’s last days. The arrival in Texas. Must have been exciting for you, Frank. Dallas, that morning at Love Field. You all looked so radiant. JFK, Jackie, and you. You looked so young and able, Frank. What did happen to you that day? Only one agent reacted to the gunfire and you were closer to Kennedy than he was. You must have looked up at the window of the Texas Book Depository but you didn’t react. Late at night, when the demons come, do you see the rifle coming out of that window or do you see Kennedy’s head being blown apart? If you’d reacted to that first shot, could you have gotten there in time to stop the big bullet? And if you had, that could have been your head being blown apart. Do you wish you’d succeeded, Frank? Or is life too precious? … I have that Esquire magazine article on the 10th anniversary, about you and all the other agents that were there that day. So sad, how your wife left you and took your little daughter. And you were so forthright about your drinking problem and the fact you weren’t easy to live with. I was so moved by your honesty. The world can be a cruel place to an honest man, Frank.