Mary-Louise Parker Monologues

Fried Green Tomatoes (Ruth Jamison)

I had a dream the other night. I dreamt that Buddy was gone. I ran to his crib and there he was, sleeping like an angel. And you know, I thanked God for letting me still have Buddy. And I remembered having the same reaction after Frank would beat me, thanking the Lord for giving me the strength to take it. And I remembered thanking the Lord for each day that my mother lived. Even when she was spittin’ up blood and prayin’ for me to kill her. I looked into my mother’s eyes, pleadin’ for me to help her, and all I could do was pray. While, while you were gone, and I was holding Buddy, I thought, “If that bastard, Frank Bennett, ever tries to take my child, I won’t pray. I’ll break his neck.”

Boys on the Side (Robin Nickerson)

I don’t know what it is but there’s something that goes on between women. You men know that because it’s the same for you. I’m not saying one sex is better then the other. I’m just saying, like speaks to like. Love or whatever doesn’t always keep. So you found out what does, if you’re lucky. … You know what’s weird? You never know the last time you sleep with somebody it’s the last time. You’re thinking: “Oh, we got problems, we got work to do,” you know, but you never think… and then you break up and a month later you look back and you go: “Oh, that was it.” That Tuesday or Friday or whenever, and you wished you paid attention because it was the last time… Well.

Angels in America (Harper Pitt)

Night flight to San Francisco. Chase the moon across America. God! It’s been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air. As close as I’ll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air and attained the outer rim, the ozone which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth and that was frightening. But I saw something only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things. Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead of people who’d perished from famine, from war, from the plague and they floated up like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles and formed a web, a great net of souls. And the souls were three atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind and dreaming ahead. At least I think that’s so.