¡Díos mío...! (¿Qué pasa en la tierra?

       Profesor:         Buenas noches...buenas...hoy vamos a estudiar el verbo ser, en mi opinión muy importante, crucial; no podemos existir sin ser. Yo soy, vos sos, nosotros somos. Fui, fuiste, fuéramos...antes yo era, vos...Yo seré, vos serás, nosotros seremos...Yo sería, vos serías, nosotros...Debí haber sido, vos, nosotros...Si no hubiese sido por...yo hubiera, vos hubieras, nosotros hubiéramos...¡Dios mío! Richard Burbage? David Garrik? Where are you? (limpia una lágrima con un pañuelo) El verbo ser tiene que ver con el estado de la mente...¡ser o no ser: he aquí el problema! ¿Será más noble para el espíritu: sufrir los golpes y dardos de la insultante Fortuna, o tomar las armas contra un piélago de calamidades y, haciéndoles frente…acabar con ellas? ¡Morir…dormir…no más, y pensar que con un sueño damos fin al pesar del corazón y a los mil naturales conflictos que constituyen la herencia de la carne! He aquí una expresión devotamente apetecible! ¡Morir…dormir…dormir…tal vez soñar…! ¡Mierda! ¿Quién soy? ¿Dónde estoy? ¿Por qué soy lo que soy? ¿De dónde vengo? ¿Hacia dónde voy?  (El profesor se queda quieta un segundo, mirando fijo al público, luego desaparece en confusión. La luz descubre al músico y lo  enfoca. De repente vuelve el personaje, ahora como Dios. Toma asiento, entre el público, en la primera fila y dice: )           Díos:  Fue hace mucho tiempo, qué sé yo, hace 15 o 16 mil millones de años luz y allí estaba yo, tan sólo como un murciélago en medio de la oscuridad más oscura, el silencio más silencioso, el frío más frío. Nada había, tan solo el espacio curvado, el infinito sin fin, la eternidad, ni un sonido había, ni un llanto, ni una risa; tampoco gritos, chillidos. Los políticos ladrones no habían nacido, aún no habían inventado las guerras preventivas, los átomos andaban libres y sueltos, no había ni robots, ni computadoras, ni Internet ni blackberry, ni rascacielos, ni pruebas parciales, ni junk food, ni contaminación. Nada de nada. Pero de repente comencé a llorar como un baboso, a reír, a llorar, fuera de control, como un desquiciado, y mis llantos y risas rebotaron hasta los recovecos más recónditos del universo y volvían como una furiosa tempestad universal. (Se levanta y se acera al escenario) Entonces…..¡Flash! (estallido de luces) ¿Y si hago algo? ¡Eso es! Un ser para acompañarme. Pero en mi propia semejanza, no. ¡Por favor! ¿Por qué he de ser tan egoísta? Si el único cierto en el universo es el cambio, los contrastes…¡Manos a la obra! Metí las manos en el material y pronto golpeaba mi corazón de alegría y de orgullo. ¡Carumba! ¡Qué boludo! Mis criaturas no tenían sexo…¡qué aburrido! ¿Cómo disfrutar de la vida sin sexo? ¿Cómo reproducirse? Intenté de nuevo, pero no hacían otra cosa que coger. ¡Otro intento! Muy tontos…estúpidos…egoístas…violentos…de repente brotaba de la nada, en todos lados, peleándose, cogiendo, desafiándome. Entonces, decidí emprender un viaje a la tierra para  ver qué había pasado.            Habrá sido poco después del último período glacial, un frío como para congelar las pelotas, un lugar rocoso, de montaña, cansado yo de tanto caminar, de lo divisé una de mis primeras criaturas, un Neandertal. Me acerqué a él y modulando bien mis palabras le saludé:            Dios:               ¿Qué tal? Usted ha de ser…a ver…¿cómo se llama usted?            Neandertal:    Gaba—goo. Gooki Gooki. Gaba. Gordo-gamba. Gosh Gosh! Gosh!            Dios: ¿Perdón? No creo que te he entendido correctamente…¿Es que no te he enseñado el uso de la palabra? ¡No! ¡Qué pena y qué tonto de mi parte…¿No fui yo quien inventó la frase, ‘en el principio estaba la palabra y la palabra se convirtió en carne…”            (El Neandertal toma Dios por el brazo y lo conduce hacia un rincón oscuro desde donde aparece la cara de una mujer. El cavernícola gesticula y señala hacia la mujer, pasando sus manos por el rostro y emitiendo ronquidos.)            Dios:   ¿Qué decís? ¡Quieres que yo duerma con tu esposa, que yo haga el amor con una de mis criaturas! ¡Por favor! Mi misión es otra. Me parece que no has entendido mi intención.            Neandertal:    Muy por el contrario, respetado señor, le he entendido a la perfección. Sucede que usted rechaza nuestras costumbres, nuestras tradiciones, nuestros valores, nuestro estilo de vida. Para aquellas personas que no nos respecten sabrá el destino qué hacer…            Dios:               ¡Cómo te atreves a decirme eso! ¡Yo soy tu creador!            Neandertal:    ¡Ja! ¡Ja! ¡Ja! No me hagas reír. ¡Y encima te presentás como dios!            Dios:               Bueno sí, claro, es decir, ahora comienzo a dudar…pero sí, creo que son dios…            Neandertal:    ¡Impostor! ¡Farsante! ¿No te das cuenta que dios no es más que una metáfora? En todo caso si necesitamos dioses, seremos nosotros quienes los inventamos. Pero son nuestras creaciones. No aceptamos imposiciones. ¡Ahora andáte ya! Gootu! Gootu! Gootu! Gotta-go! Gotta-go!            (El Neandertal corre detrás de dios, con su bastón alzado)            ¿Qué iba a hacer yo? Rajé, preguntándome por qué carajo tuve la idea idiota de crear gente como éstos. Al poner distancia y tiempo entre yo y el Neandertal, comencé a sentir las síntomas de una aguda crisis de identidad. ¿Me había equivocado? ¿Había creado los hombres simplemente para no estar solo?             

Oh For God’s Sake!A gentle spoof for Light hearted souls

 

(The stage is as naked as Adam. Elena One is seated towards the back of the stage, to the left, dressed in black, mourning; Elena Two to the right, dressed in black, examining a pistol. Their monologues are based on two different moments en Checkov’s “The Bear,” although the same character is played by two dfferent actrices, one in her sixties, the other in her 20’s. The musician is seated to the left, in front of the stage. When lights go on the professor enters, dragging a desk or a speaker’s podium, clears his throat, looks at his watch, searches a bit desperately for his notes, finds them, smiles self consciously, stares at someone in the audience, waves, winks at the front row and then begins his lecture.)

 Professor Jacob Awkwardminded:             Today’s lesson is on the verb to be, very essential in my opinion, crucial, irreplaceable. I am. You are. We are. I was. You were. We were. I’ll be. You’ll be. We’ll be. I used to be. You used to be. We used to be. I’ll be. You’ll be. We’ll be.I would be if…You would be if…We would be if…I should have been…You should have been…We should have been…I would have been if only…You would have been if only…We would have been if only…Oh God! (Wipes a tear from his eye) The verb to be is about …being. It’s a state of mind…To be or not to be…Oh for God’s sake! Who in the Hell am I? Where am I? Why am I what I am? Why don’t I know who I am, where I’m going, where I’ve come from? Why? Why? Why? Oh shit! I’m all fucked up!  (He looks desperately at the audience, blushes and rushes off stage. The two Elena’s look after him with  Mona Lisa smiles. Elena One brings her chair stage front. When she finishes her monologue, she remains without moving, as a statue, while Elena Two approaches, pistol in hand, to do hers. When she finishes, there is a prolonged silence. Then, they stare at each other as if understanding something for the first time, then exit, bumping into the professor, who returns, dressed as God) 

God

            It must have been some 15 or 16 trillion light years ago, more or less. There I was in the midst of the black, black blackness, as lonely as a bat without a belfry. Things were so dark so cold, so nothing, so curved, so infinite, so endless, so eternal, so silent, so…silent: not a sound. No wind. No smiles. No tears. No yells. No shouts...No groans, no moans. I had no body, no form, no size, no weight, no past, no present, no future, nothing. Time had not yet been born. There were no banks. No credit cards. No vice hungry politicians.  No war mongers. No atomic bombs. No suicide bombers. No final exams. No computers. No robots. No skyscrapers. No highways. No smog. No contamination. Nothing at all. Just sweet nothingness. Suddenly I began to cry like a nincompoop, blubbering, slobbering, gurgling, and laughing my head off. My giggling zoomed around the universe and bounced back as an eternal lament. The whole universe seemed to be splitting its guts. And then Flash! It came to me like an unexpected cosmic dust storm. Why not create something, anything, to warm these cold eternal nights? “Do it!” I said, but “please, not in your own image!” For God’s sake no! Why should I be so selfish? Isn’t change and contrast the only constant in the universe? So I eagerly set about my work, kneading my hands into the moist matter I had so painstakingly collected. And presto!             Before I knew it there they were! Beings! And I had created them with my own hands! I felt proud of my work, as proud as any creator. But I soon realized I had screwed up. They had no sex! What a drag! How could they enjoy life without sex? So I made them real sexy…but you know what? They began fucking day and night and seemed to have nothing else but sex on their minds. So I tried again: too smart! They dared to challenge me! Then I made them too stupid, too selfish, aggressive…All of a sudden they were springing up everywhere, scraping, fucking, carrying on, trying to beat me at my own game. Just imagine how I felt. So I decided to hop down to see what all the hocus-pocus was all about. That was before people invented me, when they thought I was a rock, the rain, the sun, water, fire, storms, sex: they thought the sky impregnated the earth with its moisture and making love was just part of the process of renewal.              It must have been some time after the last ice age, cold as Hell, and there I was plodding through the Alps in a muddy field when bingo! I spotted this hairy Neanderthal chap and addressed him as politely as I could:             God:               Good afternoon. Might I ask whom I have the pleasure of…(the Neanderthal comes on stage carrying a stick and dressed only in a leather cloth wrapped around his most intimate parts)             Neanderthal:  Gaba-goo. Gooki Gooki. Gaba. Goudo-gamba. Gosh. Gosh! Gosh!             God:               Oh! You must be one of my first creations. How are you getting on?              Neanderthal:  Gaba-goo. Gooki Gooki. Gaba. Goudo-gamba. Gosh? Gosh? Gosh?             God:               Hmmm. I don’t seem to understand you very well. Didn’t I teach you to talk? What an ass I was! Wasn’t it I who said ‘in the beginning was the word and the word became flesh…?’             Neanderthal:  (Takes God by the arm and leads him towards a dark spot where a woman’s face is barely visible. The caveman repeatedly points towards the woman, placing his hands to his face and making snoring sounds)             God:               What? You want me to sleep with your wife? Are you crazy? That wasn’t my intention. I’m afraid you misunderstood.             Neanderthal:  No Sir. I understand only too well. You reject our customs, our traditions, our treasured traditions. There is but one destiny for those who fail to respect us… God:               How dare you say that! I created you, didn’t I?Neanderthal: You created me? Don’t make me laugh! Who do you think you are? God? God:               Well, yea, I guess so. I mean…I am God, aren’t I? Neanderthal:  Be serious! God is but a metaphor to keep people happy. If we need gods we invent them. But they are our own creations, not impositions. Go back to where you came from! Gootu! Gootu! Gootu! Gotta-go! Gotta-go! (The Neanderthal chases after God, then himself disappears)             The fellow came after me with his club raised, so what was I supposed to do? I split, asking myself why I had ever been so idiotic as to create people like that. As I put distance and time between me and that caveman, I began to feel the symptoms of an acute identity crisis. Had I made a mistake in creating human beings? Had I done so only to satisfy my need for company? Was that a sufficient reason? What must I do to get back my self-esteem, my sense of belonging? How could I live without the love of my creatures? Meanwhile, I trudged on hoping to find more satisfying evidence of my creativity. The weather had warmed up a bit and that made me feel better. Before long a wide river zoomed into view and on its edges Shakti and Shiva were bathing in the Ganges…(God remains transfixed. Before him Shakti and Shiva are bathing ceremoniously.) God:               Hello...you must be... Shakti:            Shakti...Shiva:             no...Shiva... Shaki:             No nonsense! Shakti! Shiva:             Shiva, Shiva, Shiva, Shiva... (He continues his bathing) God:               Well, well! Shakti:            Who are you, stranger? God:               I’m God, your creator. Shakti:            That’s impossible.God:               I swear. Shakti:            Gods don’t swear. God:               I did it, I say, out of nothing. Shakti:            That’s what we are: nothing. Nothing is everything.  God:               What do you mean? Shakti:            We are nothing. We have learned how to be nothing. That’s why people respect us. Everything else is but an illusion, a metaphor. Please leave us. You have nothing to do here! (Shakti smiles like Mona Lisa and then leaps at God’s throat. God perceives the danger and escapes, while Shiva, sings:) Shiva:             Shiva, shiva, shiva, shiva, the lilly on the water reflecting the moon... 

            Well, you can imagine how I felt. Like crying. Like wishing I had never come to see my children. Why is it that the slave always rebels against the master, the creation against its creator? With no answer to that question, I continued my pilgrimage. I felt dizzy. Suddenly I came upon a knight dressed in shining armour, his sword raised, on the point of raping a woman whose head was covered in a veil. I wanted to stop the attack, but something extraordinary happened. The woman began to dance. The man remained transfixed, as a statue, his arm raised…

 Knight:           God forgive me! God forgive me! Woman:          Ala is great! Ala is great!             I walked up to the knight and touched him. Extraordinary! Instead of armour, he was dressed GI fashion, a Texas style hat tilted over his eyebrow, a bottle of coca cola in his hand and he kept repeating, zombi style: “God, democracy and the free market, God, democracy and the free market...But he was as if of stone. I looked back at the woman, she also had become a statue. I remembered what the Neanderthal had said: God is a metaphor. I wanted to cry. I felt empty inside. I was nothing. Nothing at all. I had created nothing. It had all been an illusion. Things became dark again, black, so black and I felt as lonely as a bat without its belfry. (God seems to be fainting. The Natacha’s and the Neanderthal man rush to maintain him upright, then drag him off as God chants:) I wanna caress your free breath,Feed your hungry glances, Sing sweet songs of pain,Bathe myself in lotus blossoms...Perfume your pain with my loveOh! Oh! Oh! I fell like caressing your shadow...