Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story
Page 21
[“DON’T HIT SEND”]
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
Take some advice from me
as I wander around eternally
thinking of the love I lost
and all the things it cost.
I fell for Bosie’s bottomy guile
and lost my wings in a sodomy trial.
Surrounded in jail by thieves and rakes,
I had plenty of time to ponder my mistakes.
I can’t say I regret breaking nature’s laws
but I do regret not taking a pause
to see there was far from a surfeit
of evidence saying the boy was worth it.
Believe me, I understand the urge
to push all your means to an end.
But I must intercede here and inform you now:
Whatever you do, do not hit send!
You think it’s a good idea—
but it’s not.
You think you have something new to say—
but you don’t.
It’s common enough behavior
to think that words can be your savior
but they cannot raise the dead
or change the thoughts inside his head.
When you text the seventh time
with no word from the other side
it’s a sign, my friend
and the sign says END.
It used to be
if you wanted to embarrass yourself
you’d have to wait a few days
for the embarrassment to be delivered.
But now in an instant
of desire most insistent
you cross before you’ve looked
and your rawness leaves you cooked.
Don’t hit send!
Don’t think for a second
that your phone is your friend.
You may be afraid of pauses
but every pause has its causes!
You think it’s a good idea—
but it’s not.
You think you have something new to say—
but you don’t.
It’s common enough behavior
to think that words can be your savior
but they cannot raise the dead
or change the thoughts inside his head.
When you text the seventh time
with no word from the other side
it’s a sign, my friend,
and the sign says END.
It used to be
if you wanted to embarrass yourself
you’d have to wait a few days
for the embarrassment to be delivered.
But now in an instant
of desire most insistent
you’ve managed to destroy
any last chance you had with the boy!
Don’t hit send!
Don’t think for a second
that your phone is your friend.
You may be afraid of pauses
but every pause has its causes.
More words will not persuade him—
they’ll only infuriate him.
So take if from me
whatever you do—
Do not . . . hit . . . send!
On that note, The Ghost of Oscar Wilde finishes his song, hopefully to more applause than he got toward the end of his life.
OSCAR (TO TINY):
Believe me, I understand all the modern dickstractions—I mean, distractions—that you have. Especially on your phones. I admire your feverish belief in the power of words to keep a connection going even when it’s not there. But you only have so many words in your life, Tiny, and rather than giving them all away, you should keep some for yourself.
TINY:
What do you mean?
OSCAR (reciting, not singing):
Look forward to the moment
when it all falls apart.
Look forward to the moment
when you must rearrange your heart.
It might feel like the end of the world—
but it’s the beginning of your art.
TINY:
Texting? That’s my art?
OSCAR (shaking his head):
No, Tiny. Words. Passion. The danger of falling in love is that you mistakenly believe the loved one is the only source of passion in your life. But there is passion everywhere. In music. In words. In the stories you tell and the stories you see. Find your passion everywhere, and share it widely. Don’t narrow it down to one thin line.
TINY:
But you don’t choose to fall in love, do you? Don’t you just fall?
OSCAR:
You fall and you fall and you fall. There are things you cannot control. But that is why you must hold on to the things you can control.
I will let you in on a secret, Tiny. Are you ready?
TINY:
Yes.
OSCAR (on the verge of disappearing):
You think you’re an actor, Tiny. We all think we are actors, given our scripts. But really? You’re the playwright. You’re the composer.
Before Tiny can ask any more questions, The Ghost of Oscar Wilde has vanished just as strangely as he appeared.
ACT II, SCENE 8
Tiny remains in bed.
TINY:
It was, to say the least, a strange visitation—and I didn’t know what it meant. Not yet.
As if I wasn’t confused enough, as high school continued and my high school relationships continued, I found the whole sex question kept coming up. The question being: Are we going to do it or what?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I think making out is awesome. And I knew that when I was ready, sex would be awesome, too.
But I wasn’t ready. And some of the guys I was dating were more than ready.
EX-BOYFRIENDS #10, #11, AND #14 come onstage and circle the bed.
EX-BOYFRIENDS #10/#11/#14:
Horny horny horny—
we’re just so
horny horny horny.
TINY (looking at them with dismay):
The pressure was intense. And it made me realize that although I had all of these gay exes in my life, I didn’t really have a gay friend. So I called Djane instead.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
Take some advice from me
as I wander around eternally
thinking of the love I lost
and all the things it cost.
I fell for Bosie’s bottomy guile
and lost my wings in a sodomy trial.
Surrounded in jail by thieves and rakes,
I had plenty of time to ponder my mistakes.
I can’t say I regret breaking nature’s laws
but I do regret not taking a pause
to see there was far from a surfeit
of evidence saying the boy was worth it.
Believe me, I understand the urge
to push all your means to an end.
But I must intercede here and inform you now:
Whatever you do, do not hit send!
You think it’s a good idea—
but it’s not.
You think you have something new to say—
but you don’t.
It’s common enough behavior
to think that words can be your savior
but they cannot raise the dead
or change the thoughts inside his head.
When you text the seventh time
with no word from the other side
it’s a sign, my friend
and the sign says END.
It used to be
if you wanted to embarrass yourself
you’d have to wait a few days
for the embarrassment to be delivered.
But now in an instant
of desire most insistent
you cross before you’ve looked
and your rawness leaves you cooked.
Don’t hit send!
Don’t think for a second
that your phone is your friend.
You may be afraid of pauses
but every pause has its causes!
You think it’s a good idea—
but it’s not.
You think you have something new to say—
but you don’t.
It’s common enough behavior
to think that words can be your savior
but they cannot raise the dead
or change the thoughts inside his head.
When you text the seventh time
with no word from the other side
it’s a sign, my friend,
and the sign says END.
It used to be
if you wanted to embarrass yourself
you’d have to wait a few days
for the embarrassment to be delivered.
But now in an instant
of desire most insistent
you’ve managed to destroy
any last chance you had with the boy!
Don’t hit send!
Don’t think for a second
that your phone is your friend.
You may be afraid of pauses
but every pause has its causes.
More words will not persuade him—
they’ll only infuriate him.
So take if from me
whatever you do—
Do not . . . hit . . . send!
On that note, The Ghost of Oscar Wilde finishes his song, hopefully to more applause than he got toward the end of his life.
OSCAR (TO TINY):
Believe me, I understand all the modern dickstractions—I mean, distractions—that you have. Especially on your phones. I admire your feverish belief in the power of words to keep a connection going even when it’s not there. But you only have so many words in your life, Tiny, and rather than giving them all away, you should keep some for yourself.
TINY:
What do you mean?
OSCAR (reciting, not singing):
Look forward to the moment
when it all falls apart.
Look forward to the moment
when you must rearrange your heart.
It might feel like the end of the world—
but it’s the beginning of your art.
TINY:
Texting? That’s my art?
OSCAR (shaking his head):
No, Tiny. Words. Passion. The danger of falling in love is that you mistakenly believe the loved one is the only source of passion in your life. But there is passion everywhere. In music. In words. In the stories you tell and the stories you see. Find your passion everywhere, and share it widely. Don’t narrow it down to one thin line.
TINY:
But you don’t choose to fall in love, do you? Don’t you just fall?
OSCAR:
You fall and you fall and you fall. There are things you cannot control. But that is why you must hold on to the things you can control.
I will let you in on a secret, Tiny. Are you ready?
TINY:
Yes.
OSCAR (on the verge of disappearing):
You think you’re an actor, Tiny. We all think we are actors, given our scripts. But really? You’re the playwright. You’re the composer.
Before Tiny can ask any more questions, The Ghost of Oscar Wilde has vanished just as strangely as he appeared.
ACT II, SCENE 8
Tiny remains in bed.
TINY:
It was, to say the least, a strange visitation—and I didn’t know what it meant. Not yet.
As if I wasn’t confused enough, as high school continued and my high school relationships continued, I found the whole sex question kept coming up. The question being: Are we going to do it or what?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I think making out is awesome. And I knew that when I was ready, sex would be awesome, too.
But I wasn’t ready. And some of the guys I was dating were more than ready.
EX-BOYFRIENDS #10, #11, AND #14 come onstage and circle the bed.
EX-BOYFRIENDS #10/#11/#14:
Horny horny horny—
we’re just so
horny horny horny.
TINY (looking at them with dismay):
The pressure was intense. And it made me realize that although I had all of these gay exes in my life, I didn’t really have a gay friend. So I called Djane instead.
