Draft 2 and live corrections of G and K: Expiration Date NOW performance text(Georges’ Monologue) Athens, Feb 8 2014
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So, at this point I have no ace up my sleeve.
Things are quite bad. They weren’t supposed to but they are.
I need a grand miracle or a few small miracles but miracles happen only to those who believe in them.
Planning and hard labor is what helps. (?)
Maybe not so much right now but at least you keep appearances.
I catch my reflection in the mirror.
Keep cool I say.
You don’t need to make sense out of things.
For this performance, I had this idea of doing a PowerPoint presentation.
I’ve started working on it and managed to make a few slides of no importance.
I wanted to present you an imaginary technique for regaining agency in your life based on my own recent experiences.
The idea wore off but this graph might be useful.
So this graphic represents my needs, my desires and the way they are manifested through my bodily functions.
It is a circle because bodily functions or body awareness have an impact on my needs and desires as well.
This might seem obvious to you but I have to admit I realized it just recently.
I used to perceive life problems to be linear until now.
What happened is that in a moment of too much stress my digestive system collapsed.
I couldn’t eat. I was constipated. I even got hemorrhoids.
This wasn’t the first time. This is a chronic problem of mine.
*Added on stage
*What doesn’t kill you, gets you constipated.
But this time it felt worse. (Shitless in Athens)
Being at the margins of society for too long, without home and healthcare I begun to experience panic attacks and have suicide thoughts.
I’ve spent the whole Christmas morning squatting over the toilet and envisioning my sorrowful future.
I cried a lot.
Then I’ve placed a mirror on the floor to have a look at my anus.
Hey there buddy.
What is the matter with you?
Please, I need your co-operation!
I know I have neglected you. I’ve taken you for granted.
I used to see only the beauty that is in front of me.
My hands, my eyes, my nipples…
I see now the most magnificent part of my body was right behind me.
Consider this my apology to you.
Please, life is tough and we need to get through this together.
That was a magical moment, a life changing moment.
My little, tiny, cutesy hole heard my plead. (Entrance = Exit)
I was getting better.
A hemorrhoid crème and my bestie’s support played an integral part in my recovery.
(End of part I)
For once in my life, I’ve pleasantly surprised myself.
As if that miraculous recovery wasn’t enough my prince perfect arrived on time.
I had, once more, to find my way through feelings I’ve dismissed long ago.
He is all I ever wanted him to be: white, experienced, rich, well hung and good in bed.
“Is this luck or fate?” I wondered.
Oh, this sweet anxiety on my way to his apartment…
The morning sex that helps you go through your day as if you’re invincible.
My belly feels warm at the thought of meeting him.
The anticipation of seeing you makes my bowels work.
I’m emptying all the shit out of me so I can be clean for you.
The cleanest I’ve ever been, a proper host.
Our bodies match, so different and so compatible.
I radiate bliss.
I try to keep you inside me for as long as I can.
For as long as you stay plugged to me I feel this energy coming up my body as if I get charged.
It’s so powerful, people notice. People offer me jobs.
I get the strength to hand out CVs again. (Stop eroticizing)
I could work anyplace now, any shitty café, any shitty office job.
On my way to a job interview I stop to reflect. Life works!
[You mention you have a boyfriend that never made you feel this way.]
>>You mention your boyfriend [to which] >>to whom you refer as “my man”. He never made you feel [that] >>this way.
You come to the tiny place I live. I’m honored.
(Longer than expected pause)
I’m prettier than ever.
[I drink from your glass of water after you leave as if it is holy water.]
>>As you leave, I drink from your glass of water as if it is holy water.
[I’m a teenager again.] >>I’m a teenage girl again. It hurts.
The way you talk about [other] sexy men…
I’m ugly. No, I’m not ugly. I’m just not that handsome. (Probably came off wrong)
No, I’m not going to act as if you’re the best thing that ever happened to me!
How can I mourn for something that didn’t happen? How can I mourn for something that was never meant to happen?
He doesn’t have the decency… (As loud and intense as it should be)
I go through your Facebook friends.
I can’t compete with this model-like Thai twinks!
I realize I lost a lot of time hoping for the unattainable.
I’m stuck with my art.
I’m stuck with art.
Weather this is art or not there’s no real demand for it and no money and It was nice to succumb to useless luxuries like art when you were a kid discovering Oscar Wilde but it’s not anymore. (High school discomfort)
It’s finally time to obtain the ability to mature.
Learn how to be a proper citizen.
Be your own person Georges Jacotey. (Some scribbles)
Not everything has to be art!
I smell the bed covers for the last time before I throw them into the washing machine.
There’s the memory of your bright face smiling while I cum [loads].
My anus has its own memories too.
I wish I could get this bar gig and forget you.
I wish I could go live somewhere else.
Somewhere, that I’m entitled to free healthcare.
Somewhere, that I’d be celebrated for being vulnerable and clumsy.
After all, you are only a top because you’re a homophobe.