Monologue: Red Light Winter by Adam Rapp

I had a some problems with Red Light Winter as a play. The writing is pretty swell, but the relationships between the characters are so shallow as to be unbelievable, and I don't even really know what the ending is supposed to mean.

I did latch onto the character of Matt, though. He's a self-loathing romantic who has trouble making anyone understand him, especially when it comes to women. It's the part I was born to play!

Note: The monologue as I perform it is trimmed to make it more accessible, and as well as to make me seem more likable - that is, with less suicide and F-bombs.

Ever since we were together last January, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I mean, it was easily the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. I know that, like, sexually speaking at least I was this totally uneventful blip of antimatter for you. But I’m pretty convinced that despite my inept, like, desperate sexual brevity or whatever that something real passed between us.

I know you remember it. You have to. Because I’ve never known that feeling before. And when something like that happens, there has to be at least a shred of mutuality at play. Even if it’s, like, point-seven percent.

It was bigger than anything I could ever write about.

I mean – I spend a lot of time in my head. Like, trapped with my own terrible, spiritually corrosive thoughts. And sure, I know a lot of people suffer, and have constant nightmares and horrible crushing madness, or whatever. But for some reason it’s not easy for me.

I used to wish that I could make a painting of a dog eating spaghetti. Or write a haiku, or a play that would push all of those thoughts out of my head, but I could never figure it out.

But after I met you… I don’t know. I just sort of felt like I could be in the world again. And it made things in my head, I dunno, slow down for a little bit. And I don’t even know why. I mean, I hardly know you. But at the same time I do.

Something happened in that room in Amsterdam.