2018

Cast of Characters

TOMA

JULIUS

LUKA

BENAS

DOMCĖ

 

Scenography. A wall behind the actors. In front of them there are five different glass containers with different labels: contributions for art, contributions for fear, contributions for conscience, contributions for love, contributions for beer.

Scene 1

Five graduate students in festive suits and dresses are sitting at their tables, scrolling phones and sipping their drinks (an alcoholic cocktail or beer would fit best) while the audience is gathering. A pop song plays in the background. When the action may begin, everyone puts headphones on and every character reads a short text in a mobile phone screen (the actors pretending to film themselves with the phones’ front camera).

DOMCĖ (rapping). RAJON BANDITI. A’ight then... Here we go. My name’s Domce and I gotta talk some sh... I gotta say something. I dunno what. A little bit about myself for a start I guess. I lift by day, I lift by night, ‘cause the ends don’t sleep by either. (laughing) Been hangin’ ‘round here since fifth grade with the crew, ever since I moved here. Ummm... It was hard at first, ‘cause I’m, like, ‘blue-blood’. Mum’s Russian, Dad’s Polish, and I tell everyone I’m Lithuanian. Real Kaunas dude in Vilnius. (laughing) I support both Žalgiris and Rytas, d’you know any other dude like me? If both teams play, I don’t watch, ‘cause what’s the point, you gotta support something. Adrenaline’s the key. General vibes are bangin’ though.

TOMA. Niiiice. Whoooh. The party was a masterpiece. (humming the lyrics to the song in the background) I only remember the morning when me and Luka came back completely wasted to my place, she tripped in the bathroom and broke her head open. (laughing) Laughed our butts off. Nothing serious happened, we bandaged the head, she looked like a cripple, and drunk, too. (laughing loudly) The next morning we ate Uspaskichas’ pickles for the hangover. But seriously. We also realised back then – you, dude, do things in life and exist so they would use your face on hangover pickle jars. Insane. I gotta photo somewhere. Wait a sec’, I’ll find it.

JULIUS. Well then. Ain’t like she was all that special. Just like the others. Small, slim, burnt up straightened hair all the way to the ass, yoga pants, the ones that hug everything that shouldn’t be, but she had a pretty good bottom, so I could, as they say, get used to the face. So much for love. Nobody calls it that. You mess around with one in school, then with another, then in the last year suddenly everyone’s in a relationship, hangin’ around the benches in the hall during every break. Hangin’ and rubbin’ and stuff. So we did it, too, but not for long. Couple o’ months.

BENAS. Ohhhh... Somehow I got a deal with Valerka, he let me use the equipment, ‘cause usually he just kept it locked in his little room and didn’t let anyone in school use it. I was probably the first one ever to play the best Russian hits in school that day. Since the school was in the hood, others used to say that bandits and criminals go there. Well not really, maybe Donce, but he don’t count – he’s like that by nature. So he didn’t even have to prepare or anything, while others went to second hand shops, buying clothes, chains, baseball bats. But it was fun, ‘cause the PE teacher joined in on the noise.

LUKA. The picture? Ain’t nothing much to tell. We placed bets on how many likes it would get. People applauded me later. That’s that. (lauhing) Came in after New Years’ all like “okay, all good”, and I get applauded in the foyer. I though, holy shit. And it went on for a couple of days. I even met some people later, who recognized me from the photo. It was just a gag, not everyone in the crew even got it, even though they know my jokes. Or at least I thought they did.

Scene 2

Club music plays in the background.

TOMA. Wanna play?
DOMCĖ. Bitch inch. (finishes the beer)
LUKA. It’s a bit weird, guys.
DOMCE. All good! Chill out.
Pause
JULIUS. Maybe we shouldn’t.
DOMCĖ. Stop being such a wuss. (laughing)
TOMA. Why not?
LUKA. I’m telling you. It’s bullshit.
JULIUS. Might’ve been interesting in fifth grade.
TOMA. You don’t understand shit.
BENAS. It’ll get interesting this time.
JULIUS. What’ll get interesting, Benas? Making out? Ain’t never kissed a chick before or something?
TOMA. Ooooooohh....
LUKA. Julius, what the fuck?
DOMCĖ. Why you all wussing out? Since when it ain’t bangin’ to make out a bit?
JULIUS. I’ll see how bangin’ it’ll be for you to make out with one of us. (having Benas in mind)
DOMCĖ. I don’t give a fuck, as long as he likes it. (laughing)
Pause
LUKA. This is turning into some kids’ games.
JULIUS. You tell me, how can it be interesting now if it was interesting when we were little kids? (laughs)
TOMA. Everything’s different now.
JULIUS. Exactly. We’re not kids anymore.
BENAS. You still act like one.
JULIUS. Alright then. You play, I don’t wanna. (turns around and drinks his beer, turning back to the audience)
BENAS. There you go, what’ve I said?
TOMA. Whoops, little Julius got grumpy grouchy. As usual with his stupid principles.
LUKA. Well, whatever, fuck it if he doesn’t wanna play. Who needs him anyway.
BENAS. He’s gonna get shitfaced again like this.
DOMCĖ. We’re offering him a fuckin’ partyyyy. His problem.
BENAS. Let him sulk. (pause) Damn Caesar.
JULIUS (turns back around). This ain’t fun, this is moronic child games. (pause) Honestly, it’s way more fun to just drink beer. And to be very honest, there was never any fun with you anyways, just some fuckin’ bullshit. It’s still as it used to be in fifth grade. Same shit.
TOMA. Wow, look who’s tongue got all loose! Cool it, a’ight?
LUKA. And yet for some reason you kept hangin’ with us all these years, yeah? Sudden realization or something? Don’t make me laugh. Ain’t nobody keeping you here, so what you’re here for? What you’re here for, huh?! (silence) You can go you know where. I’m not playing either. This is bullshit anyway. (scrolls phone).
TOMA. Cool, so let’s all sulk now, just like kids in fifth grade do.
BENAS. Take it easy, Toma. It’s the one game that we all constantly play.
DOMCĖ. Well, fuck it. At least it’s not boring. (laughing)
Silence
TOMA. So we’re gonna play? The three of us?
BENAS. Are you retarded?
TOMA. Who’s retarded?
DOMCĖ. I’d love to make out with you, sugar.
TOMA. Oh.... Fuck off, Domce.
DOMCĖ. You wanna play, let’s play. The two of us.
BENAS. Really, Toma. Don’t be shy. You got nothing to lose, do ya? (laughing).
TOMA (finishes her drink). Let’s go.
DOMCĖ. To the loo?
TOMA. Don’t be a retard, Domce. Let’s go dance.

A well known pop song starts playing. Toma and Domce are dancing. Toma is swirling around Domce, while Domce dances primitively beside her.

Scene 3

Toma and Domce go to the bar.

DOMCĖ. Well, fams, how about a shot? To relax.
BENAS. Gaius Julius Caesar had incredible skills of a war strategist and tactician, beating his enemies in a civil war and thus becoming the ruler of the state of Rome. His military tactics include bold tactical maneuvers, smart use of new military equipment, strengthening of the distribution services. He considered attack and defence to be tantamount and combined the two cleverly. (pause) I dunno...
DOMCĖ. What you talking ‘bout, dumbass... Come here.
BENAS. I googled Caesar for fun. Wanted to know why Julius got all that fame.
LUKA. You should’ve attended Lukiškienė’s classes when you had the chance.
DOMĖ (seemingly to himself). Mummy and daddy made him out of love.
BENAS (approaching the bar). Hey baby, you still jealous about that A I got? What’s with the grudges... Domce, you said something?... So this is our evening. Celebrate life! And, of course, an outstanding education.
LUKA. Benas. You are disgusting. And even more so with all those decorations of yours.
BENAS. Fine. I think it can’t get any worse. (drinks a shot at the bar; to Domce) You were saying?
DOMCĖ (scrolling his phone). I said come here.
TOMA. So you, too?
DOMCĖ. Me, too.
TOMA. No. But you, too.
BENAS. Me?
TOMA. Always with your philosophical crap. Anybody can google. Anybody can say what they’re thinking. (drinks a shot)
BENAS. So say it.
TOMA. I just did.
BENAS. What you messing with me for, huh? You never put that phone down, gathering likes, at least I...
DOMCĖ (looking at phone screen). Awesome. Awesome. Check it out. Norway decriminalized drugs. Damn. That’s good news for ya, junkies.
BENAS. For real? Already? Lemme see. (analyzes the phone screen)
TOMA. For fuck’s sake, are you guys serious? We had a deal that we would spend time together today.
DOMCĖ. I didn’t start it. And it’s important.
TOMA. Who cares who started it. You finished it. (pause) And something’s gonna change now that you know that? Unless you plan to go to Norway and work, but you love Lithuania so damn much.
DOMCĖ. Oooh, that’s what she said. (laughs) Yeah, so what? What’s wrong with loving the country in which I grew up, cursed, spit, tagged, got into fights. Everything here’s mine and I belong here. The soil itself smells like me. Feel it? (hugs her head with both hands by the ears, pressuring with the biceps)
TOMA. Ewwwwww... (squeals, breaks free and runs away)
BENAS (laughing). Wow, Domce. You a poet or something?
DOMCĖ. When you talk about a sensitive issue, those, whatsitcalled, holes open up, you know.
BENAS (laughing). Chackras, you mean. Let’s go for a smoke maybe? You know. We’ll open some more chackras up.
 

Scene 4

Suddenly the lights go out. Ten seconds of absolute darkness and quiet. Slowly getting louder, a musical beat starts playing. Five actors start squirming, murmuring, running around, shouting among the audience. Coloured lights start to flicker in the empty stage. Dressed in black, with black masks on their faces, the actors run onto the stage one by one and start tagging/painting graffitis on the wall behind them, which was there since the beginning of the show (‘solomon’, ‘fuck the system’, ‘tagyl’, ‘legalize’, ‘a joint a day keeps Veryga away’ etc.).

JULIUS (voice only). Statement. The year 2017, 8th December. Four twelve pm. Vilnius’ Second police precinct, Vilnius’ district police department. Investigators: Linas Likabvičius, Vytautas Kuražovas, Algimantas Vinys, Gintaras Bukokas. Interrogators: Aleksandr Pošakovskij, Rimantas Erkus. I, Julius Nacevičius, on the 8th December, 2017, at approximately 2 p.m., was arrested near the Contemporary Art Centre for possessing and using weed. I had half a gram on me at the time, which was found during the search in my pocket. Knowing the laws of the Republic of Lithuania, I realize my miscreant behaviour and am sorry. 8th December, 2017. Julius Nacevičius. Signature.

Scene 5

BENAS, JULIUS and DOMCE are smoking.

BENAS. Hold up. So wasn’t Šeškus with you?
JULIUS. He was.
DOMCĖ. So he, what, escaped?
JULIUS. No. They didn’t find anything on him. We were smoking his stuff.
DOMCĖ. Fuck me...
BENAS. Dude... Bollocks.
(silence)
DOMCĖ. So that’s why you got expelled?
JULIUS. Yeah.
BENAS. So you... You didn’t try to explain it to them?
JULIUS. Didn’t I? You know how it goes with parents, with their trust in general. You do one thing wrong and you carry it around forever, sometimes it’s not even your fault. Of course I tried. They didn’t listen. They had their protocols, had their statements, the voice of the adults and their convincing expressions, and it was enough for them to not believe me. Who am I? Just their son, the renegade, a junkie, always drawn to evil and nearly always guilty. I don’t really give a damn anymore. As long as they didn’t lock me up.
DOMCĖ. So they can do that for such an amount?
JULIUS. There was this guy from downtown, he got jail time for situation like this.
DOMCĖ. No shit?
JULIUS. Gvokas.
BENAS. I heard. And the news were filled with stories about it. There were five of them who got caught.
DOMCĖ. How much did they have?
BENAS. A few of them a single g on average. One of them got busted for dealing.
JULIUS. The Mole (this one may stay Lithuanian as well – vert.past.). He’s doing time now.
(silence)
BENAS. You got lucky.
DOMCĖ. Dude. We got your back.

Scene 6

TOMA. Well?
(silence)
TOMA. Sooo? (pause) Luka!
LUKA. Well what, Toma?
TOMA. Spill it.
LUKA. There’s nothing to spill.
TOMA. Don’t lie to me. You said you wanted to talk.
LUKA. Yeah, well, I don’t anymore.
(silence)
LUKA. I wanna... I just... I don’t know how to say this.
TOMA. Take it easy, Luka. We’re best friends, remember? We did everything together and went everywhere together. Just go on and say it. Is it about Danielius?
LUKA. No, no... What’s he got to do with this? It’s been over for a long time. (pause) Maybe it never even started...
TOMA. I don’t get it... You posted on FB...
LUKA. Facebook... What’s Facebook? Is life Facebook? Facebook isn’t the same as life. We create ourselves. The way we want to. It wouldn’t even be fair to say that it’s plagiarism, more like an elaborate lie, which fools even us ourselves. Even us! And we lie to ourselves all the time... Ah... (sighs deeply) Toma... Just try and... Try and understand for once! Not from my Facebook or my words, which seem to be self-explanatory sometimes... I wish I didn’t have to say anything and you’d see it all the way I look at it, that you’d read my fucking mind. My... feelings. People like that come around sometimes, right..? Friends. And the fact that we have a status set on Facebook doesn’t mean it’s the same in real life. Do you understand? And all those pictures... Today, for example, the chicks are gonna put up profile pictures with graduation make-up on and won’t take them down for half a year, and after that, they’ll put up the exact same ones up, just with a different angle, and will add a caption: “oh... those memories”. And that’s real life? That’s who we are? You know, sometimes I feel like a glass container, being recycled over and over again.
TOMA. I’m sorry I can’t read your mind. (pause) But I still think we’re good friends. And we don’t need a status. Aren’t we?
LUKA. We are... We are. I...
TOMA. If we are, then say so. Say it as you always used to. And I will listen.
LUKA. Alright... (exhales) It’s not gonna get any worse. (pause) It’s the end anyway. (long pause) The thing is, I like Julius.
TOMA. Well, so do I. Who doesn’t like bad boys?
LUKA. No... It’s not that... You don’t understand. With him it’s... I... I don’t know how I will continue with my life. I could see him every day before and didn’t care one bit if he was messing around with some slut. I even used to get happy if the next day it was a different one already – that way it didn’t seem serious. And it was enough for me. Enough to just be around and watch. I just want him to be happy. And how will I know that from now on..?
TOMA. Ummm... Does he know?
LUKA. Of course not. (pause) But he might suspect it.
TOMA. Why not just tell him?
LUKA. What’s the point? If he wanted something with me, he would’ve made a move long time ago. Just like with the others. It’s not worth it.
(silence)
TOMA. I don’t know what to say. (pause) But I have to confess. (pause) Don’t be mad, Luka. I couldn’t tell you. I saw you suffering. And when it happened, I didn’t want to hurt you even more. I am so sorry... ‘Cause it didn’t do any good... You’re my friend and I’m such a...
LUKA. You slept with Julius?
TOMA. Yes...
LUKA. I knew it.
TOMA. Luka, I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry...
LUKA (slapping her). Apologize to yourself, you bitch.
Luka runs to the middle of the stage and, tears coming down her face, starts singing a karaoke song about love.

Scene 7

All the characters are on-stage.

TOMA. What’s with the depressive vibes?
DOMCĖ. It’s all good.
(silence)
TOMA. What should we do?
BENAS. Why don’t we all just get drunk together for the last time?
TOMA. Why last? (pause) I’m sure we’ll meet in the summer plenty times. Maybe even tomorrow. (laughing)
BENAS. Maybe.
TOMA. What’s up with you all? It’s our last night like this.
JULIUS. You say yourself it’s the last one.
TOMA (clicks tongue). That ain’t what I mean. It’s our graduation, we’re finishing school damn it, it’s not going to be like this ever again.
LUKA. Thank god.
(silence)
TOMA. You’re all total losers. Good thing I came up with a new game.
JULIUS. No. No games.
BENAS. Yeah. We wanna get wasted.
DOMCĖ. I agree.
LUKA. No more games.
TOMA. Okay, no more games. We can drink, but we must do it together. The idea’s simple. The rules are pretty much the same, I just changed a couple of things. (background music starts, getting increasingly louder) We all sit in a circle, twist the same bottle and tell each other what we really think. Okay?
 

The characters are mumbling and murmuring, but the audience cannot hear it over the music. Soon after everyone sits in a circle, twisting a bottle in the middle, chatting about something, kissing, and in the background recorded voices of the characters are heard.

JULIUS. I have no conscience. I don’t even have the dough for it. I think about a lot of women, even though I have a girlfriend. She’s pretty, smart, perceptive, everything’s fine with her, great even – as a friend of mine says, ‘you got really lucky, dude’, but the truth is that she’s not the only one. Yes, she’s with me, she’s always with me, everywhere, too much with me and she’s the only one like that, but there are others. One of them might not be all that smart, I dunno, I saw her on the street and just wanted to bring her to my place and get in her panties. No. It wouldn’t require a home or a bed. If she were up for it, and in my fantasies she is, I would do her right then and there, in Vilnius street, on freshly-paved concrete made for fucking, and the lust in me that I can’t contain could make me, I swear it could make me bloody up her whole body. Another one, whom I never saw, but can often clearly imagine her – I’d like to just read with her. What, is that not okay? Yes, I’d like to simply read something to her, or write something and then read it – it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter that I don’t know how to fucking write. I just imagine her beside me or in the same room, sitting in silence and listening. Just being there and not overdoing it. (pause) Yes, I think about a lot of women and the least about my own. It’s a shame I don’t have a conscience or money to buy it, but I have my fantasies. They work fine without money. No. They work the best without money.

DOMCĖ. I don’t always know what to do. Sometimes I do things I don’t want to at all. Picked that up in my teen years, seeing how adults look each other in the eye and bullshit each other, and I couldn’t understand why. Why do you have to bullshit when you approach a couple of minutes later and smile, smile, SMILE until their fucking teeth go yellow and the veins in their necks start pulsing. Or Christmas. Why do they bullshit all the time? I knew since I was twelve that Santa doesn’t exist, that it’s my dad, piss-drunk and in a costume, a Santa with my dad’s voice, my dad’s manners, his swearwords, giving out gifts, asking for songs and rhymes, while the kids prance around happily. So much fun for the children, so much fun. I asked my mum why was she bullshitting me and she said she wasn’t, that Santa is real and that I should enjoy my gifts more. So much fun for the kids, so much fun. Hear the bells of Christmas. And how can you not become a fucking liar, a miserable cynic, an anti-social element high on everything possible, when you’ve been fed shit since childhood. You’re programmed in shit, you don’t choose your parents or santas – they come and give you their fucking useless gifts. Put it under the fucking tree. I’ll unpack it and wrap myself up instead, so that I don’t find myself ever again. And then. Exactly then, when you grow up and realize that all this time you were someone you never wanted to be, someone you avoided in yourself but never got away, that’s when you understand that you lost the most beautiful thing forever, something that you hadn’t even begun to appreciate – your fucking childish naivety and your faith in a single truth. The eternal virtue in Elysium fields. Almost like Shakespeare. Goddamn Shakespeare. That’s why I hate myself and that’s why I’m a fucked-up fucking fuckhead who hates people because he hates himself, bullshitting because he’s still being bullshitted, and that’s why sometimes and very often I don’t know what to do. Whether to go with the programming or with what I don’t want at all. The outcome’s still the same. And goodbye Elysium fields.

BENAS. I don’t get it. Why is it that people can’t say it when they love someone? Why can’t I tell him that I do. Why do I start shaking, why is it so difficult? You keep walking around, thinking about how sometimes it just goes and happens, and here you are, walking around the park or having a beer, ‘cause I don’t even know yet which he likes better. I might as well keep dreaming like this until the end of my days, until some other Joe comes around and will have enough balls to at least give his photo a like. My signs are not enough. There’s barely any, actually. But this is our own creation, this strategy. You keep fantasising, creating a parallel world in which you’re already together, even though you’re sat on a wet, dirty bench, because you’re actually just sitting and waiting for it all to pass. Not for him to pass, but the feeling that it’s him. That it’s possible only with him. Albeit there were ‘sittings and thinkings’ like that before and after me. So that’s love? I don’t know what love is. How do you fall in love? When do you know that it’s done, that you won’t miss this time. One of the two will, definitely. One always falls in love first. And how does the other one decide then, they aren’t choosing anymore, they’ve been chosen. So one’s love is always stronger and that makes the two uneven. The other one might fall in love with someone else, usually does, and what if, for example, we fall in love with the attention we’re receiving, even more – adoration? What if we love the coffee we drink together, or a place, a place where they always invited you to hang out? If you only fall in love with the signals, the symbols, the process of falling in love taking place in the other person? Maybe that’s where all the confusion, all the conflict and anger comes from, maybe that’s the reason behind our bad demographic situation? I heard older people are just afraid of growing old alone. What if it’s true? What if it happens, people not choosing, but just walking together with the ones who chose them, only because they’re afraid of going alone, because they’re terrified of never being chosen? And why are they afraid of choosing themselves? Why are they afraid? I’m scared and I don’t wanna love. I’m tired of sitting and waiting for it to pass. It seems no one will choose. (pause) I think I actually don’t know how to love.

LUKA. I was simply supposed to be born a man. I don’t want to be a woman. And there’s none of that transgender shit here. I like my body, I just don’t know how to be a woman. When you’re a guy, you can just be, even if you’re hideous, but a nice guy. Big plus if you wear nice shoes or if you can put on more than just a tracksuit. But what am I talking about here. The most important thing is that you don’t reek like you’ve just left the gym. That’s it. Nothing else. That’s all the coolness and it’s plenty enough. And me? I’m not made to look good. Maybe it’s the parents, fate, the gene pool – how should I know, it’s not the point. I was born ugly, so what? No men, no sex, no being a woman. How can you be one if you have to be an icon? Humble, pretty, cute, quiet, gentle, loving, they say – a flower. And what if I’m a birch tree, a Lithuanian birch tree? Everyone’s gonna say – that’s cool, unusual beauty, but we all know that the word ‘unusual’ is beyond any lexicon describing beauty. So what’s the pleasure in being unusual? Trying to be pretty for yourself? Spending days staring into the mirror? I’d throw up after the first minute. I’d get bulimic and die of cancer at the same time, if I’d watch longer than a minute. And there is no psychological, bipolar, schizotypical or some other code-named disorder here. There’s no bullshit here. It’s just a wish that will never come true. And I don’t want it to, let it be, otherwise I’d have nothing to wish for.
 

TOMA. I want out of this dump. I don’t hear the others anymore, I don’t hear myself, only this booming music. (pause) I attach a white canvas. You’ll say it means nothing, and I’ll say it’s contemporary art and you don’t understand anything. Anything at all, you don’t listen, you pretend that you don’t know, you pass by, if you can - you overtake. And why is it that I sometimes think about who and why chose it for me to be in this shitty place, to be here and now. The parents don’t ask the kids, the kids don’t answer the parents. It’s enough that they desire and that they get what they desire. They get their primitive product, one that works more like an instinct, not a choice. Oh no. Nobody chose anything here. Not them, not me. Especially not me. And what’s next? Next it’s only my suffering and my ignorance. My primitive truths and their consequences. I know that I don’t want to have kids. First of all because I can’t just go and wish for a life and get it. It’s not right. I scream that it is not right. Look into my eyes and have the guts to tell me that it is. I’ll be your proof, because you’ll have arguments for everything I say. Secondly – I cannot ask, and if I told you before I asked what a dump this place was... Ah, whatever. A truth told hundreds of times. The only truth. The one worth life, blood, birth and death, and the one I truly and actually choose. And how do I fucking learn to get it together in this world? How can I be responsible for myself when I have no idea what is going on with me? I want out. Fucking dump. The fucking end.