(The stage is minimalistic, and GIVER’s face is
apparent. GIVER faces the audience..)
GIVER:
(heartlessly)
I can give “meanings” to any object, any. One may even claim that I make a thing beyond just an object. Many people think I am a fraud, but I am different.
I stand exactly from 9 am to 5 pm, in the alley just around the corner of the hamburger restaurant, “America.” If you see a person in an indigo raincoat with stars, that’s me.
Today, while I was staring at the exit of the alley, one young person came in as though they were running away from something.
(MUSICIAN runs onto the stage. Dressing
semi-formally with a shirt and pants. Breathing with
shoulders, and sweating. GIVER turns to
MUSICIAN.)
MUSICIAN:
(panicking)
I want you to put meanings in this song. I need you to.
(MUSICIAN hands the score of music to GIVER.)
MUSICIAN:
I cannot let my music be garbage that no one listens to. I want people to feel something, and I want this song to be something that they feel special to.
GIVER:
Do you think a song can deliver meanings to others? See, it’s easy to make this song something to you, but that’s only between you and I. Not anyone else.
MUSICIAN:
Of course. I, myself, felt touched many times in my life, by music. And…that means my music can move someone else’s heart.
(GIVER looks at the score in the hand)
MUSICIAN:
(guiltily)
I wrote about love. Love is the strongest desire in humans, I suppose.
GIVER:
Is that what you really want it to be?
MUSICIAN:
…no. But what else could I have done? I have to write a song that resonates with everyone. A song, that everyone, loves.
GIVER:
That is not what music should be.
MUSICIAN:
(screaming)
I know, I know that. But, what else should I write about? Can this painful feeling, loneliness, make a penny? I’m about to get kicked out of my apartment, and I still need to pay for all my shits. Artists can’t dream, you see. We need to pay, even to be in this world.
(beat)
GIVER:
I think you should quit music. That’s the only way to give meaning to your song.
MUSICIAN:
What did you just say…?
GIVER:
You should go back to your room you are about to be kicked out of, and throw away instruments. Throw away all the music you wrote.
MUSICIAN:
(grabbing GIVER’s chest)
You said you could put any meaning to anything!
MUSICIAN:
(falling to the ground and starts crying)
Please… you are the last hope for me. I cannot be pilloried in front of everyone. I know I’m not talented. But this is, music is… I always, always, stupidly, come back here.
GIVER:
Then, throw everything away, because what you look for is not there. Go outside. Feel lives.
MUSICIAN:
(standing up)
You will not make me stop making music like this. And you see, you will hear my name sometime… not here in this alley, but from people’s mouths.
(MUSICIAN runs offstage. Music is left in
GIVER’s hand. GIVER faces the audience again.)
GIVER:
Today, I made another meaningful thing.
(Black out. Lights on.)
GIVER:
(melancholy)
I can give “meanings” to any object, any. One may even claim that I make a thing beyond just an object. Many people think I am a fraud, but I am different.
I stand exactly from 9 am to 5 pm, in the alley just around the corner of the hamburger restaurant called “America.” If you see a person in an indigo raincoat with stars, that’s me.
Today, while I was staring at the exit of the alley, one adolescent came in as though they were afraid of being found.
(ADULT runs onto the stage, wearing a T-shirt with
a scarf and gloves and looking around nervously.
GIVER turns to ADULT.)
ADULT:
(painfully)
I need you to make this letter meaningful to me.
(ADULT hands a letter to GIVER.)
GIVER:
Who is the letter to?
ADULT:
Me.
GIVER:
Then, who is this letter from?
ADULT:
(hesitant but smiling)
That was, my old me. It’s like a will, to say, “Goodbye, I will never see you again.”
GIVER:
Then, it seems like this letter already had a meaning.
ADULT:
Yes, but not anymore. I need this to be a chain, to lock myself.
GIVER:
Letters don’t have power.
ADULT:
(nervously)
Yes they do. This letter, in fact, changed me.
GIVER:
It’s something in the letter that changed you. That’s not there anymore.
ADULT:
(angrily crying)
Hey, I don’t care. I just need this letter to be something more than a letter. A thing that creates me and keeps me in this stupid shell. You know why? ‘Cause I’m fucking SCARED OF FALLING APART!
GIVER:
Sure, I can do it for you.
(GIVER tears the letter. ADULT knees to the
ground and tries to pick up the pieces of the letter.)
ADULT:
(screaming)
What the fuck did you just do to the letter!? You don’t understand how meaningful it was to me, and how much effort and courage it required! You DON’T understand!
GIVER:
Sure I don’t, and no one ever would, because you are here. Look, you can slap me, or punch me, or even kill me, but hear me, what you are looking for is not there anymore. I even tore it. IT’S NOT THERE.
(ADULT gives up picking up and stands up)
ADULT:
(calmly angry)
Fuck you. How dare you. I should have never come here.
(ADULT runs offstage. GIVER faces the audience
again.)
GIVER:
Today, I made another meaningful thing.
(GIVER faces the offstage again, where ADULT
went offstage.)
GIVER:
Now, who are you?
(Black out. Lights on. GIVER faces the audience.)
GIVER:
(sorrowfully)
I can give “meanings” to any object, any. One may even claim that I make a thing beyond just an object. Many people think I am a fraud, but I am different.
I stand exactly from 9 am to 5 pm, in the alley just around the corner of the hamburger restaurant named “America.” If you see a person in an indigo raincoat with stars, that’s me.
Today, while I was staring at the exit of the alley where no one came, a person in an indigo raincoat started talking to me.
(GIVEN walks onto the stage from the opposite of
the exit. Dressing exactly as GIVER, but the face is
hidden because of a hat.)
GIVEN:
(facing the exit of the alley)
No one showed up for two weeks. Why are you still standing here?
GIVER:
Because I’m giving meaning to nothing.
GIVEN:
It’s a “no” thing. It has no, thing.
GIVER:
Can’t nothing be a meaning itself? I think there are plentiful things that have no meaning. “Having no meaning” can even be a meaning of existence. Isn’t it such a happy thing?
GIVEN:
Then, why are you standing here, everyday, like an idiot, waiting for someone.
GIVER:
Because… Just by being here, when someone seeks for meaning, time is shared. The feeling is shared. That’s life, as it is. That’s the most meaningful thing, much more valuable than all things that eventually turn into objects.
GIVEN:
What about yourself?
GIVER:
I decided to become a “thing” for everyone, not for myself.
(GIVEN walks offstage. GIVER faces the audience
again.)
GIVER:
Today, I made another meaningful thing.
(GIVER faces the direction GIVEN went offstage.)
GIVER:
Now, who am I?
(Lights off. Lights on. GIVER is facing the exit of
the alley. Lights off. The end.)
Writer | Ryogo Katahira ’27 | rkatahira27@amherst.edu
Editor | Amy Zheng ’26 | ahzheng26@amherst.edu
Artist | Amy Zheng ’26 | ahzheng26@amherst.edu