Starving Artist and the Chimp (Part III)

Libretto for an Opera


ACT III

Francais is at stage left, in a spotlight.

I went to work
It was my last day as editor of the opinion pages
At the local Herald

My plan was
To spend the day cleaning my desk
Throwing out old files

But the receptionist
Paged me to the front desk
A man was there

Bill enters stage left, stands next to Francais.

Hello, my name is Bill
I think you will want to publish my poem
In tomorrow’s paper

Francais:

Nice to meet you Bill,
I’m Francais and I will consider your poem
For the op-ed page

Bill:

Oh Mister Francais
I am sure that you will do more than
Just consider it

Bill exits stage right.

Francais:

I went back to my desk
I didn’t think too much more about Bill
The newsroom was abuzz

Someone had opened
All of the cages at the local zoo
And the animals were out

Gazelles wandering
And snakes slithering around town
Down the streets

Then I remembered
The notebook I found and the story
Of the artist and chimp

The Notebook writer mentioned
The Literary and Writing forum
On Craigslist

So I logged on
To see if I could find a way to track down
The Notebook Writer

And I read
IAA’s version of the Starving Artist
And the chimp

IAA enters stage left.

IAA:

The high had lasted weeks
Bill crept from under stoops to attics
To back yards

He wrote poetry
In the bushes with stolen pen and paper
He lived for art

Women loved him
Some nights one would take him home and feed him
Then he would leave

After all
A starving artist looks just like
A rich kid slumming

One day he woke up
And rummaged through a dumpster
But couldn’t find food

At that moment
He became obsessed with the idea
Of Henry Miller

Bill enters stage right:

Bill:

Henry Miller
Henry Miller, Henry Miller, Henry Miller
I said to myself

All day long
Henry Miller, Henry Miller, Henry Miller
Henry Miller

And into the night
I asked himself why I had become
So obsessed

I took a bus
To St. Anthony’s for a free meal but
They had stopped serving

I said to myself
I’m hungry here just like Henry was hungry
In Paris

The church doors
Were closed and I thought I might never
Eat a meal again

Tall Bum and Short Bum enter stage right.

A puff of smoke
Rose above two men who were
At the side of the church

Tall Bum:

You jonesin’?

Bill:

I don’t need drugs, I’m just very hungry.

Short Bum:

Here’s 10 bucks.
Go get us some food
Three burgers from Carl’s Jr. And some fries.

Tall Bum:

Hey, not so fast
Why don’t you leave your bag here?
But first smoke some weed

The three men smoke together. Bill exits stage right. The two bums take his bag and exit stage left. Bill returns stage right with a Carl’s Jr. bag.

They took my bag!
They stole my bag, my poetry
And now I’m stoned

Bill sits on the floor and starts eating a burger.

IAA:

He ate the food
The three burgers were good but then
The high wore off

He grew aware
Of his bleak situation
His desperation

Bill:

I have become
A street person, a derelict
I said to myself

My plan has gone wrong
I gave my possessions away
I faked my own death

At the beach I watch
The seagulls flying, seeking scraps
I’m a gull too

I live on scraps
Hey, that’s pretty good, should I
Write it down?

IAA:

“Are you a painting?”
It was a voice in his head
Asking him that

Is this art?
Are you a living work of art?
Said the voice in his head

Bill:

I need a muse
I will hide at my aunt’s house
On the way there

I passed the zoo
That would be a good place
To plan my next move

So I went back
Later that night with wire cutters
I stole from a shop

IAA:

He climbed the wall
Got into the zoo, wandered around
Under the stars

Bill walks back and forth across the stage, looking out over the audience as if they were animals in the zoo.

Bill:

I have found
A new kind of poetry tonight at the zoo
It’s animal magic!

The chimp enters stage right, holds up her hands in fists as if she were clinging to the bars of her cage. Bill approaches her. He brings his face to hers. She kisses him.

Bill:

I will free you
And all the rest of the chimps
Other animals, too

Dancers with animal masks enter stage left and perform. Bill takes the chimp’s hand and they exit stage right. The dancers complete their ballet and exit stage right. A table with a fruit bowl on it is placed on the stage. Bill and the Chimp enter stage right and sit at the table. The chimp takes a persimmon and eats it. Bill is writing.

IAA:

The chimp was full
And Bill wrote his poem about the night
He freed all the beasts

Their fate was
The same fate as the artist
The very same fate

They are all
Slaves to humanity, animals and artists
Slaves to humanity

He’d made his statement
And signed his masterpiece
With his real name

And brought it to
Every newspaper with circulation
In the tri-county area

Francais holds up the manuscript.

IAA

Then Bill moved back
To the basement of his old
Victorian flat

He wired it up
Filled it with light bulbs
And brought the chimp

It was warm, it was bright
The chimp came and went as she pleased
Bill wrote and wrote

Bill wrote his poem
He framed an indictment of modern life
He spoke for us all

For the abused
For robots, for artists, for women
Humanity’s slaves

All of us are
Slaves to humanity, slaves to humanity
All of us

As night would fall
The chimp climbed in his arms
To hold him close

Francais

Two and two I can do
So I read the poem Bill gave me
And it’s all true

Bill: (aria)

I, Bill C. Schneiderman, do hereby declare
From this year forth, this date shall bear
The name Animal Freedom Day
Across the mighty nation of U.S.A.
And that is in honor of what I created
By seeing the beasts liberated:
In the name of all robots and slaves
I freed giraffes from their pens, the chimps from their cage
Flamingos, go! Polar bears, dare!
Each zoo animal, no matter where
Shall know what it is to be free
To roam the streets, to climb the trees!
And so from the depth of our inhibited beingness
We shall recognize all of our animal needingness
To burst forth from our cages, real and unreal
To breathe, to see, to touch, to feel
The lesson we take from the zoo liberation
Is that, like beasts, we crave validation.
And what did I learn as I followed my bliss?
There is nothing so sweet as a chimp’s gentle kiss.
So each year we will gather and set the beasts free
And teach the children this example of glee

Bill exits stage left.

Francais:

I decided
I would not publish this poem
For Bill’s own good

So his work,
Like many other great poems
Will remain unread

As I walked home
I sensed a presence as I passed
An alleyway

A pair of eyes
Or was it my imagination
Glowing yellow eyes

Down the alley
Amid trash, rags and cardboard
Glowing reptile eyes

Watching me
Or was it my imagination
Glowing yellow eyes

The Starving Artist and the Chimp (Part II)

Libretto for an Opera

ACT II

Francais enters stage left, holding a red notebook, and sings in a spotlight on the left side of the stage.

Francais:

I found a strange text in this red notebook
While walking in the park on Saturday
Walking in the park on a break from work
Does anyone here know who wrote this text?

The notebook writer enters stage right and sings in a spotlight on the right side of the stage.

The Notebook Writer:

I was reading people’s posts on Craigslist
No, not the sex ads,
No, not the sex ads
The literary and writing forum
Found a question that
Caught my attention:

Someone called Talker
Writing a story
Needed an idea

How does an artist
A starving artist
Find himself a chimp?

Working at a zoo
Is that what to do?
He wanted to know

Thought that he could ask
Writers on the site
For a better way

That his artist,
His starving artist could
Find himself a chimp

I had work to do
So I left the site
But I had an idea

What if the artist
Was an activist
Who frees chimps from labs?

I went back later
Ghost of Majestic
Had the same idea

Well not quite the same
Similar enough
Mine was not needed

But I was intrigued
As I thought about
The artist and the chimp

How can the artist
Find the chimp he needs?
Soon I decided:

The starving artist
Is not an activist
That just wouldn’t work

He is a loner
Society’s outcast
Would not join a group

He lives in a loft
He is a painter
No, he’s a sculptor

Who needs a piece of wood
To create the art
He has in his mind

A dancer enters stage right and performs an erotic ballet during the following verses:

A girl in his building
Strips at a nightclub
And she knows a man

A customer of hers
An importer of wood
From Indonesia

She knows where he works
He gave her a case
Of clove cigarettes

Trade for a lap dance
That she gave to him
One night at the club

She loves the artist
Tells him where to go
To get what he needs

To create the art
He has in his head
Can she be his muse?

The dancer completes her ballet, striking several poses as if modeling for a sculpture, then exits stage right.

The artist breaks in
To the businesman’s
Warehouse after dark

He lifts up a tarp
He does not see wood
Instead there's a cage

In the cage a chimp
A screaming, shrieking chimp
And the artist, he screams, too

Chorus:

Waaaaah! Woooooh!

(Sounds of human and chimp screams.)

The Notebook Writer:

He sees a clipboard
Reads the documents
Knows what’s going on

The businessman imports
Chimps from his country
For drug companies

For experiments
To test the treatments
For curing disease

Suddenly …

Activists arrive
Jump on the artist
Think he’s the bad guy

They tie him to a chair
And free all the chimps
Then they take their leave

One chimp stays behind
Unties the artist
Ponders his next move

Looks at the artist
Thinks a moment more
Then says: ‘You need me.’

He’s a talking chimp!
He helps take the wood
For the sculptor’s art

Inside the stolen wood
Smuggled heroin
Soon they’re on the run

The Indonesian man
Wants his heroin
And his talking chimp

I will write that tale!
No, that’s not the kind
Of thing that I write

I write tales of love
Of self-discovery
But I had a good time

Imagining this
Story of the chimp
And starving artist

The Notebook writer exits stage right.

Francais:

That was what was written
In the red notebook
Can anyone find
The author for me?
Maybe the writer
Wants the notebook back?
But now, more than that,
I have a story
A story of my own
That I want to tell
To the writer of
The red notebook I found:

That afternoon I took the bus back home
It’s a long bus ride, it’s a very long ride
I thought about the talking chimp
And if I could I tell the tale
From the chimp’s point of view
That’s what I was thinking
As I fell asleep and dreamed
I fell asleep and dreamed

I was in my house
And the telephone rang
When I picked it up
I heard a voice say:

Chorus enters stage right, swaying, finger-snapping, chanting:

Chorus:

Go to the window, the kitchen window
Go to the window, the kitchen window

/Francais:
|
|So I looked out my window
|My kitchen window
|
|Chorus:
|
\Go to the window, the kitchen window

Francais:

/So I looked out my window
|My kitchen window
|
|Chorus
|
\Go to the window, the kitchen window

/Francais:
|
|And there was a chimp
|Holding a phone and
|Looking straight at me
|
|Chorus:
|
|Go to the window, the kitchen window
\Go to the window, the kitchen window

Chorus exits stage right.

Francais:

I was terrified
Why was I so scared?
Because I was not me

I was there, outside
Looking in at me
I’d become the chimp

I was the chimp with
The phone in my hand
In my hand the phone

I was not dreaming
That I was the chimp
That I was the chimp

The chimp was dreaming
That he was me
That he was me

The chimp was dreaming
I found a notebook
And took the bus home

The chimp was dreaming
I sat at my desk
And started to type

The chimp was dreaming
That I wrote these words
These words you’re reading

Chorus enters stage right.

Chorus:

Go to the window, the kitchen window. (Repeat as Francais continues singing.)

Francais:

My life is just
The dream of a chimp
The dream of a chimp

Is my life just
The dream of a chimp?
The dream of a chimp?

But that can’t be true
I’m a real person
With real feelings, too

It just can’t be true
I’m a real person
At least I feel real

I’m not a chimp’s dream
Do I really know
How could I prove it?

(Chorus stops chanting as Francais concludes.)

How could I prove it?
How could I prove it?
How cold you prove it?