my friend serge

From 'ART' by Yasmina Reza
The Canadian Stage Company
April 3rd, Matinee

My friend Serge, a canvas, white, diagonal lines, oldest friend, lusting after white lines, 200,000 francs, collection, you’re not in the right place, look at it from this angle, you paid 200,000 francs? new style, intellectuals, nostalgia merchants; would like to know what you mean by shit, how can you assert that any given object that doesn’t conform is shit; couldn’t begin to understand how my friend Serge spent 200,000 on white; looking for top to my pen, infuriating, objects, there are degrees of white, if it makes him happy, he can afford it; I’m disturbed, very fond of Serge, groping my way into world; the resonance you get from something monochromatic; crazy or what, with him I’m a block of ice, why can’t you admit, atrophying, you laughed, then he laughed, who laughed first? what made him laugh? laughing to ingratiate you; you can’t hate what’s invisible, poetic impulse, too thin skinned, I lack judgment; read Seneca; to me he’s a god, wouldn’t fork out for a mere mortal; read Seneca; white flowers on a white background; you are an amoeba, obsequious, something I abhor, piss on, you find these colours touching? there are no colours!—who are you to— I’m leaving; if you go you’re giving in to him; a man of his time, plays his part in fundamental dynamic of evolution, motel painting, deep anxiety, cry for help, perpetual display of mistrust, can’t love the person who bought this painting; opinion, the way she waves away cigarette smoke, wearily malicious, life-denying woman; I didn’t replace you with Paula, when you judged things by my standards, I loved how you saw me, flattered, desperate to find, end of fifteen year friendship, close to tears, apocalypse because of—it’s not white—white shit—I’m starving, let’s go eat—absurdly virtuous, complicated, under the white clouds, the snow is falling, can’t see, my friend serge.