“I loved Joe. But…Arthur…swallowed me up whole.” says Marilyn Monroe.
Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons (Re-composition)” plays.
He’d sit for hours in despair. Dark. Brooding. And my heart would call out to him…longing, aching for him to come to me with desire to devour me completely. Or was it again? …I never kept up in my head.
But I didn’t think he could love me. Not that much. Not really. Not after all.
He was either a liar and a cheat and worthless dog…or I was wrong. And I should have realized that. But…while I relate to Lacey in some ways…I’m not like her in other ways. And I couldn’t figure that out. So…I just wept inside for him. In deadly anguish. …But…I kept it hidden.
Lacey knows it. My producers knew it. It was in my eyes. Things like that usually always are.
But…I hid it from my face otherwise. You can see it in my body. I slouch. Probably because my heart was literally dying.
Verses by Ólafur Arnalds & Alice Sara Ott plays.
And yet…the whole time…he was just as sad as I was.
See…Arthur Miller is a genius. He was a real…artist. A writer. A mastermind. …And his mind meant so much to him and everyone who knew him. Hopefully you’ve read something by him. He’s good!
He got lost in his mind. He died in it.
He kept trying to make sense of us. He kept trying over and over and over. …But nothing ever made sense. So he decided he must be insane and I just needed to be separate from him. But…that was the last thing I needed. I needed him to devour me.
Arthur was a funny man that way. He was ashamed of himself and unsure…but he had it in him to do it.
I wish someone had told him to destroy me. With his love. Just go ahead and destroy me. But he didn’t want to be evil. He wanted to be better than that. To be a better man.
So we died.
Yes. Instead we just died.
And see…that’s what happened.
I was…seduced slowly over time…by a perfect man for me. And my heart belonged to him. But he…kept trying to fix it all. Obsessively. And I kept trying to let him. And…so maybe there’s some solace in that. We ruined our lives together. We ruined our lives not to spite each other…but out of a desperation to become one eternally. To absolute perfection. We’re both artists, I guess.
So I left and stumbled drunkenly into death by way of…hoodlums, I guess. And he never could work us out in his mind.
He’d give interview after interview about me. And yet he never settled down. In his mind he could never settle down on a set idea about us. Who we were. What we were. Who I was. …He didn’t necessarily contradict himself, but he did have…theories.
And…he was restless. So damn restless.
By the time he died…and through God’s grace seemingly avoided Hell…he was ready to be with me. Regardless of how I felt about it.
Kids With Guns by Gorillaz plays.
No. We had tragic lives. And yet…we loved. We felt happy in that way. And we were in a daze ever after.
Keen to Cross the Pond 