←Recommendations of Only You Can Reject Jelly Beans

A man predisposed toward loneliness finds his loneliness expands exponentially at the start of the pandemic. Otis's rationalizations and his coping strategy are touching and believable. This is a gentle and compelling portrait of a man and his jelly beans.

Replacing loneliness with literally anything is so relatable. Osmundsen explores this difficult time in a way that is funny but also a bit unnerving. We all have the temptation for human interaction, but in a pandemic it becomes a game of Russian Roulette... much like eating a bag of mixed jelly beans. Dire with a dash of hope.

A universal piece that is at once a rejection of being like everyone else and also a quest for companionship and understanding, this is a gentle, enjoyable piece.

And now I also want jelly beans.

Osmundsen has written a monologue that is at once funny and then painful in its universality. I felt every bit of Otis's isolation and loneliness flying off the page, and it hurt enough that I wanted to sit with him and eat all the Jelly Beans in the world. A truly solid piece!

I nodded in understanding reading this monologue. The cycle of searching, experiencing rejection, and establishing isolation is hard to escape. Even the victory of finding something is brief for the protagonist Otis, and we see the cycle start again. It's painful.

Dave Osmundsen has created a scenario we are all familiar with: forced to reside within the four walls of our abodes. This sense of isolation is exemplified through “Only You Can Reject Jelly Beans,” and Otis’s way of passing the unknown amount of time he’s encapsulated in his place may make you laugh, but it will most definitely make you think.

It’s one thing to not have anywhere to go or anyone to see, so you CHOOSE to stay in; its another when you’re forced to stay in; and it’s yet another when either way, your absence in GenPop is unnoticed or even preferred. This monologue begins ostensibly as a political rant about isolation then becomes an intimately detailed depiction of it. A heartfelt “loser’s lament” where jelly-bean-sized doses of dignity triumph over self pity, though just barely. I’ve been this guy, most of us have. A funny, vulnerable piece that hits you where you live.

Osmundsen expertly nails the frustrations — exacerbated by the current pandemic — felt by anyone, gay or straight, who does not fit society’s largely fabricated beauty mold, and he does it with his trademark on-the-nose and darkly comic wit. A great piece for an actor to chomp into: a terrific script, character, AND jelly beans! What more does one need? Even when one is alone on a Saturday night?

Osmundsen speaks for a lot of frustrated 20-something introverted gays (and older gays as well) that want to find someone special special offline and beyond the bars and clubs.
It's more desperate now during the pandemic.
Yes it's sad, but not pathetic. Honest writing here.