When I get old There will be A list for you to do; One will be to water grass Another to tie my shoe.
When I get old I hope you’re young Cause there’ll be lots to accomplish; Like drive me to the Movies Bingo Making me a sandwich.
When I get old I’ll lose my teeth Maybe my smell, too; I’ll lose my sight, I’ll lose my purse; I’ll lose my worth, I’ll lose my house, I’ll lose my ears, My nose, My head, I wont have any Any friends; I’ll cry myself to bed at night, I’ll cry until I’m dead.
When I am dead Perhaps one day You’ll make your own list, too.
If you took time To count the rocks You’d have a million trillion. Turn them, turn them Upside down; We’d watch them fall Across the mall; Our streets would be a rocky patch Where we would walk—not drive.
Our schools would be a mess you see From all the dust and stone. And no dog no dog Anywhere Could ever find their bone.
The rocks would start another school Where they would learn to stay;
I wake up to cabs screeching on the road.
Words that should not be spoken by very angry drivers.
Bright and early.
Good morning, New York City.
I walk with my dad to a bakery. L'imprimerie.
I get a shot of espresso.
Enough to jack me up on caffeine and make up for my loss of sleeping in.
We leave, and walk around for a bit.
We talk so much that I hardly notice my agonizing feet.
We eat pizza, pretzels, and lamb.
Credit to the food stand on North 3th street.
Then, Dad and I head down to the subway and hop on.
We arrive at Central Park and wait for my mom.
She arrives at around 1:00.
I say my greeting to my brother, and we play in the park.
Meet some other kids my age. Play a little bit of baseball,
After Mateo and I are not able to move or breathe, Mom calls a taxi.
We go into Brooklyn and go shopping.
Mateo and I beg for something that is useless and that we will forget in a day.
But she still says yes, and we have joy for a few minutes.
Until one of us starts a fight.
Couple bruises, couple sore spots.
Also the usual.
We get home, and start the treacherous journey up the 13 stair cases.
We get to our apartment, and eat some dinner.
Afterwards, we watch a movie (sometimes we eat dinner while watching the movie).
We say goodnight, and I head to bed.
Another beautiful day.
I fall asleep to the honks and yells.
Goodnight New York.
—Rafael Zafir (age 13).
Only surround yourself with things you find beautiful. With things that bring you joy. If you are in your home and see something that does not give you joy… throw it out. get rid of it, donate it, offer it to a friend, but hurl it the fuck out of your window into the streets in a garbage or recycling can. It does not belong with you. It is not on your journey.
Look at this desk. I built this desk. I did not build the desk but I gathered the materials and told someone else exactly how I wanted it. Yes those shelves were already put together I only ordered them. Yes, my wife picked the color. I chose the wood on top. It WAS from Ikea. I think they’re normally used for a kitchen table. But I decided where it would go and I decided that it would be in this house. Now we are leaving this house and I am sorry that I am taking this thing with me. I love this thing. I love this furniture. I love this piece. It gives me great joy. I have worked very early in themonring and very late at night on this desk. I have provided food for my family on this desk. My wife provides food and clothes for our family from this desk.
Hey desk, maybe no one will mourn for you when. you die, and maybe you will never die, but one day soon you will have a different owner and for that it will be a death to me. I love you so much. I love everything you’ve given me. You have always been there. You have never faltered. I hope I brought you joy. I hope I deserved your beauty, elegance, and grit. I will always remember you. You were there when I rehearsed my lines, wrote my plays, poems, emails, and talked about changing the world while my fingers smashed down on a tired old keyboard. That word means nothing to you. Maybe all these words mean nothing to you. But you mean something to me. And I will forever be grateful.
I love you, and I know you will bring someone else joy. That is the meaning of you life, I think.
I was selected as EVERYBODY tonight, and I hadn’t played it in a week.
A lot has changed since that week.
We have been rehearsing the play right up to, and on opening night.
We have made changes in staging, choices in acting, changes in blocking.
Pretty much the gambit of what it takes to make a great night of theatre.
And it’s all par for the course, and you can whittle away at a piece of wood till it no longer exists, or a painting you can add dimensions to, and when do you stop? Do you stop?
I played EVERYBODY last night and it was such a great feeling.
I must remember that when Continue reading Everybody: Performance #2→
Everybody is quite strange play.
Normally when I’m in a play, I always think that the offstage antics (induced by the play the company is performing) could very well be the impetus for another play. But ESPECIALLY for this one.
Five actors memorize five roles. And those roles are chosen by the actors through a live lottery onstage. No one knows who they will play, any night, ever.
This is an incredibly challenging feat for actors.
Most audience members Continue reading Everybody opened last night→