Someone said

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“I think the most sincere and beautiful show seen this year.
Prepare yourself to cry, clap and think a lot about life.”

About The Unaccompanied Minor.

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Hey You

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Twenty five people in the audience today. I flyer-ed from 1pm-3:45pm, and holy shit did it work! My wife and mother in law were there to give that last extra push.

I would like to say something to that woman who told me “I’m doing the right thing.” But what I really heard was “Hold on.” I heard what you said. About your father. I want to thank you for sharing that with me, and I want to thank you for seeing my show, and being open enough to let it affect you. Sorry, if I seemed somewhat distant, or confused. When someone I don’t know is telling me something very personal—it’s hard for me to concentrate. I feel a lot of stimulus, and there’s your face, voice, clothing, the content of what you’re saying… I’m trying to take it all in, and I get sensory overload.

But I heard you. And I hope you hear me when I say you are the reason I wrote a show like this.

If you’re going to play Macbeth

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When you are talking about the land, you are talking about the land.
The birds in Scotland don’t whistle, or hum, they howl.
Even the one’s you’re use to sound different: Seagulls, Pigeons.
When the waves crash upon the sea you feel that wet wind in your bones.
If you are riding your bike on Dean Bridge, and look to your left, you see Castle, skies, and (depending on the day) a bold grey: where both possibility and emptiness await you on every corner.
When you see the castle you see your whole life.
When you’ve been loved and supported;
When you’ve been bitterly betrayed;
Where you’ve hung your head to rise and to rot.

In case you forget

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I will tell you what you’re like at ten.

You love playing Nintendo. You scream at the game, and for a second it seems like you’re having a great time, then in another it sounds like your insides are being torn out of you. It’s incredible how many times I tell you “sit down” because as soon as the game begins you’re on your toes 3 feet from the tv Screaming.

You play to win, sure. But you are (amazingly) a bad winner, and a bad loser.
If you are doing well, you rub in into everyone’s face. If not, you are in tears begging me to stop playing.

“Trouble” in our house is not a joke. Every time we play there is laughter and tears. We say “I sold my soul to the devil” probably a little too often, but the way you roll six after six after six… one has to wonder.

You are becoming quite a ping pong player. We walked into an all Asian/Indian ping pong camp, honestly I’ve never seen quite a bunch of nerds in one room together since I was in ping pong camp, and after playing for two hours you said “I would like to go here.”

Yahtzee is a cruel game though miraculously you can roll yahtzee consistently.

Ever since Lindsay became pregnant she began asking to roll again, or simply rolling again, then saying “This is my score.” It’s odd, because she doesn’t do things like that. We do. But Yahtzee is a cold river, and sometimes the sun is out, and sometimes the levy breaks.

We played “Escape Room.” You were incredibly helpful. You were also the first one out the door. Apparently just opening the door wasn’t enough, you opened it and RAN OUT.

You are exceptionally smart. You look through me. You look through everyone. You’re not a happy, sweet, loving kid. You were in New York, but I think Texas took it from you. What they left is a brilliant mind. A wildly creative thinker. You often return to the recess of your own mind. You find the game between people quickly, and you play it like an expert.

I made you Chinese soup from scratch and you said it was too sweet.
I made you chicken and you said it was the best you’ve ever had.

You continue to fear the dark. You ask us to watch you go to the bathroom. If we won’t you will hold it to the point of hot mania.

You watched Big with Tom Hanks and loved it. Found your own Zoltar machine in the Hamptons and made a wish.

You don’t want Charlie in your bed when we read stories at night. You want him when I’m gone. He is your protector, your dark knight. Then sometimes he barks at things in the morning and I hear you saying “No, Charlie. No.”

You don’t lie anymore.

All Purpose is a great pizza place. You hit me in the ribs, or face, or ear that dinner. It was an accident, but it really hurt; then you moved two seats away from me cause you were so sorry, and didn’t wish to hurt me.

I count the days until you’re able to hit me again.

Last night

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Super Earth went really great last night. There was a reviewer in the audience, and he came with his mum, and friends. He was very sweet, and after said “I have no idea what that was about, but I liked it.”
Not exactly what I was going for, but yeah!
We took pictures, I signed my own picture — which is still weird.
Apparently, I did it wrong, because you’re not supposed to sign something to someone and write over your own face.
That makes sense.
I will know for next time.
that shows how much practice I get at signing my own headshot for someone.

they speak different

Yes, it’s English, but it’s hard to understand.
They also use different words than we do, so in that way it’s like a different language.
I met a man giving out flyers for a pizza place next door to my venue, and he seemed very interested in my show, but I was more interested in his pizza.
Tomorrow we open my second play Super Earth.
Very excited about that.
Little sad to be leaving my play for a week, but will becoming back to it from the 19th-26th!
I love performing my piece.
I don’t know how to get reviewers to come see it.
It’s as though you need to light yourself on fire.
Or, call your play “Jerk Off.”
Or, “Come See Vagina’s.”
Or, “Crazy Fucking (Live).”
Might have had a reviewer in yesterday, but still no review to be found.
I walked a dog on the beach today.
Her name is Piper.
She’s super sweet, and it makes me miss my dog.
I don’t miss the States at all.
That says something.
Everybody wants to talk about Trump.
Everyone is frightened about Trump.
Everyone thinks Trump will be impeached in a year.
The festival is certainly optimistic.
It’s hard not to be with all this beautiful weather.

Elan Zafir’s misemployment of the run-on sentence