There is an impulse to not be impulsive. Wait for the words to flood, sing, slip into inevitable melodies and melodrama my life is so considered and complex! har har, in the telling of it. Careful. Constructed.

Then along comes a play I wrote, apparently, weeks off already, and I want to share now! then! ever! always! every last surreal iota of excitement being back in my city, yes that’s what I said, possessive of every mossy tree, piece of yam sushi, stepping off the plane after 12 hours of travel, hopping on the train and getting off downtown a block from the venue and elevating up into the intermission fellowship “breather” of my own play still altitude discombobulated and weighed down with my scary black backpack of 3-milliliter toiletries and having a stranger approach me, introduce herself coyly and ask, “What do you think of the seminar?” then lean in, anxious like suspicious of surveillance, and hiss, “I feel like I should be talking to people!”

But I cannot capture it to my satisfaction -– couldn’t then, the emotion checks and checking in so what do you think? flabbergasted gob smacked stuttering the whole weekend — or now, either, having digested the experience, or tried to. But I can’t wait any longer for any of this to make sense beyond totally sensational.

I’m not sure what happens next with You Are Not Dead, or myself, ironically (…or not…) more concerned about getting a decent job and meeting my basic needs like a good Not Dead citizen, as opposed to pursuing the frivolous — more creative brainchildren fetid with hope.

But there is life in Not Dead yet, as well as fire in me, and my gratitude is overwhelming:

Thanks, Adam Bergquist and Jessica Harvey, for besting the Fakeproject Corporation of Canada representatives of my dreams. I knew every line coming but could never predict what would happen next. What you did with my words was marvelous and thrilling.

Thanks, Danielle Marleau, for directing and producing a vision I would never have imagined on my own, much less have been able to make happen. And for cutting my hair. And letting me sleep on your floor. Hanging out with you and Jeremy was a blast.

Thanks, Brandon Marback, for making PowerPoint killer and Seth Soulstein for executing it masterfully, Matija for the wicked website, Rachel Peake for the dramaturgy, Olivia Mowatt and Sarah Szloboda for producing, Rebecca Taves for volunteer coordination and all the FPCAN volunteers.

Working remotely from Minneapolis for so many months, I did not and could not truly grasp and appreciate all the time, effort and support required to pull it all off until I met (some of) you and saw it unfold before my eyes. I am grateful and deeply humbled.

Thanks, Nathan and Andy, for coming from Seattle, and Karen for attending from across town. I miss you all a lot and it was great to have old friends to hug tight.

Thanks, James, for getting Sanctuary to play my favorite song when I ditched the play after-party to get my fierce dance on. It was out-of-control amazing. ~3 AM Megabite and 7/11 sour keys 4ever~

Thanks, Daniel Reetz, oh jees for everything. I am endlesssly awed, inspired and laughing my ass off in your presence, whether in rare real-time or countries away online. It’s been a pleasure fakeprojecting with you, and I hope to conspire more.

Lastly, thanks, Moon, for low tide the first time and again for my last, so I could meet and roam my favorite place on earth.

(Photos in this post courtesy of Daniel, except for the last. Obliged!)