And I imagine that if I stayed in my hometown, I probably would’ve ended up, like, maybe
working at my school? Or like in film or animation still? Not, like, in a good way, like I love film
and animation stuff. It’s just not my thing right now.
A fisherman casts his line out to sea. And he waits. And he waits. And he waits.
And while he waits, he’d probably think. Of many things, maybe. Or not. Letting the
silence fill him, and the crash of the waves on his bring be back to reality. Back and forth
and back and forth. Rocking and swaying with the rhythm of the sea until-
After I went to Bermuda, I was sure that music was like, my whole thing. Or like that music was
the- like I was gonna do a lot of shit in music. I had a whole inner monologue about how I’d end
up being a backup singer for someone already famous. Like Rihanna or Beyoncé or like some
other R&B singer. But like, that was before. After, I realized who I was and then the world kind
of…. Closed?
He travels back. Rowing maybe. Or drifting. The waves crashing on his boat all
the same, but nothing to concentrate on to distract some part of his mind from the endless
waves of back and forth and back and forth. He might see a pier. Or a dock. Or a beach.
Finally, something to concentrate on to distract some part of his mind from the inevitable
sea sickness he’d get.
I wish my life events were maybe more??? Dramatic??? Like saying you ran away is dramatic,
but grounding it in “I ran away for 24 hours to a friend’s house about 10- 15 minutes away” isn’t
really dramatic anymore. Which is kind of awful to want. My life was okay, at times, so why
would I want it to be more dramatic? Maybe because I think it’s funny. I do a lot of things
because I think it’s funny
He pats his pants. Front. Back. Sides. Front again. Back once more. Then he
sighs. He takes his key ring out. He searches for the key. Not that one. Maybe this one?
No, not big enough. Ah, this one. He takes the key. He lines it up with the lock. Insert. A
few clicks of the notches. He turns. Loud click. Turns it back. Retract. I open the door.
And he stares. I welcome him back with open arms. He receives it. But he doesn’t feel it.
He’s lost at sea. His mind sleeps with the fishes. And I watch as he waddles in. Back and
forth and back and forth. He’s lost at sea, I’ve lost him at sea. I’d never learned to swim
so I could reach in to save him. So I let him drift. As the waves crashes on our boat. Drift
me back and forth and back and forth. I watch him drift. Back and forth. And back. And
forth.
Exploring the language of this piece with those of their respective ethnicities and backgrounds is
important to me. As a Black and Native American queer man, the lines between social
expectations for either ethnicities and the expectations between gender extremes is constantly
blurred in my mind. Having actors in a space to collaborate with on their experiences in a
predominantly white career and coming from heavily ethnic upbringings/surroundings outside of
my own will help me further develop the rhythms, intonations, and cultural rules of each group's
varying presentation in the play. Having them in an individual setting, as well as coming together
as they do in the play, would help me tremendously in getting the sounds and dynamics in sounds
just right in the way it needs to be to be read correctly to any audience.