I didn't write the closing day statement I often do at the end of a run for IF YOU SEE SOMETHING SAY SOMETHING.
In part it's a small feeling of shame—the run has gone so well, beyond the rational expectations of any theatrical run...I mean, we actually ended the run with a FILM, made entirely within the run itself, which is going into editing as I write this. Fantastic reviews, once-in-a-lifetime audiences: I will not see this moment of transition at an election again, and it was an honor and a privilege to speak with so many night after night while it happened.
I felt ashamed because I was a little melancholy, and truthfully I have nothing to feel that melancholy about.
The deeper truth is that I'm exhausted. After a non-stop schedule for one solid year, in which FOUR MONOLOGUES WERE BORN (though most of the world has only seen two of them so far) and I toured sixteen cities, performed countless times and in my spare time went to Tajikistan as a cultural envoy for the State Department. I am now totally exhausted.
I can feel my mind is worn out, that the rubber has stripped away from the gears, the oil pressure has dropped, the entire metaphor has ground to a halt. And that was in October, but I flogged it until we got over the finish line.
So we are going to the Yucatan. Provided my heart is not torn out at the top of a Mayan temple, we'll be back after two weeks of living on the beach in a hut without electricity.
Take care of the internet in my absence,