A letter received in the mail this week by Toronto dramaturg Iris Turcott.

Reposted from Daniel MacIvor’s tumblr:

Dear Mrs. Turcott:

I am an adherent of Augusto Boal and Guy Debord. My play has taken 10 years to write and once spanned 420 pages. After reading a Dutch translation of “Finnegan’s Wake”, I realized my folly and began heavily editing my play. For 7 of the 10 years I was writing my play, it had no title. I still do not believe in titles as I do not beive ART can be classified and categorized like organic eggs. Titles are for people who want to watch Transformer movies and eat frozen pizzas. Let those people roil in their own filth. But after whittling away 418 pages of my script – all of the excess was merey derivative steam keeping me from the true kernel of my worldview – I consulted a mute guru in Rangoon who drew his advice to me in the dirt.  He suggested I offer a tentative title if I hoped my work would one day be read. I suppose I should say at the outset that this is not a virginal work. I’ve searched for years for a theatre worthy to perform my play and have found nearly all wanting. My play was, however, performed once – in an alley in Vancouver. It was not a complete performance because the 6 audience members did not fulfill their part of the performance. If you choose to direct my play, I would like it known from the outset that I will not bend on my fee. Many writers write because they love to write. I do not like to write. I find the physical act abhorrent but it’s the only way to effectively disseminate my worldview. To speak more about when my play will be staged and how much I will be paid you can contact me at:

(This was accompanied by two pages called “Untitled or A Peacock Named Vesuvius” – the one seeming important stage direction to the audience members was : “They should be seated on the stage with black sacks over their heads and holding a sterilized peach pit in their mouths.”)  


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writer / director

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