A Meeting With My Anxiety_Designated Mourner: The Team's Back Together_Salt Lake_Play
Catalog Guide:
A Meeting With My Anxiety
A Meeting with my AnxietyI always felt it. Before every test, presentation, confrontation, or for no reason at all. That heavy, debilitating weight in my chest never seemed to leave. I figured it was normal, that every kid felt it. But as I got older, and I became more aware, I started to see that this isn't normal. Ever since then my mind has been circling with questions. Why did I have this odd mutation inside me that created this unwanted friend? Why was it always here? Why won't it leave me alone? I needed answers. Since I was a little girl, still clueless to what this feeling was, I was t...
Designated Mourner: The Team's Back Together
It was a sound a bit like a plastic spatula scraping the sky, if the sky were filled with tinfoil seagulls who did not particularly want to be scraped, Jonathan had just gotten used to the stillness of the planet, but the biweekly delivery sound was impossible to develop immunity to. It lasted three minutes and 42 seconds precisely and then a parcel appeared in the air about waist height and plopped onto the sand. This box was larger than usual, and he struggled to cart it up the path to the cottage.After tripping over several predatory clumps of dune grass, he finally reached the door. He sho...
Salt Lake
Two figures glimmer in the waves of heat rising from the dry lakebed. Stretched before them, the Bonneville Salt Flats, a vast expanse of white, blinding under the merciless Utah sun. No shelter or shade for miles. The only sound is the rhythmic crunching of their shoes on the crumbling surface, and the distant booms of rockets and guns and war.The girl trudges glassy-eyed across the barren landscape. Her plump brown cheeks stained with dried tears. She wears jeans, a blue t-shirt, sneakers.The man wipes his forehead, erasing one of the cakey-white contour lines that map the exhaustwww.onedoor.cced topograp...
Play
The play starts at 9 p.m.“What time is it?” everyone asks.“8:54,” someone says. Backstage, the actors swarm around like frantic bees. Sparks fly as they brush against each other. Costumes are picked up and dropped. Props thrown around. Lights flicker. Walls are painted dirty green. Evaporated tears and sweat hit the ceiling and taint the wood darker. 8:57“There’s no more time. THERE’S NO MORE TIME! Hurry! Everyone! Everything!” This is said by Neil, the stage director. He meditates every morning, but fails to stay calm. His ponytail flogs his back and he accelerates with every hit.Paul drowns ...