Journal

A Letter to Gob Squad after Super Night Shot Sep 8, 2014

by Joyce S.C. Liao

Dear Gob Squad:

I’m so glad you guys come to Seattle to help fighting against isolation, first because you guys are already my superheroes. I love the warmth and willingness in your piece that are so essential, and are what I’m craving for. The mist of isolation, around me, dissipated when you guys showed up on the screen.

It is now Sunday 10:40am when I’m writing this letter; I’m in Walleye, a writing workshop, facilitated by my friend Noam this Sunday. Like Super Night Shot, the creative writing we do in our writing lab is timed and finished without further edit. It was interesting that today Noam has decided that we would write letters in an one-hour time frame while I was thinking to write you a letter, instead of writing a reflective blog after the film last evening.

“In Seattle, everyone’s life was awesome so the Superhero lost his job, and became evil……….” I loved the moment to see people’s faces in the restaurant when you told them that you poisoned the food. It was sooo good………………. I felt I saw people’s inner fear transforming from gray/linen/cyan shadows into something more concrete and realized in that joke. People need to breath, but protecting ourselves seemed to have taken a much higher priority than breathing for good. If you are shot or poisoned by an evil superhero, you will die immediately. When you have difficult breathing, there is just a slight lack of oxygen. Or…………. maybe because we are already get used to it, lacking oxygen is not so much big a deal to us anymore. When people prioritizing protection and conceptualized safety over breathing, we stopped talking, stopping leaning towards each other and stopping touching each other.

I still say, “I’m fine.” when people ask me how I’m doing, just because I want to keep my dignity on. I’m in control of my own life and I’m not losing it. Sometimes you would think that only people who try to help themselves would deserve the help from the others.

Rationality has taken over. The level of calmness and the sense of rationality required in the public space in Seattle are overwhelming. Sometimes you wonder if it has anything to do with the phenomenal, vibrant, explosive improvisational art scene in the city.

My friend Stefan is putting a shark in between my feet and a jar over them. Next to the jar is the butt of a big blue bunny. Between the jar that covers the shark and my feet and the bunny’s butt, is an tiny elephant trying to push the jar away from the bunny.

Joyce

 

 

 

 

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