I’m very nervous about sharing this show with you. I’m worried that I’m just sharing with you the origin story of a superhero you don’t care about – I’m worried that you will watch the show and say: “oh yeah, I get it – I get why you are the way you are. But at what point did I ask why you were the way you were? I just asked you to pass me my coat.” And then I’ll say: “Oh yeah, good point. Here’s your coat. I thought you said ‘what’s your life been like?’ which in retrospect sounds nothing like ‘could you pass me my coat?’ but I guess we all have our own lenses that we hear through, y’know?” But you’ll be gone because I’m a very draining person to be around.
And here’s your line: “Nisse, don’t be so silly. I love you and love hearing you tell stories. You use complicated but interesting narrative techniques and have a raw vulnerability onstage that makes me feel like I can be more open with my fellow man.”
And that’s very nice of you to say. But I won’t hear it that way. Because you’re just like Danielle Evans.
The words I’ll hear will be: “Nisse, I’m tired of your anxiety – it’s like a virus that is on the verge of causing a pandemic. Can’t you just take a compliment and shut up for a second?”
But, also, I’m doing pretty well. I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m not on the losing side of genocide. Is there a winning side?
This show is very much a combination of all I’ve learned in storytelling from my two biggest pet projects: Drawn Out Storytelling and Bad Feelings. This is an hour long multimedia storytelling experience about the place where all my worst feelings came from.
Here are some pictures from the performance: