goodbye scotland

I've started about a dozen blog posts over the past month. All starting with me saying I was desperate to capture all the magic of my August World Premiere, but it was slipping away like a bottle of wine. Finally, I'd at least log that day. And, of course, I'd barely get through a paragraph before an actor needed something in the flat or a producer emailed or I had to run to a show.

I am going to process everything and get at least something down soon, but for today, I just want to say--Fringe 2026 was one of the most incredible experiences of my entire life. Puhg and I fly to Iceland today, and I felt it would be bad luck not to at least say thank you, in writing, to the theatre gods who have smiled on me so generously this past month.

I've been crying on and off for days because I am so happy and nothing lasts forever. That is the medium I have chosen, the one that gets built up and ripped apart in a matter of weeks. It's good to remember that's everything, that's life. Death is strike.

Wasn't going to go to the final rager on Sunday night, figured I'd be exhausted from the last show. And I was. But WN encouraged me Thursday, when I was already misty eyed in the artists' bar--he said just poke your head in.

I wore a white skirt and tank top and felt like the belle of the ball. Or like I was in the last act of a movie. As I walked in that big deal NYC producer was gabbing with a stand-up and screamed, holy shit meet Alice she wrote a phenomenal play! The stand-up had just been featured in the most buzzy show of the festival. I'd seen him the night before. Mutual starstruck, something so sacred. Pushing through the crowds with my berry cider, randos would reach out and say they saw me in our improvised musical. (I cannot believe I was part of two of the best shows at Fringe?! How!? Who am I!?)

Puhg even made it in, bless him. He lasted until 1:30 when the bar line nearly destroyed his tender sensibilities. But it was so nice to have his big shoulders behind me on the floor, as the little girlies swung by and I yapped at them about labor rights in art even though Shania Twain was blaring. (I'm fun.)

Too much to write, and I still don't have time, but at 4 am I was crying hysterically, announcing I'd never see any of my ensemble again--specifically the UK muffin. I got angry even, wishing maybe I shouldn't have done this because it just hurts so bad at the end.

Luckily AR and AD were dance goblins and took me to the roof for their cigarettes and gossip and I laughed and laughed and the bouncers pushed us out at 5. I wanted to go home, but RD was thinking about climbing the mountain, as is Fringe tradition. I said no, no don't. You're not dressed for it and the climb is muddy and everyone is drunk. I could have left her to make her own choices, but I had promised her mother just that morning, I'd always look after her. Cut to us at the top of the rock, horrified, dirty, cold, knowing that was very stupid, but the sun came up and all the artists from all over the world cheered. As we walked down I met a magician and his girlfriend. They told me they recommended everyone my play. They meant it. We had a meaningful conversation about gun violence the whole trot.

I finally went to bed at 7:30 after a hot shower, woke at 10 and ate a crumpet with eggs. The next days there was packing and logistics and I was/am a mess. Puhg and I took the train to a seaside town. The sun opened right as we walked the beach and looked into tide pools. Counted three snails. Had a fish and chips, best of my life no doubt.

Late dinner at the nice spot around the corner. First little pink coladas in the basement, then our table was ready around 8. And then, WN walked right by. Puhg called to him. The whole cast was at a table behind us. I covered my face in my hands because ohmygod I'd done so so many goodbyes.

I couldn't bear to go over there, so they all came to me. I turned bright red and gave out more hugs. Said the I Love Yous. We had the greatest spicy curry and cheese naan. Our waiter approached our table with a new energy, mentioned the whole restaurant being fans, apparently. I didn't realize you were famous, his eyes glinted. Twenty later, my beloveds walked out in a line, passing us. They all waved and made hearts with their hands and blew kisses, a parade just for me.

They laughed at me too. We all know I'm dramatic. But oh well, I am a playwright.

Lumina

Writing this on the plane, my heart absolutely sick for Edinburgh. There is nothing, nothing, nothing like the magic of Fringe. The incredible, daring, hilarious, innovative theatre. The millions of twinkle lights. The flocks of happy people. It’s what makes it unlike any other gathering—the happy people, the nice people. This morning in the airport I was shocked a woman cut in front of me in line and then argued with the desk worker, but, yeah, she was American.

 Yesterday morning I was miserable, clawing the walls to leave. My bed was utterly uncomfortable and loud, bees would fly in the open window, but a closed window created the stuffiest nasty box, the carpet that made me never not want to wear shoes, the drunks at 3 AM, the moldy fridge, the sharing a flat with seven other people, the feeling of something closing up around me and wanting to kiss it goodbye before it could break up with me. In the afternoon Stripes took a train from Manchester just to visit me. We roamed about having noodles and catching up and really trying to sort out this life. I remember the night we met walking to our freshman dorms together. We were so tiny and mindless. I waited for her bus with her, watched her jump to the double decker, waved goodbye. It was 22:00. I was farther from how than I thought I was, ended up making my way back through the square I spent the last month hurrying to every night. It was tons of boards and wood panels and rails and boxes. Gone: the flower garden and vegan pbj sandwich hut, the adorable circus tent, the crepe line, the old couples, the drunken bros, the buskers, the light on the cobblestones. It makes me want to cry.

There were nights when it was in its full majesty I also wanted to cry. The rest of my cast was tucked in a theatre doing their second show, and I was alone, blood pumping with the adrenaline of sticking the landing to cheering sold-out house, but now walking in the chilly wind past happy parties and a jillion fliers—wondering who I would most prefer to be—someone in a line going to what’s supposed to be the hottest show, a person on the billboard for the hottest show, or myself.

The company I toured with is certainly dysfunctional (as have been all comedy theatre I have ever worked for, so), but what an utter gift this month has been. I pushed my boundaries in every possible way imaginable. I am so serious, in every single way a person can be challenged I have been. I felt on deep deep levels from new and old relationships, theatre, and performance. I ate a billion treats. I stayed up very very late, I hiked mountains, I evaluated who I am and who I hope to be and what I hope to make and what I do make. I appreciated cafes, castles.

I haven’t felt this way since I was in the backseat of my family’s gray mini-van riding home from summer camp.

Sunday in the City

Breezy and clear, soft sunshine. Too dim for sweat. I planned my lesson on compound sentences at the Picasso statue. Children ran up the sloped based and slid down on their butts. A tour guide next to me explained about the courthouse nearby to a small group of tourists and said the statue is said to be a woman although I have always seen an ape. A Chinese guy kept accidentally/on purpose getting in the way of my photos. Finally he sat next to me and explained he didn't know how to get to Van Buren. I looked up his train stop and showed him the map on my iPhone.

One of my adult students designed sound for a play at the fringe festival way up there in Jefferson Park. I've never been. "People on the red line can't be friends with people on the blue line. It's just too hard," Belle joked this morning. We were on the corner of the Chicago River. It's sort of true. You'll have to take at least one randito bus. But I was downtown so no worries. I waited in the belly of the stop. The train was late and ran express all the way up there. I don't see these parts of the city. The 20s homes and cars on not packed side-streets.

It was such a nice stroll. A Thomas J in bronze. The play was 50 minutes, which is good on a Sunday afternoon. It was in a church basement and the two-weekend run was ending, so everyone was happy as peaches in cream. It's a huge city here and there are a lot of smiles. I stopped at the CVS to buy 99 cent Halloween cards with my coupon and on the bus ride home I read the novel with bowler cap on the front and thought about Communism.