Infiltration.  There is a process of infiltration that occurs with me now, in which a character from another play or sketch infiltrates another play, and it makes sense. Abe and Val are having an anniversary dinner at the Temple of Meat and Becca, a character from The Contractors infiltrates the lives of Abe and Val. Suddenly, Val is going from Brooklyn to Wallace, Idaho and Abe has choked to death in his fantasy climax of booze, sex, and meat. Could the catalyst for a full-length play actually be Val having the audacity to order salmon at Peter Luger’s.  In The Caregivers the infiltration is the dead upon the living and burden of the dead upon the living, and the living dead really, winter in the Pacific Northwest, can you tell the difference? It is dark, it is cold, it is wet, all the time, even if it isn’t. The great outdoors closes in and fatalism takes over. Becoming porous, absorbing the rain. Victorian must. The ferry docking and unloading. The sea gulls that seem like they’re out of a Alfred Hitchcock movie. There is terror in beauty and I can’t figure out if this is a horror story or a love story … what if the fog eliminates the boundaries between sanity and madness, life and death and Eugene O’Neill was right all along.  Dear Actor:

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