(The clips are part of the footage we filmed as web PR, rehearsal, and tryout.  Some of the material will be shown on the show’s video wall.)

An idea for a text for the Friday Dinner scene. Every new sentence starts with the letter F.

Father is feeling wobbly tonight. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Friday night, Sabbath, holy fuck. Friday night, weekly dinner, fuck. Fucking Jewish tradition. Father is going to fuck up another Friday night. Father and Friday Night is a match made in hell. Fear is always the same fear. Father is the mother of all fears. Fear that the evening will end before it even starts. Fear that the beautiful table would end up on the floor before we got to try the excellent food Mother prepared. Food, too much food. Food that is going to be wasted. Food, soul food. Feel like there is nothing I can do; the end is written before the beginning. Feeling an inability to change the predictable outcome. Feeling overwhelmed. Feelings are not the point here. Feelings are never the main course. Figure out how to suppress your feelings. Figure out how to make sure that the table doesn’t find the floor. Figure out how to save this food. Floor is never a good place to serve food. Figure out how to go through Friday dinner. Figure out a non-violent Sabbath dinner. Figure out how not to fuck Friday. Finish the first course. Finish the second. Finish the soup. Feel your way through the main course. Floor, try to ignore the floor. Force yourself to shut up. Force yourself to say nothing. Force yourself not to react. Fiction, think fiction, it’s not happening. Fiction, not non-fiction, is definitely fiction. Forget your opinions about the Israeli-Palestinian war. Forget your thoughts about God. Forget your take on Jewishness. Forget you have thoughts or feelings. Forget everything you know. Forget, you know. Forget you are sitting at the Sabbath table. Figure out how to forget everything you think you know. Figure out how to become invisible during the Sabbath dinner. Forget the table. Funny how easy it is when you say nothing. Funny how easy it is to forget. Forget that you are funny. Figure out how not to be funny. Fun is not going to save Friday. Fun is something you should save for Sunday. Fade away into fiction. Fade away into the floor. Fade away till after the Kosher desserts.

Testing the video wall

• The Penis Song/Peter
  My father had a penis / This may sound a bit wrong
  But due to this fact, I’m alive / and hence this Penis song
  I never saw it working / I never saw it stand
  In fact, I never saw his thing / and never in his hand
  I doubt my Mom has touched it / or took it in her mouth
  Her intimate geography / did not explore his south
  And yet they made me happen / I hope they had their fun
  When he was going at it / to make his only son

(Rehearsals tryouts)

Ghost Riders traces the echoes of inheritance, memory, and historical weight. What does it mean to carry the ghosts of our fathers — and can we ever ride free of them? A performance about loss, legacy, and the uneasy spaces between nations, generations, and men.