(07/23/99)["At home in the outback."] I am creating a play. It has comedy and family stuff and relationships in it. There is a stage in the living room of the family home I am in. My sister Lydia is helping me set up things on the stage. We are placing things we no longer want on the stage. A toaster oven. A TV. Junk. I ask a woman if it's all right to burn some of these things. She says yes. I walk behind the stage and rearrange some of the things. I decide I want to keep the TV and the toaster oven. I move them farther from the main area so they won't burn with the rest. I walk back around to the front of the stage. Jerome is there. I ask him if he will watch the play. He laughs and sneers saying it is insignificant. He has no interest in something that isn't big and important. I am insulted. I return sarcastic remarks back at him. Then he sneers at the skirt I am wearing. He names the brand. He says he can't take seriously anyone wearing a "Bobbir" skirt. I sneer back and say so who is being caught up in insignificant things. Brand names of clothes. OH boy, such important stuff. He feels embarrassed. I got him there, Now I strike a match and try to light the things on fire. The curtain is closed in anticipation of the burning as a performance. It goes out so I start balling up pages of newspaper. I hand some to Lydia. We prepare the papers and stuff them around the objects. I light another match or two and the fire starts. Now I am Whoopi Goldberg in an all white skirt and blouse. I have traveled to perhaps the Australia outback, although it looks like a suburban neighborhood. Jerome had traveled there to learn about birds. I meet a woman and her daughter, both black. The woman welcomes me graciously. And is walking me to the back yard, through the house. She is saying she is almost ready for the hunt. She must finish filling the bathtub with water. The hatchet is ready to chop off the bird's head. I feel a bit queasy about that part. The girl is talking about two birds she has already seen, one an Owl, she says. The woman smiles. She had misnamed the type of bird. I am determined however to participate as well as I can and as fully as I can in the ceremonious hunt. The girl and I are being initiated, I guess. We walk out to the back yard. Black men and Jerome (white) are out there. The ritual begins. I watch as the girl contorts her face into an impossible mask like position, literally sucking in her nose until she looks like a bird skull. I am impressed. Now I must transform. I also do that. Jerome is amazed and impressed I am able to not only understand the importance of this experience but am also able to do it. We have earned the right to remain in the hunt. Apparently we must transform our faces to be able to walk up to the bird, as it will not recognize us without human like features.