About the Project
Wyn Perfect. With a name like that it’s a wonder I made it this far in life without a firm hangman’s knotted rope as a necklace. Instead my décolleté was adorned with a sideways cross, a salute to the God I called upon to clean up my messes. I think I was drawn to the sideways placement in part due to my millennial desire to be trendy and also as a symbol of my wavering belief in organized religion. “Wyn,” my father would say to me as a prelude to lectures regarding my shortcomings and endless parade of failures. “If you have to learn everything the hard way then you’ll end up dead.” This sentiment would be tossed my way as frequently as an “amen” on a Sunday morning for the tenure of my childhood under “his roof,” the roof where belly button rings and boys were by him and my mother’s standards on par with breeding bait dogs. I was a scene maker, an embarrassment, in short, a complete and utter brat.
Production Team
