Sometimes wearing a scarf and a polo coat and no makeup and with a certain attitude of walking, I go shopping or just look at people living. But then you know, there will be a few teenagers who are kind of sharp and they'll say, "Hey, just a minute. You know who I think that is?" And they'll start tailing me. And I don't mind. I realise some people want to see if you're real. The teenagers, the little kids, their faces light up. They say, "Gee," and they can't wait to tell their friends. And old people come up and say, "Wait till I tell my wife." You've changed their whole day. In the morning, the garbage men that go by 57th Street when I come out the door say, "Marilyn, hi! How do you feel this morning?" To me, it's an honour, and I love them for it.
T. texted me after rehearsals to check out this Richard Meryman interview with Marilyn Monroe (in the Guardian, reprinted from Life, August 1962) which finds her in some kind of epic rambling mode, describing the strange space of her life, equal parts vivid and totally unreal – like the opening sequences of Blue Velvet. Fantastic looping sentences, changes of subject and reported dialogues. Great text.