Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Tuesday, December 30, 2008

I ask the actors what they think about confrontation. They seem confused, deers in the headlights, but then again I guess they’ve never read Artaud. That’s ok, a lot of people haven’t. Nobody real important since Jim Morrison. Especially not that Vince Neil fucker. Although Motley Crew did seem to have a real specific handle on the theater of the absurd. I feel almost ashamed that tickets to this thing are fifteen bucks a pop but there’s no point at getting angry, despite the certain bourgeous-ness of the thing, it seems very legitimate and benevolent. A crew of people devoted to spontaneity and freshness in theater, all Harry Potter jokes aside. I conjure up my own authentic inexperience within the realm. Normally now my writing relegated to elongated syllables held within clutches of rapids of consciousness. I scan my own consciousness thinking of the more genuine bits of theater I’ve partaken in. Denver Colorado, protesting outside the DNC, masked anarchists playing their part, dressed all in black, the antagonistic devils of righteousness baiting fascistic levels of police presence with nothing but a few swear-words, the police, decked out in terminator type gear, playing their bit parts in theater of flesh. The same at the protests on Delmar, but to a slightly more benign degree. Still, I know only the theater of flesh, a Genet-type situation with all players fulfilling their expected parts. Or perhaps Shakespherean, after, everybody knows, all the world’s a stage…


roll yrself a cigarette, obscure writer boy prodigy, sitting in noisy late-nite coffee joint in the city ignoring friends to do this, stare like a curmudgeon down the barrel of a laptop.

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