Friday, January 21, 2011

Night Is Here For Ever

What brings you to the threshold of my great and sovereign loneliness?

It's better than slicing up my face with a kitchen knife. I think I wanted to tell someone that I'm base and hideous and pathetic, and only you'd understand the vanity involved in that.

To each his own disaster.

I feel physically horrible and am consumed by a terrible loneliness. Why am I consumed by loneliness? Why can't I see loneliness for what it is: freedom? Maybe I just really need to get laid.

Yes, it's an enviable trick to be pulled off. Freedom, that is, not getting laid.

Of course.

Although, during a trick, one gets pulled off.

Presence, absence, everything is a curse.

"After such knowledge, what forgiveness?" - Eliot Spitzer.

How are rehearsals?

I have no idea what it will feel like to not be this busy and feel this horrible all the time.

After busy and horrible, comes lassitude and horrible.

The play as a whole is no better than Faust. Well, it's better than Faust, at in terms of execution and entertainment. But not in terms of its raison d'etre.

Which is?

"The narcissism of a milquetoast imagination. What else? It's theater." - Joe Papp

I think I am ready for some one near to me to die. I think that is precisely the kind of loss I am ready to deal with right now. It might even be reassuring.

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