Issue: How can theatre as a place be more real than the lives we find ourselves living?
Summary of discussion, conclusions and/or recommendations:
How can theatre as a place be more real than the lives we find ourselves living?
What does an un-capitalist mode of performance look like?
Undoubtedly not like this, I as I write and you as you read forget (cannot remember) the painful task of learning the alphabet.
It might look like the translation of care, against harm, as potent consideration of who we are, and what we want. I am thinking now of a book I read, I remembered the front of the book and wrote about that.
Two bodies aboard an escalator, joined at the eyes.
So, what do you do?
Not as a question evaluating the particular content driving force of a despicable practice aimed at the potential of living itself or as a person, but
Simply, I am for you, just under the line of surf.
Is this an ersatz wet dream, made a head de capitulated from a plural body?
Look at the plants.
I wanted, I had wanted a song.
The redemptive despite of linear time, the tyranny of one thing happening before another.
Are we not at last a little bit this field?