When we watch a play under the standard circumstances, we've lost volition and time is passing. A still play feels like an existential threat.
I came to New York, and it was fascinating and intimidating and yielding, and all the stuff it's supposed to be. But whatever the abstract essence I was seeking, I couldn't find exactly that.
The idea of a rupture between acts occurs in a number of my plays.
My friends and family have been so well trained that they know I really mean it when I say that I don't care if the review is good, because that can be as dangerous as when it's bad. It's less demoralizing, but it can be just as confusing.
The world requires me to re-write its wretched dialogue!
