The Fixation Of The Theater

Not Once More Will/i Be Found With Beings/who Swallowed The Rail Of Life//and One Day I Found Myself With Beings/who Swallowed The Nail Of Life/-as Soon As I Lost My Matrix Mamma,//and The Being Twisted Under Him,/and God Poured Me Back To Her/(the Motherfucker).

Theater Of Cruelty Means A Theater Difficult And Cruel For Myself First Of All. And, On The Level Of Performance, It Is Not The Cruelty We Can Exercise Upon Each Other By Hacking At Each Other’s Bodies, Carving Up Our Personal Anatomies, Or, Like Assyrian Emperors, Sending Parcels Of Human Ears, Noses, Or Neatly Detached Nostrils Through The Mail, But The Much More Terrible And Necessary Cruelty Which Things Can Exercise Against Us. We Are Not Free. And The Sky Can Still Fall On Our Heads. And The Theater Has Been Created To Teach Us That First Of All.

And If There Is Still One Hellish, Truly Accursed Thing In Our Time, It Is Our Artistic Dallying With Forms, Instead Of Being Like Victims Burnt At The Stake, Signaling Through The Flames.

We Do Not Die Because We Have To Die; We Die Because One Day, And Not So Long Ago, Our Consciousness Was Forced To Deem It Necessary.

The True Theater, Because It Moves And Makes Use Of Living Instruments, Continues To Stir Up Shadows Where Life Has Never Ceased To Grope Its Way.