A LANGUAGE OF THEORY, LIKE F*CK!NG MAGIC.


THE FAT INGENUE DOESN’T APPEAR UNTIL THE SUICIDE SCENE

& obviously the room must first be filled with smoke.

+ the music-maker in a space of his own, entirely separated from the lights,

from the stage, because without him time, therefore the stage, could not exist.

then the mostrous child, an absence. attachment, a fleeing.

a monstosity eats everything.

there is no separation bewtween any language and any theory.

so there is an impossible desire for a language outside of all theorization.

so people just need to spend more time with the muppets.

nonsense is itself a form. when an actors plays the nonsense game they

are learning form. when the figures need not language in order to speak, when

their mere existence and their capability to make sound or to move

renders them implicity understandable, when the shape of the thing itself

means something…

because conclusions are too obvious, a framing device is necessary. like, a mac

with a camera or KISS ME KATE.

 

or how elizabeth taylor and richard burton are things unto themselves.

how they signify love itself therefore “NEED WE SAY MORE?”

“YES, FIVE WORDS MORE”

[THE TITLE OF THE PLAY] is the only thing necessary. these lovers embody

the pure form of lovers. therefore they shall fit perfectly into any given story.

“THAT WAS THE WAY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. VERY SIMPLE.”

but if the form breaks itself. if the serif itself. if the agent of language

is so completely itself that it is impossible for its ultimate meaning to be under-

stood, by the people, if it becomes interior – that is to say,

if it can only be understood by a variation on itself. then.

YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO WASTE GOOD LIQUOR…NOT ON YOUR SALARY

NOT ON AN ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR’S SALARY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 


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