When You Rape, Beat, Maim, Mutilate, Burn,

The World Has Done That Already - Possessed The Congo And Pillaged Her And Dominated Her And Robbed Her Of Agency And Occupation. Love Is Something Else, Something Rising And Contagious And Surprising. It Isn't Aware Of Itself. It Isn't Keeping Track. It Isn't Something You Sign For. It's Endless And Generous And Enveloping. It's In The Drums, In The Voices, In The Bodies Of The Wounded Made Suddenly Whole, By The Music, By Each Other, Dancing.

I Think That's Part Of The Whole Denial And Suicidal Mechanism [ Of The Human's Race] Right "oh My God, The House Is On Fire." You Sleep Through The Smoke.

When I Was Younger I Was Much More Polemical And Didactic, Much Less Trusting. Inherently My Own Vision Of The World Would Weave Its Way Through The Characters. Also, My Concerns Are Changing. What Happens Is You Write A Few Plays And Get Boxed Into Some Idea Of What Your Concerns Are And What You're Supposed To Be Writing About.

If You Listen To The Real In You, That Part That's Pulsing And Has Questions And Is Trying To Figure Something Out, It Will Shape Your Life In A Way Where, When You Get To Be Sixty, You'll Succeed. You'll Be Happy About Your Life.

The Verb That's Been Enforced On Girls Is To Please. Girls Are Trained To Please...i Want Us All To Change The Verb. I Want The Verb To Be Educate, Or Activate, Or Engage, Or Confront, Or Defy, Or Create.