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Monday, October 11, 2004


written during the last show of "pppeeeaaaccceee"

outside TPM 1
Originally uploaded by trevorsc.

In the dark. I write. I wait for a call to act. I anticipate pulling a rope, hitting a button. But mostly I wait in the dark for a cue. That is what I am being paid to do. Right now, anyway.

I am not alone. Millions of people work in the dark. The dark of basement corners where the heavy equipment is maintained. The dark of nighttime streets where the cleaners pass. The dark of lots and empty hallways as the watchmen patrol. The mine. The lightless subway tunnels. The darkrooms.

And the theatre. Which is a little bit in everywhere anyway, as every place is a place of drama, and every person a chameleon. Only here – here we do it with a tighter focus. And it must also be said: we do it for money.

That is an honest definition of theatre: we behave, but carefully: with more attention to the moment and its impact upon those who see it. We do, but do with a different intensity. We live, intentionally, in public places for money. Whether we live out fictions or true stories matters less than that we live honestly, enacting pieces of lives that have wholenesses not necessarily seen immediately. And that we get paid for the work. Effectively, for the focus.

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