An active period for Soulographie. The January retreat in Sonoma, the puppet conference at UConn, versions of Thistle and Cordelia going up (and reaching out), another puppet workshop at Brown at the end of the month, a Burnt Umber workshop at New Dramatists in June, Maria Kizito being represented at Centre by Centre in Kigali this summer…


From this morning, writing about a murderer in a play:


A boy wakes up petting a dog, who is night in disguise. He wanders through his empty house but discovers morning in the kitchen. When he is served his pancakes and his hands come over the circles with his utensils, he sees he has become an old man, dead in the grave.


The adventure in his head takes place inside his belly.


Riding a bedbug.

Befriending the leech.

A full grown man, a teacher.

Brain is a wet tree giving out a D.


Fire inside fire;

He was perfect once.

He steps over his own shadow.

Must Thy harvest-fields be dunged with rotten death?

Killing from a failure to die.




In this case, the boy’s roommates remember him putting on his acne medicine early in the morning, like four a.m. – about three hours later he killed many, many people.


Genocidaires are clean people. They like cleanliness. They want o make a good impression. They believe in their own faces.

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