never young, golden & bulletproof, ever old, deluded & fragile, I contacted WINZ today to hear how my UB application was getting on: UB is allegedly the support mechanism for those enrolled @ PACE, although you can slide in via SB, sickly and not so slickly. Gordon – this was the 0800

To write a letter to performing artists? to the performing arts community? sector? to theatre practitioners? to theatre workers? poets, makers & workers? (wouldn’t wankers be next in the series?) to whom it may concern … ? interested parties? partisans? compagneros? erroristas? (see <<empyre>> discussion for this

– image courtesy OMA What theatre practitioner, performing artist, thesb, with a room or without one, a broom, or without, would not be excited by Rem Koolhaas’s re-imagination of the bricks-&-mortar playhouse he or she would claim to be more familiar with, would, indeed, claim to have a

I am at last, after a month of the usual humiliations and frustrations, having kissed the hoops and leapt the hems at Work and Income New Zealand, moving forward on distinct and obscure pathways to arts and cultural employment. So Lynn tells me, at The Depot Artspace [see link, left]

The breast-feeding child, in Melanie Klein’s ‘theatre of terror’ (as Gilles Deleuze calls it, with relish), sets up a literal feedback loop with the mother. Rending the maternal body into fragments, the suckling infant consumes and introjects these morsels, investing them with an infantile but, for that, nonetheless sadistic

We are all unwell, if it comes to that, … for if some Plague were to take us all, why, these little spectra would still crawl about the room until the End of Days, neither knowing nor caring whether living hands were held up to catch them. Our flesh stops the