I’m dreaming of a theatre. Another one. This one’s doing Howard Barker’s The Last Supper, so it’s called Theatre for Breakfast. But it could equally be called, as Barker called his own theatre, ‘theatre of infection.’ I have been writing that there’s only one thing

On day 33  why is religion the thought that corresponds to the preceding virtues of good wine & food, good politics & sex, good art & conversation? Why is it not philosophy? When it is a matter of thought. Because it is a question of practice. Is philosophy not a

Who wins from the complete re-orientation to data as standard of value for the global economy? who, in the completion of this process I wrote about in the previous post? As is perfectly expectable but quite unbelievable for a philosopher not a pulp fiction writer–but perhaps he himself

I cannot reconstruct how I have got here, but I can tell you where I have got. You are probably not interested–who is? who has the time to be?–in the journey anyway. The conclusion will be bare. Just a bare line hanging without the scaffold of support. What

a propitious day to state the sabbatical principle, of one in seven is our rest taken, one day in seven, one year in seven work is the saddest passion it will never be done and rest relief on the seventh according to the seven virtues: good wine good food good

I didn’t tell anyone, how could I? But there were times at the beginning of this enigmatic time, which has only slowly begun turning its face towards us, when I thought I cannot bear to be part of a world where governments do not claim the political prerogative of