November 25, 1990 There's a flow, a rhythm, a seemingly empty form; the discourse could end up addressing any topic, image, or idea. This indifference makes me suspicious. I suspect there are all kinds of things—too many—lurking behind the apparent emptiness. I've never found

Minus Theatre at AUT was all about the encounter. It went from Deleuze to Lingis: in the first is the shock of the encounter which breaks us out of habit, the event; in the second is the imperative of acknowledging the elements supporting us presupposed by the encounter. They are,

I picked up God and Sex, a novel by Jon Raymond. The first lines say that for a reader a book, although zigzagging down the page, presents a straight line from end to end, but that for a writer it is a sphere. Although infinitely correctable it comes to its

* In theatre we do the opposite of how emotions are formed: we embody emotions * Emotions form by the association of physical, social or cultural—including aesthetic and intellectual—actions with the feelings that we have words for, like pain, happiness, nostalgia, grief, anger, love and hate. Bergson says (again with

Chenby and I when we went upstairs to the auditorium at the Ellen Melville Centre where we conduct the workshops were met by Potato and Cindy as last week, now joined by Nancy, Jung a third, whose name escapes me, the ladies from the Chinese Dance Group which uses the

As you can see from the title, where I intended to report on workshop 2, sorting out some problems of the imagination in relation to perception, I ended up writing something quite different. Two things, actually, one leading into the other, and the second coming back around into the first: