Mirrors And Images. Or Sex And Love.

One Connection I See Between Novelists And Terrorists Is That We Both Attempt To Alter Consciousness.

[i]n The American Soul There Is A Lonely Individual Standing In A Vast Landscape. 
he Is Either On A Horse Or Driving A Car, Depending, And Either Way He’s Carrying A Gun. 
this Is One Of The Essential Images In American Mythology.

How Strange It Is. We Have These Deep Terrible Lingering Fears About Ourselves And The People We Love. Yet We Walk Around, Talk To People, Eat And Drink. We Manage To Function. The Feelings Are Deep And Real. Shouldn't They Paralyze Us? How Is It We Can Survive Them, At Least For A Little While? We Drive A Car, We Teach A Class. How Is It No One Sees How Deeply Afraid We Were, Last Night, This Morning? Is It Something We All Hide From Each Other, By Mutual Consent? Or Do We Share The Same Secret Without Knowing It? Wear The Same Disguise?

The Excitement Of Theatre Is Palpable But The Frustrations, And The Complete Absence Of A Definitive Evening - The Play As Text Means Practically Nothing In A Way - , There's No Particular Performance That Is Definitive In The Way A Novel Is A Solid Object You Hold In Your Hands And Here It Is. You Can't Say That About A Play. If The Novel Gives Us A Sense Of Throbbing Consciousness, Theater Is Pure Soul, Beautiful And Elusive.

...because What's The Meaning Of Doing Dishes If You're Not Driven By Something Beyond Necessity.