They’re not plays I expect anyone to attend. I’m just going to work out these ideas in voids, forever

Every play I work on from here on in will be about the mutations of communication. The simulation holes. I want to climb to the end of the rotting tunnel

I sometimes think of this as the end of communication. Haha I’m sure we’ll transcend it but maybe in like 40 years

Away from the blasted heath of the Meadowlands, where the beast wanders off, alone

“the yogurt”

NJT just told me to go home while it burns this train on a pyre

The general structure of our entire existence is kind of a joke. I love how NJT puts me into the deepest of existential moods

In 100 years whatever life forms will be around then will maybe recount the idea of getting to an island city by trains like these and they’ll wonder…why

Why make a city on an island if you don’t care of figuring out how to make getting to the island better

It looks like a breath mint or a tooth now

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19. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley (1818)
I’d never read it before. This is a book of hope and despair. Ouroboros. Goodness in the world, or ruin? One to feed the other? Also a marker on a road: do not proceed further, turn back. Haunted and full of dread in the end, yet so bright. A riddle. A koan.

19. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley (1818)
I’d never read it before. This is a book of hope and despair. Ouroboros. Goodness in the world, or ruin? One to feed the other? Also a marker on a road: do not proceed further, turn back. Haunted and full of dread in the end, yet so bright. A riddle. A koan.

So many times this week I’ve thrown myself into it to get a fix. Remove stress. Or add stress. Little tornado game

I would say I’ve entered states playing this, the intense relentless style, that I’d call Kirby Air Mania