Notes on two afternoons with the playwright who gave us Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Zoo Story.
My response to sexual abuse and trauma had made people wonder. But the same response in the Ghomeshi complainants made people condemn.
Any provisional understanding of what’s going on in your head is comforting—even if that understanding is a fiction. Rather than therapy, I look to the stars.
How can something as trivial as one’s hygiene rituals have such an impact on how happy or successful others perceive you to be?
Chess devoured my life, until I was sweating in a suit at the Bangkok Chess Tournament feeling myself slip into the void.
Are we in it together if someone refuses the context needed to see this thing changed?
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