She has punk politics — a sustained commitment to rage, which she believes is leached out of women too early and too easily. They’re schooled in docility (a favorite word of hers): “Hiding our feelings . . . and not listening to yourself. Not listening to what is wrong for you and smiling when you’re just destroyed inside.” … Rage, for Despentes, is an antidote to complacency and despair. “Anger is not depression,” she has said in interviews. “Anger is working with desire and humor. Anger is destructive, but very active.”
- Parul Sehgal, “French Feminist Pulp That Spares No Pain”
Thinking about this as we prepare to go into rehearsals at Woolly Mammoth for Collective Rage: A Play in Five Boops.
Berkshire Mountain Pottery, by Anne W. Hogeland. New rule of thumb – even when you’re on an urgent quest for coffee, stop and talk to potters.
Strange discoveries happen when you go to your parents’ house and throw out 5 billion boxfuls of things from high school and college. For example, this appears to be what I worked on from ages 13-17 instead of taking notes in class: Also YES I DID spend my 15th year of life copying Sylvia Plath poems into a black notebook WITH A GEL PEN but you are not getting pictures of that.
The last time I was living in this exact building, on this exact floor, in the room across the hall from this room, I wrote The Moors. Consequently, my memory of this particular location is shrouded in a fog of sleeplessness and confusion.
But…time has passed. I am older and wiser. The questions I pursue are different questions, deepened by age and wisdom. For example: ARE THERE BEARS IN WILLIAMSTOWN? And if so, ARE THEY ALL DIRECTLY BENEATH MY WINDOW?