If You [c]annot Find Your [h]eart's Desire

Trying Every Day To Tell The Truth Is Hard. There Are Harder Things, Of Course - Arguably, Living With Lies And Meaninglessness, Living In Despair Is Harder, But It's Hardship Disguised As Luxury And Easier Perhaps To Grow Accustomed To, Since Truth Is Usually The Enemy Of Custom. There Are Harder Things Than Writing, Being President Obama, For Instance, And Having To Deal With House Republicans, Or Trying To Fix The Leak At The Fukushima Reactor, These Are Harder, But Writing Is Hard.

And I Don't Consider Broadway The Acropolis Of Theatrical Art. I Mean Broadway Is Commercial - That's What It Is. It's Expensive Seats And A Lot Of Them That Have To Be Filled Every Night. Off-broadway And Off-off Broadway As Far As I'm Concerned Is In New York The Pride Of New York Theater.

We Won't Die Secret Deaths Anymore. The World Only Spins Forward. We Will Be Citizens. The Time Has Come. Bye Now. You Are Fabulous Creatures, Each And Every One. And I Bless You: More Life. The Great Work Begins.

I Don't Think You Have To Earn Your Income As An Artist To Be An Artist. But If You Are An Artist, Then Art Is What You Do, Whether Or Not You're Paid For Doing It; It Is What You Do, Not What You Are. I Regard Artist Not As A Description Of Temperament But As A Category Of Profession, Of Vocation.

I Had A Dream, In 1985, I Believe, When A Friend I'd Gone To School With Was Sick - One Of The First People I Knew Who'd Gotten The Aids Virus. I Had A Dream Of Him In His Bedroom With An Angel Crashing Through The Ceiling. I Wrote A Poem Called 'angels In America.' I've Never Looked At The Poem Since The Day I Wrote It.