When Bad Taste Has Rhythm
A reference can expire. The rhythm underneath it—and the nerve that put it there—may survive.

THE NOTEBOOK
Where rehearsal keeps going.
The Notebook is where I follow the discoveries that arrive after the first draft—sometimes in the room, sometimes in conversation, and sometimes years after a production has closed.
A room. A line of dialogue. A whiteboard. A Post-it note. A box someone forgot to throw away. Small things have a habit of opening larger questions about playwriting, performance, memory, institutions, comedy, and the often invisible structures that shape how people think, speak, and behave.
No Notebook entry tries to explain a play completely. Theatre has always been a collaboration, and that collaboration doesn’t end on opening night. It continues in rehearsal, in conversation, and in the moments when a play becomes larger than the script that started it.
The best plans are temporary hypotheses.
FEATURED
A reference can expire. The rhythm underneath it—and the nerve that put it there—may survive.

Bert counted every three lines. I counted across three acts. For thirty years, both clocks ran at once.
One kind of creative trust was discovered. The other was constructed.
Some conversations begin with a play.
Others begin here.