fig. 92) dirt, not soft college boys The stage is very cold, the door outside slaps shut again as a stage hand, with a length of chain and some pliers walks in tighter circles. Carmen's forehead is red, it's like she's been shopping but the kids won't shut up. "The angels don't supplicate themselves and they will not bounce," the vastness of theatre is only alluded to by the extent of its sounds bouncing around in the dark. "Lincoln was shot but no one bounced. Corn has been served and no one bounces. Let's stop being such a dick limpers and just get on with it." "Well, I think the way you sing is nice. Maybe if you put on a bright coat and pin your hair up," no one see's past the front row. All they ever see is feet, his are like dancers up on the top of some knobby gold upholstering. The smell of tobacco here is rank. It's thick as old tar can get. "Others may wade slurries of rape towards an empty box like th...