THE SAME. ANOTHER ROOM

6 9 R T H E S A M E . A N O T H E R R O O M M A R Y J O B A N G During performances, I was devoted to following the plans of others: the room, the walls, the people listening, the drowning from time to time, whatever. Watching invariably begins with a glimpse of awareness, followed by not knowing what will come after. I sat in a straight-back chair, lead beneath my feet. There was a wide arch to the right. Do you ever think? Yes. No. I don’t not for an instant. I open my eyes, it’s still the present. Enter a Messenger Was this done well? Who’s to say? Make me up like a manikin with a cosmetic palette. Tired now? I know I am. Add a bed, and a sea overtaking a city. 7 0 B A N G Y Now draw something that looks like a blown vent of blood and a pinching sense of regret over some wrong done. ...