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if the new theatre is not organized in this way, the end result must be greed & fear; egos at stake, material needs pressing, the actors as dependent as retarded children on the managers of the operation, and all aims eventually to please these with the gold.

in los angeles (and that's where i am when i write this) there are many wise men sitting around ungracefully doing nothing because the air is (also) polluted with desperation, a heavy feeling of separateness and creative starvation. but we all return, those of us who do. why?? many were raised here & have root of a sort, or like the space & warmth, or feel a call. to what?

all the canyons & hills are crowded with busy elves, and when an underground event such as The Pleasure Faire transpires, the place is suddenly teeming with artists & fortune tellers & bright faces that have long ago heard the word but have chosen to stay hidden.

and these people prove to be the strongest of all, no reomance goes with their dream as in san fransisco. no drugged bewitchment as in new york. merely lonely struggles that have caused a certain individual hipness to develop. and after all, isn't it all the same? most of us have lived many places (many lives), and find that for one reason or another we are where we are.

but there must be ritual. there must be simple form and simple faith and simple nee to give. even in the midst of an outrageous poverty of artistic ambition, of assistance or acceptance or recognition...

then, we transmit the word, which is drama, which is, after all, what it's all about. why not an attempt at the highest form, the purest sound, the most complete surrender?

we mall get well if we do.

2/17/67 i.r.t.

Transcription Notes:
Well if is spelled wrong. In is has no uppercase I. Why is not uppercase.