I have, indeed, a simple wish for theatre.

I wish that each season, every artistic director would take a deep breath and program at least one play that truly scares the Holy Fucking Shit out of them. Not some “safe” dangerous play that’s a little controversial or has a bit of nudity or a naughty word or two. Something brand new, raw and newly hatched, or seldom produced, obscure and bizarre–something so far out on the edge, so utterly dangerous and subversive and deep into the ozone that they wake up in cold sweats night after night, thinking: This could be it. This one could lose my theatre.

Just one. Even as a late night or a single performance.

Once a year, I want every theatre to sufficiently give a damn to roll the big dice. And, when the lights come up, I want audiences to sit paralyzed in their seats, afraid to move. And I want it to become as much a tradition as Dickens at Christmas. What? You didn’t do a dangerous show this year? What the hell’s wrong with you? Pussy.

Is that really so fucking much to ask?