TK's Blog

I lent my copy of Sarah Kane's complete plays to a friend. He messaged me:

Just finished blasted holy fuck.

Yes, I thought. Yes, exactly. But it made me realise that I haven't touched her work in a while, and it hasn't touched me. You'll forgive me, Kane is an electric fence- one must be a masochist to enjoy what she does and there's always a slight hesitation.

I turned down the lights, I drank dark rum, ate chocolate, and I read Blasted and Cleansed. I'm pretty sure I died about three times before she had finished with me, and I went to sleep feeling halfway between shell-shocked and post-orgasmic.

And yeah. Holy fuck.