i know a man who is performing the world’s worst emotional striptease. what is revealed and what is hidden are the same, over and over again. he tells a story and it goes like this: “i am fucked up, but i won’t tell you why. i’m a head case. no-one is allowed to know me. i’m really fucked up. i don’t tell anyone why.” it is a boring story, but it works. reveal. conceal. reveal. conceal. it held my attention for a while. i still want to know what is under those clothes, even though i know it is no different from what is under anyone else’s.
