Global Warming is Bullshit (it�s a small non-linear world after all)

So I am back in the NYCizzle, much to my chagrin. Supposed to be rolling heavy in Cali, as I have many a ho in plenty an area co’. But I’m slated to go back to the Yard to direct Rapp Star’s FINER NOBLE GASSES. The author lives around the corner on East 10th as does JackDaniels™ . . . along with JoAnne Akabooboo just north of the park . . . I wonder who’s house sitting for her this year while she is up in Nova Scotia? If her dining room table could talk, then please Lord forgive a half-breed for livin’. Adam is in Scotland with his production of FNG along with Jack™ who is working for some barrister. And I am HERE . . . ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!

I am back in New York. I was at the University of Santa Barbara Summer Theater Laboratory (UCSB STL). That’s where Ivan’s 3 Big Regrets From Last Night came from . . . duh. Wish Lauren P & Chris P could post their bruises.

I think the day that Campo Santo did their initial presentation followed by a blessing and some curses by way of Twinkies from Luis Alfaro, was the day we all realized we weren’t doing enough as artists or as human beings. I mean, come on . . . war is raging and how many of us know why? We are frying in our on trans-saturated fat and we’re not even cultured enough to get the irony of fossil fuel war against the backdrop of a moth-eaten ozone. We are too busy chillin’ in the Spiegeltent watching some Teutonic hottie pull handkerchiefs out of her twat.

I liked that girl. Her guitar thing was kind of JV but the whole evening was the best of PoMo vaudeville . . . Jim Rose Light . . . right where we belong.

I used to be friends with Hedwig. I remember hanging out with him and some other faggots after his showing at the Public. This was when there was no Angry Inch in his one-man show. He told me a story of when he used to play poker with his friends. They had a deck of cards filled with naked dudes. It was a cheesy porn thing from the 70’s . . . Yo mama probably picked up a pack just like it in Atlantic City when you were conceived by accident after she won 50 bucks in the dime slots . . . . Anyway, there were like maybe three or four John-Holmes-motherfuckers in the deck and the rest were all brothers. So sometimes the dealer would say, “OK . . . Jew Fros are Wild,” because there are like two dudes in the deal who rocked said-do. I was reminded of this story when I saw Tommy Kriegsman at Spiegeltent not because he is endowed like John Holmes but because I think the last time I saw him was in the 1970’s.

Long story short . . . I was almost evicted because X-tina’s mother complained of people yelling and screaming “Do you like that . . . you dirty whore. Do you like it? I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna KILL YOU with my COCK!” So I moved the bookshelf against the wall and the bed to the opposite side of the room, in the hopes of protecting X-tina’s recently devirginized ears. I then carted the eviction letter to the Performance Garage. Scott, awash in sweat, emerged from Badminton practice for their adaptation of PHAEDRA. Scott then told me had broken up with his paramour. Ugh . . . sometime I’d like to write about how I saw the avant-garde die in the middle of TO YOU THE BIRDY.

Scott is going to meet Aaron Landsman in Minneapolis to see the enemy’s production. According to Jason Zinnoman of the NYT’s, “’Gatz’ will have its American premiere at the Walker Arts Center in Minnesota on Sept. 21, less than two weeks after ‘The Great Gatsby’ closes at the Guthrie.”

I just saw Mr. Landsman at UCSB with his equally lovely & talented hoochie-mama Johanna Meyer. Check out Aaron’s righteous site . . .

I am a really fun drunk. I like to fall down and bleed and laugh. The thing is that I am very ornery afterwards. So forgive me if my comments are a bit caustic. My bitchy attitude might also have to do with the fact that I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! I had to come back early for blah blah blah . . .

So I missed David Adjmi’s reading of MARIE ANTOINETTE, which was apparently a scaring condemnation on us here in the US. “The revolution is a coming and get ready to put ur head on the block,” to quote Hanky Panky aka DJ Porkmuscle J. Humfat. (Send me that new mix-tape dIZog)

Kristin Newbom’s TELETHON is also the greatest play you will never see unless it has some faux scandal a la BLASTED or RACHEL CORRIE. Funny enough, I have been trying to die for the last year (or at least commit career suicide by way of this dum BLOG) but alas directors don’t get famous after they die. For example, do you know who directed the original production of WIT? Does Emma Thompson? Do you care???

Being the Dominique Dunne of Dirtball Theater, I saw numerous vets under the tent. The recently married Juliana Francis for one. Kate Valk for two. Plus Scott Shepherd for three & four as he simultaneously a Wooster Groupie and a founding member of ERS. Scott had just gotten back from Barssahlona where he was doing a very piecemeal HAMLET. Now he is on his way to Minneapolis to see THE GREAT GATSBY at the Guthrie. This adaptation superseded his own; at least in terms of legality. I received several emails from Mr. Shepherd this past year, informing that hope was not dead, and to fight the good fight ‘cuz Elevator Repair Service’s adaptation of Gatsby was indeed da bomb.

Did I mention that my sister is moving out? Her name is Christina. When I used to live in a studio two blocks south of where I am now I had a next door neighbor named Christina. The latter Christina, or the X-tina from back in the DizAY, was fifteen years old. At this time, Scott was just starting to break ground at the Performance Garage. He was still designing websites for big bucks. He could afford to sublet my apartment while I developed dipsomania in Minneapolis . . . at the Guthrie of all places. (Stop the world, I’m gonna puke.) Scott is . . . how shall we say this . . a dirty birdie. I found a sex guide to NYC as well as a pair of satin pink furry pumps in my closet when I returned from Minneapolis. Scott was my sub-letter and I was going to move in with my girlfriend at the time . . .

. . . but I got high.

I am working on a screenplay called CHRISTINA.
Kristina is the name of a very talented undergrad playwright in Cali with the boomin’ system.
Cristina Sisson is my stagemanager at the Yard.
Now you know why I am nonlinear and so am I.

Upon returning from the Spielgeltent I shaved my flava sava ‘cuz I saw that Mr. Roboto had one. I’m sorry homie . . . I have to draw the line somewhere.

Les Waters is my new favorite drunk Limey. 😉

I just got a notice in the mail saying my tax refund was garnished $273.37 for an unpaid Transit Violation. I haven’t jumped a turnstile (& gotten caught) since Hotwell convinced me to double up when she forgot her card. But I paid that shit. I called to find out what particular crime they were referring to . . . Apparently, in 1996 I received a a $100.00 summons for “committing harmful acts.” Never paid it. It collected interest. OK. You got me. I give up.

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