Best of New York Neo-Futurists 2015

Best of 2015 by the New York Neo-Futurists from Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® Copyright © 2015 the New York Neo-Futurists Each play contained herein is the sole copyright of its author, as indicated after each title.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, digital, electrical, via photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author(s). CAUTION: ALL PERFORMANCES OF THESE PLAYS; BE THEY PROFESSIONAL, AMATEUR, OR ACADEMIC, ARE SUBJECT TO A ROYALTY. They are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, lecture, public reading, radio broadcast, television, video, or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproductions (such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying) and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is laid upon the question of readings, permission for which must be secured from the authors in writing.

Printed in the United States of America Edited by Joe Basile Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® was created by Greg Allen. The format of Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ® and 30 Plays in 60 Minutes ® is used by the New York Neo-Futurists by permission. All inquiries concerning rights to producing work using this or any similar format, as well as any and all of the plays contained herein should be addressed to: Greg Allen, Founding Director of the Neo-Futurists NEOFUT@gmail.com “Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind”‚ and “30 Plays in 60 Minutes” are nationally registered trademarks of Greg Allen, used by permission. The “TMLMTBGB” logo is a registered service mark of Greg Allen, also used by permission. “The NeoFuturists” is a registered trademark of the Neo-Futurists theater company and cannot be used without its express written permission. Any unauthorized use is prohibited by trademark law.

Introduction

By ROB NEILL WAIT. how are you right now? really. now? alright? Alright, let us begin... if you can, at least for reading this introduction, put on this song/video in the background: the stones, time on your side or this one: carla thomas, no time to lose1 or something, and then you can sit or stand or lounge about, and Read--even have your computer, phone, device, good friend, reading for you. out loud. Super!

HERE is a drinksproduction. a drinkerduction. that is to say, during some of the writing of this intro, I was drinking. Bourbon or Wine. (& dictating into my phone, at times) Sometimes that is how I write--how some of us, New York Neo-Futurists, write--some other times, I am on a train, in a café, or standing in the Shower (different environments are inspiring, aren’t they?), but enough about me... you, YOU got/bought this (e)book. thank you! now fucking do what you do with books.

Yup. Go ahead. Me, I know that, that has changed over the years. But written things are written things. Soooo you, you should just be reading like a reader does. To get this (e)book, you had to actually make the effort, so I am guessing you know what you are doing, and even some of how we do what we do.

Hey, side note: we have been doing this for a while and initially we printed out books, these chapbooks, and sold them at shows, on tour, and online, but now we are trying not to kill the trees, or we’re catching up with technologies, or everyone just sing along to some Bee Gees: ‘ah ah ah ah staying alive!’ Parentheses you know what I mean) Period

1 Even have music playing throughout this whole chapbook experience. I would. I personally love music just playing,

playing under things, during things, I do, especially when reading or writing. Recently I have been listening to The Strumbellas, Alabama Shakes, Luscius, and a really fun Russian hip hop playlist.

Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind, right? An ever-changing attempt to

perform 30 plays in 60 minutes. You know that, right? And the writing, on the pages that follow, represents a selection from some of the plays that we premiered in 2015 from many of the Neos who performed in the show that year. [all of us? no, not all, but many.] Perhaps you saw us live on stage. Or perhaps you just have to now picture in your mind how we did them. That is fine too. Or you can reach out to us and ask, we probably will tell you (as long as you are not reading this too far into the future). We wrote over 300 plays in 2015 (to date, over 4000 since 2004—just in the New York company). Wow! That’s fun. I am still wondering at it all, and at other things... some other things I might wonder? over there  How are you now?

Where are you reading this now?

What do you like doing the most?

Think about this. This is very Neo-Futurist. And breathe.

Do you want a drink of some sort?

Are you warm? Cold? Hungry? Just right?

Is there a best way to tie your shoes? Build a website?

Looking for love? Need a good sandwich? A friend? Some cake?

Are you still actually reading this? Thanks, but go on, go read some Neo plays, they are there for you...* -Rob Neill Spring 2016 *Oh, and come to our Neo-Futurist shows (NY, Chicago, SF). The Neos are all over the world these days (as I write this), and hopefully more all over, now when you are reading this.

Race: The Final Frontier Š Š 2015 Yolanda K. Wilkinson All Neos get into position on stage before GO; Yolanda is sitting UR at "Communications", another Neo stands UL at "Tactical", Left of center a neo sits in the "First Officer's" Chair, another Neo sits centerstage in the "Captain's" chair, another neo sits DR at the lip of the stage at "the helm" and a neo sits DL at the lip of the stage at "Navigation". BLACKOUT, (maybe there will be a star constellation lamp that comes on and shines a star map on the ceiling and walls of the theater) Star Trek theme starts at the same time (start at 00:05) lights on stage slowly fade up to full music fades out before 00:29. All neos stare out into the audience.

YOLANDA: (sitting like Uhura) When I was 2 years old, my mother sat me down in front of the tv to share with me something she loved. And I looked in that box and saw space and wonder. "Look at everyone", she said. I looked at the people suspended in time through syndication and was inspired. Every weekday at 6pm for the majority of my childhood I was inspired and raised on cosmic possibilities. "You are a part of the Space generation." My mother said. "By the time you were born we had already been to the moon.

Anything is possible for you. Things will be different for you, better for you.", she said. This show encouraged a nation. It was even watched by a King who demanded that Uhura keep her post at communications where her skin color and gender were never an issue. This show allowed us to be surreptitiously blessed by a Jew every time he raised his hand in greeting (makes Spock sign) while being navigated through the galaxy by a gay man keeping memories of Japanese interment camps from clouding his vision. On this show the cold war was over twenty years before Reagan ever set foot in the White House. (Yolanda gets up and moves to sit in the empty seat beside the captain's chair) By the time I was a teenager, I was inspired again by the Next Generation. (sitting like Troi) This time not only was gender not an issue but women were valued. A chief medical officer, Commanders, Admirals and a woman who read and understood emotions so well that she was the Captains most trusted advisor and saved the Enterprise more than a few times. When I need an escape, I binge on these shows to make me feel better. I know they're just stories but I find hope at the thought of sentient beings simply living to realize their highest potential. No "isms". No "phobias". Just challenges, when conquered advancing all of humanity. I am so ready for us to evolve. It's the 21st Century. There should be shuttles to Saturn approaching the speed of light, universal education, eradication of diseases, the termination of extreme poverty. But no, there is no space program to speak of, rampant illiteracy is back, Scarlet Fever is back, Plutocracy is back, Jim Crow is back. What happened to the future that was supposed to be here waiting for us? Who stole it?

Perhaps we're going to have to fight to get it back. And get it back in our lifetime.

Engage.

CURTAIN

Hearts&Crafts © 2015 Shelton Lindsay Shelton stands on stage, in a blue sequin dress, (it’s fierce,) there is a table in front of him. While he stands he cuts up several images into thin strips and begins to make a collage of a heart, his own heart, he adheres the clippings to a paper plate using double-sided tape. Ultimately when he draws a heart around this, he does so with red lipstick. No music plays, lights are out/dim in the audience and dimmedium on stage.

SHELTON: These are photos of us I have not looked at in months.

We met at burning man, I was pole dancing, dressed as a mermaid, wearing this dress and he was a disco ninja. He came up to me, kissed me once, with out tongue and asked me to go away with him. I said yes.

Two days later, watching a structure called ego flame and burn into the night I asked him to marry me and he said Yes too. It may have been the E talking, but it felt right.

A few years later I found myself drunk on his living room floor while he screamed a litany of abuse at me.

I was not a victim that night, I screamed right back at him too.

At one point he called me a sexist, racist, homophobia, and through my tears I felt something snap. He never hit me, I hit me. I slapped myself over and over and over on the face that night while he stood above me and screamed keep hitting yourself.

In the space of a breath, without thinking whatever amount of self-respect I had left erupted through me.

I slapped him once across the face and we broke up.

Picks up finished heart!

That was nine months ago. This is my heart now. It’s messy and made from the shards of many happy memories, but I like to think of it as messy in an Etsy up-cycled chic sort of way. And best of all I am ready to start sharing my heart again.

Gives it to someone in the audience.

Here would you take this heart. Let it remind you for a moment, or for a day, that you will hurt the ones you love, and you will be hurt by the ones you love, and in a way that s okay, for we are all flawed and broken, we are all fierce and beautiful. And when in doubt, just wear something fabulous.

Applies Lipstick.

CURTAIN

If we let Roland Emmerich direct more ‘historical’ films I imagine they might look like this © 2015 Shelton Lindsay

The play occurs in three spaces. Down stage, stage right we have Loar, at the bar we have Emma & Mirsky and stage left, down stage we have Joey & Katy-May. Emma and Katy-May have mixing bowls which they use throughout. Light look is off in the audience and the three areas are lit at the top of the play. However, once the voice-overs begin talking about a specific person, the other two areas go dark.

VOICE OVER: From the director who brought you Independence Day, Godzilla, and all ready critically ashamed Stonewall, comes three true stories of histories greatest hero’s like you have never seen before.

Christopher Loar stands stage right, and moves his mouth like he’s speaking and gesticulates wildly: VOICE OVER: The tale of one white man’s struggle for equality in a world of injustice.

CHRISTOPHER: I say to you today, my friends that I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all MEN are created equal.”

Lights down. Lights up at the bar, Emma has a bowl and a whisk and is busily mixing air, while Mirsky pours blue liquid from one vile to another. They speak in terrible French accents.

VOICE OVER: tales that bring the mysteries and magic of scientific pursuit to life.

EMMA: Oh Mr. Currie what are you doing?

MIRSKY: Hush Woman, I’m doing SCIENCE! Lights cut and return to stage left Katy-May and Joey are on stage. Joey is sitting at a table writing, and Katy-May has a kitchen bowl and a whisk, there is nothing in the bowl but she’s happily whisking away.

VOICE OVER: tales of love and romance Joey and Katy-May speak in English accents, its probably better if they are terrible.

JOEY: Jane Dahhhhling I have a preposterous idea about my latest novel, I shall publish it in your name!

KATY-MAY: But john No one will believe a woman could write a character as com com CONNOR: Complex?

KATY-MAY: Yes as complex as Elizabeth Bennet.

VOICE OVER: Starring this white guy, (Lights up on Loar) and this white guy, (Lights up on Mirsky) and this white guy (Lights up on Joey) Coming soon to ruin a history you hold dear.

CURTAIN

nighttxtstopwatch Š 2015 Rob Neill Kirsten & Rob sit on high stools or blocks, at an angle a little right and down from center stage. Kurt stands at a microphone on mic stand upstage right; he makes a quick rhythmic watch like ticking sound [approx.

180 bpm], which he maintains throughout the play, except when noted. Lily stands upstage left, for much of the play she is reading off (of her phone) texts last night from the textsfromlastnight site—they should be from a nearby area code: http://textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-312.html Once Kurt is making rhythmic ticking sounds, Rob & Kirsten say the text to that rhythm. The slight pauses, are almost equal to a breath, before Rob or Kirsten starts the next line to the rhythm.

LILY: Anonymous texts from the other night... [she begins reading texts; when Rob & Kirsten are talking, she will drop in volume a touch so what they are saying is highlighted] ROB: Night [Kurt starts up ticking rhythm] KIRSTEN: at night, ROB: nights like this all the screen lights flicker brightly in the islands of our home And some lovers hold each other [slight pause] KIRSTEN: hold each other tightly, unlike others [slight pause] ROB: And time keeps on creeping creeping lonely through the streets And everything is fancier than air [slight pause] But everybody breathes who needs to, mostly [slight pause] KIRSTEN: And mostly is all right for nearly all [slight pause] ROB & KIRSTEN: And if all this truth be told, then we told you what we knew ROB: And all we knew was very very very small [slight pause] KIRSTEN: And Stop [Kurt stops ticking rhythm] ROB: Stop Lily finishes reading a text then...

KIRSTEN: This ROB: And yes this [Kurt starts ticking rhythm back up] KIRSTEN: This warm water makes us human and gold rhythms make us rich And rivers take the righteous and the distance to the ditch is not that far [slight pause] And if ever in the scheme of contact trust is on the block ROB: And the clicking fills your head full And some nagging crams your whole skull And the last text was a handful, hurtful, hateful, misspelled, miss-sent, missed, KIRSTEN: Then call beauty beat the door down ROB & KIRSTEN: Then call beauty beat the door down KIRSTEN: Then call splendor beat the door down ROB: Then faith beat the door down KIRSTEN: Then text your best friend beat. the. door. down.

ROB & KIRSTEN: beat the door down ROB & KIRSTEN: beat the door down ROB & KIRSTEN: beat the door down ROB & KIRSTEN: turn that phone off, really [Kurt begins slowing ticking rhythm to a stop] ROB: and rest ROB & KIRSTEN: and KIRSTEN: breathe, and ROB: wait, one last text...

Lily finishes reading a final text followed quickly by...

Curtain Note: This play was original performed in Chicago before we did it in NYC!

One version of The Man and The Mountain © 2015 Rob Neill There is a table with various seats downstage, ideally closer to the audience and not center. At ‘Go’ all Neos sit around or stand around the table and at least four Neos play cards, Kings Corners. They can drink, eat, whatever they want to be doing while playing the game, just sitting there, hanging out, if there is talking it is about the game, at volume that does not overwhelm the tale of the man and mountain, while one of the Neos, whomever is up for it really, let’s say Rob, tells the following story, mostly to the audience, all while the playing continues. Rob could start in the game and hand off his cards to another Neo. Maybe there is some kibitzing while...

ROB: Does it matter? It’s not flashy... [one of the other Neos shrugs]. Hm. There once was this man who trusted his eyes a little less each day, maybe you know someone like him. And he certainly did not rely on his memory. Right? One morning, this man, a self-styled man of the world, walked out, and discovered a tiny mountain in his yard. He did not think that odd, though it was the tiniest mountain he’d ever seen. An actual mountain, sitting near the center of his recently mowed lawn. He walked up to it, barefoot. He was happy for the softness of the grass. He crouched over the mountain marveling at its tiny ridges and tiny trees. Was that a tiny cave ¾ of the way up? Yes, yes it was. After some time inspecting, he stepped away, backing near the edge of the yard, taking in the mountain from distances.

There was a mountain, a tiny mountain, in his yard. So many questions. The man circumnavigated the grassy area a couple times and concluded to go back inside his house, with the mountain. So he picked it up, picked it up carefully, with two hands; it was lighter than expected; still this tiny mountain, now in his hands, had a dense weight to it. He thought about putting it in the pocket of his poncho (he was wearing a poncho) but he thought better of that, as carrying the tiny mountain in a pocket, well, that may break off, damage, the delicate parts of the tiny mountain. He walked back to his porch, pausing at the empty rocking chair, with a “hm”. Once inside, he placed the mountain on the Shelf of Little Things, next to a misty black orb and the pocket-sized rainbow of feathers. He peered back out, saw no one, just a slight depression where the mountain had been on the grass. All else was summer still. The rest of the morning he spent looking for the Tiger & Lily cigar box his grandmother had given him. There were several unique things in it, and this capturing the tiny mountain had reminded him of something, something relevant. He remembered... [this growing list is possibly added to briefly each show from the previous show, see below] he... wait, what did he remember? What do you think he remembered?

Audience member answers, perhaps. Neos take in Rob and the audience, maybe a final card. One other Neo writes down one thing said and repeats it. Rob repeats it. Note: in it's original run, the audience responses were: nothing, grandma, chocolate, curiosity, grandmother, no idea, the mountain.

Curtain

the 12th 1/2 life of Daniel Mirsky © 2015 Daniel Mirsky

MIRSKY sits at the top of the roller coaster between two audience members. He asks the audience member in the middle of the row of 3 to give up their seat and sit on the bench above for the duration of this play. He speaks into a microphone. Stage lights out. House slowly dims. SQ: white noise.

MIRSKY: I get emotional on planes.

Maybe it’s just the altitude. Chances are it’s the solitude.

I’ve done a lot of flying lately. More flying than I’ve done in a very long time. 12 flights in 3 weeks. My ears are still plugged. I’ve gotten used to it.

Neo crosses from stage along the aisle and hands MIRSKY a clear plastic cup with a small amount of whiskey in it.

I get emotional on planes. The caring Hindi woman sitting next to me asked me what was wrong when she looked over at me.

And through a face full of confused tears I told her the truth, it’s a really good movie.

I was watching Whiplash at the time. But the same would have been true earlier during The Lego Movie, and before that during The Giver, which was, overall, not good.

Neo walks the aisle again, handing MIRSKY another glass of whiskey.

I read a beautiful book. A really amazing book about the most epic adventure of a bear who was blue. The imaginative wonder of which seeped up to my mind’s eye and there beckoned me to jump down from the clouds I sored above.

Maybe it was just the whiskey. Maybe it was no WiFi. But chances are it might have just been a true reaffirmation of my own mortality. My fate, out of my control. My past, my debt. My future, becoming my past. Myself, surrounded by many, completely alone.

Moving faster and faster, alone. And why am I the only one? Am I? This woman to my right doesn’t give a fuck. And this guy over here, this guy is just sitting there. He’s just sitting there. -We’re all just sitting here. Why are we all just sitting here. Where are we going?

Neo walks the aisle again, handing MIRSKY another glass of whiskey.

I get emotional on planes.

Also, in theaters.

And in restaurants. And bars.

Sometimes right in the street, standing on the sidewalk, looking you in the eye.

CURTAIN

Finding Love in Outer Space: Step one (what love is) © © 2015 Daniel Mirsky

Blackout at GO. SQ at GO. Center spinny doors open. Rob & Cecil help roll out the cloud. Joey positions and turns on fan-cloud.

Mirsky in space helmet enters from fog & light filled back of house (back of the stairs), as Nicole shines light-gun on Mirsky. Nicole sits at the lip of the stage at the bottom of the aisle.

Mirsky slowly crosses down the aisle to the stage. Nicole puts light-gun down on the ground still on and shooting up the aisle, once Mirsky is on stage.

Mirsky cross up-right and exits. Mirsky then re-enters into the cloud from the back with color-changing lamp ready, and waits for his cue.

Cara awaits backstage right wearing space helmet.

SQ: “Ladies and Gentlemen we are floating in space.” Introduces the play.

Mirsky slowly enters from the top of the house and crosses toward the stage doing the “space-walk.”

ASTRO: Mirsky, What is love? beep.

BASE: Love is a feeling, Mirsky.

ASTRO: Roger that Mirsky, Love is a feeling. Where can I find it?

BASE: Love is a feeling found on earth Some would say it is bound to the earth by our atmosphere.

ASTRO: Is it?

BASE: No. They’re wrong.

Love is bound to the earth, but it's kept there the same way we are, by gravity.

ASTRO: Gravity?

BASE: Yes, it seems love is but a byproduct of gravity. And anything that has mass, like us, is ruled both by gravity, and love.

Mirsky is now about halfway across the stage and exiting up right. The fan-cloud ought to be fully inflated by now.

BASE: When in outer space, you might find it difficult to even know where to begin to look for love.

ASTRO: Yep, It's dark. Very dark.

And there's really nothing happening.

Just a bunch of nothing. I don’t see it.

BASE: Here's a tip: look for something. Anything. Anything that isnt nothing. You wont find any love in nothing.

For obvious reasons, Stay away from black holes.

Mirsky is now inside of the cloud, and he turns on the color-lamp and shines about the space.

But don't be too quick to disregard anything just because it's gravitational pull isn't strong enough.

Even if it's just a speck of dust.

That's how most everything starts off. There's a lot of dust in space.

There are great giant clouds of dust. Larger than the whole earth. Bigger than our sun. There are clouds of dust that dwarf our entire solar system. Bright and beautiful glowing pillows, full of love.

Mirsky now places the lamp to shine upstage, illuminating himself within the cloud.

Cara enters from up-right and does the slow “space-walk” up thru the aisle to the back of the house—it should take a while.

They are so massive, the love you'll find in them will be more than you can handle, and you might just explode. The majestic towering object you approached before is now a blinding and suffocating endless ocean once you find yourself lost within it.

Mirsky repositions the color-lamp inside so that he is backlit. Then, Mirsky slowly crosses to the downstage end of the cloud, takes off his helmet, and reaches forward until his hand touches the enveloping plastic.

You'll never find your way out.

And even if you could, it will take you several lifetimes to be free from its pull.

There's just too much love to escape from.

Here's a tip: start by looking for something as small as you.

CURTAIN QUICK STRIKE: Nicole, Borg, Rob, or Cecil immediately jump for the next number, while (and/or) they all push the cloud into the dressing room. Joey removes the fan so that Mirsky can jump out of the rear of the cloud as the rest are compressing the front. Mirsky & Joey pull the rest of the cloud into the dressing room. Meanwhile, Cara & Borg have already begun to set up the next play, or the show is over.

Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer © 2015 Meg Bashwiner MEG stands center stage she holds a plate of cookies.

MEG: I am now the owner of a red Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer. So I guess I can just give up now. I got it as an engagement present. That really is the only reason to get engaged, to get a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer.

For some, It is the brass ring of the modern womanhood. It was a gift from my mother. She’s concerned i’m not going to have enough chairs at my wedding. [whispered] I want to elope. My Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer is red. That says something about you, the color of your Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer. [to an audience member] Excuse me? You look like an adult woman, What color is your stand mixer? [immediately after their response whatever it may be] Oh ok.

I asked my fiancé to marry me. I asked “do I get to be your wife” and he said yes. I asked him because I was afraid of what would happen if he died and I wasn’t his wife, or what would happen if I died. I want to take responsibility for him. I want to love him for the rest of my life. I want the pasta maker attachment.

A few months back I was walking home over the Williamsburg bridge and it was after midnight. I saw a hasidic woman with a double stroller running as fast a she could up the ramp towards the Manhattan side.

What was she doing out so late? Why was she running so fast? Exercise? Maybe. Running to something?

Maybe. Running away from something? [beat] Maybe. She had small children. She looked afraid and wild . She was younger than me. I wanted to help her. But i did nothing. I walked home a free woman. I think about her more than i should.

These two stories are unrelated. I made these cookies in my red Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer. I don’t really bake very often. Would you like one?

She offers cookies to the women in the audience.

CURTAIN

I’m not your © © 2015 Meg Bashwiner Katy May, Nessa, Nicole and Meg stand in a line facing downstage, there is a podium set to the left of them with a dingy bell on it, it is within reach of Meg. They begin keeping a beat by slapping their thighs. For each section they get louder. They should be at full voice by the end. This play can also be performed by just 3 or even 2 women.

KATY-MAY: I’m not your mother clap NESSA: I’m not your sister clap NICOLE: I’m not your daughter clap MEG: I’m not your wife clap KATY-MAY: I’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not NESSA: not your NICOLE: not your MEG: not your KATY-MAY: mother MEG dings bell NESSA: sister MEG dings bell NICOLE: daughter MEG dings bell MEG: wife MEG dings bell KATY-MAY: [whispered] I’m not your mother clap NESSA: [whispered] I’m not your sister clap NICOLE: [whispered] I’m not your daughter clap MEG: [whispered] I’m not your wife clap KATY-MAY: [whispered] I’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not NESSA: not your NICOLE: not your MEG: not your KATY-MAY: mother MEG dings bell NESSA: sister MEG dings bell NICOLE: daughter MEG dings bell MEG: wife MEG dings bell

KATY-MAY: [shouted] I’m not your mother clap NESSA: [shouted] I’m not your sister clap NICOLE: [shouted] I’m not your daughter clap MEG: [shouted] I’m not your wife clap KATY-MAY: no [drops to knees] NESSA: no [drops to knees] NICOLE: no [drops to knees] MEG: no [drops to knees] All pound the floor of 4 beats ALL: I’m not your mother [pound the floor] not your sister [pound the floor] not your daughter [pound the floor] not your wife [pound the floor] They continue to pound the floor KATY-MAY: I’m NESSA: I’m NICOLE: I’m MEG: I’m All pound floor for 4 beats.

They stop.

ALL: YOU

CURTAIN

If this play did not exist © © 2015 Dan McCoy Neos populate the aisle. They move freely up and down and back and forth in the aisle in a grid. At the points where a stomp is indicated, they stop momentarily to do so.

DAN: If this play did not exist, there would be another one in its place KYRA: If this play did not exist, we would not be NESSA: Here MEG: Right SHELTON: Now DAN: We’d be doing something else, somewhere else, instead KYRA: But we are here, and so is this play NESSA: So there All stomp together.

MEG: If this world did not exist, there might be another one in its place SHELTON: If this world did not exist, there might be another world DAN: Here KYRA: Right NESSA: Now MEG: Maybe better, maybe worse, who knows?

SHELTON: But for now, we’re stuck here, in this world, in this play DAN: So there All stomp together. Dan stops and remains still while other Neos continue moving around him, now at half speed.

DAN: If I did not exist, I would not have seen you pacing the subway platform, crying and growling in frustration, shaking your phone like a dying flashlight, walking halfway up the stairs, then back down again, fighting your sobs as strangers snuck glances at you while trying to avoiding eye contact, helpless, heartbroken maybe, alone in your sadness and anger, surrounded by witnesses as you crumbled, the pitch of your cries blending in with the breaks of the approaching train.

All stomp together. Neos resume moving at original speed.

DAN: If this world did not exist, neither would you KYRA: If you did not exist, neither would this play NESSA: But if this play did not exist, you still would MEG: Of course you would SHELTON: Of course you would DAN: So there All stomp together, and stop.

DAN: And I’d trade this play for the real you any day

CURTAIN

Bleecker Street Identity Confessional #1 © © 2015 Dan McCoy Dan stands center stage. A gaggle of Neos are behind him with various buckets and instruments (triangle, tambourine, wood blocks). “Bump” indicates an isolated slap of percussion.

At GO: instruments on a 4/4 rhythm.

DAN: I was strolling down Bleecker Street, on my way to whatever, when a car full of assholes rolled by and a woman’s voice yelled CARA: Fag! 4/4 rhythm stops.

DAN: I looked left [bump] I looked right [bump bump], I saw no one else [bump-ba-bump] who might have fit the profile.

NEOS: [sound of car going by] Eeeeerrrr.

DAN: Conclusion: she meant me. [triangle ding] I made two reflexive assumptions in that moment: One, [bump] that the car was full of assholes. And two, [bump bump] that it was a woman who yelled CARA: “Fag!” DAN: as they sped by. In truth [bump ba-bump] I didn’t know either of those things. One, [bump] how do I know the yeller wasn’t the only asshole in that car and that her friends didn’t immediately chastise her for her slur? And two, [bump bump] how do I know it was a woman who yelled? Maybe that’s not how the yeller identifies. I mean, who am I to make that assumption? Clearly, [bump-ba-bump] I have work to do.

NEOS: [sound of car going by] Eeeeerrrr.

4/4 rhythm resumes.

DAN: But let’s get back to that moment on Bleecker Street, when a car rolled by and a voice yelled…

CARA: “Fag!” DAN: …out the window. Right then and there I felt something I probably shouldn’t have, given the moment of quotidian oppression: I felt pride.

Triangle ding. 4/4 rhythm stops.

DAN: Let’s be honest, I don’t always present as gay. Unless I’m dialing it up for effect, there’s a fairly subdued tone to my personality that doesn’t always read as CARA: “fag.”

DAN: It bothers me when someone says YOLANDA: “you don't act gay" DAN: or JOEY: “it took me a while to figure it out."

4/4 rhythm resumes.

DAN: So whatever I happened to be projecting that day, on that stroll, to that person, in that car rolling by on Bleecker Street, it obviously registered as CARA: “fag” DAN: and I thought “thank god, somebody gets me.”

NEOS: [sound of car going by] Eeeeerrrr.

Dylan sidles up behind Dan. DAN: And I kept on walking, a little afraid to look over my shoulder, because I might have discovered...

4/4 rhythm stops.

DAN: One [bump] maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought I was on that sidewalk, and two [bump bump] if that was true, I just might have to admit: “oh” [bump-ba-bump] “she meant him.”

Triangle ding.

CURTAIN

WNEO Kraine: The Blind Baby © 2015

Kyra Sims

Lights at half. At GO, a spot on DSL (which is where Joey’s “Serial” play took place. I like to think it’s the same non-radio station.) Thelonious Monk’s “‘Round Midnight” begins to play in the background.

Kyra and Alex are wearing sunglasses at a table with two mics, holding unlit cigarettes. Kyra also has her phone to check the time. There is an ashtray filled with crumbled up Oreo cookies. Kyra and Alex talk in the coolest radio DJ voices they have.

KYRA: You're listening to WNEO Kraine, The Blind Baby. My name is Kyra, I'm your host for this evening. It's [time] at night and we are [just getting started/right in the thick of it/wrapping things up]. This is not a radio station, my voice is not being transmitted to thousands of homes across the tristate area, just into your ear holes right here, right now. You just heard [name of last play with names of Neos in it], and boy, was that killin'. Those cats knocked it out of the park. I got my co-host Alex here in this corner of the stage with me- how you doing, Alex?

ALEX: Diggin’ these tasty plays, Kyra, diggin’ these tasty plays.

KYRA: Now, Alex, you are one of the newest cats in this kittenbox. What's it's like doin' the nonillusory mambo with these heavy hitters?

ALEX: They’re too much, man, they’re too much. If I ever get close to flippin’, they keep me from dippin’. They’re chill cats, is what I’m saying; real sharp.

KYRA: Ain't that a fact. These guys know how to lay it down real cool, and be here as they are. It's an honor and a pleasure to do anything with, around, near or to them.

Pause Hey, Alex? You ever miss being able to smoke inside?

ALEX: Nope. Roy Castle, the English trumpet player, died of lung cancer after decades of playing in smoky jazz clubs. Funny thing is, that cat didn’t even smoke; crazy. You? KYRA: That is some crazy jazz, my brother. I don't smoke, but I do miss that deadly, heady haze in the jazz clubs sometimes. I don't like being able to see the musicians so clearly. But if it’s keeping them boppin’ for longer on this big blue rock, then I guess that’s outtasite in my book. And we can pretend. I had the interns put Oreo cookie crumbs in this ashtray.

ALEX: Cool, Miss Lady, Cool.

As they both then do in fact pretend to smoke the cigarettes, an intern comes up and sprays canned fog above them as they exhale.

ALEX: Thank you, [name of intern]. Ain’t these interns somethin’?

KYRA: You ain’t foolin, friend. I hear these little kitties have a name for themselves, The Watch. They lay it down solid every damn day.

Alex and Kyra eat some of the cookie crumbs, breaking any remaining illusions there were that they were ashes.

KYRA: Once again, you’re listening to WNEO Kraine The Blind Baby, non-illusory, non-radio, right here, right now. It is [time], and coming up next is a little thing I like to call CURTAIN.

Notes from Above the Underground © © 2015 Katy-May Hudson Set Up: A white sheet is attached to the clothes line by JOEY and DYLAN. EMMA turns on a flood light upstage center which fades up/down on a dimmer, like a heartbeat.

At “GO”, “Drift” by Brian Eno plays. SHELTON will stand stage right & KATY-MAY will stand stage left, upstage of the sheet, so that they are facing each other in profile to the audience. Both will be on mics.

The following dialogue will have a slow, measured cadence.

SHELTON: When did it start?

KATY-MAY: I don't know. I couldn't really feel a beginning to it, or a possible end either…

SHELTON: How did it feel?

KATY-MAY: It felt uneasy, scary, lonely. Very lonely.

SHELTON: What did you think it was?

KATY-MAY: I thought it was an awakening, actually. An epiphany w/o the positive connotation. Like the blinders had been removed and I could see things for how they were.

SHELTON: And how was that?

KATY-MAY: Like I belonged to a world full of disorder that everyone around me was ignoring. And ignoring by indulging in silly, useless pleasures as a form of distraction, almost in a way that counteracted consciousness. Once I could see that, it meant that I couldn't understand people anymore. I thought that we were all part of a collective of moral monsters.

SHELTON: Do you have an example for this?

KATY-MAY: Yes. One example is this: If I saw someone wearing a hat on a mild day, I would think "What kind of world is this? That we are forced into such insecurity, about our meaninglessness, that we would wear a hat for no other reason than to wear a hat. Surely there is more to life than this!? Than to eat, shit, consume, desire. What an empty concept fashion is! What a placebo! Full of short lived ecstasy to placate the masses."

Pause.

SHELTON: Oh. KATY-MAY: Yes. There were a lot of Soviet overtones.

SHELTON: And what else?

KATY-MAY: I stopped caring about how I was physically received. I was repulsed by the idea of being labeled by my gender, prettiness, affability, relationship status. So I dressed, I presented, as small as possible, to disappear, to fade into the ether.

SHELTON: And? KATY-MAY: And I lost all of my desires. My want for food. Wine. Sex. For Love. For Company. A blue apathy washed over me.

EMMA places a blue film over flood light.

KATY-MAY: And after that I began to understand another side of things. Like the choices made by people like Robin Williams, and so many others. Because for me, ultimately, time here had become as baseless as a human wearing a hat in mild weather.

SHELTON: But it's over now?

KATY-MAY and SHELTON will move to the left/right side of the sheet.

KATY-MAY: Yes. SHELTON: And you're back here, with us?

KATY-MAY: Yes.

EMMA will leave flood light to stay at full brightness.

SHELTON: and it's okay now?

KATY-MAY: Yes, it’s okay now.

SHELTON: Why didn't you tell us?

General lights will slowly fade up. KATY-MAY and SHELTON will move in front of the sheet and no longer use mics.

KATY-MAY: I couldn't then. It was a transient experience, kind of like a bad hangover. Something that came and went in good time. I was lucky that it was fleeting and lucky to have people around me that weren’t judgmental and were patient. I was very lucky.

SHELTON: Yes. SHELTON and KATY-MAY meet center stage. SHELTON gives KATY-MAY a hat from his back pocket, KATY-MAY puts it on & wears it for the rest of the show.

CURTAIN

The Progressive Bubble ©

2015 Katy-May Hudson

KATY-MAY, CONNOR and NICOLE move to the audience and place a large, plastic drop sheet over themselves and 4-5 audience members. This drop sheet is attached to a fan which is switched on at “GO”, to create a large bubble like structure. There is a clip light inside of this structure which illuminate its contents, while the rest of the theater is in darkness.

KATY-MAY/CONNOR/NICOLE: Welcome to our bubble.

Our progressive bubble.

See all those people out there? (They look around).

They probably don’t get it.

You can only get it here.

In this bubble.

In this progressive bubble.

This safe little bubble.

Aren’t you glad to be in here?

In here with us. Us good, sane, kind people.

Here it is safe. Here we are nice.

There’s a lot of progress that happens here. In this bubble. This lovely, little bubble.

Yessssssssss, We like this bubble.

This progressive bubble.

This safe little bubble.

Curtain .

Episode One: The Final Episode © 2015 Joey Rizzolo JOEY sits at a table, downstage left, in front of a table mic and wearing headphones. Throughout the play, JOEY has conversations with people live or pre-recorded. Silhouettes of those people, appear in different areas on stage each time a conversation takes place.

JOEY: In 2008, Neo-Futurist Eevin Hartsough received, as a bridal shower gift, a large, black dildo. Eevin is not a big black dick kind of girl so she brought it here to be used as a prop. It was used. By many people over the years. I used it myself as a kind of gestus in my most juvenile work. But on January 23, 2015, when Meg Bashwiner showed up for a performance of TML for the premiere of a play called An Abrupt Depiction of the Rise and Fall of the Patriarchy, it was gone. The dildo was gone.

Nick Thorburn’s “Bad Dream” plays. NICOLE enters and sit next to JOEY putting on her own headphones.

JOEY: I’m not an investigator, a reporter, or even someone who enjoys being on the receiving end of a dildo. I’m a performance artist. These headphones don’t do anything but make it hard for me to hear things. But I was determined to find out what happened to that big black dick.

NICOLE: Chris Dippel has it.

JOEY: Just do the intro.

NICOLE: [holding her nose, into the mic:] This is a call/appearance from…

MEG: [entering and speaking] Megan…Bashwiner. [She exits.]

NICOLE: [holding her nose, into the mic:] Making an appearance from…[wherever MEG is, e.g. “my parents’ house,” “downstage right,” etc.]

JOEY: Now, even though this is not a serial and I have only one 2-minute episode through which to investigate and present what I know, I promise I’ll come to a conclusion by the end.

NICOLE: I think Chris Dippel has it.

JOEY: [ignoring NICOLE, to the audience:] Chris Dippel is a Neo-Futurist alum and hasn’t been an active member of this company since 2006. Since Meg is the one who had the biggest horse in this race, I checked with her first. Here’s what she had to say: Lights up on a silhouette of MEG onstage.

MEG: I looked everywhere for that dildo. I tore the theater apart. Somebody took it.

JOEY: So Meg, who do you think took the dildo?

MEG: My first instinct was Yolanda.

JOEY: Yolanda is a company member. Here’s what she had to say: Lights up on silhouette of Yolanda. Audio from phone conversation with Yolanda plays.

JOEY: You know that big black dildo that was in storage?

YOLANDA: I did not take it.

JOEY: You did not take it?

YOLANDA: No! Lights out on Yolanda once the audio is complete. MEG replaces Yolanda’s silhouette.

JOEY: This lead me to draw one conclusion: either Yolanda is lying, or Meg is.

MEG: Actually, there are a lot of other…

Lights out on MEG.

JOEY: Since Meg’s prime suspect was either innocent or dodging, I decided to check in with other members of the company. Here’s the phone call I made to Rob, right now: JOEY calls ROB’s phone. DYLAN appears in the silhouette.

DYLAN: Hello?

JOEY: Hey Rob. DYLAN: This isn’t Rob. JOEY: Dylan? I called Rob’s phone.

DYLAN: Yes, you called Rob’s phone. Rob gave me his phone for this play.

Lights out on DYLAN’s silhouette.

JOEY: That was suspicious. But it’s not a huge red flag. It’s a lot of little red flags. But whereas Meg might want to believe that these flags make Dylan look guilty, I think it makes him look like someone who just looks good in flags.

DYLAN: [from offstage] THANK YOU! JOEY: You’re welcome! So I finally called Chris Dippel. Though he hasn’t been active since 2006, he did take part in a 24-hour version of the very show you’re watching right now that we performed this past October. 24-Hour TML did involve a LOT of props. Here’s my call with Chris: Lights up on Chris’ silhouette. Audio from phone conversation with Chris plays.

JOEY: Nicole says you have the big black dildo. Do you have the big black dildo?

CHRIS: I….think…that I do. I may have it still.

Lights dowon on Chris’ silhouette. Nick Thorburn’s “Bad Dream” plays once it’s over. NICOLE grabs a chair and sits next to JOEY. JOEY: I promised you a conclusion, so here it is: I don’t know where the big black dick is.

NICOLE: Chris just said he had it.

JOEY: Maybe you think I’m taking a powder on this. I’ve presented all the information I have, but the dildo is still missing from our prop storage, regardless of who has it. [NICOLE: Chris.] All I know is, I want to find that big black dick.

NICOLE: You too, huh?

JOEY does a take at NICOLE, then another back to the audience.

CURTAIN

I also wonder how foie gras was invented. © 2015 Joey Rizzolo A half-block is set far downstage center. Four stools fan center stage. At GO, NICOLE and JOEY stand on opposite sides of the stage. JOEY presents a picture of a violin. NICOLE presents a picture of a cello.

JOEY: I have a box. It’s a wooden box, and it has some holes in it. There are some sheep’s intestines drawn across the holes so they look like little wires. I could make sound with the box by strumming the sheep intestines, but…[produces a picture of a bow] …I think I’m going to drag some animal hair across the intestines instead.

NICOLE: I have a similar box! Except mine is bigger. Do you want to sit together?

JOEY: Sure!

They grab stools and sit slightly upstage. ROB and CECIL stand in the spots JOEY and NICOLE just vacated. ROB has a picture of a clarinet. CECIL has a picture of a tuba.

ROB: I have tube.

CECIL: Hey me too! Except mine is all knotted up.

ROB: Do you strap a piece of wood to one end and blow in the hole?

CECIL: Nah! I just make fart sounds into mine.

ROB: Fart sounds? Right on!

NICOLE: Come have a seat guys!

ROB and CECIL grab stools and sit with JOEY and NICOLE. MEG enters, head down, kicking invisible pebbles.

JOEY: Say, Meg. Why the long face?

MEG: [halfheartedly presenting pictures of a tympani and a mallet] All I have is a hollow box and a stick.

JOEY: Shucks Meg, I have a hollow box and a stick! You can sit with me!

MEG: But mine doesn’t have sheep intestines. And my stick doesn’t have hair on it. All my box has is a thin, tanned animal hide. Sometimes I hit the hide with the stick. But not very often.

CECIL: Aw hell Meg, come on over here.

MEG: Yeah?

CECIL: Sure!

MEG: Thanks guys!

MEG brightly stands beside CECIL. DYLAN enters with a strange looking contraption.

DYLAN: Hey, I have a bunch of ropes that I use to drag scrap iron across the ground!

Aghast silence.

JOEY: You get the fuck out of here.

DYLAN exits, head down. Perhaps someone spits on the ground in front of him as he walks out.

MIRSKY enters with majesty.

MIRSKY: I have a stick.

Everyone gasps. Pause.

MEG: Hey, I have a stick too.

MIRSKY turns downstage, rolling his eyes.

JOEY: You shut your mouth and stand in the back.

MEG walks upstage, scolded. JOEY scrapes.

JOEY: Let us…let us all…do as the stick says.

MIRSKY stands on the downstage half-block. He gestures. Everyone sits up, drawing a breath, presenting their pictures. MIRSKY winds up as though to begin conducting a symphony. Blackout.

Mozart’s “Symphony No. 25 in G-Minor” plays.

CURTAIN

Saturday Morning Cartoons © 2015 Connor Sampson A green tablecloth is pulled across downstage—acting as the grass for the cartoons. A little farther upstage, a blue tablecloth is pulled across the stage, a few feet higher than the green—acting as the sky.

All puppeteers are in between. At GO: Connor and Rob lift their cartoon puppets from behind the grass.

CONNOR: Hey, Rob! ROB: Hey, Connor! Why are we puppeting cartoons of ourselves?

CONNOR: Because cartoons are happy, Rob! And for this play, I’m choosing to be happy.

Hidden puppeteers tape a cartoon beer to Connor’s puppet’s hand a hand Connor an actual beer.

Connor and the puppet drink.

ROB: Connor, is everything okay?

CONNOR: That’s a complicated question for anyone to answer and it involves what we’re willing to show people and what we aren’t.

Connor hands the beer back to one of the hidden puppeteers.

CONNOR: [to puppeteer] Thanks. [back to Rob] Are you always happy, Rob? ROB: Answers honestly.

CONNOR: So let’s choose to be happy, right now! We can do it together!

A SADNESS cartoon is puppeted from the grass directly behind Connor’s puppet.

ROB: I’m all for choosing happiness, but ignoring reality and choosing happiness aren’t the same thing.

As Rob is speaking, a cartoon gun is placed in Connor’s puppet’s hand. It shoots the SADNESS cartoon in the face with a puppeted bullet. SADNESS falls below the grass.

CONNOR: I’m sorry, what am I ignoring? I can’t hear you over the music.

ROB: What music?

Sound Cue: “Happy Together” by The Turtles. Track should start at 1:45s.

ROB: Really?

CONNOR: Rob, hold my hand. Do it.

ROB: Fine.

The puppets hold hands.

CONNOR: See. Isn’t this fun?! Creating the life we want, instead of just taking whatever is handed to us.

Name something magical you want to appear.

ROB: Rob responds. Connor has already drawn the dream of Rob’s in cartoon form. It pops up from the grass.

CONNOR: Bam. There she blows!

ROB: It’s just a piece of paper.

CONNOR: Logically, yes. But so are all these adorable animals I drew for us!

A number of adorable animals are puppeted all around them.

CONNOR: Don’t they make you happier?

ROB: Responds honestly.

CONNOR: Now—look at this hand I tried to make look “realistic.”

A drawing of a hand appears from the grass. It will inevitably not be good.

ROB: That’s not good.

CONNOR: Yeah. I can only really draw cartoons well. I’ve never been good with reality.

A sun with sunglasses appears from below. An “I admire you!” speech bubble appears from its mouth.

CONNOR: AWWW. Back at ya, sun! Rob, I love being a Neo-Futurist. So much. But, if I’m being honest, sometimes I don’t want to play myself exactly as I am. Mostly because sometimes I’m not a good person.

Sometimes, I leave people when they need it most. Sometimes, people are dying and I don’t know what to do except disappoint. I’m 24 years old but, sometimes, I still feel like I’m 12—distracting myself from whatever hurts until I breakdown at 2:28AM on a Saturday morning, crying, typing these exact words.

Sound cue cuts. All the puppeteers exit—taking everything with them. Connor and Rob are left alone onstage with their puppets. Rob stops puppeting.

CONNOR: The sun left.

ROB: You told them to leave. It’s in the script.

CONNOR: True. The stage picture was a little distracting for the end of the play.

ROB: Why? What happens?

CONNOR: It’s not all written yet. But, I know that I ask you for advice. And you say— ROB: On what?

CONNOR: And I say: Growing up. And how to do it better. You know, adult to adult.

ROB: And then I go off-book.

CONNOR: Yeah. But, you never abandon the puppet.

Rob picks lifts his puppet back up and offers Connor some advice on growing up.

CURTAIN

Don't worry, everybody is bullshitting at the wine tasting © 2015 Colin Summers An Audience Member is invited onstage and given a wine glass. Nessa and Borg also hold wine glasses.

COLIN: [approaches with a bottle of wine] Cabernet Sauvignon Colin pours a taste into all glasses. Nessa and Borg smell and taste before and during their lines.

NESSA: The bouquet is both pleasing and intense with aromatic notes of violets and oregano. Smooth in the mouth with crisp acidity. I’m tasting firm but well integrated tannins giving good length on the palate.

BORG: mmm...absolutely excellent length on the palate. An irresistible wine whose elegance draws you subliminally into its orbit. Intense ruby-garnet in color, I’m getting aromas of coffee, cherries and sun dried fruits, prolonging the pleasure with a slightly bitter finish.

NESSA: Yes I’m getting the bitter finish. What do you think?

Audience Member says what they think of the wine. Whatever they say... Nessa and Borg agree wholeheartedly and repeat Audience Member’s descriptor verbatim.

COLIN: [approaches with a new bottle of wine] Merlot.

Colin pours a taste in all glasses. Neos again smell and taste.

NESSA: This is a supple, round-bodied Merlot. Medium to dark red, with a distinct nose of chalk, mint, and paint thinner. A searing headache inducing wine balanced for easy drinking, while its lower tannins indicate a wine that should be guzzled from a jug.

BORG: Certainly. The flavors are of intense, ripe, red farts with a hint of cinnamon. The well-balanced oak only enhances these characteristics. Would pair well with dark meats, snobby parties or adultery.

NESSA: Oh could definitely see that. What do you think?

Audience Member says something. Borg and Nessa again agree completely and repeat audience member’s descriptor affirmatively.

COLIN: [approaches with a third bottle of wine] Malbec.

Colin pours a taste in all glasses. Neos again smell and taste.

NESSA: It’s very wet. I’m getting rich hearty flavors of fermented grapes and other kinds of fermented grapes.

BORG: Yes, a robust grapey head and it’s staining my teeth a plum purple. The velvety finish is of alcohol and dehydration and grapes.

NESSA: All three have combined slightly in my glass and I’m getting distinct overtones of red wine. What do you think?

Audience member answers. Borg and Nessa clink glasses with Audience Member and finish their glasses.

CURTAIN

Colin attempts to make his phone believe in itself. © 2015 colin Summers Colin sits on a block downstage center in a small pool of light. Sound cue at GO low volume.

COLIN: Listen up phone.

Some might say that you’re old that you’re washed up.

They could say that you’ve got buttons And what kinda phone these days has buttons And the paint has worn off your number 4, number 7 and asterix that you slide out, and that you got a whole lot more buttons there.

Might call ya dumb.

Might say you’re not a smart phone.

Say you can’t even check an email, or look up directions, or Instagram a cockshot.

That you’ve got no apps at all. That you couldn’t twitter a tweet, or crush any candy or tender a tawdry tinder sexcapade if your battery life depended on it.

And I know I might’ve embarrassed you from time to time.

If I’m out somewhere and I’ve gotta scroll around on some sleek little number that my friend pulled outta their pocket to find an address.

But you know what I say?

I say you’ve got heart kid.

Because you can text. And you can call.

And you got a battery that just won’t quit.

And you have a notepad that I write addresses in, and a calculator I use so that I know how much money I can spend on beer this week. and it’s usually about 20 bucks. and I’ve woken up to you every day for the last four years.

That’s reliability, and you’ve never let me down phone.

Not even when it’s daylight savings time.

And I’m just gonna come right out and say it.

I believe in you Samsung Intensity 3.

You are worth so much more than the zero dollars I paid for you when I signed a 2-year contract with Verizon four years ago. I didn’t know it then.

But I wasn’t just signing a contract. I was making a commitment to you.

A commitment which I re-affirm before this paying audience.

Now what do you say you and me go and get me laid?

CURTAIN

PC for the Ladies in the Club © 2015 Cara Francis All Neos are onstage grouped around Cara, wearing cheap plastic party wear, perhaps some 2015 light up glasses. ‘Flo Rida ft. Sage The Gemini- Goin Down For Real’ drops at 0:13 seconds. All dance. Cara shouts into the microphone.

CARA: All my single educated independent ladies in the room make some nooooo-ise....

Kyra toots an air horn. Music cuts out.

CARA: ...Is actually a really depressing thing to say because it means that the most undereducated, disadvantaged women with the least amount of personal agency and who probably barely get a night out on their own...are being encouraged to stay quiet.

Kyra toots the air horn again. Cara slowly “drops' the microphone by lowering the cord, inch by inch, until it touches the ground with a soft thud.

CURTAIN

If Reports On Global Warming Were A Trashy S&M Romance Novel Maybe More People Would Actually Read Them © 2015 Cara Francis At Go, we leave a book on a podium by a microphone. The cover of the book is made to look like a trashy romance novel, but with the woman replaced by planet earth.

We wait for an audience member to approach and read the book. Inside the book is printed: (Please read this clearly into the microphone in your sexiest voice) Her ice-cold glacier bra snaps off with a “pop”.

Melting down her body, thickening her rivers, surging into her seas She is getting So hot And they used to say her poles were frigid.

She spits and licks the dirty, low-lying coastal regions, making them swampy with her moisture.

“Yes. YES!” she cries.

“You fucked me with your hot, oily dicks. Now I'm going to fuck all of you back.”

And she takes them all, one by one, and they feel the surging thrust of her fucking back; hard, fast and nasty.

“Tie me up! Tie me up!” she breathes heavily.

“I want to be sold off to the highest bidder. I want to be OWNED by you.”

“Put it all in me.”, she says.

And her big wet deforested snatch swallows the dicks whole like a blue fin tuna eating plastic bottle caps.

“You can come on my polar bear tattoo!”, she screams, her wetness thick and pulsating, so heavy they try to hide from it.

But it is too late. Mother Nature is climaxing.

A tsunami. Ahhhhhhhh.

Fluid rushes everywhere.

AAAAHHHH! And she's not the only one screaming.

(Please replace the book and return to your seat)

Curtain

Wooster & Grand © 2015 Alex Vlahov An eight-inch television hovers eight-feet from the stage floor, slowly turning horizontally 180-degrees to face the audience. The film Harvey is playing on VHS. The NEOs are far UC holding up the small television together, carefully, with no one underneath and one NEO conscious of the power connection/necessary slack. The task is to slowly descend the television in the dark while moving forward, ultimately ending on the block CC, using only the glow of the screen.

ALEX: (voiceover) Bill was always watching Turner Classic Movies.

Bill would watch Turner Classic Movies with the volume very loud.

Neighbors would complain, but it wasn’t just the movies, there were smells too.

Bill grew up in the Bronx.

Bill studied art at UCLA, like I did, incidentally, not the art part, the UCLA part.

Probably my third or fourth job in New York City was cleaning his barely-navigable apartment.

I told friends I was an artist’s assistant, When I was actually going up five-flights of stairs each weekend in a dust-mask, to build shelves for his paintings and covertly dispose of tax-returns from the early 80’s, stacks of Altoid tins, shoeboxes of receipts, coffee-stained mail, old Yankees calendars, cracked mirrors, subway tokens, soy sauce packets: none of which he could throw away.

The television is placed on the block. The NEOS go to the prop-shelf and each grab a shot-glass. For the duration of the voice-over, the task for the NEOs is to individually go to the television, turn the volume up slightly, and sit before the screen watching Harvey. A whiskey bottle is passed among the NEOS, and those who care to later toast Bill may pour themselves a drink. The volume should stay at a low/lowmid level until the FINAL NEO sits.

I even found a skeleton under a drape in there once, a real skeleton, the kind used in schools and propped up with a metal beam.

Bill would say “I think it was a woman, perhaps a dancer once,” pointing to the demure, pearly toes.

To me, he sounded like Lorne Michaels doing an impression of the wind.

And the rats never ate his paintings.

He would wake up at 3pm, paint, watch movies, and go to sleep at 9 in the morning.

After his divorce, Bill didn’t leave that SoHo apartment for a decade.

He said this was his “woodshedding” period, “woodshedding” being a jazz phrase for long bouts of undisturbed practice.

And Bill drank.

One time in a bar

I told him that if you were to shrink the sun down to the size of a white blood cell, the universe would be the size of North America.

He said that sounds “appropriately overwhelming.”

Bill died in February, and I found out in March.

I find it appropriately overwhelming that there was no one at his funeral.

There was not one person there for his cremation, The cremation of a man who wouldn’t let me throw away a basket of egg-shells.

I find that appropriately overwhelming.

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for all attending the Memorial Service for Bill, New York Artist. 1934-2015.* FINAL NEO to enter turns the TV up to the point where it is playing very loudly. FINAL NEO sits with the group. The NEOs all raise their shot glasses in the glow of the screen. They collectively shoot down the drinks, lean back with a flourish and hold. Collapse/rock forward with a flourish and hold. Sit neutral, all watching Harvey with their backs to the audience, only stage light coming from screen. An offstage NEO abruptly unplugs the television’s power source. Silence and darkness, for a moment.) *contact alex@nynf.org if you would like to learn more about Bill

CURTAIN

My Pen Pal, The Occultist © 2015 Alex Vlahov House lights up. CONNOR sits DR, back against wall. ASHLEY sits SL, back against wall. Each hold a hot mic. During below text, ALEX sets up at a small table SL, and sit with props; KATYMAY sets at a small table SR, sits with props. This includes a teacup, spoon, water bottles, and Kool-Aid powder packet.

CONNOR: (as ALEX and KATY-MAY set up) Heaven’s Gate was a cult in San Diego. In 1997, 39 members mixed phenobarbital with applesauce and vodka in order to reach a UFO trailing the Hale-Bopp comet. A post on reddit revealed that, 18 years after this mass-suicide, someone was still answering their emails.

ASHLEY: Monday, September 14th: vlahov.alexander@gmail.com ALEX: How is your day going? Regards, Alex Vlahov KATY MAY: [clears throat] ASHLEY: Tuesday, September 15th: vlahov.alexander@gmail.com ALEX: Why are we here?

CONNOR: Tuesday, September 15th: rep@heavensgate.com KATY MAY: To learn about the next level.

“Little Man You’ve Had A Busy Day” by Chet Baker comes on.

KATY MAY: [continued] The simple belief is that there is a real, physical level above the humans one here on earth. It is not a spiritual existence. It is real individuals, in real bodies, in real crafts taking care of the issues of their planet. [ALEX and KM place cups down.] The Next Level, as it is called, created this planet and all the life on it. The Next Level are the care takers of not only this planet but all the systems of the universe. [ALEX and KM place spoons down.] From that, all the other beliefs follow. They periodically come down to this planet to check in on this civilization’s development. [ALEX and KM pour water.] At those times they talk to those interested about the opportunity of the Next Level and how a very select few can enter into it only after a long period of transition and instruction.

ASHLEY: vlahov.alexander@gmail.com ALEX: Was the choice to remain on Earth your decision?

CONNOR: rep@heavensgate.com KATY MAY: Yes. ASHLEY: vlahov.alexander ALEX: Are there other still here besides yourself?

CONNOR: rep@heavensgate.com KATY MAY: A few.

ASHLEY: vlahov.alexander ALEX: Do you ever get lonely being one of the only ones left?

CONNOR: rep@heavensgate KATY MAY: No. ALEX and KM remove small Kool-Aid packets and shake them.

ALEX: Where will I go when I die?

KATY MAY: You will reincarnate to your next life here on this planet.

ALEX and KM rip open their packets.

ALEX: What will happen to you when you die.

KATY MAY: We will reincarnate like everyone else, enter the next Group and try to graduate off this planet.

ALEX and KM pour Kool-Aid packets into the cups.

ALEX: How would you enter the next Group to graduate off this planet?

KATY MAY: You would meet up with the incarnate Member of the Next Level and ask to join.

ALEX and KM stir Kool-Aid into water.

ALEX: What do you do to pass the time?

KATY MAY: [clears throat] ALEX: What do you think about Scientology?

KATY MAY: Another good stepping stone.

ALEX and KM drink their Kool-Aid.

CURTAIN

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