– Charlie Chaplin hated it here.
– Look up the Fremont troll. Not the statue in Seattle
– There is a Secret Sidewalk. The county covered an aqueduct with cement, so this path just starts and ends in Niles Canyon. I’ve never gone, always too nervous. Apparently it’s an “urban explorer” thing now. Oughta be a park.
– I have never read Kite Runner.
– There is a large Afghan population, which means I ate a lot of bolani growing up. And, on a separate note, Burger King. The Burger King I am thinking of is now gone.
Email me (click below) your own hometown facts that aren’t on Wikipedia, and I’ll use them in a play for The Infinite Wrench!
Ashley is proud to say that she is susceptible to cults and that she learned to read watching Sesame Street because her parents were busy. She knows where the Fountain of Youth is and bathes nude in its waters every full moon. She will never tell you where it is. It’s in New Jersey. Not sure where she was born, Ash remembers crisscrossing the country with her older sibling and thinking that airline stewardesses (in the 70’s, that’s what they were) were the most beautiful people on earth. She knows now that the most beautiful people on earth are the Neo-Futurists.
Aya is a palindrome.
Aya is everywhere.
“Ayyyyya!” is surprise!
“AY!” “AHHHHH!” is frustration.
“AY! Ay! Ay! Ay-Ah!” is stubbed toes.
“Ayyyyyyyyyyyyaaaa lele lemmbrrrp brrrrrrrrrrrpff” who knows. It came from a small child.
Aya is a sacred name. (Technically.) Aya doesn’t fast for Ramadan so…so much for that.
Aya should fast for Ramadan. It’s like the one virtuous holiday. Come on, Aya.
You can follow her music and musings on soundcloud at https://soundcloud.com/aya-aziz-music-nyc,
Things I am afraid of: cancer, having to poop really bad in public, the bus, raisins, monocles, old barns, jolly ranchers getting permanently stuck to my teeth, remembering the mean rich kids from school, remembering the mean rich kids from church, gristly bits in hamburgers, flies, flies, flies, flies, FLIES, THERE IS A FLY IN HERE, rage, the deep ocean, guns, my cat, the pope, facebook, indifference, fear. I am afraid there is too much fear.
Things I am not afraid of: Everything else. Beauty. Experiments. Karma. Pointy Breasts. Algebra. Quart Containers. Pie. Stained Glass. Otters. Sherpas. Terrorists. The Cloud. The Government. Plantains. Lions. Snakes. A Vengeful God. You. I am not afraid of you.
Christopher has been writing, performing, directing and designing theater with The New York Neo-Futurists since 2009. He adapted, directed and sometimes performs in “The Complete & Condensed Stage Directions of Eugene O’Neill, Volumes 1 & 2” which received two Drama Desk Award Nominations as well as national and international tours. Also with NYNF: “Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind [30 Plays in 60 Minutes]”, “On The Future”, “Soft Hydraulics” and “MUTE”. He has performed and / or presented work at PS 122/Coil Festival, The Public Theater’s Under The Radar Festival, Richard Foreman’s Ontological-Hysteric Theater, New York Theater Workshop’s Suspect Studios, The Tank, Fringe NYC, Abrons Arts Center and The Brick. Christopher also works with interdisciplinary dance company LEIMAY and created sound and music for “Becoming Corpus” which premiered at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. He also does improv at various places around the city with his team, APOSTROPHE. Sometimes, he has been on the TV and he also makes short films. He is a member of Lincoln Center Theater Directors Lab. Training: San Francisco State University, RADA, Circle in the Square Theater School, UCB. Check him out here:www.christopherloar.com
A Comprehensive List of Things Connor Would Do for a Klondike Bar:
1.) Pay market price.
If you are interested in speaking to Connor, take a moment now to fall asleep. He’s waiting in the forest next to the friendly clown that either fell asleep eating that bag of potato chips, or is fully in a coma. Let me know what Connor says, though. I’m especially interested in what he thinks his bio might be. Hurry. Hurry before it all burns down.
Hilary is a Ghanaian-American actress and writer. Her friends wrote the following about her for their wedding website. It’s fairly accurate.
“Hilary is an enigma. She frequently discusses the intricacies of modern theater, just as frequently as she weeps over the most recent Grey’s Anatomy episode. She’ll champion the superiority of Tempranillo wine, but she’s also a fan of my signature swill, “Tequila Mockingbird.” She once walked into a party and arbitrarily declared herself The Mayor, and not a single person questioned it. Hilary is the ideal bridesmaid because she can be relied upon to simultaneously make sure everything is perfect and in order, while also getting down harder than anyone else around.”
A few clarifications:
I’m more likely to weep over This Is Us now, but I will watch Grey’s Anatomy until they take it off the air. If I die first, I will be haunting somebody’s TV Thursday nights at 8pm.
I’ve never had a Tequila Mockingbird but I like tequila. Want to be my friend? Buy me tequila.
- The jurisdiction, duration, and requirements of my mayoral term remain unknown.
In 11th grade Economics class, Katharine’s teacher gave the students a super serious assignment to prepare them for the Real World™. They were to write a thesis paper which required them to conduct in-depth research, three expert interviews, and compose 10 pages of critical analysis. One of Katharine’s interviewees refused to talk beyond 5 questions, but she made it work and submitted the full assignment.
The teacher gave her a C+ because she only had 2 and 1/2 interviews. Katharine was frustrated but the teacher said, “REAL. WORLD.”
The next semester he gave them an even more Real-Wordier© of The Real Worldiest® assignments. This thesis paper also required extensive research and interviews, but this time, 20 pages of analysis.
17 year old Katharine, now running very low on f#$ks, fabricated the entire thing. She made up research numbers and statistics, a 20 page analysis of said untruths, and wrote three contrasting “interviews” full of dialogue rich with conflict, intrigue and dynamic suspense. One of the “interviewees” even stormed out of the “interview” after a two hour existential crisis when Katharine pressed him on his relationship with his father.
The teacher gave her an A+ and praised her for days.
That’s when Katharine learned this very important Real World life lesson: maybe she should write more fiction.
She has never told this story until now.
(Tonight’s performance is dedicated to Dr. Maskin)
Katy-May Hudson was birthed around the same time as the Moonwalk, on the sunny shores of Sydney Australia; The land of Jacaranda trees, exemplary gun laws and where the word fanny references a vagina rather than a backside.
Katy-May’s performance career began at 2.5 years of age, when she would wait for her grandmother, Bertha-May, to head to the latrine. It was then that KM would nefariously acquire the somewhat immobile BM’s walking apparatus, and assume it as a microphone for her story retellings and recitals of little known song/dance routines. The greatly immovable BM would sit and gaily applaud as a singular audience member, much to the delight of junior KM, sometimes for hours. Or at least until a family member returned home to relieve her of this duty.
It was during this time that KM was appointed with the nickname ‘Sarah Bernhardt’, (Sarah Bernhardt, the great one-legged stage actress of the 19th century, not to be confused for Sandra Bernhard, sassy stand-up current day comedian) and also developed a fondness for misappropriated props. This kind of blatant exhibitionism continues today, which is why KM avidly practices self-doubt, neurosis and awkward interchanges to maintain balance and stay grounded in the precarious yet glorious world of the performing arts.
For more on KM: www.katy-mayhudson.com
“If ever in doubt, take your right palm and face it towards the sky. Wait for rain, try to catch it. If it does not come, you may cry. Tears may fall on your palm and you might say to yourself, oh look, it’s water, let’s drink. DO NOT DRINK. It is not water. Believe that it is the last of your amniotic fluid. That it sourrounded your eyes and nubby fingers and feather thick skin. That it was witness to your first food and first love (the sounds of your heartbeat syncopated with mothers). That it was witness to your first dreams, the ones you can’t remember and don’t make sense. The ones that make you panic. The ones that kept you safe.
If ever in doubt, do not drink.
EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT.EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT.EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. ”
West of Somewhere
You are standing in a room. Or sitting. Or outside. There is a website here. Exits are: OUT
The website is for the New York Neo-Futurists. It is gray and smooth and informative. There are words here. There are pictures here.
You see many pictures. Pictures of beautiful faces. Each picture is unique. Each picture has its own story. Each picture waits with bated breath to tell you its own, special, beautiful story.
Words fill the length of the page. There is a recipe here. There is a list of Best Actress Nominees here. You wonder about the people who wrote them. They wonder about you.
30 Megs in 60 seconds:
Meg is a second daughter of a second daughter.
Meg is a sister.
Meg is vaccinated.
Meg is a three letter word.
Meg is an intricate and temporary whiskey glass.
Meg is allergic to most things.
Meg is an exceptional driver.
Meg is a
Meg is a lover of fine cheeses.
Meg is a swimmer.
Meg is a maker of delicious meatballs .
Meg is an aries.
Meg is a writer.
Meg is a person who talks on podcasts.
Meg is an avid fan of sleep.
Meg is a word that rhymes with egg.
Meg is from New Jersey.
Meg is in love.
Meg is shacking up with her boo in Brooklyn.
Meg is taking the moment.
Meg is making the most of it.
Meg is 90% water.
Meg is a person who fears change.
Meg is short for Megan.
Meg is a person who falls down… a lot
Meg is a registered democrat.
Meg is gem spelled backwards.
Meg is terrified by snakes.
Meg is going to do a show for you.
Meg is a Neo Futurist.
Mike Puckett –
Mikhail Puckettovich “Mike Puckett” was mistakenly unfrozen by the KGB in 1978 as part of a short-lived program exploring the weaponization of woolly mammoths. Luckily, being over 5,000 years old had been decriminalized 3 years prior as an April Fool’s Day prank (they celebrate April Fool’s in Russia, right?), and Mike was made a member of the intelligence agency. During this time he participated in numerous experiments and operations, and can be unofficially credited with pioneering over half a dozen new sandwich recipes, revolutionizing the art of kicking open doors, and inventing the tooth camera. He is most famous for his formation and 3-year leadership of the world’s first houseplant assassination squad. Ironically, this would lead to his downfall. In 1985, a botched attempt on the life of Ronald Reagan’s favorite ficus caused Mike to be disavowed from the KGB.
Now that Mike was stuck in America with no friends or family, a 23-year-long* montage ensued. Some excerpts include (in no particular order):
-Mike goes to his first nightclub! (“The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang)
-Mike rides a bike on the West Side Highway! (“Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen)
-Mike wrestles a wolf, inspires Liam Neeson to do the same! (“Ace of Spades” by Motörhead)
-Mike goes to his first American grocery store! (hilarity ensues) (“Lost in the Supermarket” by The Clash)
-Mike hitchhikes his way out of DC, gets stranded in Pennsylvania. (“Dueling Banjos” by Arthur Smith)
-Mike gets ready for a first date! (“Paint it Black” by Rolling Stones)
Finally, in 2009, Mike got tired of hijinks and shenanigans and decided to do something serious with his life: acting school. So he went to New York University, where he trained with the Atlantic Theater Company for 3 years. There he was taught by the wonderful Jacquelyn Landgraf, who inspired him to see Too Much Light for the first time. Mike left the theater absolutely astonished; he had found his artistic calling! This was the reason he had traveled through time! He spent the next 2 years hanging around the Kraine Theater until the New York Neos let him join the ensemble. And that brings us to the present. **
*Fortunately for Mike, some science stuff happened to him when he was frozen, causing his body to stop aging. Some scientists believe this is why he still appears to be in his 20s.
**That last paragraph is true. Mostly.
*with additional notes
• 4½ T eternal flame
• 1 cup mortal coil
• ¾ cup vodka
• Pinch of sugar
• ¼ tsp. Baltic Sea salt
• 6 never ending questions
• 3½ cups milk
Put 3½ tablespoons eternal flame in a loving womb and cook over medium heat, swirling the womb until the eternal flame combusts and turns a bright golden maroon. Remove the womb from the heat and spoon off the golden light; discard the sediment. The light is cool. Touch it. It won’t burn you, yet.
Whisk together the mortal coil, vodka, sugar, and Baltic Sea salt in a large bowl just until combined. Whisk in the eternal golden light, followed by the 6 never ending questions and the milk. For convenience, pour the vessel into a pitcher with a spout. Cover the vessel with organic biodegradable clear wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or, preferably, 9 months.
Set a large plate or a small baking sheet close to the stove and line it with clear wrap. Heat a 6- to 8-inch nonstick skillet or sauté pan over medium-high heat. In a separate pan, (not in the microwave,) melt 1 more eternal flame. Gently stir the vessel just to bring it together again.
Swirl a few drops of the golden light over the bottom of the hot pan. Lift the pan off the heat and pour in about 2 tablespoons of vessel, tilting the pan and swirling the skin so that it covers the bottom of the pan in a very thin, even layer. Return the pan to the heat and cook the vessel until it almost starts to bubble on top. Do not let any bubbles pop! Run a blunt knife or spatula around the edge of the skin, then lift the vessel up with your fingers and flip it over. Cook the second side for only about 20 seconds. Transfer the finished Mirsky vessel to the womb and repeat the process, dotting the pan with eternal light and gently stirring the skin on top of layers, until you’ve used all the vessel—you should have about a full Mirsky skin. Let the Mirsky cool.
• 1 wolf spirit
• 2 dime bags
• Finely grated zest and juice of 1 heart
• Salt and freshly ground pepper
• 1¼ lb. thinly sliced man flesh
• 1 3½-oz. (100-gram) persistence & perseverance
Stir together the wolf spirit, weed, heart zest, and heart juice; season with salt and pepper.
Put one vessel on the plate that you will be serving the Mirsky on. Spread the skin with some of the wolf spirit mixture. Add a layer of the man flesh over the wolf spirit and top with another skin. Repeat the layering until all of the vessel, wolf spirit, and man flesh have been used. Finish with some hair on top. (At this point, the Mirsky can be frozen, wrapped tightly in organic biodegradable clear wrap, for up to 2 weeks. Defrost in the crib before adding the persistence.) Spread a thin layer of perseverance on top. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. Or for a more professional appearance, dress the finished Mirsky in a fine suit, then use a jewish doctor to trim off the tip. Use a table saw to cut into wedges.
Daniel Mirsky is the only U.S. native born member of his family. Daniel learned this at a young age and immediately began campaigning for his 2028 presidential election. VOTE MIRSKY! As a child Daniel broke apart all of his toys, usually with a hammer, so that he could build new motorized toys from their parts. Once when spending the night at his physicist grandmother’s, he asked her not to read him a bedtime story, but rather explain to him the mechanics of a nuclear chain reaction. Daniel slept very well that night. After completing university at Texas A&M, where he was first introduced to and enamored by the work of the Neo-Futurists, Daniel set off to NYC, where he became a greenpeace toting chugger while working as an actor, collaborator and artist.
Nessa is a Brooklyn-based theater artist devoted to the creation of innovative and challenging new works and forms of performance. Her work spans styles and mediums, including site-specific Shakespeare, political satire, documentary theater, immersive events and live concerts. Whichever form she chooses to explore, her primary interest is in the transcendental and ritualistic function of the theatre.
Nessa has collaborated on over a ten original works of theater internationally, at such notable venues as, the British Film Institute, the Battersea Arts Center & the Southbank Center in London, The Louvre in Paris and Joe’s Pub, Ars Nova, 59E59 and Dixon Place in New York City. She has been teaching and coaching acting and movement since graduating Lecoq 5 years ago.
She is also co-founder of Pantheon Presents – an event production company that designs inclusive and healing spaces to dance. Their latest project, Shine On in Schools, brings these spaces to public elementary schools in the Bronx. She is thrilled to be a New York Neo-Futurist!!
I think Bios are weird. So attached you will find the only diary entry I have written as an adult that is just a way for me to find a cool format for facts and stuff – and to avoid the task.
Today was normal. I woke up later than planned, typical. I brushed my teeth as I tend to do at least twice a day. I walked to the coffee shop I frequent to see the cute boy that works there. He decided not to come to work today and I don’t even drink coffee so here I sit typing this bio and freezing outside of the comfort of my own room for no reason. I called my mom and she talked to me for 30 minutes and I know that will be the first of at least five calls between us today. She is back home in Mississippi but we talk an extremely unhealthy number of times to feel close. My whole family and I are like that… whatevs… there are worse things (like that fact that I used whatevs in a sentence).
I like talking more than I like writing. I like singing more than I like talking. I like sleeping more than all of the above. I like lists – especially when I check things off of them. Like writing this bio, it was on my to do list, so was therapy. After this I can check them both off.
That seems like enough for now,
Rob Neill – has been a Neo-Futurist for over 20 years and lives and works in Manhattan, mostly. In 1995, Rob embarked on the “Roanoke Expedition” of Neo-Futurism to do “Too Much Light” in New York. He did the show then, in Manhattan, for basically 2 years before he went on to do a bit of Broadway, followed by some short bits on the TV. Then he mainly traveled about the country on a “writing grant” from Heineken—those days are well behind him now.
Grand times Rob has had include:
- training in London and catching a lot of shows there
- competing on the Chicago Green Mill team at the National Poetry Slam in Ann Arbor
- T.M.L.ing in NYC, Chicago, Texas, Iowa, Wisconsin, and Edinburgh
- living next to Marilyn Manson
- tooling about a variety of the cities of the world attempting to find beers and foods that he thinks taste nice
- learning about philosophy, russia, blues, and rebels in Grinnell
- touring as a singing pirate
- snacking on Okonomiyaki with his cousins off an alley in Kyoto
- and dancing on the top of world as the big band made it swing
And now he is probably back doing Neo things, like “The Infinite Wrench”, somewhere, perhaps in NYC, and this site should, most likely, give you some clues.
I grew up down the street from a morgue in a cul-de-sac situated in a forest that was more like a Swamp. It was my kingdom, I was its prince, some times princess and always potion making witch. Little has changed since then. I’m ok with that.
Right now as I’m typing this, its raining. Its march, its washing away the snow. Is it raining while you are reading this? Is the earth covered in snow? Are pandas and polar bears still a thing? How much has the world changed since I wrote this and you began reading this…. Who knows. How many thoughts have we had, how different are we both from this day in 2015. Maybe we are going to meet soon. Maybe we are both single, maybe we will fall in love, or become best friends, share a hug, hold hands, kiss once drunk in a club. THERE IS SO MUCH POSSIBILITY FOR US. I love you, you are beautiful, let’s walk the streets and sing together.
T smokes cigarettes mornings with their coffee on a Brooklyn stoop.
T prefers the stoop to the coffee shop up the street because you can’t smoke in the coffee shop.
T prefers a pool table in a dive bar over a billiard hall. T sharked in Portland a few times, like a black version of Paul Newman, but different.
T appreciates a good side street to wander down and get lost, but has never gotten lost, it’s all about the landmarks.
T can only remember major life events in relation to Beyonce song debuts.
T has seen Beyonce two times and is getting closer to Bey flinging her sweat on them each time.
T’s favorite thing lately, is not knowing what’s coming next.
If T could shoot their bow and arrow anywhere, it would be on a horse, shooting hidden targets in the woods.
T has shot a bow and arrow in the woods, but definitely not from a horse, safety first.
T has a male cat named Flip, if you ask T about him, it would be a long story that you probably would lose interest in after a while because you probably don’t care about cats as much as T (i.e. refer to cat shirt or hoodie T is more than likely wearing).
T loves animals. T also loves a good steak, and would prefer that it were farm raised. Although T realizes that the chicken cutlet from the bodega was not from a free range farm.
T believes every creature should have a good life, but understands that life is shitty and at any moment you could be called to an untimely end.
T has resting don’t fuck with me face, and a brisk walk. T would prefer a resting smile and a saunter but Manhattan is not conducive to either.
T sometimes misses the heat of a whiskey neat down their throat, but accepts that a fresh fruit smoothie is better for longevity.
Yolanda has finally come to her Neo-Futuristic home, from the wilderness of being a failed dog walker, window dresser and foot messenger. Being Ron Jeremy’s oldest daughter isn’t an easy life to lead, but she does it with heart. She is a former born again Christian that worked for Pat Robertson until he fired her for being brazen.
The dichotomy in her life, having a father with a famous large penis and being a clasp in the Bible belt, has created an artist. By day, once you go through the metal detectors, you will find her teaching teenagers and inmates leadership skills and alternatives to violence. At night you find her on stage somewhere. She transforms at dusk and dawn. Below are more facts about her in the “personal ad” genre.
I’m from the south
I’m a Zelig, I imitate my atmosphere
Never been outside of the Northern hemisphere
Taurus Sun, Gemini Moon, Aquarius Rising
Loves laughing and sweating
I’m a World Citizen
I eat almost all cuisines
When I listen to my MP3s…
Prince to Patsy Cline
Mozart to Tupac
My last three boyfriends
Were a Mormon, a Jew, and Buddhist
I’ll read anything that’s good:
My blood type is B-positive
I remind myself of that anytime I feel down or tired. Selectively health conscious,
I don’t eat pork or beef
But sometimes I’ll eat Oreos or smoke weed.
I’m a fruitfly and a reformed flake
Realist optimist “sourceress”, Jesus freak.
A dog person that likes cats
Good in a crisis
Been through hell and I don’t want to go back.