Tell me how I'm doing performance schedule

'Tell me how I'm doing' 15 April 2010

12a. Columbus Circle. 'Am I real?'

I'll be asking for verification/proof of existence of this body/of my project.

3a. Suite Neighborhood Bar. 'Am I in your way?'

I'll be situated in the way of patrons escaping.

7a. 14th St Subway Interchange Tunnel. 'Am I ready for this?'

I'll be offering free consultation/representation for individuals prepared to quit their jobs or their lives.

11a. Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn Pedestrain Entrance. 'Who is that?'

I'll be asking for to be included in the photographs of pedestrians.

3p. Union Square. 'Who did that?'

I'll be writing a novel by eliciting passersby for dialogue, plot, and other 'narrative essentials'.

6p. NYC Metro-N Line, between Whitehall Street-South Ferry in Manhattan + Court Street-Borough Hall in Brooklyn. 'What's that?'

I'll be investing myself fully in caring for strangers, knowing full-well they'll be leaving me behind at ride's end.

10p. hArlemspAce, 1838 Seventh Avenue (Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard) at 111th Street, #6. 'How are we doing?'

I'll be welcoming individuals into my gallery for private consultation - RSVP to: suffernotindoubt@gmail.com.

thIs play has no script, and may not be finished with me...

Not losers just lost

I'm lost already

don't smile -
I'm not smiling

b/c if yu smile
yu may give yrself
away

a smile once offered
cannot be reclaimed
it bears yu naked
to the world

your hopes, miseries
envisionings of self
past

it even shows sadness
in yr absence

Sir, don't smile - yu'll
give away, perhaps
to someone you could not have
intended, or will ever know

mayb even to this poor
sportsman, whose past
is a batter's allusion

To all your hungry
cold men
now, forever underfoot:

get lost
don't, don't yu smile -

Two errata

The first error is performed even repeated throughout everyday discourse on trusted and unsuspecting acquaintances, partners, friends and probably it's best to avoid wielding this device in aggressively light-hearted interactions as the residual effects in that case are drastically divergent from these intended: to unnerve + to play dumb for one greatly admired, break into own expected/predictable/unidentifiable question/response/polite attention pattern abruptly + unannounced with articulations along the continuum of '. . . but yu wouldn't like me when I'm the one who's made mistake, as I quickly follow one mistake with many others, such as murder, assassination of the utmost foul endeavour, I could make you hurt for a short time or a long time, i could crush you, take your fate as a solicitor of wrath, the felicity in suffering. . . yes, I could definitely go for that sometime. . .' to 'don't you love raping young children?! in fact, this staircase we're passing thru currently is an ideal spot to drag limp body, halve them, and have your way - just as I plan to do with your body in due time. . .' all the while, intensifying and severing quietly - malevolently - identification your (preferably solitary) audience member has been allowed to believe in; sever these ever-so-briefly, disrupt your kindness but DO RETURN as perversely and in as unsettling a manner as possible even returning (after also decidedly-severing previous, recognizable, expected stances and mannerisms) your body to what is now made precious, preferred, a haven of sense: banter, deep-thought, kindness, and reverie.

Erring twice: Noble but orphaned, sliver is discovered by a crawler. Crawler at night - or in day bright - is swaying, inside. Confident, consistent waving leads crawler to lift. Lifting in rhythmic motion, ass then hands are as if wrung-up by marionette. This sliver is grasped between two powerful fingers. And sliver must be unwound, returned to fibrous sinew. Undoing. The crawler is a crawler no more, but now and then standing assayer. Sway, unwind, sugarcane. Even a small sliver of culture or pulp may take years to renew. It'll be worth it to undo man.

Northwoods-bound

. . . IF ON such a cold and rearing-up-on-hind-legs-day you should find yourself crass at tha lake: