The Eleventh Hour had its auspicious premier in concert reading form at La MaMa's La Galleria in April of 1999. Cheryl La Rosa and Jeffrey Lewis played the 13 year old boys, one of whom is a ghost who only appears to others his own age.

George Ferencz runs La MaMa's Experiment's reading series. My offering for 2002 is The Golf Wars.

The cast for the Eleventh Hour Concert reading at Fort at Sidewalk includes Toby Goodshank, Cockroach, Abbey Soft and Kimya Dawson. The pairing of Toby and Cockroach is the reason for this reading; it occurred to me when I saw them sing together to great effect. All four cast members are exceptional, highly professional anti-folk artists, and are a great pleasure to work with.

The upcoming performance includes songs from the 70's movie musical, Lost Horizon, by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. My reordered sequence of the songs provided the outline for The Eleventh Hour.

I shall next apply this method to the Rough Trade Album of The Moldy Peaches.

Lunchin' consists of Allen Brock (amplified acoustic guitar) and Sanjay Kaul (djembe). They played at CB's Gallery on Friday, November 23rd, the day after Thanksgiving. They make an incredibly beautiful sound.

I played at Sidewalk on November 21st and will next play there on December 12th at 8. I was happy to precede Linda Draper (Snow White Trash Girl) who was at her best!

On Thursday at my parents house we met Ronnie Rogers, a man responsible for some hits by Kid Creole and the Coconuts.

This evening (Saturday) we saw the Breughel exhibit of etchings and drawings at the Met Museum of Art. We learned the following:

The wise fools recognize the folly in themselves, embracing Erasmus' idea that self-knowledge is the key to overcoming moral failings.

If Mopsus can marry Nisa then ANYTHING can happen.

Searching for worldly goods and self knowledge among the piles of merchandise is the folly of everyman, who, by the way, rules the world. The Connoisseur with glasses and pouch tightly clasped cannot trust his eyes. He needs spectacles to see.

Labotomy through the ages. He has been to the mill means he is insane. He needs the stone operation performed by the witch of Mallegem. REMOVE the stone.

Ishmael is the product of Hagar, the banished; Isaac, the product of Sarah, the wife.
Abraham's the father of both... God said to Abraham, "kill me a son." There is apparently dispute over which was the one?

In the painting, an angel saves Ishmael and Hagar. Follow the geneology.

I need to be hit over the head and thanks to Kimya Dawson we were there where we should be, in the audience for Moldy Peaches and THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS at Town Hall, November 16, 2001. Moldy Peaches have established a wonderful collection of songs, particularly exceptional being their singing together slightly different lyrics to their rock solid song structures. They resonate something in the depths of my soul, because my childhood concerns focussed upon the great substitute for competetive sports, SEX! Let the other kids play hockey, I want to play with girls. I'm still in an impossibly yearning search mode and I'll tell you, if I find anything interesting. Oh, all right, it's the hermaphrodite newsgroup, worth a visit while you're downloading porn with Dave-O.

Adam and Kimya present a beautiful picture up there, and made a beautiful sound with their voices and Adams guitar, a duo to anticipate the talented duo they preceeded...

They Might be Giants, with George C. Scott, was on TV one evening; what a spectacular film! I felt, at the end, that it was the best movie I had ever seen and I didn't recall having that much fun since Dr. Strangelove. The imdb indicates 1971 was the year. It must have been broadcast a few years later. I do remember something about a scene in the supermarket. It's worth a second look. Steve Espinola said that's where the band got its name.

Oh, I see, The Four Lads, peak Billboard position # 10 in 1953, -Words by Jimmy Kennedy and Music by Nat Simon. I thought it was a song from a Broadway musical. I'm referring to Istanbul not Constantinople, a song popular during the Korean war, brilliantly performed by the charming duo. What else do they sing about? If they're not glorifying being hit by a meat truck to the tune or feel of Bacharach, they're singing about Evil to the tune of Goldfinger... It's all about the music. Their music is fun! I also heard mee mow mow, mama mee mowma mow mama...

Boy, you can find anything on the net. Well, there's a song I liked on their album, John Henry. A Self Called Nowhere is what it's called. I keep remembering that in listening to it I felt like I was sitting on a chair that's suddenly kicked down the stairs.

They Might Be Giants is a musical package of tremendous intelligence and talent.

The evening was phenomenal and confrontational, and while I'm sitting here, Tony's at the couch snuggling with Kim watching the sepia part of the film I checked out from the library, it was the library that introduced me to They Might Be Giants, and the film is Sea Hawk... NOW WHAT?

>From: Kitty Blue
>Subject: more kitty
>Date: Thu, 8 Nov 2001 01:53:46 -0800 (PST)
>
>Kitty Blue continues her adventures in Northern California assisted by the
>narration and musical composition of multi talented J Greco. In addition
>to Mr. Greco, a song has been provided by Broadway's own Peter Dizozzus.
>Meet Kitty's new love interest and listen to the sweet strains of
>soon-to-be showtune:
>
>http://wrybread.com/kittyblue/kbi45.shtml
>
>Thanks for watching!

I presented an introduction to The Golf Wars at Lou Rodgers Square One series, November 6th, 2001, a sleepy Tuesday everywhere but there. The evening was a sell out, and I presented myself quite solo, editing the material, only for time. The new songs included Take Me, Love, a rather happy song.

East Village Outdoor Antifolk Revue at the Naumburg Bandshell in Central Park hosted by Master of Cermonies Joie Dead Blond Girlfriend, organized by him, Major Matt Mason, and me, is completed! Featured acts included, well, us, and Fenton Lawless, Stephan, Jude Kastle, Paleface, Simple, James Broughel, Atoosa, Tony Hightower, Lenny Molotov, Randi Russo, Kenny Davidsen, Jeff Lewis, American Anymen, Patsy Grace, Grey Revell, Dina of Pre-War Yardsale, Drew Blood, Cockroach, Toby Goodshank, Seth from Dufus, Dave Deporis, Derek Richmond, Lunchin, Joe Bendik and The Voyces!

What a pleasure to see Erika Belle explaining the early 80's in New York. Good Evening. It's Sunday night; Kim and I are back from our trip through the Southwest, and after seeing David Kaye at Sidewalk, we happily watched a show about Madonna's early influences which VH1 broadcasted concurrent with "Alias."

-- Hot blazing 97FM had already alerted me to the importance of Alias when they said its sponsor would allow its first episode to run without commercial interruption --

Anyway, VH1 wisely contacted Erika to explain the late era of disco during shows they say connect with fashion week.

Her work is inspiring. Needless to say I'm a big fan, and yes, I like Madonna, too.

Kim and I began our travel across America in Jacksonville Florida and went West to New Orleans before we travelled back. More recently we visited her parents in Michigan near Grand Rapids. Our next trip will be from New Orleans to Phoenix, stopping to Tucson along the way to visit her brother, a doctor interning at one of the hospitals there.

As he twisted his mouth into a photogenic smile/snear, Charles Busch incorporated a naturalistic Jimmy Shtewart lisp into his beautiful succubus monologue. During that moment from his Vampire Lesbians of Sodom exerpt he created indelible theatre! His hosting of the emerging playwrights beneft on September 10th at Theatre for the New City was a return to the stage for him following open heart surgery and he is back with a vengeance, thank heavens!

Theatre for the New City presented a glittering evening to benefit TNC's Emerging Playwrights, which they called 2001: A Downtown Stage Oddity, hosted by Charles Busch. I've posted my pictures from the evening at http://www.cinemavii.com/gallery.htm.

The Village Voice, SEPTEMBER 4, 2001 VOICE CHOICES page 83
"The Peter Dizozza Band
Not unlike the glee-club piano nerd from the old "Coke Is It" commercials imitating Daniel Johnston interpreting Trust-era Elvis Costello, musical-theatre parodist Dizozza unpacks his "song cycle" Pro-Choice on Mental Health. His carnival-rock group is serviceable in the same sense that a Holiday Inn poolside buffet is nourishing. Likable and touching because it's a turnoff to respectable alt-culture pills. With LP Funk, Duende, Nino Pinelli, and Toby Goodshank. Sidewalk Cafe, at 7:30. (McMurtrie)"

Is it really so easy to post from this Long Island City library? I'm in the children's section, awaiting an eggplant parmagiane sandwich, and here it is, a place to sit down and write, surrounded by the classics. They have an entire paperback section dedicated to star trek. I knew someone who wrote one of those novelizations, David Spencer is his name. He's a lyricist, too. He was a critical participant in the Lehman Engel BMI Musical Theatre Workshop and I often think of him when I think of Adele Anroheim, which is when I see her. She's an excellent writer with a distinctive acting ability having quite a unique and emotive voice and a porcelina quality that reminds me now of that cryptic smashing pumpkins song that revitalized the word... So the minutes have passed. The sandwich has burned.

Key Words: Marc Blitzstein, Leonard Lehrman, Nicholo Sacco & Bartolomeo Vanzetti, Leonard Bernstein, Maggie DaSilva, Howard DaSilva, The Cradle Will Rock, Emma Goldman, Parade, Jason Robert Brown, Steven Spielberg, Picasso's Guernica.

Consider a subgenre of history-inspired art called the re-enactment of inhumanity or injustice... Inhu-, inju-. Is there an applicable term that does not contain its opposite?

Something about this passion play genre confuses me and distances me. I want something other than history to happen up there.

Do we depict atrocity as a warning? Why show human behaviour at its worst? Is history a ritual to be safely re-enacted on the stage? Is theatrical repition a glorification of the atrocity?

Schindler's List stirs emotions, legitimized by its obscure history lesson within the familiar picture. Did you know that an industrialist shielded and saved intended victims of tyranny?

Saving Private Ryan was a great fictional idea inspired by some newspaper clippings during World War II. A mother lost three of her sons to her country's war and the fourth is still fighting it. Was the Normandy introduction a gratuitous depiction of the butchery of attractive young men? On a personal note, I love visual communication. Steven Spielberg is a great artist of the cinema and his films have driven into my awareness, into the world's awareness, essential historic facts. (Remember to visit the D-Day Museum in New Orleans (at the boatmaker's factory) as a follow-up.)

An invasion across the English Channel is basically inconceivable. Why didn't they take the hovercraft, right, or the chunnel? I thought they were invading from over the Atlantic. I don't know what I thought in my brain's nebula; the nebula does not inform me it is thus until direct confrontation occurs, like remembering something I forgot when I need it...

It's a movie. An entertainment. Art entertains and informs. So does life, so does participation. Let's participate by creating more art, and more children while we're at it.

So there I was at Lucille Lortel's White Barn Theatre at the edge of Westport, Connecticut, watching the premier of Sacco and Vanzetti, the Blitzstein Opera completed by Leonard Lehrman. Guess what, if you didn't already know the history of them, the State of Massachusets goverment electrocuted them, again, and to the opera's credit, we did not see them fry. I sure learned about them, though. Leonard has done this before with his exceedingly educational and likeable Emma Goldman musical, which I remember as EG... The sensitive topic about which I learned is called Anarchy. I still can't tell you what that is, I mean like using the term to describe your political allegence. "I'm a communist, a Bolshevik," well, all right, anarchy is a peaceful vision of governmentless society, at its most neutered, since the word reverberates with anger... It's not like the word placid. I'm a placido, a placebo, a placifist... That sounds pleasant.

The Italian guys, down home family men, thought they were arrested (and knew they were guilty) for being anarchists, helping workers in the shoe factory to consider unionizing for better treatment, and there was quite an analysis in the opera about the inhumanity of assembly line work. The shoe factory where he worked adopted the Henry Ford technique and the true cobbler wants to make his shoe from beginning to end.

A few guys robbed a shoe factory, then five, perhaps other, guys robbed another shoe factory a few months later. The year was 1919 and Sacco and Vanzetti fit the vague description of foreigners involved. The second robbery required two murders to be successful. S&V go to get a car to hide some anarchist literature; the owner's wife calls the police and they act guilty when the police arrive. They carried guns...

This is reminding me of the striking coincidences of two brushes with the law in my own life over just the past two days, Friday and Saturday, Friday for admitting another subway passenger on my swiped metrocard.

The revolving unsupervised exit/entrance turnstyle away from the token booths can fit two, as you may surmise. After swiping her card, this woman managed to misuse the thing and lose her turn. The guy behind her was waiting to get in, I was waiting, too. The train was coming. In my usual judicial aggression, which exists within me, almost apart from me ("You're such a silly woman. Put the wine in the coconut..."), I jumped ahead of him, swiped my card, told her to come in, too, and we both went through.

A young diminutive Asian police man had stopped her as I was boarding the train, escaping! But no, I waited to straighten this out! He brought us up to the token booth where we checked her card. It had just been used, and so had mine. I promised not to take the law into my own hands again and he opened the gates to let us through (it was amazing how convinced he was that we were to get summonses). HEY, THERE'S A MYSTERY HERE: He opened the gate. We were free to go. The woman began to cry.

I left her crying at the gate. The experience had so upset her that she stood there, as the officer did, what? to intercede. I don't know if he did anything because I left. The beginnings of an injustice had concluded, and I think the woman demanded more acknowledgment for being a victim.

Proceeding with the next brush with the law --

On Saturday evening, during the drive to the opera, I made a U-turn within an intersection well past the White Barn Theatre because I'd missed my turn off route 7. A police officer followed and pulled me over, saying you wouldn't try that in New York. I said I would because I believe it's legal to make U-turns in intersections (I think making U-Turns between intersections, especially over double yellow lines, is illegal.) . He said, "Go into a driveway..," demanding my license and registration. I continued to apologize adding I'm heading to the White Barn to show how respectable I was, he said "go two lights and make a left it's a mile and a half on your left," and handed back my papers.

I WAS NOT GUILTY IN MY MIND AND ATTITUDE! Don't be embarressed by what you do. Be honest, be aware, believe in yourself... And of course, still, anything can happen. Imaginations, start working. The first escalation factor would be a hint of marijuana in the car...

So Sacco and Vanzetti think they're on trial for their political beliefs and a founder of the civil liberties union, here's the program, it's Elizabeth Glendower Evans, co-founder of the New England Civil Liberties Union and a dowager, as in an elderly woman of high social station, through and through, thinks they're innocent of the murders and informs them of what's happening so they won't act so guilty... Your beliefs are not the crime!

This Sacco and Vanzetti controversy was heatedly debated with relevance from 1919 through 1927 when they were electrocuted, and continued without relevance, all right, the issue remains, until 1977 when Massachusetts Governor Dukakus called for all shame to be removed from these names, or some such acknowledgment absent the word "INNOCENT." Eenosant!

Anyway, innocence is the wailing word.

Perhaps you've heard John Kessel wail it live in his histrionic, verging on humerous, transcendent song, "I am Innocent!"

PomPom girl Ms. Spears' committee made an effective pop statement by having her announce the opposite. "I'm not That Innocent." What a trigger word!

I was assistant conductor for Leonard Lehrman's Cantata setting the text of the Julius and Ethel Rosenberg letters, entitled "We Are Innocent." The Federal Government executed them, with the help of Roy Cohen, I believe, for managing to give Russia the bomb. They provided the formula enabling Russia to make an Atomic Bomb, an amazing accusation given their level of education, and again, Julius and Ethel were caught feeling guiltily aware of feeling disagreeably sympathetic to communists during a gung-ho feeling period -- the American/Un-American Fifties.

So Leonard Lehrman musically ritualizes inflammatory lynchings, and his work clarifies our perception. Rather, he shapes our views. If you ask me, all I know of the subjects is from him. All I know of Americans in Japan is from Spielberg/Ballard's "Empire of the Sun." All I know about Leo Frank I learned in Harold Prince production of Parade. Huxley wrote the Devils of Loudin, and Ken Russell illuminated it. Seeing a flawed man, innocent of the crime for which he is accused, executed, is a ritual. Will it never happen again? Let's learn from these re-enactments.

I think we may be learning. Injustice. Inhumanity. Aggressive actions both contain and effectuate their opposites and, for the great example in western civilization, of course, look to the silencing of Jesus Christ.

Hey, we're still in Michigan! I imagine myself in an old age home creating artwork from the material collected in my youth. We visited Kim's Grandmother Dunne today at the old age home where she used to be its nurse administrator. It's a retiring place as you can imagine, in a pretty part of East Grand Rapids. It's wonderful to have a visit, but when we left her I'm sure she returned to her work, knitting. She made Kim a beautiful pink satchel for her bathing suit. I'll be knitting audiovideo images. I'm sure you'll like them!

I love to shape reality, and the easiest most harmless way to do so is through film and sound editing. We stop and start and I get to edit out the breaks and piece together the sequence. It's like knitting something seemless from string fragments, although knitting is harder. Fifteen years ago I spent considerable time independently editing film. The computer has again made this activity possible.

Candlewood Isle is situated on a manmade lake, lake Candlewood; it was a mountain peak and since 1926 it's the tip of the berg, a long strip, thin on the South end and fat at the elbow where Lake Drive North makes a 90 degree curve. It looks like a long wedge and we're in the middle if you consider where it balances. The long south end is very thin. I was so happy when we began going there, which was since I was what, 8? Candlewood Isle has an otherworldly quality where anything is possible. We went by boat from the beach to an undeveloped inlet to film the wackyland portion of The Last Dodo on August 4th.

Misquote alert. Diane Cluck's lyric is "the washed out splendor of the nest unmade"

SUMMER ANTI-FOLK TOMPKINS SQUARE PARKFEST 2001
I played two songs at the park while just about everyone else played one. Of course, we ended the event with 20 minutes to spare; of course, after my second song I knocked over Drew Blood's keyboard. Then, when Jordan Corbin attempted to use it thereafter (she even asked me, should she, and I, the deluded prayer gambler, said sure), it didn't work. She played, beautifully, her dingbat song on the guitar. Dingbats, by the way, lodge in crevices of only the best and most decorative cathedral ceilings. So basically the only two glitches in an otherwise flawless 48 performer talent cavalcade were my dropping the keyboard and Jordan attempting to play it thereafter, the second glitch, MERELY AN EXTENSION OF THE FIRST. Congratulations everybody! John Gernarn & Lach, with Joie and Amos Elpmis ("Simple" Soma) in the background, engineered great sound with out-of-the-ballpark think-on-your-feet skill.

Another drop on my part -- you probably missed this one but here is it and its consequence. After The Moldy Peaches had completed their well-crafted conceptual pop outrage to a packed room at the Sidewalk Cafe, I pulled my video camera out of its perch by the piano. I pulled it up by the stand -- it was already up pretty high -- so it hit the ceiling and dropped off the stand onto the floor. I picked it up and returned home. The battery had fallen off.

Now Rick Shapiro, occupying the "Sidewalk Sunday at 10" spot, commands attention. He also thinks on his feet, pretty freely, in a way that I can't imagine helps him move forward. In fact the operative words here are wallow and glorify, where I, too, find art. Moving forward is not the way of Til Eulenspiegel. To quote from a nice fellow I met at The Eulenspiegel Society, Til rolls the ball up the mountain and each time, upon reaching the pinnacle, it rolls back down. Repeating the same thing twice and expecting a different result is a good definition of insanity. It also defines ritual and that's what sado-masochism is about.

Where else might we encounter such repetitive movement syndrome?

When I returned at 11:30, Rick was still on, performing to a packed house. He was doing a great Italian goomba routine.

He also does an amazing movie announcer voice when he says "Whitney Houston in a Penny Marshall Film." He repeats it with varied inflections and each is perfect in its portentiousness. There is something ludicrous about names and their associations with people. Matt Damon, Lawrence Larry Fischburn. Betty Bette Davis. Try it.

He also has a "middleclass" routine about redecorating his wife's vagina.

He did an australian aborigine routine while Dina Dean majestically stood before him. The pop song playing during his dance was a good one.
Lach returned to the audience with the tip mandolin, encouraging Mr. Shapiro to continue while he did so.

Rick embarked upon a taxi ride routine based upon an incident he reported repeatedly was really true. Apparently the "taxi driver" wanted to make some point that men would fuck even if it meant certain annihilation by asking Rick a question. Rick would walk out of the cab and the taxi driver would coerce him back in. As Rick relived the taxi driver attempting to keep Rick's attention, Rick was keeping ours, AND THAT'S IT. It's not the question, would you stick a penis with a babyface into a bunny's porcupine vagina, nor what you might answer, but simply, in the wake of this disturbance, Does attention to Mr. Shapiro continue to be paid? Exquisite torture. What kind of free-ride pay-to-get-out masochism are we honing?

Kubrick said the greatest crime is to be boring, then he tested our limits, and it's enlightening to discover in the details what was at first boring to be incredibly interesting...

The audience was relatively quiet during his performance. They certainly faced acknowledgment if, in departing, they should catch his eye.

So in much the same way as Rick did last night in getting into the baby's breath delicacy of this penis tip before returning us to its destination, the cake of nails, I return to my battery, all the way in the far corner of the room by the piano. My eyes were tearing from the smoke. I was sneezing. At last a seat opened up by Jordan Pfister, my dear friend who played bass for our set earlier in the evening. After enjoying the Jeff Lewis and The Moldy Peaches, I left to drive back Hens' drumkit. Jordan remained.

After Rick's set, all Jordan said was that the performance, at 2 hours, went on too long. As I sat by him during it, I remembered another event he helped host back in the WKCR concert fundraising days at the cusp of the repetitive new music breakthroughs of Steve Reich ("Drumming"), and Philip Glass (And Glass was achieving breakthroughs while we sat there listening to him work through his noodlings. Is Shapiro?). I mean, now that I think of it, Philip Glass achieves dizzying musical vistas, and on that day, when Jordan's friends, The Model Citizens were playing with Reich, and John Cale (with Bowie on violin) at Carnagie Hall, Glass ended the evening, people vacating in droves, by playing the organ. Who'd be there when he stopped? I was, with a kvetch like this thereafter.

The tables at Sidewalk cleared. It was 12:30. While I was feeling around the floor, Jordan found the battery on the table. The camera is ready for playback. Let's go to the videotape.

What a day! July 29th, 2001.
Through my usual tunnel vision, the Diane Cluck Wild Line of the Day That I Caught

was

"The washed out splendor of the mess she made."

I received Lach's Folk Fest email. He has 48 people on that park performance list. July 29th will be a memorable afternoon.

We rehearsed last night at Tu Casa. Mario, who runs Tu Casa, said the park people promised the East Village community a stage after they removed the bandshell. He used to put on park concerts but not again. Apparently he's part of a not for profit organization connected with Charas. El Bahio, perhaps?

Look to August 1st for the new status of Charas, the big abandoned public school that for many years has been a community rehearsal space, not without charge, of course.

Every week, some major new change awaits NYC.

Look to the November election for 40 new city council members, plus a new mayor.

I acquired from Jordan Corbin a copy of her CD and it sounds surprisingly dreamy. Her high notes are eerie and she can really hit them. Enter her raw, intimate, exclusive world through the acquisition of her CD. Diane Cluck also has that exclusionary intimacy that seems to contradict mass production of her work. They get me dreaming, but to what end?

Sitting on lawn chairs by the lightly lapping lake as the sun, descending behind the mountain, glows us golden, we chat.

We visited Coney Island on Saturday; t'was Kim's first visit there and she loved it. The occasion was the Siren Concert, with the Asto Boys to Men and Another band with the word "voices," and a band with the word Blues in it, like they were blues masters. The music sounded great. Matador records gave out free samples, including a clear plastic record for the old victrola.

Jon Berger suggested this outing. He, Grey, Matt Mason, Randi Russ, Dina Levy, Kim and I met in front of Nathan's; he was sitting on a waterplug attached to the building like he was the only one there, at its corner, while fourteen hundred people awaited Nathan's seafood to his immediate left. We headed over to Popeyes then to the jam packed alley by the rollercoaster where the bands blared. While on the boardwalk, eating, I ran into my old friend, Jordan Pfister, and I called to Grey when Jordan said he studied with Jack Cassidy. Grey thought he meant Jack Bruce, do I have this right? Of Cream. Anyway, Jack Cassidy was in Hot Tuna and Jefferson Airplane and he played Bass. We were clarifying that when I realized it meant that Jordan also played bass.

"Hey, Jordan (I had just invited him to my antifolk fest performance next Sunday) Do you want to play with me???" Hens of Monospace, Jordan and I rehearsed today. It went great. Joe Bendik will join us on Sunday. We play on the bill with Moldy Peaches, Cock Roach, Jeff Lightning Lewis and RICK SHAPIRO! That's this Sunday, after the Tompkins Square Park event which will miraculously feature preview spots by all 50 of the fest participants. I met Francis Ford Coppola today at Frank Restaurant and made sure he knew about it. He wouldn't commit, but at least he got the info.

Come to think of it, to get to Coney Island we travelled by subway over the Manhattan Bridge. That sentence strikes a nostalgic note because, in keeping with our "end of the old NYC" tradition (last week, goodbye gas tanks), as of Sunday the bridge is closed to subways until 2004.

Other visits there include an overcast Mermaid Parade in 1995, where I took a photo of the woman with the keyhole ("Hers is the keyhole to youth regained") which is at http://www.cinemavii.com/dizozza/images/keyhole.jpg.

Well, that's done, the Examination Under Oath proceeds.

As it's been since 1999, this time of year is Tompkins Square Park Folk Festival Time. (It's also Nutmeg Festival Time in Ridgefield)

Specifically, Summer AntiFolk Fest 2001 commences on the 28th, and during the afternoon of the 29th, the many performers come out to play at the former bandshell area. That's something to look forward to, our own little Woodstock.

Woodstock established everyone who played there, even people who were there, EVEN FANTUZZI!

Country Joe and the Fish, Canned Heat, Hendricks, Jefferson Airplane, Crosby Stills Nash, Arlo Guthrie, The Who played there too, and ShaNaNa anticipating the return 50's. why do I know this? "I will not support a concert that benefits drug peddlers," well, that's quite a position. What's that Spell, FUCK! I'm a farmer. Don't touch my bags if you please. A triple album. Naked in the mud.

OK, it got me dreamin'. I wanted to be like them.

David Bowie, OK, he got me dreamin'. I wanted to be like him.

Anybody who gives you the space to make up your own stories, thank you!

The EUO is complete.

This year's Woodstock, at Tomkins Square Park in the EAST VILLAGE, Sunday Afternoon, July 29th.

I am happy and grateful for the wonderful people in my life.

Now to assist an examination under oath for one of our motor vehicle accident victim clients, a taxi driver with the last name Singh.

Off to Dave of Dave's Place's Place at the Manhattan Cable Studios, in 20 hours or so, to present the Debra Wakefield Mike Perazzetti video of Prepare to Meet Your Maker, cueing up the best scenes, from the many copies awaiting purchase. What a cast! Amy-Jo Mikiel, Laurel Hoffman, Tony Hightower, Kimberly Mossel, Meghan Elizabeth Burns, Drew Blood, Lisa Shred, Linda Kobylinski, John Kessel. What a band, with Kessel on Bass, Brian Wayne on percussion and Music Director Kenny Davidsen at the piano. It will only become more amazing an assembly with the passage of time. How to speak coherently about such an unspeakable project? That which must never be spoken aloud is spoken the loudest, "Do you hear me, my Cementeria?"

It was a beautiful morning. We awakened at 5:30. These are prime hours we often miss. Thank you Keyspan for giving us a reason to get out. Jerzey Kosinski, who killed himself three times over just to be sure, used to split his days in two, sleeping in the mid day to enjoy the best times, early morning and late night. Well, sleep deprivation is the secret cause of all mental disturbance, and I'm well on my way to schizophrenic depression. I am ready to renegotiate although I have yet to successfully flex the netherworld of sleepytime!

I heard a lecture on the radio, it was on one of the lower FM bandwiths which usually means University Affiliate. It wasn't the KCR Columbia guys because I had already passed them. They were busy broadcasting an historic histrionic rant by a female singer setting straight the record on how mean her man is. He's a mean man. He's HER man. Obviously not a 78rpm recording cause it went on way too long. Then KCR DJs have a tendency to speak twice as long as their next recording, so I switched to another station. Why did I even move from WQXR to begin with? Well, if it isn't Vermont Teddy Bears it's some other inane adspot that bought up their break time, this one about REEE-sorts, everything fine at the REE-sort (scansioned to the tune of Downtown). So I was off on a survey of the other stations (which reminds me, cable tv surfing is TOO SLOW.).

The lecturer was considering the LSD movement, so he must have been speaking to a crowd in the 1960's. He was warning the young generation about its inability to describe the awarenesses chemically achieved. He mentioned two buddas, one that stays enlightened in the mountains and the other that willingly returns to us and plays along with the rules we subconsciously accept as part of our life. He was wonderfully perceptive and reminded me of the ecstatic enlightenment that removes us from society...without lonliness, this being broadcast while people were crossing sunny 6th Avenue and West 8th, near the theatre I was approaching for tonight's performance of The Wise Sophia.

Buddist writings, especially the English translations, and I'm familiar only with Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and oriental occultism by Yogi Ramacharaka from the Chicago Masonic Temple, 1908 (and Zanuck's Razor's Edge), are sensitive to the path to awareness being something that you arrive at but may not necessarily be able to express. I kind of get that it's the rule of the word that unites us, and I'm echoing the hodgepodge version of yogi/protestant work ethic I learned from the Werner Erhard Est Descendant Seminar called, THE FORUM. (Did you get it? We're not leaving until everyone does -- really does.) Anyway, goldfish in a bowl, it's a good reminder which returned while waiting for a cue backstage. I realized I am a product of rules, repetition and expectation, and the actor is supposed to follow whatever set of rules his character limits him to. The actor assumes the roles of society.

The other echo from the 60s was Linus Gelber's announcement that Wild Thing and Just Call Me Angel in the Morning were written by the same songwriter whose name, yes, escapes me. The lyrics to Angel in the Morning announce that sex out of wedlock could be beautiful, causing a stir in 1962.. Whatever you say, and whatever I say, does it communicate?

Boy, the Post is cruel, but accurate. IT'S A BIG APPLE BLAST

By BILL HOFFMANN, KIRSTEN DANIS and LARRY CELONA


July 5, 2001 -- HAPPY 225th
BIRTHDAY, AMERICA

... At Gallagher's Steak House, Lisa Dery and Peter DiZozza
tried but failed to set a record singing patriotic songs by
George M. Cohan and Irving Berlin for 14 hours. "They
pooped out after a few hours," a Gallagher's worker said. ...

I have no further comment but to respectfully acknowledge that the words that the waiter I neglected to tip blabbed were true. WE FAILED, but we will return.

Gallaghers is the place that features steak aged 26 days (see Potemkin -- please, I'm kidding here, if you connect with such a comment) and the best ox-tail soup in town. I remember when Fred Astaire, in Bandwagon, said, before wandering around 42nd street and discovering how it had changed (When there's a shine on your shoes...), he said, as they were entering sardi's, "you go ahead in, I want to walk around, order me a steak!" Well, Sardi's is on 46th Street near Shubert's Alley, Gallaghers in on 52nd, near, I don't know, THE MUSIC MAN, and the theatre where Urine Town is moving. They've opened Gallaghers in other parts of the world, ie, Las Vegas, in the NEW YORK HOTEL -- walk across the street, VENICE!

OK, I took it for granted that my love for Michael Douglas being derived from his father is the equivalent of common sense, but actually, one may not be aware of the wondrous of achievements of Kirk Douglas, a consummate actor, whatever that means. He certainly didn't care about directing negative responses upon himself, as shown by his performances in The Big Carnival, the Bad and the Beautiful, Lust for Life, Young Man with a Horn. He portrayed the fiery temperament of cinema youth when it was still in its first stages (John Garfield preceded him.). He was attractive but unavailable, his tormented mind always sending him elsewhere. This is broader topic than I can assist with before bedtime, so let me just jump to the understatement, he supported the talent of Stanley Rubric, paving the budgetary leap from Paths of Glory to Spartacus.

Kubric's impact on society is readily delineated on another occasion.

I watch Dave of Dave's place push the energy envelop to entertain the people waiting to entertain him or whomever is remaining. The performance opportunity is stimulating. People this time of night are just wanting to play. (I wound up singing to my cd, and the next time I will play the piano as it plays, that way, well, at least I'm doing something other than sitting there sounding flat and presenceless.) So what is driving Dave. He is quite earnest and there are times when it doesn't seem that difficult what he is doing, certainly not as difficult as the sweat on his brow makes it out to be. He's the happiest man in showbusiness, as distinguished from the hardest working man, James Brown. Then a black fellow from LA came on dedicating his set to Lennon and covering Glass Onion, one of the more difficult beatles songs to be captured by a six string guitar. Paleface sang a great song about gadgets with the help of Dina Dean echoing the word whenever he said it. "Guys that buy gadgets," hey, that's me. Paleface, wow, looks like Oliver Reed. A unique singing voice. His next song was a reminder that we pay for entertainment. His eyes shut into slits, does he have another verse? No.

Sometimes, not with Paleface who is exceptional, the excitement from the performer is when his or her song is over, the tremor in the heart to be that much closer to performance time. My offering to the world, thankfull and thoughtfull, that's what Darryl sang about at the end of his two song set.

In case this has not rung the awareness bells, I attended Lach's Antihoot this evening, on my way to the nearest parking spot, no I sincerely looked forward to playing and when he spoke on the phone he asked if I was coming by. Monday night, Sidewalk Cafe at Ave A and East 6th. People sign up and introduce their talent to their fellow performer/audience members.

Hey, the singing group Phonic sounded great and the event of their playing tonight gave Lach the opporutity to utter, "I got hooked on phonics so I had to go to the phonix house..." The place where creativity ferments, Lach's Fort at Sidewalk, not only the means to an end, but an end in and of itself, whatever your stature in the entertainment world.

The reason I love Michael Douglas is 'cause he reminds me of his father... He's actually got several great accomplishments to his name, probably more than I know about for I have not seen his period with Ms. Kathleen Turner and Danny Davito, but he has made an impression as, well, as a producer of the Milos Foreman Cukoo's Nest, a great moment in Jucy Fruit history, and there's more to it than that, AN UNDERSTATEMENT. The bluelit end is truly a cinematic coup in an already solid stage adaptation currently featuring who, Gary Sinise, over here... Um, He's also got that performance in Wall Street that folks made much of... Martin Sheen, Oliver Stone, it all looked so local. How about, uh, oh dear, the great heroine, Glenn Close, and that hideous family that wrecked havoc upon her elevated existence... Well, by the end she's martyred gloriously, congratulations to the manipulative monster behind that camera lens. The director already had a history. Did he make Flash Dance? Adrien Lynn, eight and a half weeks, how DO these words stimulate the memory? There's insolence in that family and they inspire strength in us. They are incouragible and I love them. But now this thing with the Traffic costar. Hadn't she already established herself as a Bond woman. Steven Sodenburgh introduced her in the film as a star underneath a bushel of hay. I actually recall meeting Eric Douglas, who is I believe a half brother to Michael, yet they both bear such strong resemblence to their great father. He became friends with one of my close friends some years back when she was more in the producing business. Yeah, sure I was scared, but I enjoyed his company. What a riot to hear friends of my parents comment on his upbringing. Manners, baby, that's what it's all about up there on Candlewood Isle.

The Twelfth Night directed by Chad Stutz at La Plaza Cultural, the park with the willow trees on Ave. C and East 9th, opens with, "If music be the food of life, play on, followed by, enough, 'tis not as sweet now as it was before.." The play runs Thursday through Saturday until the end of July beginning at 7PM. Sharon Fogarty and Jason Howard (who plays the fool) provide music. At the beginning of the evening, the birdies were chirping wildly. You may be asked as you enter, after giving something in response to the suggested contribution of 5 dollars, to sign a petition to transfer the park to the City Parks Department. I suppose that would save it. Charas is up the block toward Avenue B and there doesn't seem to be much hope saving that from its purchaser at auction. It's been his for the past three years....

Characters in the Twelfth Night, who roll in with the waves, unroll within cardboard from upstage. Lost in a watery tomb at sea, and being in the third degree of drink is to be drowned, they each of the other presume to be deceased. Sometimes the sea returns that which it steals from us.

The costumes were east village hodgepodge. Malvolio was a young man with a monocle (Eric Walton). The entire cast was young and appealing. Sir Toby doesn't have to be old to have a niece... He reminded me most of Roman Polanski, the actor... (It's Brent Popolizio)

Enter the cross dresser. She acted with Chad before. I need a link to Mary Robinson to refer you to -- Tara Platt reminds me of MR.... In other words she has a round lovely face with a prominent full mouth conveying innocence and intelligence. All the actors were excellent. Each knew the lines well enough to play while enhancing their meaning.

The mistress of the house catches the plague of infatuation upon meeting the cross dresser. "Be you his eunuch?" Catch the infatuation!

It was then I noticed the barbed can art mounted upon the fence, resembling pinwheels and puddings, that contained us in our garden theatre.

How likest this tune? It gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned -- that's the seat you're sitting on, dearie! Remember to bring a pillow. May thy tailer make thy outfit of changeable taffeta.

I'm onto the quotes. I assure you, your appreciation of Twelfth Night and of Shakespeare is readily enhanced by your attendance at this Manhattan Theatre Source, 2 Way Production.

"This letter will make a contemplative idiot of him."

"Some have greatness thrust upon them."

"See thee cross gartered in yellow stockings" (taken quite literally.) "My lady loves me."

Games... I would, for this, marry her, the wench, and ask for no dowry but such a jest.

I am not your fool but your corrupter of words!

The heavens rain odors on you.

These dopey bargirls play games with the nobility, perhaps one day to marry them.

Here's my purse, go feed you with the sights of this town.

I have limed her!

A little thing would tell them how much I lack of a man.

I so much like you that a fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell!

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and judge of thy own cause. Heigh ho, the wind and the rain! Girl, I look forward to seeing thee one day in thy woman's weeds!

Fun!

"Traffic" was compelling cinema. Congratulations to all involved, but am I to understand that drug tzar Michael Douglas left his wife and child and actually married the drug barons' wife, Ms. Zita-Jones? Was she even pregnant with his child during the film? Was this a maneuver around or manipulation of public perception? He strikes me as a man with a deep sense of humour. Regards to Eric Douglas. Peter Dizozza