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In News, Plays, Schedule on November 23, 2012 at 7:41 PM

Click here for tickets

Direction and text by Tommy Smith.

Original music and soundscapes by Reggie Watts.

Featuring the voices of Neil Gaiman (Sandman, American Gods),Reed Birney (Blasted, Picnic), Marin Ireland (Nocturne, Blasted),Mary Jane Gibson (The Wife).

Not a conventional performance, LOTUS EATERS EP  — an audio-fueled “extended play” — is a hallucinatory sonic experience about loneliness, depravity, and the intrinsic failure of all human contact.

Arranged, mixed and mastered by Michael McQuilken. Additional music by John Osebold and Michael McQuilken. Visual imagery by Fette Sans. Live video projection and design by Lucy MacKinnon.

Performance: January 6, 2013 @ 2:00 & 3:30pm; January 12 @ 2:00pm
Ticket Price: $18 (with free download of LOTUS EATERS EP)
Location: IRT Theater, 154 Christopher st. #3B (third floor)
Running time: 1 hour

Click here for tickets

(image by Fette Sans)



In News, Plays, Schedule on November 12, 2012 at 8:30 PM


The following text was performed at The Flea Theater, November 8-10, as part of Serials, an episodic late night theatre event where the top three (of five) serialized stage plays return the following week. Episode Six: Cocaine will play November 15-17The Flea.














VOICEOVER :         (with American accent) Mesdames et Messieurs, au début de 2003, Marché aux puces, directeur artistique Jim Simpson a fait une série d’entretiens avec NPR à propos de ses expériences largement relatés avec des narcotiques dans ses premiers jours. Ce qui suit est une reproduction d’un de ces entretiens. (with French accent) Ladies and gentlemen, in early 2003, Flea Artistic Director Jim Simpson did a series of interviews with NPR about his widely chronicled experiments with narcotics in his early days. The following is a recreation of one of those interviews.

JIM:         It was during a period Sigourney was dating Walken.

WALKEN:                           Hey.

SIGOURNEY:                  Sorry Jim.

JIM:         I had gotten a grant to develop an experimental theatre piece using source material from some semi-relevant book of the bible and the Greek myth of Orpheus.

WALKEN:         You know, the myth where a lover loses his way in the underworld trying to find the image of his lover?

JIM:         I had to produce the show in a European city of my choosing.

TATIANA:                  I would obviously choose Amsterdam.

WALKEN:                  That was the obvious choice.

JIM:         Sigourney was in Moscow while Walken shot exteriors for that terrible Bond movie no one remembers.

TATIANA:                  I was bitter.

JIM:                  (on phone) Come to Amsterdam baby.

SIGOURNEY:                  No Jim I’m with Chris now.

JIM:         I’m at JFK right now and I swear I’ll buy you a ticket if you come back to me.

SIGOURNEY:                  Are you still seeing all those other girls?

JIM:         Maybe.

SIGOURNEY:                  Goodbye Jim.

FLIGHT ATTEND.:         Sir?

JIM:                  Hmn?

FLIGHT ATTEND.:         Are you crying in this airplane’s bathroom?

JIM:                  Yes.

FLIGHT ATTEND.:         We’re about to land in Holland.

TAXI DRIVER:                  Sir?

JIM:                  Yes?

TAXI DRIVER:                  Welcome to my taxi.

JIM:                  Thank you so much.

TAXI DRIVER:         Perhaps instead of crying you could give me the address of your hotel?

JIM:                  Nothing matters now.

HOTEL CLERK:                  Welcome to The Hotel Windmill, sir.

JIM:                  Sigourney liked windmills.

HOTEL CLERK:         I’m assuming from your weeping that would like to know the nearest location to smoke weed?

TALL HOST:                  Hello.

JIM:                  She seemed remarkably tall.

TALL HOST:                  Goedemordag.

JIM:                  Hi.

TALL HOST:         I am your host Annika Mule-en-dyke for this city of Amsterdam.

JIM:         Mmm hmm.

TALL HOST:         We will see the theater but first would you like to have some bitterballen before we go to the Vondelpark for afternoon appletaart?

JIM:         Yes.

TALL HOST:         And then maybe later we will see the theater with our technician Otto?

OTTO:         Hello!

TALL HOST:         Oh there is Otto now, arriving on a bike.

OTTO:         Come let us go to the theater!

JIM:         You guys are speaking English.

TALL HOST:         Yes, of course.

OTTO:         We prefer it.

TALL HOST:         (to Otto) We spreken onze talen.

OTTO:         (to Tall Host) We spreken onze talen, of we doen alsof!

JIM:         Please don’t do that.

TALL HOST:         Yeah, just joking.

OTTO:         Our language is terrible and we apologize.

SIGOURNEY:         Jim, your agent told me where you were staying and this is a postcard from Russia and I’m about to run out of room and Chris wants to say hi –

WALKEN:         Hey.

SIGOURNEY:         I miss you.

JIM:         You do?

SIGOURNEY:         Platonically.

JAMAICAN MAN:         Sir, you have reached your daily five-gram limit of marijuana.

JIM:         Hn?

JAMAICAN MAN:         I will have Lars our delivery boy drive you home.

LARS:         Come sit on my handlebars.

JIM:         I’m not going to do that.

LARS:         Riding a bicycle in an incredibly dangerous fashion is Dutch tradition.

JIM:         Yeah, so are hookers.

LARS:         You want to see the hookers?

JIM:         And suddenly we were looking at hookers.

LARS:         I have to walk into this store for a moment.

JIM:         And Lars disappeared.

TATIANA:         Tap tap tap.

JIM:                                    Oh hello.

TATIANA:                           I have a secret for you.

JIM:                                    For me?

TATIANA:                           Yes, come a little closer.

JIM:                                    She looked like Sigourney.

WALKEN:                           I could smell her skin.

TATIANA:                           Roses and windex.

WALKEN:         The glowing blacklight behind her circling her head like a halo.

TATIANA:                           She tells me the price and I tell her

JIM:                                    That seems fair.

SIGOURNEY:                  I think of my mother for a moment.

JIM:                                    I imagine what she’s doing now.

MOM:                           Jim?

JIM:                                    Hn?

MOM:                           Jim will you empty the dishwasher?

TATIANA:                           Are you nervous?

JIM:                                    No.

WALKEN:         The woman, whose name is –

TATIANA:         Tatiana.

JIM:         Tatiana takes my hand and leads me down a neon pink corridor.

TATIANA:         It opens up into a black-tiled room with a white bed.

WALKEN:         We sit next to each other on the bed.

JIM:         I don’t know what to do.

WALKEN:         With a lover I try to comfort her with my body then whoops, we’re having sex.

SIGOURNEY:         But Tatiana’s playful exterior soon gives way to a business-like demeanor.

TATIANA:         You have fifteen minutes from when you enter this door to when you put your clothes on and leave.

JIM:         I quietly undress.

TATIANA:                           You have HPV.

JIM:                                    Huh?

TATIANA:         Here look at your dick do you mind if I hold it?

JIM:                                    Oh hey –

TATIANA:         Look at the end of your dick here. You see these spots?

JIM:                                    Yeah I just thought those were scratches.

TATIANA:         No man these are warts you should go to the doctor.

JIM:                                    How did you know?

TATIANA:         I’m a sexual health teacher. You’re gonna have to take an antibiotic.

JIM:                                    So what does that mean, what do these mean?

TATIANA:                           We wear a condom.

WALKEN:         She gives me a blowjob.

SIGOURNEY:         The radio blares Dutch ads, the Klingon language distracting from the task before me.

WALKEN:         I reach my hand down to fondle the back of her head and she says

TATIANA:         No uh uh

WALKEN:         with my dick in her mouth, looking in my eyes.

SIGOURNEY:         I tell her to fuck me.

TATIANA:         I ask if I can fuck her from behind.

WALKEN:         She says no then mounts me.

JIM:         I lose my concentration when Alanis Morisette’s “Ironic” comes on the radio.

TATIANA:         As the first chorus rises I come.

SIGOURNEY:         My sight is bleary and the purple blacklight makes Tatiana, who kneels beside me, looking like a 40s starlet through a smeared neon lens.

WALKEN:         I walk outside its midnight.

JIM:         I read somewhere – maybe on the travel guide on the flight – that the entirety of the Dutch nation exists fifteen feet below sea level.

WALKEN:         Which would technically make it the underworld.

JAMAICAN MAN:         That’s why they call it the Netherlands.

JIM:         Man I’m just putting this together now.

JAMAICAN MAN:         This is hell, brother.

JIM:         Could I please get another hash cookie?

JAMAICAN MAN:         Looks like you’re all out of money.

JIM:         Shit.

JAMAICAN MAN:         There’s a payphone in the back.

JIM:         (on phone) That’s what I’m saying.


BANK TELLER:         Sir there’s nothing we can do right now.

JIM:         I just need you to wire over one thousand dollars.

BANK TELLER:         Sir it is 4 a.m. in Holland –

JIM:         Uh huh and I need that money right now


BANK TELLER:         I’m not going to ask what a grown man who shares a checking account with his girlfriend is doing in Amsterdam.

JIM:         I’m here on research


BANK TELLER:         Good night sir.

JIM:         It’s morning No don’t hang up FUCK (hits receiver against phone booth) FUCK (hits receiver) FUCK (hits) FUCK!

COP:         Tap tap tap.

JIM:         Yes?

COP:         Yeah, we are here to arrest you?

WALKEN:         I was surrounded by eight cops in riot gear.

JIM:         I was just making a phone call.

COP:         Yeah well you are screaming in the street and have smashed this phone into pieces.

SIGOURNEY:         I looked down at my left wrist.

JIM:         I’m bleeding.

COP:         Yeah you see a large shard of phone plastic has cut your artery open?

SIGOURNEY:         A maroon blood bubble slithered from the open slit.

JIM:         It was dark for a while.

WALKEN:         Then I woke up next at the police station.

COP:         Sir we have bandaged your cut.

JIM:         … Thank you.

COP:         We are thinking that we let you go and in exchange you never come to our country again?

JIM:         Deal.

The opening strains Alanis Morisette’s “Ironic.”

SIGOURNEY:         Hey.

JIM:         … Hey.

SIGOURNEY:         You look bad.

JIM:         You’re in Russia.

SIGOURNEY:         I flew in.

JIM:         Why?

SIGOURNEY:         On your passport application I’m your emergency contact.

JIM:         Fuck, I should have changed that.

SIGOURNEY:         Fuck you don’t change it.

JIM:         No?

SIGOURNEY:         You’d die without me.

JIM:         Where’s Walken?

SIGOURNEY:         They have to re-shoot the scenes where he’s laughing.

JIM:         So … ?

SIGOURNEY:         I’m just here to pay your bail.

JIM:         …

SIGOURNEY:         What happened?

JIM:         Hm?

SIGOURNEY:         What happened to your hand?

JIM:         I cut it.

SIGOURNEY:         I don’t wanna know what you were doing here.

JIM:         I was working on theatre.

SIGOURNEY:         You know what I mean.

MOM:         Jim?

JIM:         Yeah mom?

MOM:         Did you unload the dishwasher?

JIM:         Yeah in just a sec.

MOM:         Because we need those dishes for dinner.

JIM:         Yeah mom just – just give me a moment.

Jim and Sigourney stare into each other’s eyes,

waiting for the other to say the next word.


The chorus of “Ironic” kicks in.

(“It’s like RAIIIIN …”)


Lights fade.


In News, Plays on November 8, 2012 at 10:07 PM

The following text was performed at The Flea Theater, October 4-6, as part of Serials, an episodic late night theatre event where the top three (of five) serialized stage plays return the following week. Episode Five: Marijuana will play November 8-10 @ The Flea.

Jim Simpson

Sigourney Weaver

Christopher Walken


Suicide Girl

JIM:            Let me tell you about the last time I did ecstacy.

CHRIS:       I had sold a little in college.

JIM:            I was a busboy and sometimes the hostess would say:

HOSTESS:  Hey Jim come out back near the garbage cans.

CHRIS:       And by the garbage cans would be the hostess with a bag of a hundred ecstasy pills.

HOSTESS:  I would tell him the price.

JIM:            Then she’d take it outta my tips.

CHRIS:       And suddenly everyone in the theatre department was having a better Friday Saturday.

JIM:            It’s not like the weak-ass Friday Saturdays you have now.

CHRIS:       We used to get fucked.

JIM:            This generation has more tolerance for gays and races and loves the environment.

CHRIS:       But my generation just had better and more drugs all the time.

JIM:            But the last time?

CHRIS:       Ecstasy?

JIM:            Maybe fifteen years ago.

CHRIS:       Chris had invited me to drinks.

JIM:            Chris doesn’t drink of course.

CHRIS:       I don’t have a stomach for alcohol.

JIM:            He’d always say.

CHRIS:       He’d always be buying the ladies drinks and himself drinking nothing.

JIM:            Which I always thought was questionable.

SIG:           Oh Chris just likes to have a good time.

CHRIS:       Is what Sigourney would say.

JIM:            Sigourney and I had been dating for two months but it wasn’t official.

SIG:           We hadn’t officially said boyfrienndgirlfriend.

CHRIS:       And her back at home.

JIM:            And me out with drinks with Chris and some girl.

CHRIS:       (in middle of story) … and I turned around and said to him Standin? I’m Walken.

GIRL:         Yeah directors can be such bitches.

JIM:            This girl was from my hometown Seattle.

GIRL:         Everett actually.

CHRIS:       Everett’s a suburb.

JIM:            People from Seattle really love each other.

GIRL:         We can talk about the installation of the new sculpture park,

JIM:            or the fact that since we went to college the bum population has increased,

GIRL:         or that Cornish College For The Arts has taken over a majority of the real estate downtown,

JIM:            or that the motherfucking monorail still isn’t built though we voted for it five fucking times

GIRL:         or about how she’s part of a suicide girls photography collective based out of an abandoned textile factory off Yesler and First.

JIM:            or about the fact that she’s smuggled six tabs of ecsatsy into New York City John F Kennedy Airport from our aforementioned hometown and is now presenting them in her sweating white palm.

GIRL:         I look up at her face.

JIM:            Smiles.

CHRIS:       I was really fucking up Walken’s thing.

JIM:            This was Walken’s girl.

CHRIS:       Are you sure you and your new girlfriend Sigourney don’t have anything to do?

GIRL:         And I said,

JIM:            We’re not yet boyfriendgirlfriend.

GIRL:         Then what are you?

JIM:            Hmn?

GIRL:         Who is it that you are now?

JIM:            An ecstacy tab tastes like bad chalk.

CHRIS:       We washed the tabs down sharing a baby-powder-tasting energy drink.

GIRL:         And then we’re in a cab.

JIM:            This girl –

GIRL:         Whose name is Sarah Raven –

JIM:            Sits between Chris and I.

CHRIS:       And there’s something about being in a car when you’re getting high.

JIM:            Higher and higher.

GIRL:         The scenery blurring past like you paid the cabbie to animate the landscape.

JIM:            And she’s touching my hair.

CHRIS:       She’s touching Jim’s hair.

JIM:            She’s touching the nape of my neck and I can feel the bones of her skeleton fall in love with the fingers on her palm and whispering:

GIRL:         I’m the city’s keeper.

JIM:            And she’s breathing heavy like lights of the city pulsed with her lungs.

CHRIS:       There are so many fucking people dancing all around us.

JIM:            And indeed there were.

GIRL:         Chinatown.

CHRIS:       A party.

JIM:            Our destination.

GIRL:         The suicide girl of course knowing the better rave.

CHRIS:       Strobe Lights.

GIRL:         Four stories.

JIM:            I hear someone in line at the bathroom say that tomorrow they’re tearing down this building so some guys in the DJ scene they got four DJs one for every floor and strobe lights.

CHRIS:       Strobe lights.

JIM:            I haven’t smoked for four years and someone hands me a cigarette and I smoke it which causes me to subsequently smoke for another four years.

CHRIS:       Everyone performed a dance sequence in unison.

Everyone performs a dance sequence in unison to great techno.

Soft fade to:

JIM:            I’m outside.

CHRIS:       I’m outside sitting on the sidewalk.

JIM:            Chris is stroking my hair.

CHRIS:       I’m stroking your hair.

JIM:            Stop stroking my hair Chris.

CHRIS:       But I love your hair man.

JIM:            Where’s the girl?

CHRIS:       And there she was.

GIRL:         Looks like a bust gentlemen.

JIM:            And she pointed up to the building from which we’d just exited.

CHRIS:       A chair burst from the window on the fourth floor.

JIM:            Then a desk from the third floor.

CHRIS:       The dancers had turned.

JIM:            The riot had begun.

CHRIS:       And from across the street we watched four stories of dancers explode the walls of a building from the inside, splinters of window raining down the water-slick pavement.

JIM:            A howl of cop cars arrived with disco sirens.

CHRIS:       Christopher seductively dancing in a hail of light and glass. 

Walken does a seductive slow dance for twenty three seconds; time slows.

JIM:            And I thought:

This is what I’ve come for.

This is why I take this drugs.

For a moment just like this.

GIRL:         Jim?

JIM:            Huh?

GIRL:         What’s going on?

JIM:            I just was … talking about what was happening. Whoa we’re inside now?

GIRL:         I thought you said you could handle your shit.

JIM:            I can. I am.

GIRL:         Then do it.

JIM:            Roger.

GIRL:         Where’s Chris?

JIM:            I think I see him over there in the window.

GIRL:         Stuck in his earphones.

JIM:            The new Eno came out.

GIRL:         Mm

JIM:            He’s an Eno fan.

GIRL:         Mm.

JIM:            …

GIRL:         I’m still really fucken high.

JIM:            I feel comfortable here but I also kind of have to ask you where we are?

GIRL:         Murray Hill.

JIM:            High rise.

GIRL:         I’m crashin.

JIM:            Oh.

GIRL:         The owner’s on tour. Don’t grind your teeth.

JIM:            Am I grinding my teeth?

GIRL:         Here bite this wooden spoon.

JIM:            Uhm.

GIRL:         No bite back at your molars, yeah.

JIM:            Like this?

GIRL:         Yeah, it’ll like release your jaw.

JIM:            …

GIRL:         I’m not gonna beat around no bushes, okay?

JIM:            Okay.

GIRL:         I think we should go over to the bed.

JIM:            And do?

GIRL:         My flight’s in four hours.

JIM:            I really did not expect to be eating out a stranger’s pussy at five a.m. in the morning.

GIRL:         She came five times in my face then she gave me an hour’s worth of blowjobs but I couldn’t come.

CHRIS:       From the reflection in a bedroom mirror I could see Chris huddled in the crook of the window.

Curled into himself.

His ears stuck with phones.

JIM:            I took the condom off in the bathroom.

I went back to the naked woman.

I watched the room become light.

The suicide girl woke at the same time as me and said,

GIRL:         Coffee?

JIM:            And I nodded yes.

I turned to her bedroom mirror.

I looked into my own eyes.

CHRIS:       This is not a good idea.

JIM:            The black discs of my eyeballs saucering open and shut.

GIRL:         The suicide girl followed me down the stairs to the street.

CHRIS:       We shared a cigarette under the plastic awning of the condo.

GIRL:         Great time.

JIM:            Yeah.

GIRL:         So when you’re in Seattle … ?

JIM:            Yeah.

GIRL:         High five brother.

JIM:            And I touched for the last time in my life the palm of Sarah Raven.

CHRIS:       Street.

JIM:            Wallet.

CHRIS:       Where’s … ?

JIM:            Fuck it.

CHRIS:       Walking.

JIM:            Rain.

CHRIS:       Hours.

JIM:            Home.

CHRIS:       Shoes.

JIM:            Coat.

CHRIS:       Pants.

JIM:            Shirt.

SIG:           Breathe.

JIM:            Bed.

SIG:           Breathe.

JIM:            Breathe.

SIG:           Her hot hand caressing my chest.

JIM:            How did I get here?

SIG:           My new girlfriend Sigourney calming me down.

JIM:            My new girlfriend Sigourney making me drink a gallon of orange juice.

SIG:           My new girlfriend Sigourney feeding me 5-HTP, a naturally occurring amino acid and metabolic intermediate in the biosynthesis of seratonin which reduces brain cell damage caused by ingested entactogenic amphetamines such as –

JIM:            Ecstasy.

SIG:           Is that what you took?

JIM:            Sorry.

SIG:           Oh God I just worry about your brain

JIM:            Yeah.

SIG:           You know I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy.

JIM:            Yeah.

SIG:           Are you quietly crying?

JIM:            … No?

SIG:           The lack of seratonin is why you’re crying.

JIM:            Yeah.

SIG:           It’s not anything real.

JIM:            I’m just –

SIG:           What?

JIM:            It’s just –

SIG:           What?

GIRL:         You never told her.

JIM:            I never told her.

GIRL:         And she never found out?

JIM:            She never found out.

GIRL:         But she knew.

JIM:            I think she knew.

GIRL:         I think she knows.

SIG:           Women always know the indescretion of their men but generally have the wisdom to say nothing.

GIRL:         It’s called being a woman.

JIM:            I tried to get to sleep.

SIG:           A snoozing Sigourney curled into my body.

JIM:            My body humming with tension.

My teeth grinding.

My lips bitten blood red.

A fly buzzed overhead.

It landed on my nose.

I shook my face.

It landed again on my cheek.

This time I didn’t move.

Lights slowly fade.

Buzzing grows louder.


The above text was originally directed by Stella Powell-Jones and featured:

Jim Simpson – Grant Harrison

Sigourney Weaver – Jenelle Chu

Christopher Walken – Ivano Pulito

Hostess — Jenelle Chu

Suicide Girl – Teddi Millan