It’s happening in a basement in Virginia
In a tenement in the Bronx
It’s happening down the street from the people complaining it’s not happening at all
It’s happening under their noses and they can’t smell it cause it’s so fresh.
It’s so pure.
It’s so dope.
The next Eric Bogosian is ranting in Boston right now. He’s screaming his lungs out in Fairbanks Alaska. He’s doing an anti lounge act in North Dakota. It’s all good because the next Laurie Anderson is getting stoned with the next Dael Orlandersmith in a bar in North Carolina after seeing the next person we’ll use to compare people to in Xenia Ohio.
The next is here right now and they are breaking the rules because they got to get something out. Something honest and pure and not ready for the consumption of those big theater bucks, those regional marquees, those uncomfortable chairs refurbished with this years capital campaign.
The next don’t give a fuck.
And they’re here.
And they aren’t knocking
And they aren’t asking
And they aren’t waiting.
I’m not even gonna call myself next today because that shit got old last week.
Laurie Carlos wouldn’t have dug it.
Joe Papp wouldn’t have had the time
And Bob Wilson’s in the corner drawing flames coming out of his actors kabuki hair anyway.
The next took the matches while you were getting cold.
The next took siphoned the gas out your car while you were arguing about innovation and some other nonsense
The next lit a fire while others were having a conference
It’s happening right now.
Not where you were told to look.
It’s sad while they’re creating brand new lines you’re wasting time trying to fix old pictures.