In the Heights is terrific

I saw In the Heights tonight at 450 West 37th Street. It's a great musical.

Also, on its way to Broadway later this year, so I hope you catch it before the tickets are unaffordable.

Ian Hill's Production

If you're in New York and you're a Shakespeare fan, and you're tired of trying to get tickets to Shakespeare in the Park, and you're in the mood for a little Off-Off Broadway experience, then my friend Ian Hill has the show for you...

Gemini CollisionWorks and The Brick Theater, Inc. present

Ian W. Hill's Hamlet
by William Shakespeare

as part of The Pretentious Festival: The Most Important Theatre
Festival On Earth

Tuesday, June 12 - Friday, June 15 - Tuesday, June 26 - Thursday,
June 28
at 8:30 pm
approximately 2 hours, 30 minutes including one intermission

at
The Brick Theater
575 Metropolitan Avenue
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
½ a block from the Lorimer stop of the L Train / Metropolitan-Grand
stop of the G Train

All tickets $10.00

Tickets available at the door or through theatermania.com (212-352-
3101 or toll-free: 1-866-811-4111)

Upcoming Plays

April 13 - My play, Your Face, will be performed at the Bowery Poetry Bar, 7:30 pm, Blue Box Productions

April 20 - Staged reading of my full-length play, SAVING THE LIVES OF STRANGERS, at Primary Stages, 59 East 59th Street, 3pm

April 23 - SIPA, the Insurgency/Counterinsurgency Theatre Project, Columbia University School of International and Public Affairs, T & D TBA

April 24 - Showcase of Thesis Projects, Darryl Roth 2 Theatre, T & D TBA

My play @ Galapagos

Hi!

Please come and see my play, DX, at Galapagos. Below is the info:

sticky @ galapagos
friday, may 26th, doors at 7:30 show at 8 pm
all new 10 minute plays
no cover

galapagos
70 n. 6th b/w kent and wythe
because anything that can happen can happen in a bar

Plays by:
Alex Beech, Jennifer Boggs, Elizabeth Emmons, Katya R. Schapiro and
Adam Szymkowicz

Direction and performances by:
Ali Ayala, Damon Boggess, Ann Fidler, Robert Hancock, Neil Hellegers,
Rob Hille, Matt Korahais, Jackson Loo, David Marcus, Shira Milikowsky,
Sarah Sakann, Eve Udesky, Kara-Lynn Vaeni, Ana Valle, Marisa Viola and
John Wu

Excerpt of my play, Dove Hunting

They look off in the distance.


ADELAIDE
The born agains do believe in doctors. Laurie joined the Christian Scientists.

BROOK
Are they Christian?

ADELAIDE
I think.

BROOK
Why don’t they believe in doctors?

ADELAIDE
They don’t believe in the body. They believe that we have two minds, divine and mortal.

BROOK
What kind of mind do you think I have?

ADELAIDE
You have a mortal mind, according to the Christian Scientists. Cause you believe in the body. And in death. They don’t believe in disease. They say disease and death are illusions. Concocted by the mortal mind, by wrong beliefs.

Quiet.

BROOK
Why do trees get sick?

ADELAIDE
Laurie said her horse got sick because we believe in illness.

BROOK
Did her horse die?

ADELAIDE
Her horse died.

BROOK
Is there a horse heaven?

ADELAIDE
How do I know?

BROOK
So trees and underwear are all illusions.

ADELAIDE
Something like that.

BROOK
Who believed in illness when the trilobites died? What about the dinosaurs?

ADELAIDE
Did the dinosaurs get sick?

BROOK
They’re not here, are they?

ADELAIDE
Didn’t a meteor hit the Yucatan Peninsula?

BROOK
There’s a big hole down under the water.

ADELAIDE
They say the mind is not matter. Sickness is a manifestation of false beliefs.

BROOK
Not germs.

ADELAIDE
They don’t believe in germs.

Quiet.

BROOK
I suppose medicine’s a religion. We have faith in things like germs and pain medication and hospitals.

ADELAIDE
The Christian Scientists believe that doctors cause disease. That a drug doesn’t work because it lacks intelligence.

BROOK
Doctors cause disease.

ADELAIDE
With their sick minds.

BROOK
Did she go to college?

Change

Snake hat curled at the sides
Cowboy-style or
Hollywood since
Hollywood adopts cowboy-
style.
He taps a cane to keep the
rhythm as he harmonizes

For change.

To feed
whatever
habit he feeds. Maybe
booze or
a woman he calls baby or a
baby he calls Hope

For change.

I'm gonna let it shine, this little
light of mine.

He sings. As the
commuters
stream past, eyes downcast,
too embarrassed, tired,
alone,
hurried, hungry, humiliated to scrape
the bottom of their wallets, pockets, purses

For change.

I've seen him
on trains,
always singing the same tune,
in sync, with memories of New
Orleans hanging like dust.

I'm gonna let it shine, this little
light of mine.

One is short, and he's
less short, wearing the snake
hat and tapping his cane
like the
impetuous clock,
calling attention to our
needs, our
fears, and our desires

For change.

Yellow Bird

I saw the little yellow bird.
The night was sour and old by then.
And all the angels had flown home.
And left us - you, and me, and him.

He fluttered, gasped for air, and then -
In bursting sunshine, flew away -
Flapped one wing, cursing the wind
The other wing crumpled and frayed.

This yellow bird with compass still
Flew towards and up the Southern sky
Southern bound and Southern crossed
His Soul too heavy to fly -

With one wing he tumbled toward earth -
Towards you and me and heaven still.
And in a moment of disgrace,
Fell through the rotating wind mill.

In bursts of yes, his eyes turned down
He fluttered cursing gods and crown
And you and me, we looked away
And saw the feathers float away.

Prayer for a Girl

Shape her neck like the stem of a lily
Shape her hair like the grasses of Eden.

And her lips, mould them to sing Your praises
And her legs, shape them sturdy and even.

Let her arms be strong to carry the sun,
Let her shoulders be delicate like bones.

Pour sweet clover droplets into her eyes -
Shape her feet like rocks to tread over stones.

Shape her retina - Father - with special care -
So she sees what is not and knows what is there.

Let her fly to the tips of Your fingers,
And brush the skin of Your hand with her hair.

The Liar

In the beginning there was a Liar
Unreliable. There was no beginning
He said. It was a way to Force you
To put your feet in the sand,
used to rocking on your back,
Sun-burned, peeling
You didn't understand. You were
clasping your hands, clapping on
The water like a duck.
There is no beginning, Not
One you can see because it's
Not a color. It's a
light. A frequency
You don't hear, you don't touch.
Let the waves wash over you.
Let the sand dig deep into
Your toenails, cut your skin -
You're peeling. It falls
Off in there. Everywhere.
It sheds like summer falling
off a tree, surrounding
Your feet with summer, with
trees and all the debris
Of our lives. Don't trust sunlight.
Let your skin fall from you
in a heap we will burn.
We will sacrifice to Him
The Liar - the one who said
You were born of woman, struggled
through the hole, hands
clasped, pulling
Your fingers, squeezing blood,
skin falling - you're free. Feel
the freedom of suffering - of
counting minutes as if the
waves ticked off the heartbeats
of His hands. He's a Liar. Let
His lies wash over you, like
Freedom, like war and the
peace that lingers like
gas over you.