I Can't Breathe

#EricGarner #icantbreathe #BlackLivesMatter

I can hear my brother screaming I Can't Breathe
Now I'm in the struggle and I just can't leave
I'm calling out the violence of the racist police
We ain't gonna stop til the people are free
We ain't gonna stop til the people are free

The Horrors of Cocaine

So rewind, fast forward since I last posted on this blagh that calls itself No Police State. As I haven't blaghed on this blagh since I have been consumed with attempting to do that Horrors of Cocaine play that was presented at Theater for the New City the past month or so, February 19 - March 1. And as far as I know, Occupy Wall Street is still moving fast, I think. And so to sum up how that play went, I guess I'll just repost that other post that I just posted on that Horrors of Cocaine blog that went something like below as follows. Have a great Horrors of Cocaine day and more. 

"Hey yet again bloggers or whoever could be reading this blog. So now that this Horrors of Cocaine play has finished its time at Theater for the New City, I guess I can now blogger say, in this random thoughts of a long passage, without censorship, that this production of Horrors of Cocaine at Theater for the New City became the horror of the Horrors of Cocaine at Theater for the New City by the time it was finished. So what do you do when your play is hijacked, developed, revised and rewritten by a dictator actor who tries to take over your play and who thinks it is their play, to the point to where the script is barely even recognizable from the original script, to the point to where the main two characters quit after the second day of performances and you find yourself looking for replacement actors at the very last minute, to the point to where the play becomes a reading without props and you can't even get the remaining actors to do a staged reading with props, to the point to where the play becomes a reading without props, after months of rehearsals, to the point to where you are even told that you have to audition to read in your own play because simply put, you are held hostage at the mercy of hijackers and revolting actors, save for one innocent actor, and you have no say in your own play anymore, or what was left of your play, which has now become an epic disaster and an ongoing traumatic nightmare, to the point to where on the final day of that performance, one of the actors writes on your greeting card "We're sorry that you had to go through all of this". And so what do you do when your play has fallen into the hands of another and you are battling a dictator actor and their actor friends, save for that one innocent actor again, who try to kick you out of your own play. Do you ask your friends to act in your play instead just to avoid hijackings and rebellions. And all with this taking place during non stop snow storms and record breaking cold temperatures the past couple of weeks in that city of New York, having snowed so much that you don't even put the shovel away, you just leave it out, and a bag of rock salt for the sidewalk becomes your best friend. So the epic disaster nightmare of this production that mostly friends attended is over. And this scenario of a story has been drama within drama and hence a story line within a story line that befalls you, comedy and tragedy that the theater world has probably seen before, as there is nothing new under the sun and the show must go on, unless the theater says otherwise. And what the moral to this story may be I am not sure. Are there any lessons to be learned, I am not sure, except to blagh, thank you to Theater for the New City for being the one theater left that gives artists the opportunity to express their creativity in the community".