———auditioning———

A call to those who will audition for Jeff Kennedy's Theatrical Circus.

Poem for Chaos.

Look back in August, and insensed, and starvation, ubique etc. Once an affliction, nostalgia, now a direction. All of us looking back at old futures, seeing reflections of the soon to be past. Organised, structured, formalised, the old malady is a new dramatic event: the essence has been captured as if it were a wild beast, soon it will be on public display. Jeff Kennedy, whose father knew Chaplin presents for the world to see a look back through the media, an assault on the senses. On the bill:-

A newspaper headline metamorphisised into a dismembered voice.

The moral seriousness of Leonard Cohen in the face of a clown.

The [unclear: bravado of] the intrepid in a scintillating pas de deux The fall of man in the toss of a jugglers club.

And yet who, and who, will put this mass media theatrical circus on the boards at the end of July? Who will help Doc Rothrock, the healer of old moral sores, and ringmaster supreme, make this an extravaganza of pathos and laughter? Why anyone who feels like doing so; be their ability to dance, sing, act or just sit pretty, Doc Pothrock will direct them into their nirvarna as a part of the soon to be forgotten future. With a plethora of media machinery you can kick ghe alienation habit. So come out all ye gifted kings and queens, children of the noon, and men too old to mourn offer yourself unreservedly to the greatest show on earth. No matter who you are or the way you say it, whether you are a down trodden bastard or a child of love, the future exists to be fucked. Fuck it with everybody else, audition May 24-26th, and make your curse upon the land nothing more than your love. Roll up! Voila!

The Nowhere Man In Search of the Lost Stiff.