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Finale.

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The final night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded October 3rd, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. A circle of salt holds back the darkness. Am I my brother’s keeper? Yes I am, goddamnit. The cantankerous ghost and the ridiculous plan. Burning your last letter, bootstrapping yourself on the ladder made of light, blood, bone. “Everything depends on you. It always did.” It’s the world we actually live in, you know. We wanted to change the world, but not ourselves. Cool Ranch Doritos and Mountain Dew. The dreaded CVS, the great autistic bear, and six black glassy cards. Someone always wants to be an elf. “You are all well met at a tavern.” Then: rappers love private jets, embarrassment is a sign of taste, and she is drinking in the moon, constant and inconstant. Later: cutting off the owlbear’s head, the dark faerieland of Erelhei-Cinlu, and we question genocide. St. Marks Place is a Disneyland of filth. The Moon is always wounded. I have told every version of every story, spinning every version of every plate. The dice are burning like embers. The Magician’s trick, the doorbell, and the dog’s bark. You have to say it three times. The river pouring, the cards scattering, the last look at him through the door. Time is the longest distance between two places. He smiles in his triumph. Stage managers on your couch, tangled threads must be cut, and a very public proxy ritual. Then: a hard conversation at a deli. What was beyond the mirror, and what she saw. This is the mask and the invitation—you have to choose it, or it chooses you. A family meeting. I have yours and you have mine. At the banks of the river, the cup is offered. All stories are struggle. I drank my fill.

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I have a guess on the identity of the Big Bad.

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The twenty-second night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 26th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: Rules for sympathetic magic. Dennis, the low production values, and the gunslinger. New York has only one tower, uploading the press release into the cortex, and mentally deficient dolphins have good unions. Thirteen years versus eighteen months. Falling and failure and our intense psychic life in the air. Incandescent bulbs are detritus of another age—now we will diminish and go into the West. Which shade of orange is more forward thinking? Whispering paintings, the moon’s movements are difficult to describe, and lunch with the expert of esoterica. The fiction of nonfiction. The nature of faith and the question of God. Make a Swiss man weep. You must change your life.

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Dune! Dune! Dune!

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The twenty-first night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 25th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: Sting’s coffee in my mouth, David Lynch’s radiant failure, and the insidious taint. Factcheckers omit the jokers. In Istanbul the sun was always on you. Put your genitals inside of genitals. Terrorist horses! The king can never die, the game is never won. Your chess teacher is a perverse and monstrous man. Then: a desperate hour, the ghosts of reporters past, and the skull of her dog. Kasparov’s desperation. “They want your surrender tonight.” No magic for parking. Before chicken fat and frogbreath, call the cell. If we see each other on a snowy hill, maybe we’ll eat a rabbit. “Black ice, Michael.” Staten Island. The artist and her paintings.

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Would enjoy an entire show about mystic twitter feeds

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The twentieth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 24th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: Mystically significant Twitter feeds, Susan Orlean is Meryl Streep is Susan Orlean, and a humbug is a trick that delights. n+1 or xojane? We love authenticity. Tilda Swinton doesn’t need to be his son anymore. It’s everything that disappointed us in the twentieth century, the die in the Magic Eight Ball floating like a corpse. “Manhattan we leave to the vampires.” The syringes of Coney Island, the nature of the Russian people, and a brief tutorial on the horrors of film acting. The bobby pin trick. These paintings make the future. Rolling back the tape and the myth of CSI Miami. Mulder and Scully and the case of the missing hand. Pugs are not supernaturally aware.

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The nineteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 23rd, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: I was born biased, I never would have tried a tuna sandwich. A talisman of pasteboard and feathers, and the great brass bird above New York City. Loose and eccentric play. The dream of the New Yorker hotel, fixing you with a hoary eye, and dissolving into a mist of Peter Greenaway. Seattle’s apocalyptic murdering spirit—a foundation filled with garbage. The Mad Scientist and his somersaults with bowls of birdseed on the ledge. Then: a mirror stares back into you, into the deep well as a lifetime passes in a breath, the bitter moments like coffee and acid. Golems working bed and breakfasts in Vermont. Livia’s schoolwork, bags of consecrated shit, and the duel at the Rockaways. Into the nullifying sea. The black spot.

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The eighteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 22nd, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: the Maine spiritualist, marriage as a kind of exquisite torture, and ink made of blood and regret. White cloth and hot metal ribbons in the uncanny valley. There are police who take children away. The clockwork man with radium eyes, and the dance of the seven sweater veils. Spiders get better mileage, pneumatic tubes through the East River, and the monument uncarved. Sleeping in your old bed, your old life. Gibbs hearing the voice in the desert. The paint crackling, falling from every car. Livia dreaming, we are divided against ourselves, and meeting your other half. The fake Eiffel Tower, the bodies, the thin red threads. “I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.” The canvases.

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Catching up with the weekends’ shows

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The sixteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 20th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: The sin of ordering salmon, smoothing it out, a nominal truce, and needing to call the Small Man. The Future of Storytelling™ with the CEO of Burberry. An unlimited number of specialty taco shacks. The place where the drywall rots, tainted by the touch of the sea. Phil’s hands shaking. Always going to Venezuela. The world ends over and over and over. The filth of Coney Island, mangos on sticks, and the Cherry Lane Theater as a place to murder your marriage. Jack and Mary Jane on the boardwalk. Mushrooms, silver coins, and barbed wire. Luna Park, where only the dead can go and it’s 1929 forever. The lights go out, the name on our lips.

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The fifteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 19th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: Before the invention of bread, before the ice, when the cycle was written into us. The Milky Way casts a shadow and David Bowie plays a schnauzer. All dogs dream. Jean-Michele, the greatest of her age. The camera assembly in six motions. Then: a hierarchy of terrible things, the boys want what they want, and a sacrifice sent. Character is the only human gift, cursing is addictive, and The Williamsburg Fade. Budapest. Gay sex fantasia. The way a bear shakes a gerbil. “You have a dark fate. Do what you can.” George and Elaine. 8:36 on the clock. The ladder in the sky. The royal moon. There’s a seat at the table.

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The fourteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 18th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: The Whigs are dead, pressure cookers, and a penny an issue back in the day. Then: Boss Tweed dyspeptic, William Randolph Hearst knowing the score, and the Herald taken by the talking picture. Foreign extemp, how we whore out our mythologies, and writing as a frozen form of thinking. Emily Dickinson, the Cape Elizabeth kids, and the Christian Science Monitor. In a grey box you clip and own and know your facts. Oppose German reunification. Her long hair and her scrawled letters, speaking in the darkness. Mythological climatology. History hangs around our neck like a noose. There are things in the darkness, and they’re us.

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The thirteenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 17th, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: The long beach at the end of time, seeing yourself in the cracks and fissures of dust and shadows. You never knew me. Jean-Michele as midwife. The ritual thump against your door in response. Whips and welts and the pool cue. The horrors of respectability, learning to levitate feathers with hate, cursing softly and staking out the bodies. Waking up horribly and deliciously out of phase. Wikipedia is always right. The one where Carla finally breaks up with Nick. His hand like a tandoori oven. The pleasures, mysteries, and ineffable wonder that is Peter Luger’s, where I am marbled and delicious and in danger.