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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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Catching up.  Why is Robert Moses everywhere I look these days?

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The twenty-seventh night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded October 1st, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: The city is shut down, the paintings are vanishing. The darkness before the lights come up is mine. The Bay Area at sunset, the bright and easy libertarians at play. Eames chair and Tiffany lamp. The island where we will hunt slaves. You give books root access to your memories. Then: he had to use modeling clay and it’s embarrassing. Joseph Papp teaches wrestling moves. That fucking rucksack and tapping on your breastbone. A pink Cadillac on the BQE. The ruined utopia, a price of arrogance and delusion, and the spirit of 1964: white men and their wives. Luchadores and my second’s second. Furry Cockroach. The Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial is a black wall. The stars are inhuman, but the constellations are ours.

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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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Best. Cliffhanger. Ever.  Bonus points for the Empire reference.

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The seventeenth night of Mike Daisey’s 29-night live theatrical novel, ALL THE FACES OF THE MOON, recorded September 21st, 2013 at the Public Theater. Tonight: The half-life of McDonald’s french fries, fish bones in the ice cream, and the shifting story. We are pink slime, it’s the opposite of a light switch, and rolling the hard six. Full instructions on how to get to Luna Park. Don’t lose your ticket, and the horrors of the pastrami. The illustrated man. Be careful who you let tell your fortune while held up by moonlight. The Jungian mermaid knows how to take off her clothes, skin, bones. A hall of mirrors, the trunk of many things, and the master of circuses. Then: unlucky New York in the dark, and a safeword takes you to bed. The charge in the foundation. The zeppelin over Chinatown. “I still love you.” “I know.”

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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.