My friend Kristen Matia curates and produces an amazing underground show called EI8HT in San Francisco on a tantalizingly irregular basis. Eight performers each have eight minutes to dazzle the audience with whatever comes up: song, dance, clownery (no, serious, actual clownery!), trapeze, striptease, striptease performed on a trapeze. (Yes, that happened.)
I’ve been honored to participate on a few occasions. Here’s some of the silliness I read for the second EI8HT, on March 8, 2012.
from Eight Stories for EI8HT
I let my credit cards get the better of me. They sent me to the debtor’s prison in Noe Valley to pay it off. To add insult to injury I wasn’t selected for the reality show Sexy Debtor’s Prison, which would have paid handsomely.
Luckily I don’t have to work or anything. We got these nice phones in here with all the movies you could want. Actually I don’t know why we still call these things phones. We can’t actually call anyone with them.
Whenever the movie ends, I shuffle over to the apparatus that harvests my raw materials. I’m milked, drained, and shaved on a bihourly basis. My urine is a finely tuned byproduct controlled by the specialized diet I’m fed. I believe they sell it to the pharmaceutical industry. But maybe it’s cosmetics.
Anyway it’s not that bad. After the uproar on poor living conditions in debtor’s prisons, lo these many months ago, a Debt Prisoner’s Bill of Rights was drawn up. As follows:
* A Debt Prisoner has the right to adequate and nourishing fodder, clean air and water in which to bathe, living quarters no smaller than 6 by 6 by 7, and a phone for watching movies on.
* A Debt Prisoner’s resources are to be harvested while the Debt Prisoner is conscious. Mild sedation is permissible.
* A Debt Prisoner has the right each day to write one letter, to smoke two cigarettes, and to wail before the granite image of Cashyapa for a minimum of ten minutes.