The weekend began with a party at High Concept Laboratories, who are leaving Mana Contemporary and I don’t wonder why after meeting their soon-to-be ex nextdoor neighbor (who is himself leaving for Bhutan to discuss symptoms possibly associated with his near-sleeves). Why did I mishear his conversation about the Dharma sketches as Dom-a or find a black paintbrush resembling what ink had used for those images beside an eerily running sink on my return from the powder room, after he’d apparently gone only to notice the door open and light back on in his studio as my set began. I stashed free ceramic tiles from a giveaway into my duffelbag while dashing to meet Sergey’s GPS for a ride out of Pilsen, which has not yet been a comfortable place to visit ever.

Woke up feeling ill, despite a curtain call that evening at Open Space Arts. Monday, I’d agreed to read the character, Carmen, in Christian Reda’s screenplay, Nocturnal Admissions. “It’s not the largest role,” Reda said on the phone graciously to my cold call, “But she appears.” In contradistinction with the murderous Yuri, a fictive national from my corner of Europe who is cast as villain, Carmen is a wholly sympathetic persona albeit my ability to adopt accents has not yet succeeded by TikTok’s standards. Totally inspired (actually in reference to my Spring Garden novella, “Our Rabbinical FanFic”) I snoozed a line on the hospital sequence, only to be rescued by our lead. In a post-Brechtian world, perfection takes many forms. JP Morgan Chase alone can be faulted for its performance that evening, as it continues to refuse my log-in for collecting David Zak’s generous contribution to efforts I make to sustain existence — asking that I verify identity by placing a phone call but continuing to deny my access credentials.

Regional media contact for Chase Bank in Illinois Brian S. Hanover has not replied to my request for comment.

But Sunday was mother’s day, and Lin Batsheva Kahn’s notice of her new choreography for a concert, “Turning Toward the Other with Movement and Music,” at Depaul University School of Music was my treat. Tickets were free, but ma mère had to pay for Alice & Friends though it did teach me something about cooking TVP (textured vegetable protein) that I practiced to effect this afternoon.