The Body Is Made of Strings

About

The Body—our nameless narrator in this one-person play—is a hypochondriac. Or at least that’s what the world tells him when he confesses his symptoms. His hair seems to be suddenly falling, strange cysts appear on his testicles, and he can’t remember basic details like the name of his roommate’s dog or how he got to New York. As he navigates the city—threesomes, protests, nightclubs, cemeteries—time begins to unravel around him. With each trauma, he is hurled through time where personal memories and historical vignettes blend in this surreal politico-somatic world. As he regains his memories in ebbs and flows of amnesia and clarity, memory itself becomes both duty and burden. A weight that seems to break him, and the world around him, wide open. Content Awareness: Potential (brief) flashing lights.