A Neo daily show on life after Hollywood, Washington, and New York (aka the U.S. of Israel, the world’s leading criminal racket).
[Transcript edited and enhanced by Gemini.]
Hi, everybody. I'm Sean M.P. In so many ways, my story starts at the Museum of Modern Art in Henri Rousseau's The Dream. I don't know how to share a screen here, but if you know the painting... lush, vibrant, a woman reclining on a chaise, transported to a jungle dreamscape. That's where I feel I've always been, caught between worlds, between reality and the dream.
I didn't want to let this day pass without getting a transcript. When I worked at Interview Magazine - you can think of this as a bedtime story, thank you Madonna - I would transcribe and... well, I don't need receipts anymore, my friends, but I have them. Rebirth and the cells, man. I'll be there for you. These five words I swear to you.
One of the things I love about Substack is that it generates transcripts for you people. I'm scripting my story every day. Arthur taught me you open and close. You make a deal. He's a salesman of the first rank, and every day I think how grateful I am to have seen him and to have been seen by him, right? Mirror images, right? Which are not identical. Open your heart.
I broke through my self-sabotage, my friends. Every day is Groundhog Day, times lost in translation. For me, back and song. Arthur and I went to see a show called Back and Song at the chapel at Girard College in Philadelphia on Columbus Day weekend, 2019, and as I keep saying, there's the green light. Thank you, Ben Affleck and Hollywood. I am Jenny from the block. The show was co-presented by the Philly Contemporary, a.k.a. Mocha, and Thomas Jefferson University, and it was centered in self-care and healing processes rooted in Black freedom struggles.
And Arthur said some... Sometimes there'd be days like this. This is my American Idiot Stan story. I am, you are, together, we are all Jesus's day, suburbia. I am done with the past, turning the page, Eureka! I am the Buddha of Suburbia, the Jesus of Suburbia. I am a Sharpie. Yo soy listo permanente. Having fun with words. Having fun with words, right?
We are all multiple. That's what superposition means. Thank you, Cal Tech for seeing me, and thank you, Pasadena Playhouse. I'm developing my evening-length work called Open Mic. Soto Voce, my inside voice. I am Tony Soprano. I once interviewed Edie Falco for New York Magazine, right? Pause.
Everyone knows God. I'm way smarter than Jared Kushner. I'm, wait for it, John Constantine, after all. Pause, aka Beat. Act up. David, Saint David to me, on whose block I lived, knows the meaning of caught between and locked out of heaven. This is my Brady Bunch story. My American tragedy story.
Who am I? I'm Edward. I'll be reborn. And these are my Zen Psalms. Proof. Thank you to the Roths. I'm a fan. Make love. And not war. Thank you also, Jeffrey Deitch. Nobody's heard of AIDS? I'm not locked out of heaven. Brick by brick. I am being heard. I turned my free speech into art with the help of Arthur and Mickey on Hell. Spring Awakening. Saint Moritz, the man who knew too much, original cut. The man who knew too much, original cut.
Let me, here we go, down this stretch. Let me tell you about the Mao. Mao. This is very... This is very Basquiat, but I'm still alive like Elaine Stritch and Joja Zamet's father. I'm Maverick. Inside joke, Speed-the-Plow. I was just outside and heard "oopsie." Top ranked Latin American nationalities. Mm-hmm. Right?
Thank you, Pedro Almodovar. No pain, no glory. Thank you. Thank you, Morning Glory. I should get a 15-minute script out of this. Palace skating, freedom. Plaza, Washington, D.C. Right. I got to go back to work tomorrow, my friends. I gotta teach the young. After all, I am a very, very, very, very highly in-demand teacher here in Los Angeles County, where they play "Misty" for me every night.
This is my Armenian Quarter story. I met Edward Albee at his Tribeca apartment and... This is modern-day playwriting, people. Work smarter, not harder. NCAA Men's Final 2025. You take the shot, my friends. Did you see what Megan Thee Stallion did, what Travis Scott did? That's the Houston I recognize.
Tennis is a real workout. Golf isn't. Oh, thank you, Arthur. Sympathy. Thank you, Arthur. Sympathy for the devil who wears Prada. That's my 15 minutes. You're welcome. Con gusto.
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