by Brendan deVallance

Goodbye Blue Monday
1087 Broadway
Brooklyn, New York 11221
April 28th, 2008



The Script

Additional music by Sonic Youth, Los Plugz, Pete Shelley



Hi, Hi, and well, Hi. Yes that is how it all begins, like a sad movie or a lonely story . . .Just a note to all of you to get things started . . . . I want you to know how much I like all of you so far. The Showing-up-and-standing-around. All the Facing-this-way and What-is-this-guy-doing expressions on your sweet faces is really quite endearing. I see the smiles and slight tinge of This-had-better-be-good-or-else. ‘I had better not come all the way to Bushwick for crap ass art, I swear’. But before we get too far along—Hi. It’s one of the best things I can think of to say. And while we are at the beginning of all this it seems only right to lay it on you: Hi. Hi to all of you. Even those in the back, even those not listening: Hi. Hi is really just short hand though, sort of my way of saying everything is truly grand with the world and I like you and I hope that we can be friends. I like the certain Man-of-the-people quality to it. Like if I were running for president i would try to say it a lot. It is a good way to start the day, like a good cup of coffee. A swift kick to the business at hand. A jump start for sociability. My mind is made up and the world is set right. Hi, yes, I want it to go on. I want all things to be equal and good. I want to like you and I want you to like me, is it asking too much? Am I wrong to even bring it up? Well I may be, but I am willing to risk it. Hi says all this, all this and more. The horror of being alive is somehow tempered by the greeting. How’s it going, Hello, pleased to meet you all seem to fall painfully short in my book. They lack the precise declaration that I crave. That we all crave, that I have found with Hi. So if you see me on the street or just after this performance dont hesitate to try it on me. Or even that stranger standing next to you. Give it up and it will make you feel like a million bucks, I swear it.

  Introduction: Hi
  Face drawings
  Handing out the face drawings
  To stop the performance, just shoot me


Out with the bath water, I was that baby you’ve heard so much about. But as you can see, I’ve survived. Like any luke warm mystery, mercurial and inclusive I try to be. Shoes too tight but I drink the water and see the light. Coming out slowly from any corner like a good fish story. I relive the choice moments over and over, not for the good of it, but for the sake of it. My mind made up, I wear it on my sleeve, heart kept under wraps for the moment. Can’t hardly stand it. Shoe leather lost to the grind, I look for piece of mind in the struggle, the struggle to keep my boat upright. My head outta the gutter and the water. Breathing rarely optional, I take it like a good omen when it continues. Like good luck and a fast buck. Why am I constantly trying to talk my way outta the alligators jaws? And today is a good day to die ones hair. Oil tankers rarely seem to pass in the night. They seem to want to give a little bump, a little nudge. There way of saying ‘I’m here, look at me’. I understand fully, because I can be like that to. SMASH! oh sorry, but now all the attention is on me. Good days and bad manners can be such a great combination. Your face and my heart, the warm waters and the cold shoulders. I see the good for what it is. Something avoiding me, and sand in the mayonnaise. This is not the end of the world, this is the end of good days dressed down. Staggering crimes against staggering people. Eyes not yet accustomed to the light. Shout loud against the harmony and you will find a new kind of drudgery, what to wear, oh what to wear? This blh will not go with that blh. And your mass murdering ways are so 1972. I want a new kind of way, a new kind of place, a new kind of door to close on my new kind of house. You know, a door that slides in and goes Shhhhft. That is what the future holds, I want a piece of that for my piece of mind. A blind sign on a made up mind, An unkempt bed with a solid fortune for the future. Formica news paper with the slide of setting. Nothing sticks, not the new or old tricks. And the orders set to March On!

  Audience smoking
  Guitar song end "How Would They Know"
  Death reads the paper
  Special thanks to Denise Dalton, Michael Tharp, Jeff Cross for the photos . . . .