"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."

~ G. Radner

Twenty years ago, I initiated a story without a sense of how it would end. It was a story written via events, performances, and shared rituals staged throughout the streets, subways, and warehouses at the unseen edges of New York City.

The project was announced on November 29th, 2000, where I, dressed in a suit and papier-mâché mask, tossed several thousand dollars into the wind above a crowd of shoppers in Herald Square, each bill marked with the phrase “Satisfied?” It was a guerrilla art action ala Abbie Hoffman, supported by contributions from a party I hosted a few days before.

I was twenty years old, the city was wild, and this was my announcement that the story had begun.

Over the intervening years, I've hosted dozens of events in this series; each themed around exploring the elemental questions of who we are and why we are here. I found myself in the backrooms of dark places discussing the meaning of it all with poets and performers, Russian mobsters and corrupt cops, strippers who were dreamers, and philosophers who spit fire. I've shed blood and tears and very nearly lost a finger (or two).

I’ve also witnessed stunning acts of beauty, of release, of catharsis. I’ve watched artists grow through years of dedication resulting in performances so grand that they hardly seem possible, as well as small/quiet acts that somehow tell the story of everything there is. All of this was in service to an essential intimate conversation that seems to only happen at night.

None of this was a business, nor could it ever be.

The beauty required the chaos. The controversy wasn’t a bi-product; it was the point. The intent was to hold a mirror up to the face of this town and to invite the most intrepid of its inhabitants to jump through the looking glass. The result was an operatic, citywide, stream of consciousness howl into the night; and, it lasted for two decades.

It was also a deeply personal story. This long series was the portrait of an artist as a young man; fighting to find a place in a society that seemed to have no place for people who look/think like me. The chaos of the events reflected my churning internal experience of coming to terms with an identity in between races, an anti-capitalist lost within the crucible of capital, and of the stumbling process of coming of age at the edges of an impregnable society.

But a funny thing happened along the way.

This absurdist public art piece intended for an audience of hundreds grew to thousands and then tens of thousands–and then it grew out of control. As the pandemic brought a long pause, brought a child into my life, and brought an opportunity for reflection, I decided it was time to end this story and share the long secret.

Many of you following along the prose since the early days have picked up on the larger theme, tracing through the major eras of my events, starting with “Feel” -“The Danger” -“One Night of Fire” -“Within The Land of Ash” - “You Are So Lucky” - “How Did Our Dreams End Up Like This?” - and - “I Have a Secret to Share With You.”

and this is the secret:

None of these events were individual adventures.

Each was a specific piece of the story, one step forward in an evolving poetic narrative. It was an ode to the chaotic heart of a city in flux; one long continuous art piece, a participatory hulk of social sculpture composed of the people, places, and aesthetics vibrating through the nerves of this restless place.

The events weren't intended to be safe, fun, or easy; they were a participatory ritual, an ongoing prayer to this city's past, present, and future. This is why the parties had such bizarre titles and why the tragedies are as important as the successes.

It is all part of the myth.

Auspicious dates repeating through the series were July 14th, October 31st, and December 31st. Key phrases, often repeated, were: “this is a story” -“a whisper into the night” - “the city as a stage” - “I have a secret to share with you.”  To those of you who watched closely and picked up on the throughline, thank you for bearing witness.

… and at the end of it all, what have I learned?

That the-reason-for-being is in the face of the tens of thousands of you that I've seen over these years; it's in our mothers and fathers and children and their children to come, it's in the pillars of creation, and the soil under our feet. It is also unknowable. The best thing we can do is take a deep breath and step forward into the abyss; and, when the passions arise it is up to all of us to keep it interesting by dancing around the fire at night.

Thank you to everyone who touched some element of this long manic adventure. And thank you to the hundreds of artists, creatives, and support team who built the many facets of this multi-faceted project.

This is the end of the story. The NFT is your memory.

There is nothing left for sale.