On a full stomach, I jogged much of the way to the Saint Marks Poetry Project. Leonard had recommended the play I was hurrying to see. I sped up to the front gate; I thought I was running late. I wandered around the church until I found the entrance. I was surrounded by people I knew, but how can I be sure.

I walked into the theater for Richard Foreman’s “Deep Trance Behavior in Potatoland.” I sat in the third row on the aisle farthest from the door. We were not allowed to touch the rail in front or behind us with our jackets. Everyone obeyed.

Foreman obeyed few rules of traditional theater, but who are they to say what rules are. There were two screens at the back of the stage showing the same clips playing while four actors went through a series of strange and repetitive motions. Dialogue was sparse. A disembodied voice kept repeating lines such as: “There is no relationship between what is happening on the stage and what is happening on the illuminated screen,” “Go to New York City,” “English People,” and “Double World.” Lights often flashed brightly in my eyes and overly loud music played. The Sensory overload created in this play was effective at confusing and leeching meaning from the already meaningless Potatoland.

I left the theater smiling, lit a cigarette, took a drag and exclaimed, “What just happened?!” I did not expect an answer. Confused, I stumbled my way back to Bowery to contemplate the existential bubble I had just traversed.