all or nothing #7 - did you vote?
table of contents
1.events 2.words 3.missed connections 4.horoscope 5.listen
current
+nothing but trouble, curated by sammy bennett and kat ryals+
Sex and art have long gone hand in hand, providing society an escape from the weight of perpetual overthinking and a plethora of meaningless choices. Existing at a unique intersection of physical reflex and deliberate thought, when sex and art fuse, beautifully provocative work can be produced – as seen in the group exhibition nothing but trouble, curated by sammy bennett and kat ryals. The exhibition is on view until November 28th at 77 E 3rd St. Join us for an artist talk and performance this Thursday, November 9, 7-9pm.
»looking back
+a nightmare on all street+
The world is really scary right now and it seems like there’s nothing anyone can do about it, so a ragtag gang of ghosts and delinquents banded together to turn this living nightmare into a night of magic. Stages were rocked, minds were blown, candy was eaten, and reality was escaped. Special thanks to Malik English, Wally, Brokeland, Kid Diggs, and everyone who came to support!
+gary’s comedy kickback+
At its best, comedy can provide a way for the masses to collectively process trauma through humor; at its worst, it can simply retraumatize people, causing a whole lot of damage in the process. But Gary Simons does things differently. The funnyman from New Windsor, Connecticut, didn’t punch up or down or to the right or to the left. In fact, no punches were thrown. Gary extended an open hand to his audience and invited the intimate room to kick back, relax, munch on some ‘za, and laugh.
»looking forward
+zoomers play 11.10+
The kids will save us all. Generation z aka the zoom generation aka the zoomers have figured out the meaning of life and the secret of human kind’s survival. To present these results, All Street’s 119 Hester St location will become the Dimes Square Center for Theater Research with a performance of Mathew Gasda's play, Zoomers on Friday, November 10th at 7:30pm: Buy Tickets!
+sunday salon 11.19+
All great movements started with some people gathering in a room to talk. What may feel small and insignificant today could grow into an idea that will have a tremendous impact on future generations to come. So do you really want to miss out on the opportunity to change the world? If not, then come to 119 Hester Street on Sunday, November 11, at 7pm to join the revolution.
words
+a means to an end by maggie weiler+
In October 2020, I’d moved to rural Massachusetts under the airtight assumption that being closer to nature would solve all my problems. The rest of the world (New York) had gone to shit. My “pod” consisted of three housemates. Not my best friends yet, but we were swapping germs on a regular basis. Desperate to expand my social orbit, I decided to dip a toe into the local dating pool and ran out of Hinge candidates in a matter of minutes. Nevertheless, I was receiving my first suitor that night—more of a diplomacy mission than anything, since it was our roommates who’d be voting on whether or not we could continue to see each other unmasked. “My friend Adam is coming over,” I told Rubin in the kitchen. “He says you guys met at a bonfire a few months ago?” Rubin stroked the dwarfish beard that’d recently taken up residence on his chin. “What’s his last name?” I told him. Rubin pursed his lips. The whites of his eyes dilated for a split second, then shrank. “What?” I asked. “Nothing.” “What!” “I remember that guy. He’s nice. Just a little hard to have a conversation with.” “Why?” “He told me he doesn’t believe in free will.” “You don’t like him because he told you he doesn’t believe in free will?” Rubin shrugged and returned to the stove. He was using a plastic spatula we’d stolen off a curb to push a seething pile of garlic around in a frying pan, which we’d also stolen off a curb. “Do what you want,” he told me. “Just not sure I could ever quite trust someone like that.” I didn’t tell Rubin I wasn’t exactly sold on the idea of free will either. My algorithms lately had been feeding me lots of videos on Spinozan philosophy and the buddhist idea of karma and emptiness—śūnyatā. My basic belief system nowadays could be boiled down to this: my own fatally limited mind was gently fucking itself over all of the time. It was, in Spinozan terms, “mutilated,” a blob, and I’d pretty much spent my entire life poking at it like the Pillsbury doughboy, willing it to do something, accomplish anything. My CV touted a spate of dead-end internships and a 4.8 / 5-star rating on care.com. Unemployment checks—my new Dad—paid my $450-per-month small town Massachusetts rent. Truthfully, I knew something was off ten years ago when the kombucha craze hit and I read MindBodyGreen article after MindBodyGreen article on how my gut contained billions of bacteria versed in human mind-control. Now a deadly virus had confined the entire country indoors, decimating whatever vestigial hopes and dreams I’d been costively incubating. Did my own body even belong to me? Evidently not. As a pandemic pastime, Rubin himself had taken up with home ferments—sourdough bread and kombucha, which my other roommate had described as “gruyère-flavored”. If anyone should be questioning free will, it was Rubin. How dare he judge my prospective lover for his religious beliefs. I saltily excused myself from the kitchen to put on a pair of clean sweatpants, which I hoped would be slightly more flattering to my quarantine-cushioned ass. Momentarily, I considered sending Rubin a philosophical YouTube video in retaliation, but I was too weary to defend any of my hand-me-down beliefs or views anymore. Lately a “fact” just seemed like a small, very tightly-wound opinion. And I needed Rubin’s vote to achieve my end goal—get laid—which made keeping the peace in our household a simple means to an end.
+platelets #1 by will a.c mulligan+
Call me Ishmael. Call me when you get this. Call me an Uber. Call in air support. Call it whatever you want, as Long as it looks good on a sign. Thank you for the call. I’m currently unavailable, so please leave a voicemail. Can you hear me now? Can you tell us a little bit about Yourself? Can you send me a picture of your tits? The Phone looked like a gun. He looked dangerous. He was A father of two. My pappy’s a pistol. I’m a son of a gun. I’ll shoot the photo. I’ll shoot you a text. I’ll shoot the president. Democracy is saved. Save the kids. Save it to your camera roll. I saved it to the desktop. We’re safe. We’re free. We got free Shipping with our free lunch. We shot the kids having Lunch. I’m turning myself in. I’m coming out Of the closet, the woodwork, my room.
missed connections
+gary’s comedy kickback 11.2+
You: laughed at all the wrong moments
Me: was too shy to laugh with you
Description:
Every time there was an awkward silence or a moment of hesitation, I could count on your breathy chuckles to disrupt the discomfort. You filled the room with joy, laughter, and the pure essence of your being. I hope to be more like you one day.
+nothing but trouble opening reception+
You: knew exactly what you were doing to me
Me: ready to get done
Description:
The room was filled with sex and felt as if it was inevitable for our bodies to eventually collide like lusty meteors. The flirtatious eye contact came to a boiling point as we watched the horny toads engage in their mating dance. While the room was captivated by the lil furry green seductress, I only had eyes for you.
+a nightmare on all street night #2+
You: no one recognized your costume
Me: i not only recognized your costume, but i recognized your soul
Description:
Most people treat Halloween as a day to dress up and pretend, but for us it’s the one day a year we can truly be ourselves. But with me, you’ll never have to dress up again because every day will be Halloween as long as we’re together.
horoscopes
+Aries+
Opinions are like feelings: everyone has them, but no one wants to hear about yours. That’s why comment sections were created. So if you really want your voice to be heard, log on to YouTube and start typing.
+Taurus+
Politics is like death, everyone deals in a different way. Some people cry, others laugh, a lot of people post, and many just don't know what to do. So do whatever you want to do as long as you’re not a r********n.
+Gemini+
As soon as you finish reading the last word of this newsletter, drop everything and find the nearest sand dune. Obviously, you should bring a pair of binoculars. Once you find a good perch, look down and count sand grains until you reach 3,000. Once you’ve completed this meditative practice, go to your nearest polling sight immediately and vote.
+Cancer+
If you don't even trust the people closest to you, how can you trust strangers to make the world’s most important decisions on your behalf?
+Leo+
Patience is a virtue and long lines were invented for you to practice waiting to die. So find your footing and get comfy. It's going be a while.
+Virgo+
Voting isn’t just an action, it's a lifestyle. So whenever you can, take a moment to practice.
+Libra+
Everyone wants to change the world, but if everyone focuses on making a difference in their own lives, then we can collectively change the world… one person at a time. So starting today, try thinking small by not being an absolute piece of shit.
+Scorpio+
You must avoid tree nuts. Ask Gary why.
+Sagittarius+
If you’re thinking it, then someone else is probably too. So hurry up and say it first because history never remembers second place.
+Capricorn+
If you were born into a country and are immediately forced to comply with the laws of the land yet had no choice as to where you were born, then have you ever really been free? And further, does that make all babies political prisoners?
+Aquarius+
You catch more honeys with money and I don’t really know why you’d want to catch fly sludge, but perhaps that’s buggist, and that's the real problem. Because even vinegar can taste sweet if you have someone to share it with.
+Pisces+
You’re absolutely delusional.
