Of the “A.D.” items listed in the description, the emphasis should be placed on “attention deficits” and “anxiety disorders”. There are American dreams and artistic differences, but I didn’t see any afternoon delights. Instead, A.D. is a frenetic, one-woman monologue dash through multiple personalities that weave in and out of neurotic introspections to outward frustrations.

Your grandmother’s armpits. The British Open. An assortment of mildly fragrant cheeses. All of these things are wilder than the West portrayed in The Real Adventures of Tom Mix.

Part monologue, part performance poetry, and part traditional Indian dance, Neelam Patel delivers a deeply personal show that attempts to find some middle ground between her American and Indian heritage. As much as she brings the audience into her stories, the result is most therapeutic for Patel herself: Using the performance as a form of release, she shares her experiences, all of them true, as a way of connecting with her past.

So here we have Billy the Kid: A First Exhumation, a storytelling experiment that delves into the fight-or-flight mentality. Intertwined with the stream of consciousness re-enactment of Billy’s life are modern tales of revenge and revenge fantasies. Threats punctuate dream sequences while a tense Western gunfight-strum plays in the background. The characters are there only to mock and threaten each other. It’s a satisfying theater of cruelty.