Welcome to Maria Mocerino’s content portfolio
AGNEZ MO
GREGORY SIFF
DANAI GURIRA
ZEBRA KATZ
YELENA MOSKOVICH
YELENA MOSKOVICH
On the cover of Vogue Italia 😍 They believe I’m getting closer to the psyche and its mechanisms.
in other words, I was featured for the “People of Color Making a Difference in Psychedelics Interview series: 16 clinical psychologists, healers, doctors, activists, and even an artist.
Images by Melissa Unger
CHECK OUT ALL ARTICLES AND INTERVIEWS.
check out all science news coverage for interesting engineering here.
Fungi-based bacon is now on supermarket shelves
Berkeley-based start-up, Prime Roots, has created fungi-based bacon. It looks, sounds, and acts like bacon in the frying pan. Does it taste like bacon?
Bringing Home the Bacon
The search for delicious, meat-free bacon has left Americans discouraged. Bacon is a longtime breakfast staple. The food even transcends our plates with the expression, “bring home the bacon.” Simply put, everyone wants bacon—fried, baked, or otherwise. In the world of alternative meats, however, there are slim pickings.
CLICK HERE TO READ.
I no longer live in Istanbul, but click here to read article in Business Insider.
Click here: for The Irish Examiner
copywriting
Welcome email for e-commerce site
Reality Bites weekly newsletter
Taglines for Bioreset Medical: discover what your body can do/healing at the source.
Copy for Limitless, a mental health app (product descriptions)
Ghostwrote narrative interviews for Inc. Magazine
Wrote script for Reality Sandwich video series
4 days with Barbara Harris (book project with original THE second city member, tony award winner, academy award nominee
Excerpt from an introduction
In a back room in Brooklyn, I watched Barbara Harris perform at the first televised Tony Award ceremony in history in 1967. In a muumuu, she, as the adorable soot-nosed chimney sweep Passionella sang expertly off-key her one heartbreaking wish: to be a beautiful, radiant, ravishing moooooovie star…rar…rar rar rar…
And here she was, pulling up in a beat-up-but-won’t-give-up Honda Civic to Donny Osmond’s clap-your-hands pop anthem “Solider of Love” at a mall-as-desert-oasis at Happy Hour. Shop attendants meandered around a giant, empty Sur La Table. Palm trees reached into the sky wrapped in Christmas lights.
“SHOT IN THE DARK, I’M SOLDIER OF LOVE.”
People today might not remember Barbara Harris, but Donny Osmond probably does, whose voice set the tone for this theatrical experience known as “Hanging Out with Barbara Harris,” which seemed to be the mystique around her, a noticeable presence. I mean, everybody in Hollywood knows, who Barbara Harris is: a legend.
I, however, didn’t, until an enigmatic stranger across a room in Brooklyn called her one of the best actresses that ever lived, a crazy genius, too. He listed some of her credits: one of the original members of The Second City, so the dawn of American improv. The inspiration behind the utterly beautiful and unique On a Clear Day You Can See Forever who won a Tony Award for The Apple Tree and played the mother in the original Freaky Friday opposite Jodie Foster. It struck me that I hadn’t heard of her.
No one remembers Barbara Harris, he said, due to our “cultural amnesia,” citing Jean Baudrillard’s semi-psychedelic pursuit of “Astral America,” so prophetic, even, America. “She was trying to disappear in 1962,” though, Austin Pendleton clarified in his dressing room. He was starring in Choir Boy at the time, the nicest man, a veteran of an actor who welcomed me so warmly, spoke so eloquently of her, and he communicated feeling so well that it sparked vivid snapshots in my mind…of a door opening to a rehearsal room in 1961… for Arthur Kopit’s Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mamma’s Hung You Up in the Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad, which catapulted their careers, also starring Jo Van Fleet.
“And there she was…”
In truly large cataract sunglasses, rouged lips in a pinch, already reluctant about doing this, in cute sing-songy tones: is that you??? I didn’t blame her. Her dyed hair long and stick-straight flowed in the breeze along with her lime-green pants, a departure from the short, spunky style she sported for most of her career. In her eyes was a sparkle or sheen —at a magic hour peach and orange—and range. Sand sparkling out the exit. We were in the middle of the desert. She was older now, about eight-three, it was about five months before she died.