Fun, fizzy dispatches from the city and beyondOn a recent Tuesday, Hoyle was in the South Bronx, looking for people to stand next to. He struck up a conversation at the Citi Bike rack at 167th Street. He texted a man known as Pop (Jahar Simmons); they had met when Hoyle lived nearby. Hoyle had never put Pop in a show. He walked in circles looking for him, then his phone buzzed. “I don’t see you,” he said, and squinted. “Oh, there you at.” Pop, a guy in his mid-thirties with a white T-shirt and a mane of braids coiled atop his head, perched in the entrance to the Webster Houses project with two men, one lanky and dressed in Helmut Lang trackwear, the other built like a wrestler and wearing shades. “Son, D., what’s going on?” Pop said. “You can’t be white and lost in the hood.”Hoyle told Pop’s friends that he acts out real people’s stories.“Ask him, did I get a story yet,” Pop said.“Did Pop get a story yet?” the tall man asked.“Not fucking yet!” Pop bellowed.Pop visited Hoyle whenever he went to the Bay Area. The first time he and a friend went to see one of Hoyle’s shows, he felt out of place. (“We smelled like a pound of weed, like a pack,” he said.) Then Hoyle gave him a shout-out onstage, and the weather changed. “All the people coming up to me: ‘You from the Bronx? What’s it like?’ ” He affected a grave look: “ ‘Walking over dead bodies every day. People getting shot.’ ”His friends laughed. Pop worked days at the high school and nights at the hospital, and he used weekends to organize block parties. The guy with shades, Carlee Hopkins, was a counsellor for juveniles in detention; the other man, Ro Smith, worked in resale. This spring, he bought the entire stock of Knicks hats at Foot Locker and Dick’s Sporting Goods, for forty-six dollars apiece, and, when the Knicks peaked and shops ran out, sold the hats for a hundred and fifty dollars each. Smith asked Hoyle whether his plays were on YouTube.“Thing is, it really needs to be experienced live,” Hoyle said.“Motherfucker’s doing voices,” Pop explained. “Changing his face—”“Pop, you ready to do my show?” Hoyle asked. “We’ll give you an opener.”“Give me something!” Pop said. “Put me in the game, Coach—put me in the game.” ?