Alright,
children. 2 things:
1 – This weekend, new
plays. AND our 8000th
play since the 80’s. I can’t tell
you if that play resembles any of the dinosaur plays from that period, but I
can tell you that the play is generous.
Jessica Anne does the honors.
2 – Guest-writer Laura
McKenzie, of the Barrel of Monkeys and Factory Theater fame, as well as a fist full of neo-futurist prime-time shows, gives you a
meditation on time.
Kill it!
---
A weird thing happened. It’s like I went to sleep one night in July, and I woke up
the next morning and it’s August.
WHAT THE SHiiiiiiT?!??
August is like that nasty dude in the corner of the
club. Nonchalantly sipping his
Miller 64 until BAM – you’re getting butt humped, neck sweated and reached
around on.
August is like a filled-to-the-rim Lollapalooza porta-shitter. There for you when you oh so
desperately need it, but so disappointingly disgusting you end up throwing up
all over yourself.
August is like the Sunday of summer.
It’s easy to spend a good part of your Sunday in bed. Like in that one song that Lionel
Richie sang when he was in the Commodores before he met the blind lady in
pottery class: easy like Sunday morning.
Sure. Makes sense. I like eggs.
But where I come from – which is the streets – easy doesn’t
mean “no worries let’s just stay naked and eat bacon” easy. Easy is most definitely a synonym for
WHORISH. So, Lionel, what you are
crooning to us is that Sunday is a whore that screws you for money or sometimes
crack.
August, wherefore are thou such a ho?
You can’t close your eyes and get soft on August or you will
get robbed of all you got – namely your plans, dreams, goals and everything
else that falls into the category of “shit you were gonna do over the summer
that would result in a better life/attitude”. If you’re staying in bed in August, it’s not to eat nude
bacon. It’s because you either
resigned yourself to watching the Lifetime Movie Network Teens in Trouble
Marathon (She’s Too Young To Die tackles the syphilis taboo – you can get it in
your mouth!) or you literally cannot get out of bed because you were
hobbled. Hobbled by fears!
So how do we deal with August? Get out of bed!
Don’t let whores stay at your house and steal your shit (shit may or may
not include the following: plans for fun, dreams, goals, pals, sense of worth,
etc). And don’t eat a burrito at
Lollapalooza.
Rolled a six.
Cut 8 plays. Kurt, Megan,
Jessica, Bilal, Trevor, Tif, Brenda –
- planet home – (megan mercier)
- Taking in the Moment; or, The 2012 Summer Olympics March of Nations – (kurt chiang)
- Joy In The Small – (brenda arellano)
- new girl on the block – (megan mercier)
- insomnia; destroyed. – (tif harrison)
- Legally Speaking, I can’t say shit. – (tif harrison)
- Shiny Shine Shine – (jessica anne, and the 8000th play!!!!!!!!!!!)
- analog: Other Voices, False Perceptions, and Feedback – (kurt chiang)
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You guys like Balls
Johnson?
ZANY!
Thanks, Laura.
Next week, someone
with blond hair (I don’t know if that’s true).
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