Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Orestes 2.Asshole

So, I just posted some old blogs I had saved up but here is a fresh one.

For my Classical Dramatic Literature class we were forced to see the USF performance of Orestes 2.0 and review it. Now, I expected this play to be mediocre, but the abomination that I had to sit through was not so kind. Here is my review, it was for a class so just to show you how bad this thing was I'll list some phrases I wrote down during the play that did not make it to the review.
- Aborted fetus in the alley off of broadway
-Fatty was the only one who kept me in my seat
-Obese neon-whores at its worst
-Sex does not equal cutting edge
-Not even Lady Gaga could save this
-Was the set designer an blind, amputee?

Orestes 2.0 is a modern re-telling of Orestes by Euripides. In the original Orestes, we follow Orestes in the events that happen after he murders his mother including: a trial, madness, murder and a kidnapping plot. The main characters in this version of the play are Orestes, his sister Electra, Helen, Menelaus, and the chorus. In Orestes 2.0 the characters and the plot are the same as the original but completely mangled and chaotic.

As I entered the Studio Theatre on the Lone Mountain campus at USF expected mediocrity and was stunned by what I saw. The set was absolutely awful, even for an under funded college play. Four make shift gurneys sit on stage surrounded by loose stones and set against what seems like a military field hospital. The Godfather Waltz awkwardly plays in the background, only complimenting the vacant stares of the audience. Seventy percent of the audience seem reluctant to be here, probably forced by a friend or teacher. The lights in the auditorium dim and a young woman in a lab coat comes to the front of the stage. With a strained face, that reflects effort, she stiffly rattles of an autopsy report. After this, a group of nurses in drag walk in, not just any drag, a cheap neon attempt at drag. They seem to have come from a rave next store and do not belong among the military themed set. All the gurneys begin to move and the patients begin to scream. This just causes confusion and concerned looks from the audience. Electra enters, shaking and wandering around the set, looking lost. The actress is oddly stunning and her physical performance is convincing, but her pure American girl voice does not the match the madness. Helen enters looking like Nazi officer’s wife, she pulls a few laugh from the crowd by acting extremely vapid, and pull a smile from me. I still do not know where we are. Are we in the middle of World War II? An asylum? Who are these people in the ward? Is it even a ward? And most importantly why are there nurses dressed whores from the 1980s?

All this confusion takes away from the few positive aspects of the play. There are gems: Electra’s passion, Helen’s Stepford aura and Orestes delusion. The actors interject the scenes by screaming at the top of their lungs. The constant screaming is not only poison to the ears, but also unprovoked and non-sensible. Most of the audience is looking around asking their fellow patrons with worried eyes for answers, for clarification. Out of no where a messy blond boy starts singing a song about a sea faring captain and is accompanied by, what looks like to me, an ex-member of ZZ Top. After a few more confusing scenes, something happens that makes me decide to end my suffering and leave the play. Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” starts playing at full volume and the actors start simulating raunchy sex and dancing. All the sexual scenes in this play were used to pull laughs from the audience and not a part of the plot. This pushed me over the edge and I was about to get up when a miracle happened. A large patient begins a monologue about how he murdered his family and the enjoyment and beauty it held. There is a maniacal glint in his eye and he speaks with such sincerity, his talent firmly plants my bum in my seat. I believe he loves to kill and truly saw beauty in the death of his kin. This guy, Matthew Laderoute, is amazing! He brings to mind the simple beauty in Lenny, from Of Mice and Men. I am honestly blown away. The only other time I enjoyed myself during this production was when the blind set designer decided to put a fog machine directly under a patron chair. The unsuspecting boy was engulfed with smoke and sat with smirk on face, embarrassed.



Lady Gaga appalled that her hit was raped by this shithole.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I Wish My Slight Irritations Resulted in Pearls


There are two things that have been really irratating me recently:
Bikers and Parking

I attend University of San Francisco.....in San Francisco. I commute everyday taking 101-NB 46 miles to school. Now this drive is rather relaxing, an escape from stress and school. Humming down the busy streets of San Francisco, listening to NPR, I am at peace. Until, all of the sudden I see a zooming object in the corner of my eye. It could only be one thing, an inconsiderate cyclist. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I have to pull a Toyota and slam both feet on the brakes. The cyclist taking the law into his own hands cuts me off and if it wasn't for my paranoia, he would've been consumed by the front of my car. Now, I like bikes, biking is fun, environmentally helpful and gives you a sense of freedom that driving just can't equal. HOWEVER, just because you're on a bike does NOT mean you can make your own goddamn rules. If that cyclist had just stopped at the STOP sign, there would have been no need for an emergency stop half way through an intersection.
Many bikers I know complain about the lack of respect bikes get in the City, "Sorry, isn't gonna help me once you've hit me." WELL NUKKA if you don't want to be hit with my metal beast give me some respect and follow the fucking law. Stop being high and mighty about you mode of transportation and think about what you are about to do. YOU ARE NOT A CAR. If there is a bike lane use that, don't get in front of me in the DRIVING LANE. If there is a stretch of empty side walk use that. Use the road as a last resort, and respect traffic. In a physical confrontation, the car
always wins.

Well, if City bikers are bad, city parking is Samuel L. Jackson fucking a great white, bad ass. USF is not a commuter school and their parking policy is utterly ridiculous! Everyday I have to buy a square piece of construction paper for 8-15 dollars. Now, this deal wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that this permit guaranteed me a spot, well it doesn't. And when you can't find a spot you have to options to surrender your car to the hipster valet with a PBR tall can in his hand or park on the streets. If you have ever been to San Francisco you know these two options are barely options. If you choose the buzzed hip valet, your car will end reeking of apathy, cheap beer, and could be totaled. If you choose the streets you have to attempt to squeeze into a minuet stretch of road only to be trapped in your car stalking the meter maids. UGG, to show my distaste for this awful parking, I made a sign and keep it on my dash.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Minty Nightmare


Many people who know me are aware I DO NOT stay up past 11pm voluntarily, so why the late post?
Two words:
Tiger Balm

Each night as I lay myself to rest my legs seize up in pain, like an overly zealous xylophone player decided to use my legs for his solo. After 2 Dr.Who specials, 1hr 20min of the Great Gatsby, and 3 episodes of This American Life, I am
still tossing and turning with my eyes begging me for sleep. After spying a pot of Tiger Balm I decide that I should rub that on legs and feel the relief of Chinese Herbs.


BULLSHIT I SAY! This "100 year-old" remedy is a minty nightmare. About 5 minutes after application, my leg
s begin to burn and reek. The scent wakes up my brain and the burning sensation wakes up my body. Now, I am stuck with too peppermint abominations for legs.
Ugg!

On another note I must say I'm going to add a "Clive Chafer: The Best Brit You Will Ever Encounter" section to each posting, this is my first one.

CLIVE CHAFER: The Best Brit You Will Ever Encounter

Clive Chafer is my very british Classical Dramatic Literature professor. He sounds like John Cleese and acts like he is on Monty Python every class. Now, as a disclaimer you must understand Clive is a brilliant professor, he is extremely intelligent, and keeps me engage in extremely boring translations of Greek tragedies. His wackiness is just endearing, not a reflection on his skillz.
Now today's Clive experience is a la elementary school. We received our first assignment back of the semester, being an abject failure I forgot to answer one question, not achieving a perfect score. However, the girl sitting next to me did. As a reward for her hard work Clive decided to reward her.
With an olive green hat sticker. First of all, this is a junior level college corse and we get rewarded with stickers. Second of all, its not even a golden star or something related to sucess, no sir, Clive is too hip for something generic like that. He chooses a sticker that resembles something like this:
Oh, Clive :)

Monday, November 30, 2009

10 Steps to Failing Your First Semester of College


5 Steps to Failing Your First Semester

1) Choose a major you have never done well in during High School.
I am an art kid, I wear wayfarers, horizontal stripes and my clothes reek of turpentine. Out of the 29 schools I applied to, I got into 3 art schools and 1 non-art school. Logically I choose the non-art school and a science major. Fail.

2) Take just enough credits to stay a full time student.
I am taking General Chemistry, Poetry, and Biology 1. If I drop any of the classes I am failing (3/3) I would be kicked out of my housing. Basically trapping myself in a fail sandwich.

3) Take 8am labs.
Stumbling into a lecture still drunk and with the taste of last night's mistake in your mouth is bad, imagine drunkenly playing with 2M Nitric Acid. Fail.

4)Have An Awesome Roommate
Gabby is the best roommate ever. We watch the Mighty Boosh, smoke in our dorms, and walk around the City. We also, skip class together, never clean our room, and decided that homework is just a suggestion. Fail.

5) The Interwebs
Facebook. Blogs. Twitter. Fail.