Tango Lesbiango

2011-05-23T17:07:00.003-07:00

Capitalist Titans Turn the Other Cheek

2011-05-23T17:07:00.001-07:00

A virtuous egoist who loves his neighbors

2011-05-23T17:06:00.001-07:00

Rand for Jesus (Tea Party)

2011-05-23T17:05:00.001-07:00

Rapture temporarily postponed. Please check for updates in the bible

2011-04-12T12:41:00.001-07:00

Cavemen and 'traditional cultures' are to meat eating advocates what the bible is to conservatives: an inexhaustible source of justifications and distortions.

2011-04-07T14:55:00.000-07:00

Now that we have a gay caveman we are officially *natural*

According to the bible Sarah Palin should stone her daughter to death for having sex before marriage

2011-03-16T05:52:00.001-07:00

All those airport screenings should count as mammograms.

2011-03-16T05:51:00.001-07:00

That's the least they could do for us. They should give us copies and we could take them to our doctors, dentists, etc. They could hire a doctor at the airport that could give us a report at the end of the screening

  I.r. -- Marin Say...I didnt even think of that..i gotta go in July. Maybe I should gt in line with a bottle of shampoo, gt my xray then kicked off. Hmmm.

  Susana Cook-- with a bottle of shampoo and a pair of tweezers you might even get your dental records up to date.

  I.r. -- Marin Damn..i made an appt for that too!

  Susana Cook ‎-Are you going to check a bag? Do you want a reading or copy of your screening? Both breasts, full mouth, full body?
 
  I.r. Marin Hmm..what should I bring if I need a CAT scan? I also need to check for Osteoporosis...i hear airport screeners are the best. And what if I want to get a second opinion..which airport do i go to for that?Friday at 7:46am · Unlike · 1 person 

  Susana Cook -- CAT scan only in international flights. Make sure you carry fresh fruit, mosquitoes and tell them that you spent a lot of time in a farm in close contact with sick looking animals

  I.r. Marin -- i might also need massage therapy..so what do i do to get tossed around by burly security officials?  

  Susana Cook -- I.r as a Latina lesbian you should get your massage therapy without asking. A Che Guevara tee shirt might help though. Otherwise you can hide a coin in your pants. I also have a tee shirt that Fulana gave me: Not Gay as in Happy but Queer as in Fuck You. It has a picture of a woman pointing a gun. It's great for airports.  

  I.r. Marin -- Ur right I should get it without asking..lol. I do have the Che socks, however...i think i should lose the military jackets. After all, I dont want to be tackled before I get on line!

2011-02-03T05:44:00.000-08:00

"Mubarack is going to become an expression for people who don't get the message.
Possible uses: He is such a "Mubarack". Why is he acting so "Mubarack?" etc

2011-02-03T05:43:00.000-08:00

What a Republican winter

Suddenly she realized that she had a dead tongue in her mouth

2011-01-21T18:38:00.000-08:00

Hint Fiction
By Susana Cook

I was a kid. I don’t remember how old I was but I remember the house. It was a beautiful house. Andrea, a friend from school invited me over for a play-date. I was fascinated; everything was so different in her house. It was clean and organized. They were all sitting at the table at the same time and they were kind of dressed up, her mother and her stepfather I mean. We had to call him ‘sir’. The table had nice plates, cutlery and glasses. They also had a maid who was serving us at the table. She was treating me with so much respect, as if I was an adult or her boss, like them. She put some food on my plate. It was delicious and different. I never ate anything like that before in my life. It was a tender and tasty meat. What is my mother cooking? I thought. She never made anything like that for me! I was embarrassed to ask but I liked it so much I wanted to know what it was. I wanted my mother to cook it for me. This is delicious, I said, what is it?
And her mother said a word that I couldn’t understand. What is it? I asked again
- Tongue, they said
- What?
- Tongue
- Tongue like a tongue?
- Yes, like a cow’s tongue
- I am eating a tongue?
- Yes, you are eating a tongue
I wanted to spit on the table what I had in my mouth. But everything and everybody was so refined. I just knew that I could not swallow a tongue and I could not take the contact of my tongue with the dead cow tongue anymore. I didn’t want my face to show disgust. I couldn’t talk to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to spit that out. Gosh, do I have to swallow this? If I do I will throw up. If I spit this out they will be so offended.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up to go to the bathroom but I didn’t know where it was. I was walking around the house with that tongue in my mouth and I couldn’t ask them where the bathroom was. I finally opened a door and there it was a beautiful toilet where I could spit the fucking tongue out. I did. I washed my mouth but I couldn’t get the feeling out for a long time. Every time I was thinking about it, it was making me nauseous and disgusted. I had to wash my mouth again.

2010-11-08T14:30:00.001-08:00

How many Republicans does it take to destroy the planet?

2010-11-07T08:17:00.001-08:00

The thing is the right wing is easier to organize: you say God! and they align. Then you can proceed to other unifying principles: racism, xenophobia, homophobia, anti-abortion, anti-women, destroy the environment and more money to the rich

Animals Onstage

2010-11-03T19:43:00.000-07:00

by Susana Cook

From spiritual creatures and fabulous mythic beasts to live theater props and art supplies — tortured, killed, cut into pieces and reassembled – the current role of animals in the world of art brings up ethical issues of artistic freedom versus animal ethics and make evident the complications inherent in representing the Other.
I propose a look at the relationship that humans have created through time with animals in the spaces of Western philosophy, theater, art and performance, in an effort to understand the current trend of animal abuse in the work of several highly celebrated contemporary artists. I will discuss the work of selected ancient poets and philosophers who dealt with the issue of the animal and contemporary artists who present animals onstage or use pieces of them in their work.
I begin by engaging in a brief account on the history of ideas regarding animals to prove that (contrary to popular belief) historically, people have been sensitive to the suffering of animals, and we have proof of this in prominent. The “origins of man” are usually cited as a justification on the abuse and consuming of animals: for example, in dominant thought, people usually refer to cave men and their dietary habits as a way of normalizing the killing and eating of animals as a primal human activity. Cave men were most likely killing animals to survive, and at best meat composed a small percentage of their overall diet, but much of philosophical thinking on the issue of animals distances itself significantly from the practices of troglodytes.
Ancient Roman and Greek philosophers like Ovid, Pythagoras, Empedokles, Epicurus, Plutarch and Seneca were all vegetarian who gave us a strong legacy on animal ethics. In the field of contemporary playwriting, I will look at Edward Albee’s The Goat and Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore. Both plays bring animals to central roles and explore the complicated issues that arise when presenting animals in close relationship to humans.
I will then talk about the work of Argentinean playwright/director Rodrigo Garcia, German theater director Thomas Ostermeier, visual artists Marco Evaristti (Chile), Guillermo Vargas (Costa Rica) and Demian Hirscht (England), all male artists who use animals in their artistic productions. I argue that these artists are not an exception but exponents of a trend in the theater world that celebrates animal abuse as artistic genius.
Animals have historically served all kinds of purposes for humans; they provided company, food, transportation, clothing, entertainment and became objects of human power and anthropocentrism. They have been objects of visual art, literature, fables, theater, circus acts, performance art, paintings, cinema, and theater plays. Animals have been made into healers, gods, creatures without a soul, recipients of deep knowledge, enslaved, tortured, killed, mutilated and eaten.
Many prominent ancient Greek and Roman poets and philosophers rejected the abuse of animals as immoral. Pythagorean ethics, for instance, first appeared between 490-430 BC with a desire to create a universal and absolute law including injunctions not to kill "living creatures," to abstain from "harsh-sounding bloodshed," in particular animal sacrifice, and "never to eat meat."
Empedokles (?480-430 B.C) was a Greek philosopher and scientist who continued the Pythagorean tradition. He left no doubt about his opinion of flesh foods: "Will you not put an end to this accursed slaughter? Will you not see that you are destroying yourselves in blind ignorance of soul?" He wrote his doctrines in his poems “exhorting the world to abandon the foul diet of blood." He once exclaimed, "Will ye not cease from evil slaughter? See ye not that ye are devouring each other in heedlessness of mind?'"
The Roman poet Ovid died in A.D. 18 when Jesus was still a very young man. He wrote the famous Metamorphosis as a series of poems where animals and humans mutate constantly into each other. He repudiated animal sacrifice and human carnivorism as a perversion of human nature. In Metamorphosis he writes: "From whence such hunger in man after unnatural and unlawful foods? Do you dare, O mortal race, to continue to feed on flesh? Cease, I adjure you, and give heed to my admonition”. Ovid also condemned the killing of the gentle animals who had no defense against man's savagery. He asked: "To what wicked habits does he accustom his palate...who cuts the throat of a calf, turning a deaf ear to its piteous moans. Or, who has the heart to pierce the throat of a kid which utters cries like those of a child, or, who can feed on the bird whom he had fed with his own hand?"
Even though the poets and philosophers of antiquity wrote extensively about the suffering of animals, things changed for the worse for un-human creatures when the definitions of men became a dialectic model of animals as opposite to humans. In 1637, in his Discourse on the Method, Descartes defined animals as machines lacking all reason and thought, as creatures without mind and sensory experience, and as such unable to feel pain. His famous quotation Je pense, donc je suis (I think, therefore I am) was probably the beginning of a heavy omen that fell on animals as creatures inferior to the ‘thinking’ humans.
As a result of all these contradictory traditions we grow up immersed in a very complicated relationship to animals. As kids, many of us had loving pets, and we often heard stories featuring fables that make animals speak, feel, and act as recipients and porters of hidden knowledge and wisdom. At the same time, we open the fridge and find some animal in pieces, or we walk through supermarket aisles that look like an animal’s morgue and we are not supposed to cry or be horrified; we just have to buy it.
All these contradictory feelings became pacified and normalized. The animal is the Other, from a different species. It is not fully clear what’s the proper way to treat them. These contradictions reveal themselves often in works of art.
By making the death of the animal the tragedy, Edward Albee’s play The Goat is one of the few examples of contemporary theater that dares to move the presence of the animal to a complicated zone of equality to humans, challenging our definition of the animal’s otherness. He places the main character, Martin, at the limits of his humanity by involving him in a love affair with a goat. There are plenty of stories of humans and animals loving each other, but in most of them the animal is subjugated to the human; it’s either a pet, a work animal, or a wild animal that could or should be killed. But in The Goat the animal is moved up to a strange category of equality to a human being.
Albee adds the subtitle: Notes Towards a Ddefinition of Tragedy. By exploring what is a tragedy or who’s death constitutes a tragedy he is the boundaries of what could be considered human or the relationship of human beings with un-human beings.
The play is all the time on the verge of comedy. A human loving an animal in a romantic way it’s tragic and at the same time funny. The death of the goat becomes then the moment when we will measure the tragedy. It’s just an animal. How can you take its death seriously?
Martin, a New York architect, will be the character that will disorganize and rearrange the established hierarchical relationship between animals and humans. He starts the play in a daze, not being able to remember anything. He can’t relate to the way things are, he can’t remember how they were because all his values are being challenged. By moving an animal to a place of equality the organized sense of his own human-ness gets challenged and all his moral assumptions have to be reexamined. The play will end in tragedy because the order he intended to create is not viable under the present scheme of things where animals and humans exist within relations of power.
Martin is so distracted that he can’t even remember his name; he acts like somebody in love. That could be seen as funny if you think that the object of his love is a goat, but it could also be read as somebody who has lost the possibility of reading reality the same way and as such needs to rebuild his inner and outer universe because he can’t remember the way things were - even his own name.
Martin, married to Stevie, tries to confess to his friend Ross. He is embarrassed and confused; he knows that what is happening is wrong. He explains how loyal he has always been to his wife and how deeply he feels for her. Until one day he saw ‘her,’ Sylvia. Ross then tells the news to Martin’s wife and his son Billy, and the tragedy begins. Stevie admits that her first reaction to the news was to laugh “ at the awfulness and the absurdity of it.”
The play keeps traveling on a thin line between comedy and tragedy. Martin and Stevie wrestle with definitions. Martin calls the goat Sylvia. Stevie denies her a name, trying to take the goat back to the animal kingdom, where she exists as an object, an “it,” stressing a line of division that obviously doesn’t exist anymore in her husband’s mind or soul. Stevie realizes that what her husband has done could not be undone. They all know that the rules have been broken but they don’t know what’s next after such an affair.
At the end of the play, Stevie enters, dragging a dead goat. The goat’s throat is cut; the blood is down her clothes and on her arms.
The situation between Stevie and Martin could very easily be translated to any situation of a person falling in love with the wrong or forbidden person, or breaking apart a marriage through romantic infidelity. The fact that the other is a goat makes the reader think about bestiality, but also about otherness.
By killing the goat, Stevie restores order. This is not only because her husband doesn’t have a goat lover anymore, but because the goat became fully an animal, dragged through the streets by a human.
In The lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh the figure of the cat plays a very important role, introducing the humor in the play because animal suffering can be ultimately ‘funny’. Padraic is a heartless torturer. Everybody is terrified of him. He commits the most brutal acts against people as lieutenant of the Irish National Liberation Army. He has no compassion or empathic feeling for any human. But he adores his cat.
The cat is the irony of the play. Torture becomes funny because it is compared all the time with the compassion and love Padraic feels for his cat. After seeing Padraic removing the nails of his victims, cutting their nipples, wielding a cut-throat razor in front of a victim hanging upside down, with his hands bloody, the image of his little friend Mairead shooting the eyes out of ten cows provides the laugh. The violence against humans is paralleled with the violence against animals to make the play funny. If the only violence shown onstage was Padraic torturing his human victims, arguably it would not be read a funny play. But because torturing animals is in a way funny to most audiences, the extreme violence of the play gets softened. The contrast is also underscored by the fact that Padraic is a super macho guy and the fact that he loves his little cat is kind of a feminine thing about him.
Even if in The Goat and The Lieutenant of Inishmore no real animals need to be hurt or killed, these plays are important examples of our complicated relationship with animals’ pain and suffering. In both cases the presence and death of the animal is crucial to the plot.
But sometimes animals do die. They become the victims of artists intending to create a sense of shock in theater and performance.
Rodrigo Garcia is a theater artist from Argentina, living in Spain. His company is called “La Carnicería” (The Butchery) and his work honors the title of his company by featuring all kinds of torture and killing of animals. Rodrigo Garcia’s father was actually a butcher, so Garcia grew up surrounded by pieces of dead animals that constituted his father’s job. He obviously normalized that relationship to animals and decided to follow his father’s footsteps and makes a living in the arts by exploiting animals as well. Several animal rights groups have brought attention to the gratuitous mistreatment and killing of animals in his work and managed, in some cases, to stop some of his performances.
Still, Garcia’s work is very celebrated in prominent theater circles. In 2009, Garcia won the XIII Europe Theatre Prize for his play Matar Para Comer (Killing to Eat). The play features a lobster that will slowly die in front of our eyes. An actor hangs a live lobster from a hook in the center of the performance space and attaches a microphone to the animal’s chest. We can see the animal squirming, suffering, in agony, and we hear the lobster’s heartbeat amplified through a microphone stuck to its chest. The slow death is an awful thing to witness but it becomes even worse because Garcia extends the agony and suffering of the lobster. As the animal begins to die, and we can hear the heartbeats slowing down, the actor throws water from a bottle on the hanging lobster to revive it and then let it suffocate again. He repeats this procedure two or three times. He then takes the dying lobster off the hook, stabs it with a knife, cuts it in pieces, cooks it and eats it.
Before seeing this “performance” in December 2007, I also attended Garcia’s play Ronald McDonald at The Festival de Teatro Iberoamericano de Cádiz, Spain in 2004. In that show Garcia was shocking the audience among other things by torturing a fish. One of the actors was sucking the water from a fish tank with small sips. The fish was getting gradually more desperate as the water diminished. When the tank was dry and the fish about to die, the actor was leaving the stage and presumably putting new water in the tank. The spectacle was over. The fish may not have died but it experienced suffering.
At Trapholt Art Museum in Denmark, Chilean artist Marco Evaristti put goldfish in a blender, and the visitors were given the option of pressing the “on” button. As a result many of the fish were of course liquefied.
In August 2007, Guillermo Vargaas, an artist from Costa Rica, featured a dog confined in a bare art gallery without food or water until it starved to death (though he claimed he “freed” the dog after the performance). After this exhibit he was chosen to represent his country at the Bienal Centroamericana Honduras 2008.
These artists stage otherness and place themselves in a power situation towards animals. But the fact that they are all male and from Latin America and celebrated in Europe brings to mind issues of gender and a different kind otherness. They enact in their performances a power relation towards animals but they are themselves ‘the racial other’ and probably look exotic and ‘primitive’ to the eyes of the European audience. In my view, their actions are not measured with the same parameters that they would use to criticize their fellow European artists.
Under dominant logics, people like to look at the primitive in search for answers. The mysterious buried knowledge and wisdom of the ‘uncivilized’ savage is similar to the hidden wisdom attributed to animals in some stories. Both the primitive and the animal are posited as close to nature. The abusive relationship that these men create with animals onstage is, I argue, using a European eye to frame the primitive male as dominating nature and in some ways creating an authentic relationship with it.
When I attended Garcia’s performance of Killing to Eat at Martin E. Segal Theatre Center at CUNY on December 10th, 2007, several audience members protested the performance and some left. During the Q+A a member from the audience, Anurima Banerji asked Garcia: Why are you doing this? His response in Spanish was: “Porque se me canta en los cojones” which means ‘because I want to,’ but the literal translation is: ‘I want it from my balls’. I thought it was interesting that he felt the need to mention his balls in the response, with an expression that insinuates that the genitalia authorize the enactment of any male desire.
- Why did you make the lobster suffer? Asked Anurima Banerji.
- Oh, well, responded Garcia, if you think that the lobster feels something, that is the problem.
Maybe Garcia was reading Descartes, because he had no doubt that the lobster could not experience any suffering even if we just witnessed the animal’s agony in front of our eyes. He then explained that they do that in restaurants every day and that he learned how to cut and cook the lobster at a restaurant to incorporate that scene in the show.
Garcia was invoking the law: If this is done legally in restaurants, it’s ok for me to do it here. This is just a re-presentation of what happens in quotidian life. He was just putting the lobster-killing out of context, taking it from the restaurant to the theater.
But Latin American men are not alone; some European men also like to measure their manhood using animals. Damian Hirst - a white, rich, European artist - is seen as the ‘rebel kid,’ a mischievous child who will play with pieces of big animals to show humans our own mortality. Jonathan Jones from The Guardian compares Hirst with Darwin and God: “Hirst's grisly masterpiece, A Thousand Years (1990), in which a race of flies are born in a white cube inside one half of a long glass tank; in the other half of the tank rests a rotting cow head. To feed on it, the flies have to find their way through specially created openings into that part of their sealed world - which is also where Hirst has placed an insect-o-cutor. In the rush to feed, they are massacred; to live is to die.” And he adds: “The artist who created it resembles the God you would have to believe in… You can see how Hirst's reading of Darwin would have helped him to think that.”
Thomas Ostermeier, a German theater director, subjected a bird to extreme suffering during his production of Cat on a Hot Roof. In April 3rd, 2009 Helen Shaw describes the performance in Time Out New York: “The Plexiglas set functioned as a giant birdcage for one captive hawk. It was unbearable. Ostermeier really enjoys loud, punky scene changes, and as music would blast across the stage, we could see the bird hunching into itself. Birds do die of stress, and this was the kind of stress tactic the U.S. Army used to blast Noriega out of Papal asylum. Did Ostermeier want the bird to surrender? Did the bird initiate hostilities?”
Then she asks herself at the end of the article: “What are the limits? Are we being weak and sentimental when we want to keep animals off the stage? Aren’t we exposing ourselves as monsters who can watch human carnage as we eat our breakfasts but cry foul when a puppy gets his tail snipped? Where do we draw the line?” (Sadly she didn’t mention what was the breakfast made of, probably bacon or eggs). The question should not be “are we being weak and sentimental when we want to keep animals off the stage?” The question should be: “Aren’t we being weak when we kill and torture animals onstage? Doesn’t this simply showcase human brutality and power, a lack of ethics and empathy on our part?”
Artists like Rodrigo Garcia and his Latino American fellows serve to the European art scene as circus freaks that will do onstage what they (the ‘civilized’ people) would probably not dare to do. Damian Hirst’s work, however, is generally seen as some kind of philosophical inquiry into issues of meat and mortality.
These male artists use animals as a metaphor for humans. They would probably use humans (I would guess, women) if they were allowed to. They have a big investment in the suffering being “real,” and happening onstage; animals serve the purpose because these “artists” can legally torture and kill them without consequence.
The presence of the real animal onstage – dead or alive - serves two purposes: On one hand they are a metaphor for humans, and on the other hand they re-present the power relationship of humans with animals.
The Spanish group Igualdad Animal (Animal Equality) smartly reverses the formula and uses humans as a metaphor for animals instead. In one public event, members wrapped themselves naked in Styrofoam trays to replicate and the look and posture of many of the food animals we see every day in the supermarket. The substitution of the animal by a human brings attention to the similarities of ‘meat’ except that instead of seeing an animal, the human viewer see him or herself bagged, and sold. Igualdad Animal’s work is of course much less celebrated and critically, it is considered activism, not art.
When Rodrigo Garcia was questioned about the cruelty of his work and the unnecessary suffering and killing of animals in it, he emphasized his ‘artistic freedom.’ Artists who torture animals don’t want their supposed creative freedom to be restrained. But, as we know, as romantic as artistic freedom sounds, it’s really not full freedom anyway. If their artistic impulses would demand the killing of humans onstage they will certainly not be able to invoke artistic freedom as the reason, and would self-censhor themselves or at least require consent from the human victims for such performances. Why is that - because they respect humans more than animals? Perhaps. But also because animals are framed as objects and can be purchased and used as theater props in whatever way they want. They can be tortured or killed for the pleasure or shock of the audience attending their show.
Garcia claims that the death of the lobster is irrelevant in the theater because many lobsters die everyday in restaurants. But if it is so irrelevant, why kill it onstage? Something about it must be relevant because Garcia is counting on our feelings of repulsion and compassion when we are witnessing the animals’ slow and painful death.
The killing and torturing of animals onstage provides a dose of danger and an element of ritual to the performance. The performance becomes more vibrant: the act is happening right there in front of our eyes. Garcia can buy as many lobsters as he want for as many performances as he want. Hirst can cut up as many cows as he wants to create his artistic “installations” for contemplating death and mortality.
Why do these artists torture and kill animals? Because they can. If animals could defend themselves, those performances wouldn’t exist. But many human beings wouldn’t be able to defend themselves against abuse, like children, for example, or disabled persons, and so there are laws designed to protect them. If the same laws would be implemented for animals, those performances of torture would be illegal, and theater artists like Rodrigo Garcia and the others will have to re-define the limits of their artistic freedom. Even though animals are legally considered ‘property’ and as such can be purchased and made victims of pain and abuse, the ethical issues that arise with those spectacles of suffering should be urgently discussed. Plays like The Goat and The Lieutenant of Inishmore, and the performance interventions of Igualidad Animal are important avenues for opening the debate on the complicated relationship of humans with animals, and what animal suffering means in performance, as well as in everyday life.

Bibliography:

Albee, Edward. The Goat or Who is Sylvia? New York: Dramatists Play Service Inc. 2003.

Chauduri, Una. (De)Facing the Animals Zooësis and Performance. TDR: The Drama Review, Volume 51, Number 1 (T 193), Spring 2007, pp. 8-20 (Article)g

Descartes, Rene. Discourse on the Method. New York: Cosimo Classics, 2008.

Hyland. J.R. JESUS, OVID, AND VEGETARIANISM  http://www.all-creatures.org/hr/hra-ovid.htm

International Vegetarian Union
http://www.ivu.org/history/greece_rome/pythagoras.html

Jones, Jonathan. ON ART: Why Darwin and Hirst are more believable than God
Guardian.co.uk
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/jonathanjonesblog/2009/jan/29/art-damien-hirst-darwin-god

McDonagh, Martin. The Lieutenant of Inishmore. New York: Dramatists Play Service Inc. 2003.

Ovid. Metamorphosis. Trans. Charles Martin. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2004

Shaw, Helen. Theater of cruelty: Animals on stage?  Posted in Upstaged The World of Theater Edited by David Coteon April 3rd, 2009 at 10:35 am.
http://www3.timeoutny.com/newyork/upstaged/2009/04/theater-of-cruelty-animals-on-stage/

The Ethics of Diet - A Catena
OF AUTHORITIES DEPRECATORY OF THE PRACTICE OF FLESH-EATING
by Howard Williams M.A. (1837-1931)
First published in book format in 1883: London: F. Pitman, 20, Paternoster Row : John Heywood, 11, Paternoster Buildings. Manchester: John Heywood, Deansgate and Ridgefield.

Williams, Howard M.A. (1837-1931) The Ethics of Diet, A Biographical History of the Literature of Human Dietetics, From the Earliest Period to the Present Day . Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2003.

2010-10-09T16:15:00.001-07:00

The part that I don't like about being a butch is opening the jars. And people asking me to carry their 100 gallons bottles of water into their apartments

2010-10-09T16:13:00.001-07:00

When I came out as a lesbian people were asking me - so how do you do it? When I came out as a vegetarian they asked me - so what do you eat?

From Manhood to Humankind to...

2010-08-16T14:59:00.000-07:00

Manhood excludes women. Humankind excludes animals. We need a word that includes all living beings

My dog wants to find his biological father

2010-08-03T07:07:00.000-07:00

We went to see The Kids Are All Right

2010-06-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

Food?

2010-06-09T05:17:00.000-07:00

Today I went into a regular supermarket after a longtime of eating Urban Organic. I felt I was in a prophetic exhibit from the 80s showing how food was gonna look in the year 2010. I knew that if I stayed 10 more minutes that stuff was gonna start looking like food again.

Bleaching Arizona

2010-06-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

ethnic cleansing in the heart of the US.
Do they really believe in an an impermeable border?
They might kill a lot of people but they dream will not become true

Hirst, Damien. Mother and Child, Divided, 1993

2010-05-12T14:43:00.000-07:00

Dead body in a container by Susana Cook

Hirst, Damien. Mother and Child, Divided, 1993

Hirscht is reputed to be the richest living artist in the world. Most of his work relies in using animals as a metaphor for humans. I see his art as very consistent with the norm, relying more in signification and exploitation than in craft.
Mother and Child, Divided, consists of a cow and a calf each sliced in half, and put in a box full of formaldehyde solution. According to critics in this piece Hirst is exploring ideas of death. His artistic genius consists in ordering the death and cutting in half of a big amount of cows that will be exhibited in different parts of the world. The cut animals that Hirst presents in his exhibits usually begin to decay before the exhibit it’s over so they have to be replaced by new ones, making his art work a series of unnecessary deaths.
If the beauty of his craft would reside in the composition of the installation, a fake cow would do the trick. But the main part of his piece is that the cow is real, that it was killed and cut in half for the exhibit. So in this case the piece is a spectacle of cruelty and human supremacy over animals more than a piece of art in the aesthetic sense of the term.
Hirst explorations on death went onto bigger animals, in 2006 he exhibited a pickled shark. The piece was titled "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living". Hirst is inviting the audience to think about death. What is not clear is what is that he wants us to think about it. There are many thoughts we could have about death. The first one that comes to mind when watching his work is: the life or death of an animal doesn’t have the same value as the life and death of a human.
What interests me about this kind of art is the huge amount of meanings and significations that emanate from the piece and the way the art world decides to select the meanings in order to attribute value to a piece that ultimately reinforces and perpetrates the status quo and the constant exploitation and slavery of animals by humans. The selection of the artists that will reach fame is not innocent or arbitrary or based on talent.
Hirst has to overpass several regulations and laws in many countries in order to stage his work. The bans on British beef in Japan for example, stopped the cows at the airport in 2006. But every time he manages to bypass laws and regulations, the cows clear customs and the exhibit ends up taking place in very important museums around the world. This kind of work not only ends up getting all the necessary permissions and passports but it also gets highly rewarded.
Hirst is not the only artist torturing or killing animals as art work. The artist Marco Evaristti, for example, at Trapholt art museum in Denmark, put goldfish in a blender, and the visitors were given the option of pressing the “on” button. As a result many of the fish were of course liquidized. In August 2007 the artist from Costa Rica Guillermo Vargas featured a dog confined in a bare art gallery floor without food, water or bedding until it starved to death and after this exhibit he was chosen to represent his country at the Bienal centroamericana Honduras 2008. And the list goes on.
Why is it that humans are not a metaphor for humans? What would happen if Demain Hirst would exhibit the body of a human mother and her child cut in half in a box full of formaldehyde solution? What if we were invited to liquidized a fetus? What would happen if we were to trap a person in a gallery without food or water until she dies? The exhibits would certainly be banned, illegal and the artists would end up in jail. That would be considered murder. But killing an animal for artistic purposes is considered rebellious. It makes the artist respectable, filled with international recognition and rich.

Work cited:
Hirst, Damien. Mother and Child, Divided, 1993
Steel, GRP composites, glass, silicone sealants, cow, calf, formaldehyde solution; dimensions variable.

http://www.art-in-guelph.com/Pages/FishBlender.html

Backwards and Forwards, by David Ball

2010-04-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

Just backwards
by Susana Cook

A manual is a set of instructions on how to use a machine that already exists. This manual is for reading plays, so the idea behind it is that plays are a device with a purpose and David Ball will teach us how to unveil the mechanism that moves the machine, so we can understand it better and hopefully build similar ones. Ball very deliberately leaves out any room for interpretation, creativity, or diversity in the theater world. He focuses on the technicalities of “drama”. If he would prefix the word “traditional” every time he mentions theater, narrative or drama he would be more accurate with his statements. But the way he deliberately appropriates those words as if the whole genre was ruled by these formulas makes the whole book a new attempt to make traditional narrative the only option, the only thing we can call drama, or good drama, the only technique that works.
His statements are bold and clear from the first pages and throughout the book.
“People who talk about, write about, or do theater agree on little. But there is one thing: “Drama is conflict!” we all cry in rare unanimity” (25). Really? The way that Ball ignores and makes invisible the huge amount of theater that was and continues being created that does not follow those rules and predicaments is unbelievable.
I think there’s two ways that people maintain the hegemony of these formulas. One is ignoring the existence of any other kind of theater that doesn’t follow these rules, and another one (this one would apply to theater that is more known and cannot be ignored) is to make extreme efforts to prove that those plays, even if not evident, are secretly following the same formula. This strategy reinforces the notion that these rules are inescapable.
Aristotle defines tragedy as Action and a set of Actions, David Ball writes a new book, that explains in detail that “A play is a series of actions” (9). In the introduction he sets the rules, “the techniques in this book will help you read analytically to discern how the play works. What the play means should not be the first consideration” (3). Leaving out meanings when talking about theater is a bold decision that ignores numerous and important authors whose work is concerned with meaning, and who made a huge contribution to the world.
He doesn’t acknowledge at any point during the book the existence of postmodern, postdramatic or avant-garde theater.
Ball moves forward and backwards in the succession of actions analyzing mostly Hamlet, King Lear and Greek Tragedies. He explains to us conflict, with bold letters as if revealing a new truth: “a play’s conflict is between what someone wants and what hinders the want: the obstacle” (28)
The audience is described as some sort of collection of puppets, easy to manipulate into whatever state we want if we master the right techniques. We are doing it for them after all, to entertain them. “Dramatic tension requires that the audience desire to find out what is coming up. The greater the desire, the greater –and more active—the audience involvement” (59)

“Don’t deprive anyone of theater’s greatest pleasure: the delicious, often suspenseful thirst to know what comes next… often the core of dramatic tension resides in keeping information from the audience. Don’t negate the tension by premature revelation” (34). I guess the word “often” is enough to acknowledge the importance of Brecht’s epic theater and the Verfremdungseffekt (distancing effect).
Another very interesting note about this book is that it has no notes and no bibliography. David Ball is a professor of playwriting, acting, theater history, and literature at Carnegie-Mellon University, but his book seems to be informed just by him, his impressions and beliefs. It is lacking a lot of information, or deliberately leaving out half of the history of theater.

Book Cited:
Ball, David. Backwards and Forwards. Illinois: Southern Illinois University Press, 1983.

The Virgin Molly, by Quincy Long

2010-04-06T18:33:00.000-07:00

The theme of gays in the military and the arrival of the Messiah in Virgin Molly, by Susana Cook

I was getting to the end of Virgin Molly and there was no pregnancy in the story yet. How is he going to deal with the guy getting pregnant in just 9 pages? I thought. Until that point the main theme seems to be gays in the military; this is the track Long creates for his story. He carves deep into the psychology of these fanatic men creating very intense scenes with the erotic at the center of it. Scenes of role-playing, authoritarian abuse and humiliation lead us to the cathartic moment when the abusive Corporeal puts in action some kind of torture session to force the accusing homophobe Harmon to confess. The torture inflicted on him is to become a woman, to act effeminate. The drag queen theme appears (as in The Bacchae) as humiliation and punishment.
The author explores the theme of gender normative behavior and the military’s antiseptic idea of manhood. Quincy Long insinuates at the beginning that Molly Petersen is androgynous, maybe even a hermaphrodite. “My mom. She was sure in her heart I was going to be a girl… I am built kind of funny. Kind of a girl and everything.” (13-14) He says to the Captain. Molly is a gender variant person; he is not gay.
The tension begins to grow through a fantastic element introduced in the story: the letters and phone calls that start pouring in the military headquarters. Some of them are sent anonymously, some of them from very important people who are concerned about the development of Molly’s evaluation. This element creates a powerful reaction in the viewer/reader. It gives us the illusion that the forgotten and oppressed nobody will be rescued by some anonymous hero. It could also be interpreted as a call to action by showing us how external pressure can make a difference in an abusive situation.
When the letters start arriving it resembles Amnesty International’s work (sending letters to prisons where they keep captive political prisoners) Then it becomes exactly the device J.K. Rowling uses in Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone (The letters keep arriving from everywhere, warning his adoptive family that they had somebody important in their house, a kid that they were abusing and neglecting). The captain inquires to Molly about his family or special contacts he may have with powerful people. Exactly like Harry Potter, Virgin Molly has no idea who could care about him. He is innocent and abused, but he is also special.
The mysterious letters, phone calls and the pregnancy all get resolved in the last pages by the addition of a new element, a religious mystical moment: “Jones and Private enter from the head amidst a brilliant light, holding hands” (83). Molly is giving birth. We hear voices from offstage announcing the birth of the messiah, “Leading us to the promise land” (91).
Then we realize that the magical- mystical element was somehow present throughout the play in the character of The Civilian. Nobody seems to see him, except Molly, and the audience. He carries a suitcase with a homemade bedspread. I guess the Civilian character represents God and it seems as if it was added after the first part was written. It feels like a device that was probably added to give some anchor to the very religious magical ending.
I am not taking the play as a realistic effort but the problematic issue presented is very real: homophobia and abuse in the military. He carves deeply into this theme, even through satire and extreme portrayals. But after presenting a real problem he runs away from it by introducing a new magic or religious element that will solve or end the story.
I was trying to draw a message or concept transpiring from the play it would be: The only thing that could save the androgynous -gays in the military, is the arrival of the Messiah.

Book cited:
Long, Quincy. The Virgin Molly. New York: Playscripts, Inc, 2007.

The Good and Faithful Servant by Joe Orton

2010-04-03T18:06:00.000-07:00

The meaning of work

The play starts and we are already landing in the most exciting part of the Passover Night. Buchanan and Edith meet again after 40 years. The play takes us to the action very fast, without preludes or preparation. The big event is right there, and Buchanan receives the big news of his life from Edith immediately after they meet. Edith was his only love. He finds out that she had twins after he abandoned her pregnant. The twins died in a sanitary system of an alien country and they “produced” a boy, but nobody knows which one of them was the father. The mother of the twins killed herself when she heard that the twins died. Buchanan is a grandfather. Edith breaks all this news to Buchanan very casually in a few lines. The satirical dark humor is very engaging. Buchanan is retiring after 50 years from a firm. Orton’s portrayal of the corporate approach to his worker’s life is very funny. They own his life, they took his arm and they also want the grandchild he just found out he has. Buchanan is retiring after 50 years of working in that company and all he has left is the presents they give him in his retirement party: a bad working toaster and a bad working clock. But the action pretty much stops there. From now on we’ll just follow him to his death.
Buchanan’s life seems meaningless because he devoted 50 years to work for a firm and nobody remembers him. He has nothing left, not even a friend. Orton is not focusing exclusively on corporate work; he is making a statement about work in general.
- I don’t work, says his grandson Ray
- Not work!? (Stares, open mouthed Buchanan), What do you do then?
- I enjoy myself, responds Ray.
- That’s a terrible thing to do… claims Buchanan. (167)
Orton’s sarcastic humor leaves us with two options, enjoy yourself or be a slave of a corporate firm. The beginning is playful, audacious, dark, funny, but then he seems to be telling us a simple statement: work sucks. He leaves us without any creative option besides enjoying yourself, and he has no more humor when describing Buchanan’s life as a retired man.
Not that the play should present a recipe for a happy life, but since it is presenting a recipe for disaster it would probably be great to see a hint of something other than that lonely, unhappy life. Looking at Buchanan’s story you would think that working full time is not a good idea. But Edith, who spent her life working too, scrubbing floors in the same company, seems to be content. Maybe it’s not good for a man, but for a woman it doesn’t seem to be that bad?
On another note: Abandoning your first love pregnant seems like a very bad idea in Durrenmatt’s play The Visit, but in The Good and Faithful Servant the results are very different. Buchanan finds the woman after many years, she is not upset and she becomes his wife, taking care of him on his last days and he also gets a grandson.

Orton, Joe. The Good and Faithful Servant. The Complete Plays. New York: Grove Press, 1977.

The Screens, by Jean Genet

2010-03-27T18:58:00.000-07:00

Theatrical elements and the sanctity of sin in The Screens,
by Susana Cook

I am interested in looking at the way in which Genet uses theatrical devices in The Screens to unfold his poetic and political ideas of colonialism, poverty and death, and the way in which he succeeds at sanctifying evil.
The Screens is an epical ceremony set in the Algerian War. It starts with Said and his mother walking to his wedding, and ends in the world of the dead.
Said, the poorest, has to marry Leila, the ugliest. Their journey becomes an act of dethroning of what is sacred and elevating to sainthood what is consider sin or un-sacred. Robbery, prostitution, violence and war are glorified in Genet’s world. Colonialism, patriotism, order and obedience are shown dirty and pathetic.
The screens displayed onstage create the scenery by having actors drawing different elements of the changing set on them. This device allows him to take the story to all kinds of fantastic and extreme places. The landscape of war, the realm of the dead, fire and total destruction become layers of the multidimensional reality that will be displayed on the screens. The screens also display the power of the symbolic. Power and authority are representations, drawings on the screens. The characters obey and submit to these authoritarian figures. Sir Harold, a colonialist, displays his manly authority when he is onstage by playing with his glove and whip and giving orders to Jewell, his horse off stage. When he has to go, he leaves onstage a big glove pointing as an act of surveillance. This presence will be reinforced by the Arabs who work for the colonizers. “Every finger is listening with an ear as big as an umbrella… Be careful! (33) says Habib, trying to perpetrate Sir Harold’s authority in his absence. Sir Harold’s orders are represented in the glove and looked after by Habib. The presence of the glove is then enough to subjugate the Arabs. The representation of authority creates order. The objects become animated. Leila subdues and worships Said’s trousers left in the house. Her relationship with his trousers is more free and erotic than the relationship she can have with the real Said, because he rejects her. The sound effects are performed by the actors, and their words create a reality that they will enact and fall victim to. Said says, “it’s getting windy—both men imitate the sound of the wind, and shiver” (34)
Said, Leila, and his mother are very poor and miserable. But they are not pathetic or looking up at the rich people. The characters sink deeper in misery, unhappiness, poverty, and corruption, but as they do it they become more and more the heroes of the story. Genet creates such deep, carefully drawn characters. Said is walking to his wedding and he says to his mother, “don’t joke. Today I want to be sad. I’d hurt myself on purpose to be sad” (12). The mother doesn’t try to give him consolation or to make him happy, she encourages him to go deeper into that feeling of unhappiness, “vomit on her” (13) she tells him.
The brothel is another strong image used by Genet to sanctify sin. Malika and Warda, the prostitutes, are proud of their rituals, they are the goddesses of the ceremony. Malika’s seduction style is “the tooth cleaning with a hatpin” (21). We normally would find that image pretty gross, but when executed by this professional of lovemaking and seduction it becomes a sensual ceremony.
Genet glorifies the dead more than life. Death is not an end but a passing to a new dimension. In The Screens we can see Genet’s idea of theater as a ‘dialogue with the dead’. Genet expressed the idea that the true site of theater was the cemetery . The people of the town know how to communicate with the dead. “Your funeral is also part of your life as a living man” (57) says the mother to The Mouth.
During the reading of the play I was to try to look at how does Genet so successfully accomplishes his goal of making the miserable characters the heroes of the story. My answer was, by giving them the complexity that is usually denied to them. For the most part we are exposed to writing that is affected by a view that will follow the same treatment. The heroes are the characters who are written with specific individual characteristics. The “evil” ones are usually more similar to a stereotype. When writing people of color, for example, the traits attached to the characters are mostly part of their cultural background. The white protagonists’ traits are individual, personal, and complex. Genet reverses the treatment that most writers give to characters. He presents the oppressors as funny caricatures, and he gives the Arabs, the people of color, the sinners, the robbers, and miserable characters a complexity that is usually denied to them by most authors. We enter their lives and their psychology in a way we usually are not allowed to, we follow them to their deaths, their sinking into sin is heroic, poetic and beautiful.

Book Cited:
Genet, Jean. The Screens. Trans. Bernard Frechtman. New York: Grove Press, 1961.

The Caution Tape is there in case you didn't see the tree

2010-03-26T14:28:00.000-07:00

2010-03-21T17:04:00.001-07:00

so many lines dying

Los Arboles (no siempre) Mueren de Pie

2010-03-17T14:20:00.000-07:00

The Poetics. Aristotle

2010-03-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

Aristotle’s Poetics 2370 years later, by Susana Cook

I am interested in looking at The Poetics’ legacy and how after 2370 years it still stands as a ruling force in the world of drama and playwriting. Besides being a thorough compendium of the elements of the tragedy and comedy, The Poetics shows the power of the written word, shaping a culture that will grow at the shadows of the immutable classics. Experimental or innovative efforts in the world of drama or performance end up creating new categories. It is as if the Drama/ Theater/ Playwriting realm could not be transformed or subject to change. When the new form becomes too distant or foreign to the classical ancestor then it becomes something else, a sub-discipline or genre. The domain of theater or drama conserves the specific rules spelled by Aristotle in The Poetics. It is the norm, and moving away from the norm carries the price of expulsion from the world of Tragedy and Comedy. The authors who subverted the rules established at The Poetics become in a way an evidence of the lasting effects of The Poetics and how its mandates survived in contemporary cultural expressions, (although the poetics only address Tragedy, his poetics of Comedy have never been found).
“Whether tragedy has fully realized its possible forms or has not yet done so may be left for another discussion. Its beginnings, certainly were in improvisation. After passing through many changes it came to a stop, being now in possession of its specific nature.” (49) The stop expressed by Aristotle as a present moment was over two millenniums ago, but the dramatic form certainly came then to an irrevocable stop. The shape or specific nature that it had acquired at the moment described by Aristotle created the mold that shapes dramatic writing to this day.
The idea of order that exhumes from The Poetics creates a confining and organized environment. It assumes a unified audience that will respond or react to certain elements of the tragedy in the same way. Aristotle starts his Poetics by establishing universal moral values and a uniformed human nature. Tragedy imitates people who are better than us and Comedy people who are lower than us, “goodness and badness being universal criteria or character” (46). Aristotle refers to human nature as a universal (hierarchical) category with specific characteristics. He attributes then the creation of Tragedy to the “instinct to imitate rooted in human nature” (47). The audience becomes a uniformed entity as well. “We have evidence of this in actual experience, for the forms of those things that are distressful to see in reality, we contemplate with pleasure when we find them represented with perfect realism in images” (47). After establishing a uniformed motivation to the creative act; an identical response to it and universal values of goodness and badness, he describes then the effects. The actions onstage have the purpose to effect fear and or pity in the audience and the play will eventually create the catharsis of those emotions.
I obtained my BA in Drama in Buenos Aires over twenty years ago. As a student, I had to read and write essays about The Poetics. After I graduated I spent many years doing theater in every capacity. I never talked again about The Poetics. I didn’t hear anybody talking about it and I didn’t read any book that cited the work. I recently returned to school to do my MFA, and The Poetics came back as a deja vu in workshops and classes and readings. Maybe because I am myself a person who does not respond to stories with a plot the way that Aristotle expected his audience to react, or maybe it is because I see The Poetics as inevitably connected with school, but it makes me think that institutionalized knowledge of drama relies on The Poetics for the creation of uniformity and order necessary to the narrative of artistic value. The organization of events into a consistent plot structure proposed by Aristotle can be found mostly in mainstream theater and film.
According to Aristotle “the basic principle is imitation” (45) Brecht argued with that statement with his famous: “Theater is not a mirror of reality but a hammer to shape it”. His theater it's usually referred to as Epic or Political Theater. The Poetics teach us that “The soul of tragedy is the plot”. Some authors, like Gertrude Stein argue that “A play doesn’t have to tell a story”. According to Stein, what’s happening during the drama is the theater experience itself. The creation of an experience, according to Stein is more important than the representation of an event. Many people wouldn’t consider Gertrude Stein’s plays to be real theater or playwriting. The same could be said for many people who created new forms, their work was named alternative theater, performance art, interventionists theater, etc. It’s interesting to see how the world of visual arts for example went through so many movements and changes that transformed it essentially but theater rules seem to be frozen in time. Aristotle describes the work of the painters of his time, Polygnotus, Pauson and Dionysius. Looking at those paintings and at contemporary paintings you can see the millennia that went by in the history of fine arts. Contemporary painters don’t seem to be following the rules of composition and structure that the painters of that time were following. But in drama, most of the teachings of Aristotle remain intact and alive at the heart of most contemporary dramas. However a classicist strain runs through all arts, though perhaps it is strongest in theatre.
I find The Poetics to be a valuable historical document of the Tragedy of that time. But I think that it also has served through the millennia the purpose of creating a normative discourse of structure and a hierarchical and unified set of values in the world of drama.

Book cited:
Aristotle’s Poetics. Translated with an Introduction and Notes by James Hutton. New York, London: W.W. Norton & Company.

Cancer Walking Through These Woods, by Sarah Hammond

2010-03-07T10:02:00.000-08:00

The use of mosquitoes in Sarah Hammond’s Cancer Walking Through These Woods

From the second line of the first stage directions we can see that flies are important characters in Sarah Hammond’s play. She uses them in every possible way to tell us things about the characters and the story. They become a tool to create spells, measure time, and show frustration. They create a physical action that keeps repeating itself in a situation that carries a level of timid intimacy and trust. The mosquitoes become a tool of communication, to express through physical action the way they feel and at moments an obstacle that separates them. When they finally connect and decide to trust each other, then the mosquitoes disappear.
Slaughter is waiting for Chesnutt in the woods “slapping mosquitoes as they land on her arms, neck, legs” (38). She is killing time by killing mosquitoes. She catches one bug in both hands, holds it for a moment and then Chesnutt arrives. It’s as if by catching the bug she made magic, and Chesnutt appears because of her spell.
The bugs and mosquitoes are the first thing they talk about when they see each other. “You know, at night, the mosquitoes become large. They grow teeth, stand up on two legs,” (38) says Slaughter to Chesnutt, as if she was measuring the time she was waiting for Chesnutt in the woods through the life and transformations of the mosquitoes.
Then “the bug flies away and Chesnutt finds her,” the author says in the stage directions. We don’t know if he catches the bug or if he kills her -- we just know that he finds her.
The mosquitoes create invisible lines between the characters, keeping them somehow connected through illness and infestation.
“They stand on two legs, and they walk up beside you with their invisible bodies. Beside you in the dark, they slip their threadline lips into your ear so soft you just hear the buzz, and then, sip by sip, they siphon off your brain,” explains Slaughter to Chesnutt, adding that she is “down to three quarters brain matter” (38). She measures time through the mosquitoes sucking of her blood, emptying her brain. Soon we’ll find out that Chesnutt is afraid that that is exactly what Slaughter is doing to him, making him a hypochondriac, washing his brain. He shows his frustration scratching frenetically a mosquito bite. “You have me brainwashed,” he complains, searching for the mythical tumor. (40) Cancer, tumors and family curses are the themes flying around them with the mosquitoes. A bug flies away from Slaughter and Chesnutt catches her. They are still connected through the insects. The fear of infestation and death is expressed though the fantasy of mosquitoes siphoning off their brain. They touch their own body to scratch mosquito bites; Slaughter touches Chesnutt’s body in search of tumors; Chesnutt comes to Slaughter because he has a headache and fears it could be the beginning of the family spell that will kill him before 30.
But trust is the main theme of the play. Slaughter wants Chesnutt to trust her and Chesnutt wants Slaughter to trust him. The obstacles they have to overcome to finally get close is shown through the device of the mosquitoes. The insect becomes so animated that it seems at moments to be Tommy (Chesnutt’s dead brother, who had a strong relationship with Slaughter) coming in between the two characters as a ghostly presence embodied in the mosquito surrounding them. Tommy trusted Slaughter, in spite of her trench coat. He didn’t think she was a terrorist. Chesnutt is aware what other kids think of her, that she looks “like those Columbine kids. That she is gonna shoot up the place”. She is an outcast and she is not allowed to enter his baseball game. She doesn’t trust anyone enough to tell them her name, a girl’s name. She feels more powerful and protected in her trench coat, using a non-gendered last name. But she knows Chesnutt is “better than regular people” (40) as Tommy was.
Chesnutt finally gets from Slaughter what Tommy couldn’t get from her. She tells him her first name: Elizabeth. He then gives in to her powers, holding still and letting her perform some kind of mystical-surgical operation of his tumor in the woods. They are finally close. The flies then disappear.

Book cited:
Sarah Hammond, Sarah. Cancer Walking Through These Woods. Hanover: Smith and Kraus, Inc. 2004.

Lesbian Erotica Instalation

2010-02-22T15:39:00.002-08:00

Moon Cup Poem

2010-02-22T15:39:00.001-08:00

This poem was written in collaboration with my fiancee:
Moon Cup Poem
Go from the Mountains of my breasts to the valley of my navel
Into the silky forest
Take in the Fresh scent!
And turn into the hidden driveway
Drive along my dangerous curves
Watch out for children, deer and falling rocks
Turn left at the red light. No need to obey the speed limit. BUT Slow down before merging. Watch Out!
Slippery when wet!

Somebody is swallowing your sign

2010-02-21T16:31:00.001-08:00

Some people seem to forget that trees are alive

2010-02-06T07:28:00.001-08:00

What have they done to us? It looks like all we want is to get married and serve in the military

The Bacchae

2010-02-04T06:06:00.000-08:00

THE TRAGEDY OF DYING AS A DRAG QUEEN

Even though The Bacchae was written in 408 B.C, we can recognize in the play themes, values and prejudices that are so engrained in our Western culture to this day. Greek gods and goddesses had gender and their dynamics were similar to the contemporary ones. Dionysus is a manly god, his battle with Pentheus resembles two men fighting for power, protecting their pride and manhood against mockery. They both feel complete authority and send grandiose threats for disobedience to their God/King authority.
In this annotation I am looking at the gender normative narrative embedded in The Bacchae. The gender mandates are expressed in the assigned clothing for each gender. Men dress as men and women dress as women. The violation of this mandate carries shame and humiliation. Euripides ridicules the old men dressing as women to join the Bachcae’s rituals: “He is incongruously dressed in the bacchant’s fawn skin and he is crowned with ivy”, he says in the stage directions when referring to Teiresias. “He is an incongruous and pathetic figure” (161), he adds when referring to Cadmus.
A man dressed as a woman will be ridiculed and reduced to a joke but also will carry with him the ultimate destruction of his dignity. Pentheus will succumb, after losing his fight with Dionysus, facing what seems to be the supreme offense and humiliation a man can face, he will walk to his death dressed as a woman.
Convinced by Dionysus, Pentheus agrees to dress in a woman’s dress to see the revels in the mountains. Even though at the beginning he thinks that he “would die of
shame” (191) by doing it, he allows Dionysus to lead his cross- dressing. This ritual between the two manly figures becomes particularly relevant because Dionysus is secretly planning Pentheus destruction but Pentheus is innocently enjoying the ceremony. Dionysus puts a wig on him with long curls. (191). Next, robes to his feet and a net for his hair. Then a thyrsus for his hand and a skin of dappled fawn. (192). After showing resistance to dress in women’s clothes, Pentheus begins to enjoy his transformation becoming a real drag queen. “One of your curls has come loose from under the snood where I tucked it”, Dionysus complains. “It must have worked loose when I was dancing for joy and shaking my head” , Pentheus responds. Dionysus sees Pentheus’s transformation as his victory and enjoys humiliating him.
There’s an apparent bonding between the two men during the cross-dressing, Pentheus gives himself to Dionysus, “ I am completely in your hands” (196), he tells him.
But Dionysus sees his transformation as his victory. This way he plans the ultimate punishment for Pentheus. He will die twice, first by being ridiculed: “I want him made the laughingstock of Thebes, paraded through the streets, a woman” (193). And then “butchered by the hands of his mother.” (193).
The fall and destruction of Pentheus is marked by his transformation into a woman. That’s the death we see onstage. The death in the hands of his mother happens off stage. At the end Agave, his mother, enters carrying Pentheus head on her thyrsus.
The struggle for power between the two manly figures, King and God, ends with the triumph of the god Dionysus and the collapse of the king Pentheus, whose image is shattered to pieces.
Even though Euripides guides our feelings through the stage directions, stressing how ridicule and pathetic men look when dressing as women, the feminization of Pentheus before his horrible death makes him in a way a martyr in the story. We end with a feeling of sympathy for this man who was at the beginning arrogant and manly, and dies wearing a wig with long curls and jewelry, a woman. Laughter or pity seem to be the only two feelings we are allowed to experience in the face of this gender bending scene. Losing his manly appearance as a king seems to mark Pentheus’ defeat in the hands of Dionysus.

Book Cited:
Euripides. Euripides V. The Bacchae. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1959.

The Practitioners

2010-01-24T17:38:00.000-08:00

I find annoying when academics call artists "practitioners". I think the thought behind it is: They might be able to swim. But we are the ones who know how deep are the waters.

Hot Moves

2009-12-26T08:33:00.000-08:00

ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD

2009-12-26T08:27:00.000-08:00

Existentialism or Karma.

According to most critics and scholars one of the main themes that appear in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is existentialism. This theory is based on the way both characters struggle to define themselves and the world they are in during the course of the play, and their final conclusion that their destiny was ultimately their own fault – that it could have been better had they done things differently. Interestingly enough, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern had a previous life that seems to define their end – their fatal destiny is already written in their past life. Perhaps then, Stoppard took these two characters from Shakespeare’s Hamlet not with the intention to re-write their story, but just to explain their death, stating that it was actually their own fault.
Atheistic existentialism declares that Existence comes before essence. “Man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world – and defines himself afterwards. Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself.” (Sartre) Stoppard is clearly subscribing to this theory by making the characters fall victims to their own actions and then having them regret not doing things differently. In the last scene Guildenstern says “There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said—no. But somehow we missed it.” (He looks around and sees he is alone.) (Stoppard, 125).
On the other hand Hindu philosophy, which believes in life after death, holds the doctrine that if the karma of an individual is good enough, the next birth will be rewarding, and if not, the person may actually devolve and degenerate into a lower life form. Every person is responsible for his or her acts and thoughts, so each person's karma is entirely her own. The law of cause and effect forms an integral part of Hindu philosophy. This law is termed as 'karma', which means to 'act'. In a way the concept of karma is similar to existentialism, the person is responsible for their own existence, the only difference is that Hinduism believes in consecutive lives, and the actions in one life carry on to the next one. In that case, what we do (good or bad actions) in the present life might not show until the next one. (Subhamoy Das)
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. In the original version this is not a very important event. Stoppard sheds light on these two minor characters, making—I thought– a brilliant choice. In Shakespeare’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appear almost as disposable characters, as audience we are worried about the life of the protagonist, Hamlet. He was saved from execution, and we feel relieved. The message that this title is conveying is important: There are important lives and less important lives, and in this play we are going to make the less important ones more important. These two characters are for the most part off-stage in Shakespeare’s version. Here, they are always onstage, as the main characters, and Hamlet has a small part.
Stoppard dives into Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and shows us new layers and parts of the story. The original drama remains intact thou, and some of the scenes appear in his adaptation.
Stoppard articulates several layers of performance. In the first act Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are alone flipping a coin, questioning the real and the un-real, in a tribulation that could be an “invisible” scene from Hamlet. With the arrival of The Tragedians the layers start unfolding. They will present a play. They will include Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in the play and the play is Hamlet. Ophelia, Claudius, Gertrude and Polonius enter. The characters are played by The Tragedians, or they are the “real” characters of the tragedy. The confusion of roles, real characters and performed characters is the most interesting part of the drama. The characters tell us what the author is doing with the script. The Player explains to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern the technique used by Stoppard in the play: “ We do on stage the things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit being an entrance somewhere else.” (Stoppard, 28). Indeed, we will look at the lives of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, after they exit—in the original drama—when they are not onstage. These layers inside the drama, with characters who die and come back to life suggest a continuum in the life cycle. The player announces the show of death: “Death for all ages and occasions! Death by suspension, convulsion, consumption, incision, execution, asphyxiation and malnutrition…” (Stoppard, 124) After spending a good portion of act one with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in this new play, the entrance of Ophelia, Claudius, Gertrude and Polonius reciting the lines from Hamlet feels like the arrival of the ghosts or the beginning of acting—they are after all characters from the previous life. “Which way did we come in? I’ve lost my sense of direction” (Stoppard, 58) Says Rosencrantz. They try to find their way, going in and out of the drama—trying to see if they can exist outside of Hamlet. When the pirates attack and they think Hamlet is dead, they question their own existence without him.
“Rosencrantz- He is dead then. He is dead as far as we are concerned.
Player – Or we are as far as he is/
Guildenstern – The whole thing is pointless without him. (Stoppard, 119- 20)

They arrive to the conclusion that they can’t exist without Hamlet. Their struggle to escape and the moments they realize that they can’t exist without their previous life are the ones that move the action. “We are slipping off the map ,” (Stoppard, 108) says Rosencrantz.
At the beginning of Act Two Rosencrantz and Guildenstern feel insecure after interacting with Hamlet. “I think we can say he made us look ridiculous,” says Rosencrantz, “He murdered us” (Stoppard, 56). These comments seem to refer to the way Hamlet made them look ridiculous and murdered them in the original drama. Even if they are trying to think by themselves and exist outside of Shakespeare’s drama, they seem to be trapped—Shakespeare has already written their fate. In the original version Hamlet tells Horatio that he feels no guilt about sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to the fate that they were sending him: “Why, man, they did make love to his employment. They are not near my conscience. Their defeat doth by their own insinuation grow.” (Shakespeare, V.2.60). It is clear to Hamlet in the original version that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were responsible for their actions, and that they knew what they were doing. But in Stoppard’s play they don’t seem to remember any wrongdoing.
In both versions The Ambassador from England arrives to announce the death of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. “This sight is dismal; and our affairs from England come too late. The ears are senseless that should give us hearing to tell him his commandment is fulfilled, that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks?” (Stoppard, 56) After a full circle, they meet the same end. Their efforts to escape the drama and their destiny prove to be unproductive. However they end up taking responsibility for their destiny, feeling that it was their fault. “There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said no” (Stoppard, 125). I guess they understand that they could have said no to Claudius, that their destiny, is somehow a consequence of saying yes, accepting their role in the killing or disappearance of Hamlet. Even I they can’t remember that they did it.
“Here is at least one being whose existence comes before its essence, a being which exists before it can be defined by any conception of it,” (Sartre). But I would argue that in this case the essence of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was there before their existence. As characters of a play by Tom Stoppard, the characters were carrying the essence of the play written by Shakespeare. “Even as you die you know that you will come back in a different hat” (Stoppard, 123), says Guildenstern to the Player. Looking at it from this perspective, and probably without any intention by the author, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, is more of a Hindu play than an existentialist one. Their karma seems to be carried on from their previous life. Rosencrantz asks Guildenstern, “We’ve done nothing wrong! We didn’t harm anyone. Did we?
- I can’t remember, responds Guildenstern. (Stoppard, 125)
They don’t seem to remember their previous life, as it’s usually the case, they just feel the effects of it. But as audience we know what happened in Shakespeare’s version, we know that they actually did something wrong by accepting the task to send Hamlet to his murderers. “Well, we’ll know better next time.” (Stoppard, 126) are the last words of Guildenstern before “disappearing”. Because in this version, as in Shakespeare’s one, they don’t die, they disappear, and the drama goes on as if this second life was just contained in the previous one.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:
Stoppard, Tom, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. New York: Grove Press, 1967.
Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987

Sarte, Paul. Existentialism Is a Humanism.
Written: Lecture given in 1946 Source: Existentialism from Dostoyevsky to Sartre, ed. Walter Kaufman, Meridian Publishing Company, 1989;  First Published: World Publishing Company in 1956;  Translator: Philip Mairet.
http://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/sartre/works/exist/sartre.htm

Subhamoy Das, What Is Karma? The Law of Cause & Effect
http://hinduism.about.com/od/basics/a/karma.htm

Mother Courage

2009-12-26T08:26:00.001-08:00

WAR AS A CONCEPT ESTRANGED FROM PAIN

Brecht, Bertolt. Mother Courage and Her Children. New York: The Penguin Group, 2007.

In his epic theater, Brecht proposes a theater of ideas, where people shouldn’t be distracted by their emotions but instead using the play as an instrument of analysis. Mother Courage is a monumental piece of epic theater but it’s also a tragedy.
Brecht removed from his play some of the elements that would lead the audience to emotional reactions to the story—he turned on white lights and he created the “alienating effect”, to keep the audience away from suspense, remaining at all times awake and rational. Paradoxically what we call the horrors of war: carnage and destruction, awakes a strong emotional response in all of us. He successfully tears off many of the meanings attached to war: Heroism, patriotism, and the unavoidable necessity of it, but he can’t dissolve our emotional reaction it.
Our thinking of war cannot exist without the emotional component that is so inherent to it. Our reaction to war cannot be only analytical because it’s embedded with the emotional reaction to death and carnage. Our sentiment and understanding of war is based on our emotional reaction to it.
In Mother Courage Brecht emphasizes war-profiteering to prove his point. Mother Courage makes a living during the 30 years war selling goods from her cart. She is a single mother— her life revolves around survival and her family. So in the end, the tragedy is the story of a mother seeing her children die, one by one.
No distancing effect can takes us away from the pain of Mother Courage having to see the dead body of her son, and say that she didn’t know him to save herself, her daughter and her business, knowing that if nobody claimed his body, it will be thrown into a pit (38). Neither can we be indifferent to her pain when she sings a lullaby to her dead daughter Katrin, after she saved the village with her drumming (81).
Mother Courage represents a behavior that Breach intends to condemn—she makes a profit selling goods during war times. The fact that during the epic she loses her three children, feels like a punishment for her wrong behavior. At the end we are left with a moral of punishment that resembles more a religious lesson than a Marxist one. The concept that we’ll be punished for our wrongdoings, or that wrongdoings will have at the end a bad ending suggests some kind of religious moral that takes away the principle that would sustain a more ethical behavior per se , without seeking recompense or fearing punishment.
In his introduction to the work Norman Roessler writes, “Brecht understood, that all performative discourse on war, even the most antiwar, never rises above “pornography” (xx). Mother Courage is a monumental anti-war play that refrains from romanticizing the war, or making it into a spectacle that will trigger positive feelings.
In Marxist thinking, war, poverty and unemployment are inherent to capitalism, so Mother Courage is herself a victim of the system, even if she takes advantage of its most painful expression, war and death.
“All theater is necessarily political, says Augusto Boal, in his Theatre of the Oppressed, “those who try to separate theater from politics try to lead us into error—and this is a political attitude”. I would argue that we can’t remove politics from theater but we can’t remove emotions from theater either.
Even a cold documentary, journalistic, academic or any kind of non-theatrical public presentation of stories of the war will cause an emotional reaction in the audience— we can’t escape the feelings attached to the concept of war.
Theater as a place for thinking is still theater. Even if we remove the dreamy and cathartic elements of some forms, the ritual is still intact. Even if we turn on the lights and tell the audience what will be happening in each scene, they are still sitting, watching a story that will unfold in front of their eyes. Every theater story deals with representation and some level negotiates with emotions.
Bertolt Brecht successfully guides our emotions towards the political ideas that he wants to convey, but he also fails to make the audience a complete objective witness of pain and death. Even in a sober and analytical state we are witnessing a painful tragedy of loss, death and the horrors of war.

Cloud Nine

2009-12-26T08:25:00.001-08:00

PATRIARCHY, COLONIALISM AND CHILD ABUSE

Churchill, Caryl. Plays:1. Cloud Nine. London: Methuen Drama, 1996.

As a feminist and a person who cares about political theater and writers concerned with social justice, I appreciate the work of Caryl Churchill. Cloud Nine explores ideas of patriarchy and colonialism that I think are very important to put onstage. I agree with her political views and I appreciate her commitment to theatrical experimentation. I read Cloud Nine many years ago, and my impression of the play was very different then— I liked the text and I was very happy that writers like her were getting international recognition. It was exciting after all these years to have a chance to read the play again to analyze it. To my surprise I was a bit disappointed. I found that even though I still agree with the ideas that she is conveying, now I see the play as an illustration of progressive ideas more than an experimental theater piece that deals with political ideas. I appreciated the change of gender and race of the actors who play the different characters with the intention to stress the expectations that were put on them. I found that to be a clever and effective way of subverting gender paradigms. Her use of humor helps build an entertaining satire, which challenges the stereotype of feminist or political theater as being boring and taking itself too seriously.
Act one is set in Victorian times in the 1950s, at the height of colonialism. The power dynamics between men and women, servant and master are shown through characters resembling caricatures—in that their positions are very extreme. Each one of the characters represents a ‘big idea’: The wife, “women’s oppression”; the husband, “patriarchy”; the servant, “colonialism”. The picture she is painting is huge and general. The characters and the situations are not specific, they lack the complexity of the particular.
Almost every line in this play then, becomes a political statement, since every character conveys a specific meaning and represents a particular group. In this kind of carefully designed illustration, where political ideas will find their way to the audience through the lines of the characters, I find it surprising that child abuse would be thrown casually in the landscape. I doubt that something as important and serious as child molestation was not written into the play with a particular intention. I believe that the scene where Edward is molested by his uncle is part of the ideas that Churchill wants to communicate to us. In that case, I wonder, what exactly is she communicating? Edward seems to enjoy being molested by his uncle Harry, and asks him. “You know what we did when you were here before. I want to do it again. I think about it all the time. I try to do it to myself but it’s not as good. Don’t you want to any more? (270).
The second act is set in London in 1979, when in fact 100 years have passed. It is a difficult task to show in a play how much of the sexism and racism of that society was resolved (or not) after 100 years. So again, the characters carry a similarly heavy weight. They represent “the lesbian”, “the gay”, “the liberated woman”, and “the modern husband”. Churchill makes her point, with a very optimistic view. She shows us some improvement in the power dynamics between the characters. Betty divorces Clive, she begins a new life, now she works and she also masturbates. Martin, Victoria’s husband is a good guy who tries to be supportive and understanding of her desires. Edward is now an adult and he is out gay—he became the housewife his mother would want Victoria to be. Victoria comes out as a lesbian and she has more intellectual interests than her mother ever had. The only issue that remains unresolved is Edward. He doesn’t mention or remember that uncle Harry molested him when he was a child. We know that it happened, but we don’t see the damage, which I believe is the hidden part of this issue, and the one that never gets discussed.
Churchill has been compared to Bertolt Brecht in her style and the way her plays convey a clear political message. But if Brecht was accused of sacrificing artistic value at the service of political commitment, then Cloud Nine is a more extreme case of that. Brecht’s plays display stronger images and metaphors—the narrative is more conventional than hers in a way, but his writing transcends the political message. In Cloud Nine it appears as if the message was already digested before it was given to us.

Ruined

2009-12-26T08:23:00.001-08:00

RUINED, war with a happy ending.

Nottage, Lynn. Ruined. New York: Theater Communications Group, 2009.

In Ruined Nottage brings us very successfully into the horrors of the war in The Democratic Republic of Congo, focusing on the violation, rape and exploitation of women. The writing is very realistic, the situation is current and some of the names mentioned in the play are real, creating an almost documentary theater piece. Ruined shows the lives of women who are raped by soldiers, and afterwards they are rejected by their families. The body of women as a site for the war is depicted very effectively. The house of Mama Nadi appears as a refuge and salvation for those girls, being in fact a place where their exploitation will just continue. The women have no exit. Salima, a young girl and mother who was kidnapped by the soldiers who made her his concubine for five months, was then pushed away by her husband and family for dishonoring them. “He called me a filthy dog and said that I tempted them” (67), she says. The victim, as in many places, is blamed for being raped. She ends up in Mama Nadi’s house, working as a prostitute and getting pregnant. When her husband comes back for her, she knows she will be humiliated and rejected again, so she kills herself, stating: “you will not fight your battles on my body anymore” (94). Suicide seems to be the only exit for these girls. But the play proposes a salvation, at least for Mama Nadi. A good man, named Christian, will convince her at the end to settle down with him, and run a business together.
This play that opens a world of suffering in front of our eyes closes with a happy ending: the new couple dancing. I think that the combination of documentary theater and story telling is a very complicated task. The heavy weight of the scenes that happen during the play cannot easily come to an end in a happy ending. The tale ends, as a romantic love story, creating resolution and relief for the audience. But the images and words of the previous scenes stay with us, as an open wound. A good guy and a sweet romantic scene is not enough to heal it. I believe that this play should not provide a happy ending, because the reality that it portrays is still bloody and painful—those women are still trapped and suffering. The bitter taste of the war stays with us even if the tale ends happily. Perhaps the author tried to send a message of hope—and she makes clear decisions in the way she will send her message: The name of the good guy is Christian, and the salvation for Mama Nadi is marriage.
The political situation described in the play is accurate, using real names of dictator’s of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The common citizens are trapped between a brutal savage military army that represents the government, and the rebels. Mama Nadi, similar to Mother Courage, runs her business, profiting from the exploitation and desperation of the girls that have nowhere else to go. We learn at the end that she was also ruined. So the story continues in circles. The reality of the women trapped in the war in The Democratic republic of Congo is a tale to be told, only not with a happy ending. Unlike Mother Courage, Nottage’s inspiration, which does not spare us the grim reality of the heroine’s situation, even at the end – Ruined jeopardizes the message and the effectiveness of the anti-war screed by ending it in salvation.

True West

2009-12-26T08:20:00.000-08:00

AMERICAN ALIENATION

Shepard, Sam. True West. New York: Samuel French, Inc. 1981.

True West is quintessentially American theater, not only because of the themes in the play, but also the structure of the narrative and consequently, the way in which the protagonists relate with the world, which gives off a distinctly American mindset. The characters feel trapped in a conventional lifestyle that seems deficient. The lack in the culture they inhabit becomes evident in their desperations.
“Some commentators refer to Shepard’s later plays as examples of "magical realism" (a literary genre denned by the works of such writers as Jorge Luis Borges and Federico Garcia Lorca) ” . I find this claim ludicrous. The characters in True West lack any possibility of connecting with magic moments that would break away from the narrative and their earthly life. The author himself makes a point in a note at the beginning of the play that the set, costumes and props should be realistic – even the sound effects (coyotes, grasshoppers) have specific, realistic instructions.
On the other hand Carla J. Macdonough in her book Staging Masculinity states: “In its dialectic, True West is simply following the conventions of the western, which many film critics have discussed as being focused on divided images of masculinity with the world of women or the feminine as backdrop.” This statement is more accurate, the play is totally focused on the two men—the women, and I would add, the world in general, remains far in the background – reduced to some echoes in the distance.
The two brothers: Austin, who attended an Ivy League school, and Lee, the one who didn’t, belong to a different class now (already their names evoke two essential American ‘legends’). These two characters are extreme and stereotypical, the educated screenwriter and a drunk outcast. Then they reverse roles. The Hollywood producer likes outcast’s movie idea, dropping the script of the screenwriter, so the outcast becomes the writer and the writer starts drinking. The good son is out there stealing now, and the thief is writing on the typewriter. Voila.
In this kind of domestic drama, the alcohol is the overused stylistic resource to unleash catharsis, causing a sudden awakening or realization on the part of the characters. What comes out of that realization is mostly bitterness and frustration. This kind of play seems to be departing from the premise that everybody is frustrated and unhappy with his life, and it takes a good amount of alcohol to let the anger out. Most likely, the next day things will continue as normal, or as they were before.
During his catharsis, Austin realizes that he wants to leave everything and go to the desert. Lee, reminds him: “What are you crazy or somethin’? You went to college. Here, you are down here, rollin’in bucks. Floatin’up and down in elevators. And you wanna’ learn how to live on the desert!. And Austin replies - I do, Lee. I really do. There’s nothin’ down here for me. There never was.” (58).
The emptiness and disintegration of the characters has been associated with the consumer culture and the vacuity of the American dream. Austin is a successful man, he has a family but he is empty and lonely. Lee, the free single man, who lived many adventures, feels lonely too. Each one wants the others’ life. The play shows us the characters trapped in a life that they don’t like, but apparently there’s nothing better out there, except exchanging miserable roles.
The archetypical characterization of American culture is very much concerned with family life and professional success. Austin represents that kind of success. The opposite side in this dialectic model is Lee, the free man living in the wild with nature.
True West exposes a shallow and selfish culture that seems to be completely unaware of the rest of the world and lacks essential elements that the characters could reach out in their search for meaning and happiness.
The only people we hear about in the play are the family members: the mother, who left for a trip; the father, who is an alcoholic living alone in the desert; and the two brothers. The Hollywood producer embodies the outside world, he can change their destiny with a snap of his fingers. They mention Ausitn’s family, but we don know their names, and they don’t seem to be relevant. And then there' s the women, or names of women that Lee keeps in little pieces of paper, with the intention to call them one day.
The author and the characters seem to be walking blind in a world that doesn’t penetrate their reality. They recognize their misery, but they believe there’s nothing else out there anyway.

Bibilography:
Juan A. Tarancón. Visions of the True West: Sam Shepard. Identity and Myth
Revista Alicantina de estudios Ingleses.
http://rua.ua.es/dspace/bitstream/10045/1248/1/RAEI_17_17.pdf

Nobel Prize people take back the title

2009-12-12T19:08:00.000-08:00

We can't take the prize back, so we decided to rename it The Nicer War prize- or The Just kill the Soldiers prize- Or The Compassionate War prize

Obama's non-acceptance speech

2009-12-12T19:06:00.000-08:00

And since I don't believe that peace can be achieve without war, it probably doesn't make any sense for me to accept this award-

A promise of war with less casualties is not even close to peace Obama

HEDDA GABLER

2009-12-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

HEDDA GABLER, a love story.
by Susana Cook

This play unfolds many layers of tension and conflicting worlds. Every moment seems to be charged with meaning, even if it’s not fully clear at times what the meaning is. Ibsen puts together people from different classes and levels of intelligence; showing us differing relationships to love and passion; and the thin line between genius and mediocrity. There’s a strong contrast between Hedda and Ejlert and the rest of the characters. We know that something very essential sets them apart from the rest. Hedda and Ejlert are complex, multidimensional, and dangerous. The rest of the characters are like flat paper figures compared to them—they appear as a frame that shed light on the two main characters. I see Hedda Gabler as a love story, some kind of Romeo and Juliet, between Hedda and Ejlert Lovborg. Hedda and Ejlert try to fit in but they are essentially different from the rest of the characters. They are deeper, they struggle, and at the end the two heroes are dead.
Hedda names the play, the spotlight is on her—this character intrigues us before she comes onstage. Before she appears Miss. Tessman talks about her to Berte, commenting how special she was, and the aura that she had around her: “Do you remember how we used to see her galloping by? How smart she looked in her riding clothes! (345). She also reminds her nephew Tesman how lucky he was by marrying her— Hedda is a trophy wife, “And to think that you should have been the one to carry off Hedda Gabler—the fascinating Hedda Gabbler—who was always surrounded by so many admirers” (347) . We also hear intriguing comments about Ejlert Lovborg before he appears, there’s a feeling of danger around him “Eljert Lovborg is in town, says Mrs. Elvsted, I am afraid he’ll get into trouble” (357). But then, when Hedda comes, (the description that Ibsen gives of Hedda is not spectacular), we see that she is not a femme fatale, but she is somehow powerful and irresistible. There’s a depth to her character and a feeling of danger, “I am afraid of you Hedda” (396) says Mrs. Elvsted to her.
The love between Hedda and Eljert surfaces in small zips from the past “I sometimes feel a shadow between Lovborg and me – a woman’s shadow. Someone he’s never been able to forget… He said that when they parted she threatened to shoot him” (364) says Mrs. Elvsted to Hedda, who is very excited to know that she was not forgotten.
Hedda and Tesman are from a different social class, and that’s an apparent source of tension and disconnect. But Eljert and Hedda are from a different social class as well, but they seem to be connected for a different reason. Judge Brack seems to be the only one who notices that something is going on between them and he points out the innocence of Hedda’s husband, “Jorgen Tesman is certainly a naïve creature” (404) he says. Ibsen shows us some kind of hierarchy of intelligence or genius. Ejlert and Hedda are definitely the geniuses in the play. Tesman is an intelligent man, a researcher, but he doesn’t seem to notice much of what happens around him. Judge Brack can see and perceive their genius, but he is not one of them. Hedda is attracted to extreme expressions of beauty and passion. Her connection with Eljert involves death as a supreme act of courage. We learn that in the past she threatened to kill him. To her husband’s surprise Hedda finds beautiful when she hears that Eljert killed himself with the gun she gave him, “At last, a deed worth doing! There’s a beauty in this. He had the courage to do—the one right thing.” (421). And then she kills herself.
The two heroes die, leaving behind what will never come fully to life: Eljert’s manuscript and Hedda’s baby.

Ibsen, Henrik. Hedda Gabler. 6 Plays by Henrik Ibsen. New York: The Modern Library, 1957.

Benito C. Cook

2009-10-28T16:38:00.000-07:00

My grandfather was Benito C. Cook. He was from Concepción del Uruguay, Entre Ríos, Argentina. He died before I was born. Many people talked to me about my grandfather. There’s a street with his name in Concepción del Uruguay and a monument in his honor. He was a doctor and he had a sign outside his office that said: “Los Pobres, Gratis”. It means that poor people could be seen for free. He had a vase in the waiting room where people were depositing the fee for the visit if they could afford it. But if they were poor and needed money for the medicine, they were allowed to take money from the same vase. My father was the youngest of his children. His daughter Eloisa contracted Meningitis when she was 8 years old and she died. My grandfather got very depressed and they moved to Buenos Aires in 1910. The people of Concepción de Uruguay gave him a big book with their signatures and messages of gratitude. That book is in my father’s house. They collected money among all the people in the town to give him a present, and they bought him a watch, Patek Philippe, where they engraved this inscription: ”El Pueblo al Dr. Benito Cook, Filantropía y Abnegación Abril 19, 1910, Concepción del Uruguay”
“The Village to Dr. Benito Cook, philanthropy and abnegation, April 19th, 1910”

After my grandfather died, the watch was in the house of my uncle Julio. When Julio died, his wife Coleta, instead of giving it to my father, donated it to the local school, where my grandfather used to teach. It was there for many years until it was stolen apparently. Recently I found this website that says that the watch of my grandfather was auctioned by Christies:

http://www.christies.com/LotFinder/lot_details.aspx?intObjectID=4370803

I contacted Christies but they cannot give me information about the buyers. Whoever has that watch has no idea who my grandfather was and why that inscription is in there.

I would like for the person who owns his watch now to know the extraordinary life of my grandfather, and that I have the missing case for the watch.

2009-10-06T15:25:00.000-07:00

Susana Cook and Lisa Haas. Photo by Vivian Babuts

I Am My Own Wife

2009-10-05T17:25:00.001-07:00

Wright, Dough, I Am My Own Wife. New York: Faber And Faber, Inc., 2004.
by Susana Cook

Both truth and lies and reality and fiction become interwoven in I Am My Own Wife. The introduction by the author prepares us to see a piece of documentary theater: The life of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf. He is interested in showing to the world this very unique human being. “If her life didn’t merit two hours on a New York stage, he reasons, who would?” The play is a piece of political theater, where politics are spelled out very clearly. The characters talk politics and describe specific and real historical moments.
The author makes a crucial decision in the script: one person will play all the characters. This is a one woman show-- or a one man show--or a one transvestite show. This decision is significant at so many levels. All the genders, personalities and stories live inside this character. The versatility of Charlotte as a transvestite, and as a person who had compromised her ideals to work as an informant for the Stasi regime in order to survive, makes her the charming and adorable character that people get to hate and love again. We are used to seeing solo shows, where the actor changes wigs, voices and characters. But the characters in this play are not doing monologues, they interact fluently, building a very alive and multilayered story.
Charlotte owns a lot of objects that have witnessed important parts of history and she is part of that history. Her museum is almost like another character during the play—the only objects in the set. The symbiosis of Charlotte with the objects and the history they represent becomes evident during the play. “ She doesn’t run a museum, she is one! (36) Says Dough. Charlotte has an amazing monologue where she describes herself as becoming the objects that were left behind by the people who were killed or kicked out by the Nazi and the Communists regimes: “When families died, I became this furniture. When the Jews were deported in the Second World War, I became it. When citizens were burned out of their homes by the Communists, I became it. After the coming of the wall, when the old mansion houses were destroyed to create the people’s architecture, I became it.” (18).
The character of Dough, the playwright, becomes as important as the character of Charlotte. He needs Charlotte to be a hero for gay and transgender people. The playwright is doing research, interviewing Charlotte, trying to build the story of this incredibly symbolic character. During his search and during the play the heroine falls apart, becomes a liar and a fraud. Then Charlotte rises up again, in all her complex dimension and duplicity.
The play looks at the history of Germany and WWII through the life of a transvestite. “Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, had lived openly as a cross-dresser under the twentieth century’s two most conformist regimes—the Nazis and the Communists—for almost her entire life.” (X) Describes the author in Portrait of an Enigma.
The character of Charlotte is very important, and the need of the playwright, a gay man in search of a hero for his mistreated community, is very important too. Both stories interact during the play, and both stories are relevant. Dough is ready to forgive and understand Charlotte, but he is not ready to make her a fictional hero. He needs her to be real, a historical figure that will become a hero for all transgender and gay people. She is the character of a play, but it’s very clear that we are listening to the story of her life in real East Germany during WWII, the third Reich, the Communist regime, the coming and the fall of the wall. “I grew up in the Bible Belt; says Dough to Charlotte; I can only begin to imagine what it must have been like during the Thrid Reich. The Nazis, and hen the Communists? It seems to me you’re an impossibility. You shouldn’t even exist.” (19).
The author wants to tell a story of survival—creating an icon of transgender visibility and pride. However, the story becomes an enigmatic biography. Many questions remain unanswered. We’ll never know the real story of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf. In a way—and probably against the author’s intentions-- she becomes a fictional character, interacting with an author that is trying to make her real, and is convinced that she can serve a great purpose: to be a hero for the gay and transgender community, who are thirsty for heroes who challenged the system and prevailed.

Doubt, by John Patrick Shanley

2009-10-03T18:57:00.000-07:00

Shanley, John Patrick. Doubt, a parable. New York: Theater Communications Group, 2005.
by Susana Cook.

“Life happens when the tectonic power of your speechless soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind. Doubt is nothing less than an opportunity to reenter the present”. (viii) In the preface, the author prepares us for his statement about doubt. We “may come out of the play uncertain”, he says. He is asking us to look down on that feeling, and then the play starts. Father Flynn talks about doubt in his first sermon, as Dough Wright does in the preface. Right away we associate the priest with the author-- they think the same way. Sister Aloysius on the other hand appears as a very unkind, uptight, almost malicious person-- enamored with rigid discipline. She hates ballpoint pens, art and music classes, and history. She shows no compassion-- she is mean when she talks about a piano teacher who has a goiter. We know right away that we are not supposed to like her-- she is obnoxious. She is the person who will try to unveil the truth—whether or not Father Flynn had sexually abused Donald Muller, a new boy in the class. Sister James is a younger, kinder teacher who appears as the opposite of Sister Aloysius, and she is the first one to notice that the boy came back disturbed and smelling of alcohol after a meeting with Father Flynn.
What Wright might be proposing is that we should question the moral certainty that condemns man-boy love. The arguments given by NAMBLA (North American Man Boy Love Association), to justify their actions are similar to some of Father Flynn’s statements: “There’s nothing wrong with love.” (41). In the context of this play, and especially at this particular moment, this statement carries a very strong message.
Sister Aloysius invites Mrs. Muller, the boy’s mother, to talk to her about her suspicion that Father Flynn might be taking advantage of her son. This is the part that I found most surprising and disturbing. The mother seems to be okay with the idea of the boy having an intimate relationship with the priest as long as he graduates from the school. She insinuates that the boy is gay—and that seems to justify the abuse from the priest. “It might be a good thing for him.” “And he’s got your son.” Says Sister Aloysius to her. “Let him have’im then,” responds Mrs. Muller. She then adds: “Maybe some of them boys want to get caught. Maybe what you don’t know maybe is my son is…that way.” (48). It seems as if the mother is justifying rape or child abuse if the kid is gay. The friendship he has with the priest seems to be good--the “only thing he had”. He is the only black boy in the school and he is gay.
The play ends with Sister Aloysius doubting. Father Flynn resigns and he receives a promotion. He is now the pastor in a different school and “Donald Muller is heartbroken that he is gone” (57). Sister Aloysius doubts at the end of the play don’t make sense to me. She suddenly appears vulnerable, weak, and emotional. She is opening her heart to Sister James. She doesn’t doubt that Father Flynn abused the boy—she says herself “his resignation was his confession. He was what I thought he was”. Sister Aloysius tells Sister James. So what are her doubts about then? The last scene of the play implies that Sister Aloysius was transformed by this experience and she becomes more “human”. So now she has doubts—even though she condemns doubts at the beginning of the play.
What is she doubting? Her faith? The church hierarchy? Her life? I believe that the play implies that now she doubts that maybe it was a good thing for the boy his relationship with Father Flynn after all.

Blasted

2009-10-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

Kane, Sarah, Blasted. London: Methuen Drama, 2001.
by Susana Cook

It is impossible to read about Sarah Kane’s work without reading again and again about her story with depression and her tragic suicide at the age of 28. As if her death could explain her work, people look at her tragic end for a clue on how to interpret her convoluted and controversial plays. She left without giving us an explanation of what she was trying to do with her work, so scholars and reviewers seem to be trying to get that information by looking at her life as a way to understand her work. Some women see her work as feminist but Kane clearly didn’t see herself as one. She was not interested in being labeled as a “woman” writer. “I don’t want to be representative of any biological or social group of which I happen to be a member,” she said. She is also cited as a lesbian playwright who had to “de-lesbianize” her work to get into the mainstream.
The distinctive characteristic of Sarah Kane’s work, though, is the image of extreme violence. Blasted is like being mired in a quicksand of self-destruction, where the characters keep falling deeper and deeper, and horror has a deteriorating effect that defaces the space and the characters, making them difficult to recognize towards the end. “I’ve shat in better places than this,” it’s Ian’s first line of the play, placing us in the cesspool we are about to witness.
Although violent images have been part of artistic expression historically, Kane’s brutal plays are somehow considered a new element introduced in European theater. Her inspiration is playwright Edward Bond, and the rawness and cruelty of the images are certainly familiar. "You can learn everything you need to know about playwriting," she said, "by studying Saved."
“The iconography of suffering has a long pedigree,” says Susan Sontag in her book Regarding the Pain of Others, bringing attention to the violent images of suffering of Christian stories and pagan myths. Sontag discusses how the Passion plays and biblical representations of decapitation, massacre, and cannibalism were serving a religious purpose. In the case of Edward Bond, they aimed to serve a political purpose. In Sarah Kane’s work, the display of horrific images seems to be an artistic endeavor.
Rape, cannibalism and self-destruction are some of the themes that appear in Blasted. Ian rapes Cate, the soldier rapes Ian, the soldier eats Ian’s eyes, then kills himself, Ian eats a baby.
Kane’s strategy for engaging us in the story is very interesting. The first act is very realistic in tone, and she introduces us to the characters through very naturalistic elements: Cate is studying the newspaper, looking for a job—we also learn very specific information about her living with her mother and her relationship with her disabled brother. Kane presents Cate as ethical and compassionate, a young girl in the process of becoming independent. In contrast, Ian is sick, bitter, telling her the story of the removal of his rotten lung while he keeps coughing, smoking and drinking.
During the play, Cate is the one who will be transformed. She will lose her purity to become almost the opposite, to become like Ian. She starts as a vegetarian, who finds the feeling of having animal blood in her mouth repulsive, and in the last scene she comes in eating a sausage. She doesn’t drink at the beginning of the play, but she is drinking with Ian towards the end. She rejects racists remarks by Ian, and she finds him disgusting-- “You are a nightmare,” she tells him-- yet she is there with him and even though she leaves, she comes back.
If Bond’s Saved is about social structures and people lost in a corrupted system, Kane’s Blasted is about relationships and people lost in their own misery. Even in the disturbing and confusing world created by Kane, we can still distinguish very stable, stereotypical, fixed gender roles. The masculine and the feminine are clearly identified and sustained throughout the play. Cate is sweet, insecure, sensitive, young, fragile and pure. Ian is older, tough, rough and rude. At the end she becomes a bit like him, as if the only destiny awaiting the characters was to be corrupted and degraded.
Kane digs deeper into the violent images, and the themes she introduces keep floating, ambiguous and unresolved. Kane brings up a couple of themes that she doesn’t explore beyond the mentioning: Ian’s ex-wife is a lesbian. But that’s how far the lesbian theme gets. The Soldier is just a soldier, it doesn’t matter for what army or country; Kane simplifies the concept of Soldier, flattening it into a brutal and grotesque persona.
The play has a combination of very specific realistic elements combined with very vague surreal ones. Ian is “Welsh born but he lives in Leeds much of his life and picked up the accent,” and Cate is a southerner. Cate disappears magically from the bathroom when the soldier arrives and appears again later carrying a baby who was given to her by a woman. The first scene is situated in a “Luxurious hotel, so luxurious that it could be anywhere,” says the author. Some of these notes are very specific, yet they don’t seem to serve any specific purpose. And some of the events are completely surrealistic.
Both Bond and Kane resort to the image of a baby being stoned to death or eaten to express the most extreme violence, to leave us without any escape. It seems the most extreme reactions of repulsion are sought in response to these images. A baby is what every spectator accepts as powerless, innocent and undeserving of violent treatment. And we don’t blame the author for creating or displaying that image--we are blamed in a way, as motionless spectators. The audience is informed of or faced with a cruel reality that it is supposed to solve or do something about. The author in both cases stays behind the scenes as the uncorrupted presence, denouncing the sin and calling the audience to action, or waking them up to the awful reality of the world. The images appear as painful and repulsive, but necessary. As if they were serving a purpose. They are considered revolutionary because they are not what we normally see onstage or because they were shocking and created a strong reaction in the theater scene of their time.

Saved, by Edward Bond

2009-10-01T19:35:00.000-07:00

Bond, Edward. Saved. Plays: One. London: The Master Playwrights, 1977
by Susana Cook

I don’t think it’s possible to “like” Edward Bond’s play Saved. Critics discuss its meanings, make interpretations, find intentions, and award value to the play as a classic. But it’s certainly not a play to enjoy. The images displayed onstage are harsh and disgusting. Some critics see Bond as a successor of Brecht and see his plays as a political tool that sends a message of hope through the horrific scenes. The intention of the author is not to entertain us; he seems to have a mission, and his writing is a commentary about the state of world, the consequences of capitalism, and the brutality of poverty. Bond’s intentions are change and protest. Rejected by most critics in the 1960s, the play is considered, after many years, a classic of British literature. I am interested in seeing why the super-violent images depicted onstage seem to have taken a life of their own and created an impact and fascination in so many people’s minds and a revolution in British theater.
“Saved represents the London underclass of the 1960s,” we read in every glossary and review of the time. Saved is not the story of a random group of people--it claims to be a naturalistic representation of a whole social group: the poor working class. It seems as if by going to see this play, the audience will learn something they don’t know about the “underclass,” that something new will be revealed to them, that they will confront a reality hidden to their eyes (unless, of course, they were part of the social group represented onstage. But in that case they probably wouldn’t be at the theater.) The implied assumption that members of the actual underclass would not be among the audience members, or reading the reviews, and the subtle message that “they are worse than you think,” makes me wonder what is accomplished with this kind of naturalistic representation.
“Violence has always been a tool for Edward Bond through which he criticizes society,” says one of his reviewers. I think that the problematic aspect of this play is that it takes on the task of representing a particular social group as uniform, homogenous, and with a consistent behavior by all the characters throughout the play, with the only exception of Len, who is the one who will be “saved,” apparently. The dehumanization of the underclass presented in Saved makes the characters brutal, amoral, and worse than you could possibly imagine. “Violence shapes and obsesses our society,” says Bond, “It would be immoral not to write about violence.’’ But he is not writing about violence in the play, he is writing and staging violent acts, representations of violence, by people who seem to have lost any trace of humanity, love, and compassion.
In scene 3, Pete, one of the youngsters in the play who had killed another boy with his van, is dressed up to attend the dead boy’s funeral while joking about it. His friends admire him for killing the boy and for getting away with it. Later, in Pam’s living room, we hear a baby crying until she chokes, and nobody pays attention to her. The most famous scene of the play is when the gangsters kill a baby in the park by stoning her to death in her carriage.
I wonder where are we placed as the audience of these excruciating scenes, and what is our role, if any. We are not supposed to be having an enriching or pleasant experience; apparently we are supposed to be learning a moral lesson. The characters seem to be a reflection of a violent, brutal society. They are also the victims of a political system that the author intends to criticize. But the portrayal of the characters is so brutal and pitiless, that as audience we are left with no compassion for the victims of a society he tries to expose and condemn. Rather than identification, we feel disgust and repulsion for their behavior, and we can’t see any kind of perspective in terms of how the system made them into the monsters they are, or how they could be saved from their misery. They seem to be hopelessly lost cases. The play is “irresponsibly optimistic,” says Bond. He sees hope in Len.

The God of Carnage--by Yasmina Reza

2009-09-30T23:56:00.000-07:00

Reza, Yasmina, The God of Carnage. Translated from French by Christopher Hampton. London: Faber & Faber, 2008.
by Susana Cook

Her characters, including herself in Hammerklavier, are self-obsessed, desperately ambitious for achievement, whatever form that achievement takes. They reek of futility but lack the desperate humanity of Beckett's existential no-hopers."
-Simon Hattenstone, The Guardian, January 1, 2001  
http://www.complete-review.com/authors/reza.htm

Asked whether she is a moralist, she replies: "It is not for me to say, but theatre is a mirror, a sharp reflection of society. The greatest playwrights are moralists."
-Agnes Poirier, The Independent, March 16, 2008
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/theatre-dance/features/yasmina-reza-please-stop-laughing-at-me-795570.html

Originally written (and produced) in French, they are usually slender sitcoms, elegantly streaked with troubling shadows and shaped with Cartesian symmetry. They are plays that suggest reassuringly that human depths can, after all, be measured by a slide rule.
The New York Times, March 23, 2009 http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/r/yasmina_reza/index.html

I agree with most critics that Reza’s play is a kind of “slender sitcom” that

“reeks of futility but lacks desperate humanity.”

I looked at the structure of The God of Carnage to see what is offered in this play that made it a huge commercial success around the world. The play has a light comedic plot sprinkled with a small amount of philosophical tirades that come in short, easy-to-swallow doses, just the right amount that a theater audience would tolerate in a mainstream theater setting. Some people go to the theater to have a good time and do a little bit of thinking. This play provides them with the necessary amount of entertainment and pretentious posturing supposedly full of philosophical depth.
The two couples at the center of action start as very polite hosts and visitors, in a very bourgeois setting, with courteous and careful dialogue. They slowly start showing darker aspects of themselves and their lives. With the help of alcohol and a few external elements, like phone calls, they start losing control of themselves and arrive at a few cathartic moments of “truth.” They reveal their “true” feelings towards each other, and their “true” nature as human beings. The harmony in their marriages is a very delicate structure that collapses as the play advances.
They start by discussing an incident between their kids—Ferdinand, (the Reille’s son) hit Bruno (the Vallon’s child) with a stick and Bruno lost two teeth. The parents are all trying to be accommodating and understanding. They also make comments about the cake, the recipe, the tulips, etc. The dialogue is cute and predictable. As dictated by the rules of this kind of formulaic theater, the tension starts building gradually towards climax. The Reilles, who have come over, are trying to leave the house most of the time, but some comment or situation keeps them inside until the end of the play.
We can see right away that these two couples are well-educated, middle-class people with good jobs and families. The four of them are parents but ultimately, how much they care or really wanted (or want to be) parents comes into question. The theme of compassion and humanity is shown through a few elements: Darfur, the corruption of lawyers and pharmaceutical companies, and the Vallon daughter’s hamster. Veronique Vallon is writing a book about Darfour, Alain Reille is a lawyer for a pharmaceutical, and Michel Vallon has abandoned a hamster in the streets. Their masks seem to melt progressively during the play, exposing their selfish true selves. Michel hates to be a father and left a hamster trembling of fear in the streets. Alain is a dishonest lawyer who doesn’t care about people suffering the terrible side effects of a medication that should be taken off the market and instead tries to cover up for the pharmaceutical company he represents. Veronique, I suppose, is the only one who shows real feelings and compassion. The final member of the quartet, Annette throws up.
At the beginning the two teams are very clear that each couple will take the side of their own son. During the play, affiliations start changing. The men start feeling male bonding and hate their own wives and kids. The women experience a very short moment of women bonding as a response to misogynist comments from the men, but for the most part they despise and ridicule each other. I am not sure if that was the author’s specific intention, but the play shows how men have an easier time in bonding and teaming up than women do.
The pseudo-philosophical lines are clumsily inserted into the text. In one scene, Alain delivers one of his long pretentious rants:
“Veronique, are we ever interested in anything but ourselves? Of course we’d all like to believe in the possibility of improvement. Of which we could be the architect and which would be in no way self-serving. Does such a thing exist? Some people drag their feet, it’s their strategy, others refuse to acknowledge the passing of time, and drive themselves demented – what difference does it make? People struggle until they are dead. Education, the miseries of the world…” (46)
And it goes on and on. I guess this is one of the juicy monologues some of Reza’s admirers adore, and that garnered her so many awards and so much success. I suppose this type of monologue makes people think about the selfishness of humans, but in my case, it just makes me cringe and miss good writing—Chekhov, Beckett, and Pinter, just to mention a few of the souls who command the language in way that Reza is probably trying to emulate.

Hamletmachine

2009-09-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

HAMLETMACHINE: Entangled with the Icon that it Intends to Deface.
by Susana Cook

With Hamletmachine, Heiner Muller adds his signature to the classic drama of Hamlet, establishing himself as a champion avant-garde playwright in the Western world. Hamletmachine is considered by many to be the anti-Hamlet, a magnificent exponent of post-Shakespearean counter-drama, even postdramatic, anti-play, post-text and/or post-actor genre. If the intention of the author was to break away from any or all those traditions, then his efforts don’t seem to succeed in escaping or destroying the categories that they intend to subvert. Every line of the play makes us sink deeper into the roots of this particular drama and into cultural icons that link us, as the audience/reader, to the specific culture and narrative that we are supposed to break away from.
Heiner Muller has been associated with Antonin Artaud in his efforts to create a theater that would shake and subvert the status quo. Muller likes to think of himself as a “poet maudit.” Artaud is a sweeping force, a demolishing power, which no experimental avant-garde artist can escape. His ideas and writings about “bourgeois” theater in general and Shakespearean theater in particular opened a path that left a strong mark in the work of every artist who would like to see him/herself as transgressive or innovative. Artaud’s impulses were wild, undomesticated, honest, raw and real. They were coming from the genuine anger and frustration of a human being and artist who had already been rejected by mainstream society. Artaud’s position of constant segregation and suffering gave him the freedom of the one who has nothing to lose. He was an outsider. He was definitely not part of the status quo. His statements didn’t carry any possible or secret compromise with the normative theater forms of his time. Unlike Muller, Artaud was not an established artist with a reputation he had to maintain. During his lifetime Artaud suffered psychosis, poverty, incarceration, rejection, and drug addiction. His demolishing creative force has no intention to save any remains: he proposes a theater that will take us away completely from the status quo and from the stagnation produced by bourgeois theater. “Shakespeare himself is responsible for this aberration and for this decay,” wrote Artaud (1988: 254). He would probably not have been interested in playing with a Shakespearean text, either through adaptation or retelling. Some post-modern artists, though, chose to play with classic plays, and that is seen as an act of subversion and deconstruction (Lehman 2006)—even though the “destruction” of the status quo of the classic forms leaves us sometimes with a renewed version of the old text.
Hamletmachine is the Anti-Hamlet, ergo it cannot exist without Hamlet. If we would give the script of Hamletmachine to a reader who was not familiar with Shakespeare or the references and allusions in the text, then Hamletmachine would probably lose its meaning and importance. It has a meaning that cannot be decoded without knowledge of the previous meaning.
“I’m not Hamlet. I don’t take part anymore. My words have nothing to tell me anymore,” says Hamlet in Hamletmachine (Muller 1984: 56). He has nothing to tell us anymore; still, he is there and talking to us one more time. Hamlet is the machine that we can’t escape from or he is part of the machine that he can’t escape himself. He denies his own existence, while coming back to life. Just as we recycle parts of our culture, to trash them again. We break them into pieces, even if we don’t talk about them. They have nothing else to tell us, but they are still talking to us. The play could be read as a bold and even “disrespectful” act of appropriation. It incorporates elements that are very foreign to the original. Still, in this broken narrative, where the characters try to escape the original story, Hamlet still exists: “My drama doesn’t happen anymore” says Hamlet, as his drama keeps happening (Muller 1984: 56).
Heiner Muller boldly deconstructs Shakespeare’s story, altering the narrative, the timeline, the style, the characters, and even Hamlet’s gender identity, while keeping intact the names of the characters. As long as we hear the original names in the tragedy we are still witnessing the drama of Hamlet. The names resonate in us, recreating the strong images of the drama. We need those images to travel through Muller’s play. Hamletmachine cannot exist without Hamlet. The play assumes an informed reader who will enjoy the traveling away from the original. A common point of departure is necessary.
Hamletmachine could be read as a poetic experiment, but the cultural references thrown in by the author in the text resonate in our mind, bringing us to common places, making us inclined to find in these allusions some kind of added meaning or intention on the part of the author: Doctor Zhivago, Electra, Marx, Lenin and Mao. In a very un-orderly manner some of these names appear related to the Russian Revolution.
“Something is rotten in Denmark,” Hamlet states in the original play by Shakespeare. “SOMETHING IS ROTTEN IN THIS AGE OF HOPE” (53), says Muller’s Hamlet in Hamletmachine. These lines were written in English in Muller’s original text in German. I imagine that for a spectator listening to the script in German, the sudden switch to English suggests an allusion to Western capitalism and imperialism. This moment also creates a certain complicity with the (East German) audience, by pointing to the Other, which was, at that moment of Hamletmachine’s writing, Western Europe and the United States.
Muller makes Hamlet the victim of thoughts, and thoughts the enemy of images. Muller believes that theater is a laboratory for the social imagination. Nostalgic for a theater of images, he tries to bring forth a visual spectacle: “thoughts suck the blood out of images,” (56) says Hamlet in Muller’s play. Muller is more interested in a visual and poetic display of images onstage than in a theater focusing on text. Still, he is an author, and his plays are analyzed and read with full attention to every word of the text, with a devotion similar to Shakespeare’s studies. In a way Muller’s efforts to kill the script leaves him with a new script. His efforts seem to be like killing the queen but not the idea of the queen.
The play deals with the idea of consecutive lives, questioning the reasons for the drama to come back to life and in what form. Hamlet seems to be commenting on his own return: “A MOTHER’S WOMB IS NOT A ONE-WAY STREET” (54). This idea, of returning to the womb to be born again, makes this Hamlet a new creation of the same mother (with a different father). In that way Hamlet(machine) is almost the same Hamlet, in a new life. In this new life, Muller’s Hamlet wants to come back in a different form. “I want to be a woman,” says Hamlet as he dresses in Ophelia’s clothes.
The post-modern narrative of Hamletmachine—with its characteristic traits of collage, pastiche, bricolage, irony, and intertextuality—seems to break away from the canonical aspects of Hamlet. Yet the power structures of the classic plays remain intact in this new version. Ultimately, I contend that Muller’s play does not shatter canonical boundaries because too many elements of the original remain intact; even though the characters may rebellious and defiant, they are still part of social structures like royalty and the upper class.
Hamletmachine marked a breakthrough in Muller’s career but it is also seen as a breakthrough in written drama. If we wanted to frame this art piece to make it stand on its own, we would have to cut the tentacles that connect it and entangle it with the canonical icon that is trying to deface.
Hamletmachine is the Anti-Hamlet, the counter-Shakespeare. What new form is Muller creating with Hamletmachine? As Hans-Thies Lehman observes: “Provocation alone does not make a form; even provocative, negating art has to create something new under its own steam. Through this alone, and not through the negation of classical norms, can it obtain its own identity” (2006: 28). Postdramatic Theater.
Hamletmachine reflects the paradox of contemporary theater. Muller printed his own initials (on Shakespeare’s play). He wrote Hamletmachine, his own creation (based on Hamlet). He is offering us a recycled piece of culture (that stands on its own). In a culture obsessed with classics, Muller’s retake of a classic becomes a classic. How far can you travel away from Hamlet and still recognize it as Hamlet? Can you make Hamlet more crazy, a woman wanna-be, a non-Hamlet (“I am not Hamlet”), and still have it be Hamlet?
At the end of Hamletmachine, Ophelia, speaking as Electra “in the heart of darkness” (58) seems to reject this new birth and every birth. Looking at it “Under the sun of torture. In the name of the victims” (58) She finds it useless and renounces to give birth to it : “I eject all the sperm I have received…I bury it in my womb.”

Whether that is the intention of the author or not, the play seems to show us that there’s no escape, only new perspectives.

References

Artaud, Antonin, and Susan Sontag. Selected Writings. Berkeley and Los Angeles, California: University of California Press, 1988.

Kalb, Jonathan. The Theater of Heiner Muller. New York: Limelight Editions, 2001.

Lehman, Hans-Thies. Postdramatic Theater. Trans. Karen Jurs-Munby. New York: Routledge, 2006.

Müller, Heiner, and Carl Weber. Hamletmachine and Other Texts for the Stage. 1st ed. New York: Performing Arts Journal Publications, 1984.

Antigone

2009-09-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

Antigone. annotation by Susana Cook
Sophocles. Antigone: The Oedipus Cycle. Translated from the Greek by Dudley Fitts & Robert Fitzgerald. New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1967.

Antigone is a play about obedience to the law, the paradoxical relationship between the laws of men and the laws of God. Creon, King of Thebes proclaims that “Polyneices is to have no burial” (197). Antigone, sister of Polyneiches, Eteocles and Ismene, daughter of Oedipus, decides to challenge the King’s orders and give a burial to her brother Polyneiches, following God’s orders instead. When Creon finds out that Antigone buried her brother against his wishes, he asks her, “had you heard my proclamation touching this matter?” Antigone replies: “It was not God’s proclamation [.]”
The play also deals with religion, fear of God and punishment. The maximum punishment that Creon can threaten to impose on whomever disobeys his orders is death. Antigone reminds the King that God’s laws’ are stronger than the laws of the human king, that her action carries honor instead of shame because giving a decent burial to her brother is in line with God’s wishes: “there is no guilt in reverence for the dead” (210). She shows no fear in disobeying the king’s orders, reminding him that we are mortal anyway, because of God’s law and not his, and that disregarding the laws of God concerning the honor due to the dead can be far more dangerous than disobeying the King, because God is the supreme power. The paradox of obedience is very clear in the postures of Antigone and Ismene. Antigone represents obedience to God, Ismene to the King. Creon himself is disobeying God’s laws with his actions. The Chorus warns him about the dangers of his hubris: “Fortunate is the man who has never tasted God’s vengeance” (215). The idea of religion and obedience to the Gods is pushed by Antigone to the extreme. “I shall be a criminal--but a religious one” (164), she proclaims dramatically.
The genesis of the tragedy is Creon’s proclamation about Polyneices’ dead body left unburied, and not Antigone’s disobedience. Creon’s proclamation violates God’s laws, and the people of the town feel disturbed by it. Antigone’s actions are honorable but illegal at the same time. She trusts that the people of the town would applaud her actions if they weren’t all afraid of Creon. “All these men would praise me/ Were their lips not frozen shut with fear of you” (210).
Ismene sees her sister becoming nobler with her actions, so she changes her position and decides to be “guilty” in the eyes of the King so she can be forgiven in the eyes of God.
As the play advances, Creon keeps losing authority. The first one to challenge him is Antigone, then his own son Haimon, then Ismene. Creon gets frustrated and angry because he is not getting the obedience that he feels he deserves as a king, and so his actions keep escalating, but ironically, he becomes weaker as he becomes more and more of a tyrant. Creon orders
to bury Antigone alive in a cave. Antigone, goes to her living tomb, and Tiresias warns Creon that the Gods will be on Antigone’s side.
In the end, the laws of God prove to be stronger. Creon, carrying the dead body of Haimon, is seen by Choragos: “Here is the king himself. Bearing his own damnation in his arms” (242). Soon after Creon finds out that his wife, the Queen, committed suicide out of grief, he realizes that his tragedy is the result of his own arrogant actions. He offended God and he is being punished for it. “I have been rash and foolish. I have killed my son and my wife” (244), he suddenly realizes. Creon feels the power of God falling on him for disobeying his laws and cries out, “Oh God, I am sick with fear” (244). He becomes at the end a sad, humble man who felt intensely the consequences of trying to supersede God’s wishes, but finally succumbs, lamenting that “fate has brought all my pride to a thought of dust” (245).

The Idiot King

2009-07-10T17:30:00.000-07:00

THE IDIOT KING
by Susana Cook. 2006
Characters
The Nurse
The Queen
The Gang
The Master of Counterinsurgency
The Tutor
The Secretary of War
The Head of Intelligence
Quintus
The Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity
The Communist
The Performer
The GroomBride

The Parade of the King
Loud Music. The King appears in heelys parading with his court.
During the parade the King suffers an attack of paranoia. He starts having hallucinations, losing control and fighting against invisible ghosts.

King - Look at all this blood, it’s disgusting. Get all these bloody people out of my way. I can’t roller blade on top of dead bodies.

Courtiers - There’s no dead bodies Majesty.
King – Out! Out of my way!

Courtiers – Look at all the people who came to cheer you
King - Get them out! (Talkng to a chair) I didn’t kill you, leave me alone
Courtiers- There’s nobody in that chair majesty
King – You were supposed to be dead, why aren’t you dead?
Courtiers - Who are you talking to?
King - Stop looking at me! Go home
Courtiers- Relax Majesty, you are just very tired
King –Bloody terrorists, leave me alone!

His Court tries to make him feel better. They carry him to lie down. He will faint.
Courtiers – Call the nurse!
King – Make them shut up!
Courtiers - The nurse! The nurse!

The Nurse enters. The rest of the court will exit slowly, very concerned about the mental health of the King. Music stops. The King is lying on a coach. The Nurse is trying to feed him with a spoon. The food keeps falling out of his mouth.

Nurse – You have to swallow!
King – How?
Nurse – You have to send the food down your throat
King – I can’t
Nurse – Use the impulse
(He moves trying to create impulse)
Nurse – No, not like that, with your tongue.
(He sticks his tongue out)

Nurse – To the back!
King – What back?
Nurse – That little hole you have in the back of your mouth
King – (laughing) That’s my ass!
Nurse – No, that’s your throat, that hole sends the food to your esophagus, and then to your stomach
King – Why are you so biological today?
Nurse – I am not so biological, if you don’t swallow you can’t start the digestion process
King – And how am I supposed to know that?
Nurse – Everybody knows that. You can’t keep the food in your mouth like that, send it to your throat
King – Stop with that word, I am not a biologist!
Nurse – Forget it, we’ll try again later. Let me give you the supplement
Get it out

He takes his dick out she starts injecting it with supplements. The King screams. Then she starts rubbing it with lotion.

Nurse – Does it feel good?
King – Yes. This is not Viagra, is it? Because I don’t need no Viagra
Nurse – Of course you don’t. We all know that. Nobody would ever think that you need Viagra. Nobody, not one person would think that. We all know you are very virile and powerful
King – And it’s big
Nurse – Very big, huge, courageous, honorable, patriotic and holy

The Tutor enters

Tutor - Excuse me
Nurse - Hi Tutor. We were admiring his powerful and patriotic thing
Tutor - It’s beautiful
Nurse - I’ll leave you alone with your lesson. He has been very good, he was practicing those words you taught him, and the vowels, and he did his math homework.
Tutor - Could you find the map I brought for him?
Nurse - No, I couldn’t find it anywhere
Tutor - What a pity, that was a very expensive globe, it’s going to take me sometime to find another one like that, and he really needs to practice geography.
Nurse - It’s ok, he made his own map (She shows him a map) You see?
Tutor - This is beautiful, very creative.
King – Tutor!
Tutor - Your majesty
King - What is that thing about the apples that you were telling me yesterday?
Tutor - Sure your majesty. What I was saying is that if I have 2 apples and I give Peter one apple, I will have one apple
King - Exactly, that’s what I thought. And why would you give Peter one of your apples?
Tutor - Maybe because he is hungry, or he was asking me for one. The important thing is to count the apples. It’s just an example to help you count
King - No, it’s not just an example I think you are a communist Tutor. Who’s that Peter anyway and what’s this whole apple business about? I would like to find out what’s your relationship to Peter and these apples.
Tutor - Sir, we can use oranges to count if you want and different names
King – Yes, that would be better
Tutor - Alright. So you have 5 oranges, you give Mary 2 oranges. How many oranges will you have left?
King – That’s sexist socialism, Mary can get her own oranges

The Master of Counterinsurgency, the The Master of Counterinsurgency enters

The Master of Counterinsurgency – Your Majesty.

The King passes gas.

King – I love farting
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Great
King – I like the smell
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Great
King – Do you think people like the smell of my farts?
The Master of Counterinsurgency – They certainly do
King – I want mics on my ass. I want them to hear
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We can certainly arrange that majesty
King – Now
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Sure

The Master of Counterinsurgency brings a mic. He places it on the ass of the King. We can hear a loud fart. The farts turn into bombs.

The Master of Counterinsurgency – Beautiful
Nurse – Glorious
Tutor – Majestic
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Your majesty, we need to discuss some important issues, we are planning a meeting for this afternoon
King – What for?
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Well, we have to solve some problems related to foreign policy
King – I want them to hear my farts too
The Master of Counterinsurgency - They do majesty, they do hear, you shouldn’t worry about it
King – But they can’t smell
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Oh, yes, they can. I can assure you they can
King – (To Nurse and Tutor) Do you think they can smell my farts?
Nurse – I am pretty sure they can.
Tutor – Yes, the smell is very intense
The Master of Counterinsurgency - What I really wanted to discuss is the war sir
King – I like it
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Right, of course, we all do. What’s not to like about it?
King - So what’s your problem?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - No, I don’t have any problem sir
King - I am not sir
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Sorry majesty. What I wanted to discuss with you is that there’s some people who seem very upset
King - Kill them
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We are, we are trying our best, but they seem to reproduce like bunnies, they are coming from everywhere
King - What? Are you afraid of them sissy?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - No, your majesty, of course not
King - Do you think I am afraid of them sissy? ( he smiles, chuckles)
The Master of Counterinsurgency - No, of course not
King - They are all gays
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Of course
King – They are communists
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Terrorists majesty, terrorists
King – People love me
The Master of Counterinsurgency - They do
Nurse – They adore you
Tutor – Of course, indeed
King - I want to fart
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Let me bring the mic

Big fart. The Nurse, The Master of Counterinsurgency and Tutor clap. We hear the voice of God

King - God is calling me
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Would you like for us to step out?
King – Of course

The Master of Counterinsurgency, Nurse and Tutor exit to the side

King - Hi God. Yes, I called you. I wanted to talk to you about the pearly gates, the walls of alabaster and the floors made of gold. Suddenly I realized that it might look pretty gay in heaven. Yes, of course is up to you the decoration. Yes, I want to go to heaven. I just had the disturbing thought of Saint Peter with a pearly key holder. I can’t stop thinking about the pearly pearly gates…

The Nurse enters abruptly, interrupting him. The Master of Counterinsurgency and Tutor follow.

The Nurse - (Very loud) I have feelings too you know?
King - What?
Nurse - What are you doing in there? Are you masturbating?
King - I have a wife lady
The Master of Counterinsurgency - He was talking to God, please calm down. (To King) So, what did he say?
Nurse - God?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Of course, who else?
Nurse - Are you awaiting orders from God?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - I don’t think you can understand this
Nurse – Listen, I know about him better than you. I clean his shit
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Exactly, that’s what I mean
Nurse - I know him very intimately
Tutor - She means closely
The Master of Counterinsurgency – ( To Tutor) What is your job?
Tutor - I write when he asks me to, and I am teaching him how to write…
The Master of Counterinsurgency - He can’t write?
Nurse - You see? You didn’t even know that. No, he can’t write and he can’t talk, he tells him what he has to say
Tutor - Exactly, he has to memorize what I write for him
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Oh, I see. I thought it was God
Tutor - Yes, God talks to him too, but it’s very difficult for him to memorize God’s words, because God doesn’t like to repeat too many times, but I do.
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We could probably record God’s voice so we can make a tape for him to listen to
Tutor - That’s a very good idea
The Master of Counterinsurgency - People love to hear God’s voice through him
Tutor - It’s going to be fabulous
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Very intense
Nurse - He is not ready to speak in public. He can’t control his sphincters
The Master of Counterinsurgency – It’s ok, we can bring diapers
Nurse - I am the only one who can change his diapers
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Of course, we’ll bring you there
Tutor – It will be great, people will love him
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Yes, but I am not sure about the farts though
Nurse - He loves farting
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Oh, I know. But I don’t know how people will take that
Tutor - I don’t think people will get offended
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Well, he wants a mic amplifying them
Nurse - Yes, he loves that
Tutor - Well, it’s certainly very patriotic
The Master of Counterinsurgency - No doubt about that
Nurse - He also likes to puke
The Master of Counterinsurgency - I thought that was his father, the ex King
Tutor - No , no , he likes it too
The Master of Counterinsurgency - His father was so great at that
Tutor - Yes, he could aim and reach a long distance
Nurse - He is not bad either. There’s something very glorious about his puke too
Tutor - Pity people won’t be able to smell
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Oh, they will. I can assure you, they are smelling already
The Master of Counterinsurgency - All over the world
The Master of Counterinsurgency - You know, some people are not very happy about it, they are very dangerous people
Tutor - What are you going to do about it?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We’ll kill them
Tutor - Good for you
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Well that was not my idea of course, it was the King’s genius

They look at the King, he is lost looking at the wall

Tutor - What is he doing now?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - He is thinking
Tutor - Right, of course
The Master of Counterinsurgency - He is probably planning the next war
Tutor - Oh, we shouldn’t interrupt him then

Loud Music. The Queen enters with the gang

The Tutor, The Master of Counterinsurgency - The Queen is coming!
King – The Queen!

The Queen arrives, sits and smiles.

The Master of Counterinsurgency – Glamorous lady
Tutor – Most refined, beautiful madam, your majesty
Queen – Thanks
King – Queen!!
Queen - Darling! What are you doing?
King – Nothing
Queen - Great !
King - What did you bring honey? What’s that?
Queen – A Gang
King - And why in the world did you bring a gang to the palace?
Queen – I want to show them how honest people live. They are going to spend some time with us. It’s part of their rehabilitation
King – Honey, those people are dangerous
Queen – I know, I know everything about gangs. That’s why I wanted them to see how we live, without killing. (To the gang) Don’t worry Gang, he’ll understand. Now we are going to pray. (To King) Let’s pray honey so we show The Gang the way to God. (She prays) Thou shall not kill
King – Where in the world did you get that?
Queen – It’s in the bible
King – No, it’s not. You don’t understand the bible. That means You People (Pointing at The Gang) Thou shall not kill, got it Gang? Thou… (He feels intimidated by the Gang)
(To the Queen) Honey, come here for a second
Queen – Sure sweetie
King – I love you
Queen - I love you too honey
King - And our beautiful twins
Queen - Me too, I adore them. Aren’t they cute?
King - Yes, they are. We are a beautiful family
Queen - Yes, I love your mother
King - I love her too, she is beautiful
Queen - Yes, very beautiful lady indeed. I wish I was like her
King - You’ll never be
Queen - Well, you are not exactly like your father either
King - I am better
Queen - What is that you wanted to tell me?
King - We’ll have to kill that gang
Queen – Why?
King – They are dangerous. Did you see the way they were looking at me?
Queen – No
King- It doesn’t matter, I did, that’s enough. Take them to the back and get them killed, I have an important meeting. (To The Gang) Sorry Gang, you have to go now, I have an important meeting with very important people.
Quintus, please call the Minister of Defense, the Secretary of War, the Head of Intelligence, the Chief Justice, The Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity and the Chief Cardinal.
Quintus – They are all here sir, they are waiting for you. I’ll go get them

The Secretary of War, The Head of Intelligence and the Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity enter. They hold hands introducing themselves and each other. They will sit in chairs facing the audience.

The Master of Counterinsurgency - Gentleman, we have very important matters to discuss. The first topic in our agenda is: Satan
Queen - That’s the mean guy
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Number 2: Adam and Eve.
Queen – My favorite couple
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Number 3 - Evil. Does evil come from Eve?
All - mmmmm
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We’ll also talk about family and abstinence.
All – Abstinence
Queen - That’s a keeper
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Then we’ll design a map to infinite justice through the war of peace
All – Abstinence
The Queen – Every family needs one of those
Secretary of War - It’s important to remember that Adam was a man

They All clap

Queen- And that Eve was a woman
All- Exactly
King – It is also important to remember that Jesus was not gay
All – Of course!
King – He got married and had two beautiful twins. He built a very happy family
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Are you sure majesty? I mean I didn’t read the bible lately but.
Secretary of Charity,compassion and Pity - I don’t remember anything like that.
Secretary of War - I think I read something about twins, yes.
Head of Intelligence - No, no, I don’t think so.
Quintus - Are you sure majesty?
King – Absolutely, I had to make a little amendment in the bible

They All Clap

King – Thank you. People read nasty things everywhere. We need to protect Jesus and the American Family
All – Yes! The American family. Let’s protect the American family!

They All get up, scream and hug

The Master of Counterinsurgency – Majesty, I have a request, can you change the part that says that rich people will not enter Heaven?
All - Yes, yes, please amend that
Quintus- Could you change the camel for a flea?
Secretary of War- We can always manufacture bigger needles
All – Brilliant!
King – No, we can’t change that. That’s good stuff
How do you think you keep millions of poor people quiet?
All – How?
King - You tell them that they will go to heaven
All – oh
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – But how can we arrange that?
King – Very easily, they have to die first
All - Fantastic
King - We get it here, they get it there

They all admire the idea

The Master of Counterinsurgency – ok, we have to talk about Joseph now
Secretary of War – We didn’t talk about Leviticus yet
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – I think the war spending comes first
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Ok, We spent 3 trillion dollars in the war. We are running out of money
King – Alright, we’ll cut taxes to the billionaires then
All – Brilliant idea

They clap

The Master of Counterinsurgency – So where are we going to get the money from?
King – From the rest of the people. Cut water. They don’t need water
The Secretary of War- But you know, your majesty, if I may. The rich are actually the ones who like the war
Quintus – Exactly, we need it , I mean they need it
King – Yes, but they don’t have to go to war. Why should they pay for it? People think that we have to pay for everything. The ones who go to war should pay for it, for their guns, their food, their bombs, they will be the ones throwing them, aren’t they? People think we have to pay for everything. They get those ideas from socialism, communism or something.
All – Yes, you are right. It makes sense
The Head of Intelligence - But, what are we going to say to the people?
King - We’ll tell them that if we cut taxes from the billionaires it creates jobs

They all laugh and clap

Secretary of War - I have a proposal sir
King – Majesty
Secretary of War- Sorry, Majesty. I have a proposal regarding trophies as a valiant remembrance of our accomplishments
Queen – Beautiful
Secretary of War - I am a hunter majesty
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – Macho
Head of Intelligence - Admirable.
Quintus - Praise worthy
Secretary of War - Thank you. You know how glorious it is to cut the head of the animal you kill and to hang it in your living room
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - Beautiful
Head of Intelligence - glorious,
The Master of Counterinsurgency - So Manly.
Head of Intelligence - Courageous
Secretary of War - I was thinking Majesty, that we should also be allowed to hang the heads of the people we kill, to remember our struggle for peace

They clap

Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – Exactly, we are spending a fair amount of money in those killings, we should keep the trophies
All – Yes, the trophies
King – It’s a very compassionate idea gentlemen. Unfortunately I don’t think I have enough room in the house for so many heads
Secretary of War- Exactly, that’s my point. We need bigger houses

They clap

Queen - (We hear sentimental music in the background) Sorry to interrupt, I believe trophies are very important, but there are many ways to remember glorious times. When my husband was the governor, for example, he had to sign so many authorizations for executions. He was so modest, he was not saving them. But I did, and I put them in a frame, one after the other. They are now decorating our 200 foot long hallway , the one that takes you to the gardens. They remind us of the hard work to become a King

They sigh full of admiration. She smiles

King - We don’t need to show off. We know we killed them, that should be enough to feel good about ourselves. What’s the next topic?
Sir - The Enemy
All – The get up. The Enemy!
King – What about the enemy?
Head of Intelligence - Where is the enemy?
King - Who cares? We’ll destroy the enemy
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Yes, we’ll destroy the enemy.
Secretary of Charity , Compassion and Pity - The enemy is somewhere, that’s for sure,
Secretary of War - We’ll find the enemy.
King - I don’t have time for that. Who cares where he is?
All – Nobody cares!
King - Next topic!
The Master of Counterinsurgency - The sanctity of marriage
King - Very simple. All saints were married. And everyone who gets married is a saint. Marriage comes from Adam and Eve, who were married, and were saints and a man and a woman. After that we all kept doing the same thing, in the name of God and the Saints
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - Some saints didn’t marry sir
King – Because they were too holy
Head of Intelligence – God bless the holy saints in the name of God
King – Next Topic !
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Masturbation
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity- What do you mean masturbation?
All - What’s that?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - I am not sure. I am sorry, I don’t know who put that in the agenda

They all look very confused and guilty

All - Next topic, next topic
The Master of Counterinsurgency – I am so sorry , yes the next topic is Global warming.
All – What’s that?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Basically, they hate democracy and our freedom of business
All – So scary
Head of Intelligence – Why?
King – It’s the immigrants!
Secretary - No, it’s the environmentalists.
King - Oh, I know those, they hate carbon Monoxide, they call it a pollutant, we call it…
All together with sweet voice– Life
Sir - They are threatening us, with stronger hurricanes, food shortage, the destruction of the rain forest, a rise of the level of the oceans, the melting of the glaciers
King – They are such sissies, we are going to rapture anyway
All - Stop them! They are killing the Polar bears, and the birds
King - It’s ok, we can solve that with atomic energy
All – Brilliant
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We need more Plutonium
All- Yes, more Plutonium!
Secretary of War – We can cut all the trees and make bigger cars instead to give some shade

We hear loud noise of people yelling, banging at the door

King - What’s that?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - People are very angry sir. They are coming from everywhere. They are screaming and breaking things. It’s the Revolution.
King – Commodify it!
All - Yes, buy it
Queen - Yes, honey, buy the revolution. I want to be cool

Loud Music. They start running around, this is a RUN! choreography.

The Fall of the King.

All - The King is falling!!!!!

The King starts feeling sick and falls on the floor

King –I am falling! I am falling!
All - The King is falling!
King - Traitors! I’ve been poisoned!
All - Oh, he is falling poisoned!

The King falls dead on the floor. Everybody cries sad and melodramatic

Queen – The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away
Head of Intelligence – The King is dead, that’s awful!
The Master of Counterinsurgency – He was not really the King
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – What are we going to do now?
Queen – We’ll find another one
The Head of Intelligence - We should try to get one without an accent
Queen – (yes, he shouldn’t be Hispanic, people will notice). Yes, He should speak good English
Secretary of War - The King is dead!
All- Long live The King!

We hear sacred music

Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity– Majesty! The Pope is here! He is coming in The Pope Mobile!

The Pope enters in The Pope Mobile. The King rises. Everybody goes back to character.

King – Oh, to whom do I owe this honor?
The Pope - Oh, Majesty

The Pope kneels to the King

King – No, Pope, you shouldn’t kneel
The Pope- Yes, majesty, I want to kneel in front of my King
King - You are my King, the King of all of us (He jumps on him to kiss his feet)
King – Holy Pope, I am so honored you came to visit us. What’s the holy reason of your visit?
Pope - I came to discuss the Sanctity of Marriage
All – Bravo, we love it (They hug and kiss passionately)
Pope - There are many ways to look at the sanctity of marriage. You need at least, at the very least one dick, but certainly Not 2. God said that very clearly: A man and a woman. He says that in Leviticus
Queen - Excuse me your holiness, I believe He says that in Genesis
Pope - Yes, in Genesis too
Head of Intelligence - It wasn’t God, I think it was Joseph
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Joseph, the father of Jesus Christ?
Secretary of War - Excuse me, God was the father of Jesus Christ
The Master of Counterinsurgency - I know, what I mean is that he was the husband of Mary
Secretary of War - That doesn’t make him the father of Jesus
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Of course not
Queen - Well. He was a father in a way too
King - (Jumping off his throne horrified) Jesus had 2 fathers???!!!!
All – Noooo!!!!!!
Pope - It’s ok, relax. Those 2 fathers were not married. They were not even a couple
King - We have to fix this
Pope - It’s ok, we’ll focus more attention in the 3 Kings. Just the three of them, for days and nights, three men alone in the desert, following a star …

Pause. They look at each other uncomfortable.

Queen - Eve, for example was a rib
Secretary of War - No, she was made out of a rib. That’s why she was so…tiny
Pope - You are missing the point. The point is The Sanctity of Marriage
King - Pope, please we need to add something in the bible about The American Family
Pope - It is in there!
Queen - Did God talk about The American Family?
Pope – Yes

They get happy and moved, looking up to God

Pope - It’s all symbolic, you know. America didn’t’ exist at the time (they all look disappointed and confused)

Queen - That’s a lie
Pope - But we know that when He said: (he will say these lines very fast) King’s heart is in the hands of the lord, as the rivers of water
Every purpose is established by counsel; and with good advice makes war
He meant: God Bless America!

They all fall to the feet of The Pope

Pope - Ok, gentleman, we are trying our best, you know. We might need a contribution, I mean a check. We’ll use the money to ease hunger in the world

All - Awwww (They all write him a check)

Pope - Yes, so many people dying of hunger, we’ll save them. And now, if you don’t mind, I need to sit down, I am feeling a little dizzy. You have to excuse me Majesty, but I think I am going to throw up.

The Pope dies throwing up

The Master of Counterinsurgency - Wow, I think he is dead.
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – Should we call the police?
Queen - Maybe the Vatican would be more appropriate
Secretary of War - Yes, forget the police, he is not human, he is like a saint. You don’t report saint’s deaths to the police
The Master of Counterinsurgency – Exactly it’s a totally different thing. Let’s not call the police, maybe tomorrow

A character appears with a container with smoke

Head of Intelligence - Look! The smoke! They have a new Pope already!
Queen – So fast? How could it be?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Maybe this one wasn’t the real pope then
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - Maybe for security reasons they have an extra pope, for traveling circumstances and things like that

Queen - Yes, that would make sense. It wouldn’t be safe to have the real pope traveling , showing up in people’s homes like that
King – I was wondering, how come, The Pope just showed up, without a holy announcement or something.
Queen – Or a badge…
Secretary of War - I have no doubt that he was the real pope, he was brilliant
All - Yes, it’s true, he was
Head of Intelligence - But then, how come they have a new pope already? . That’s such a tough decision to make, I mean finding a new pope , imagine
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity – Oh yeah.

The Pope wakes up.

The Pope - Oh, I am really sorry. It was a long trip and The Pope mobile goes really fast. I suffer from motion sickness. I guess you cleaned the vomit already. That’s so nice of you, thank you. I had some peanuts in the airplane. We never eat peanuts at the Vatican. I shouldn’t have. Maybe I am allergic to peanuts. I am sure they were good peanuts. I am sure they were not poisoned or anything. There were a lot of people taking good care of my food, experts, food experts. When they offered me peanuts, I doubted for a second, then I thought, yeah, why not? It wasn’t a big bag, just tiny, but it looks like my stomach couldn’t tolerate it. We had a lot of turbulence. It wasn’t an easy trip. There was a storm I think. The landing was harsh. I am not blaming the pilot, I am sure it was the weather, but it was very nauseating. I was holding the vomit all this time. I thought it was going to reabsorb, but it looks like it didn’t. I apologize.
Secretary of War - Sir, I am so sorry to tell you this, but they have a new Pope
The Pope - What do you mean?

They show him the smoke

The Pope - Oh, no. What am I going to do?
King - It’s ok, you can stay with us
Queen – What?
The Pope - Do you have any use for an ex-pope?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - We can give him a job, majesty
King - Sure, what can you do?
The Pope - Not much
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Come on, you are a pope. I am sure you know a lot of things
The Pope - Oh yes, I know about God, Jesus, abortion, pedophilia…
King - Perfect. You could be our Chief Justice

They all clap

King - Join us, we were about to do our nails.
They start doing their nails.

The Master of Counterinsurgency - You have a very nice shape
King – You think so?
Secretary of War - I have pellicle problems
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - They look good though
Secretary of War - No, you see, the skin it’s too high, it’s the cuticle
The Master of Counterinsurgency - You hands are so soft
Head of Intelligence – Thank you
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - My skin is pretty soft too
King - Who has the nail polish?
Secretary of War - Here, this is my favorite color. (To the Queen) I love your hair
Queen - Thank you honey, you have pretty nice hair yourself

A person with a mask enters.

The Pope – Oh, a bear
The Master of Counterinsurgency – I think it’s a horse
Secretary of War – I hope it’s not the Trojan horse
King – It’s The Communist!
All- The Communist!
King - Back up Satan! What do you want with our freedom?!
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - You, anti patriotic!
Queen - Leave my private property alone!
The Master of Counterinsurgency - You, with your stem cells research will destroy nature and human beings
Head of Intelligence - And babies!
King- You Darwin!
Secretary of War - You baby eater!
Queen - He came to kill The Pope!
The Pope – Me?
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Oh, my god! He is going to bomb us!
Secretary of Charity, Compassion and Pity - Oh, you terrorist!
King - It’s so terrifying the Terror of terrorists. We love penguins!
Queen - You are so scary!
Head of Intelligence- Terrifying
Secretary of War - What’s most scary about you is the terror
All - the bombs !
Secretary of War - Stop throwing bombs terrorist. We are free people here!
The Pope - Leave my Democracy alone!
King – Let’s defend our holy democracy

They get up
They will start grabbing food from inside the (clothes) body of the communist. They will eat with greediness and desperation.
Then they stop exhausted, burping, looking at the dead body

The Master of Counterinsurgency - Next topic: Abortion
King - Abortion is evil.
Secretary of War – Yes, it’s terrorism. Against nature. And the rule of god.
King - We need to protect the sanctity of rape. A life is created in the Kingdom of the Lord.
All – Amen Pause. (Burp)
Queen - Oh, honey, the performers are here. They came to entertain us
All - Great, bravo

The Pope offers them some glasses of wine

The Pope - Here, let me offer you a glass
The Master of Counterinsurgency - What’s that?
The Pope - The blood of the Lord
Head of Intelligence - Which Lord?
The Pope - The son of the Lord

A performer enters. She will do an” exotic” dance-poetry piece. The court will comment nervously and disturbed on her performance. She will speak a language they cannot understand, her movements get very sensual at times, and her performance involves screaming and shaking

King - What is she saying exactly?
Queen – I don’t know darling, maybe she is from some other country.
The Master of Counterinsurgency - I like her, she is exotic
The Pope - We never have shows in the Vatican. This is fun!

At t he end of her performance she will introduce The Groom Bride. The Court feels released that her performance it’s over.

The Performer - And Now The Groom Bride!

The groom Bride Appears, it’s a gender variant person, or a man in a bride’s dress.

Queen - Oh, she was just the opener for some other act
King – It looks like it’s a ballet
Queen – Yes, it looks like a … fisherman ballet
The Groom-Bride - I represent the sanctity of marriage. A man, a woman, becoming one, under god

Ze starts a sweet dance without music

King - So what is this, a man or a woman?
Queen - She is both, she represents the sanctity of marriage
Secretary of charity, Compassion and Pity - maybe she is a magician
Head of Intelligence - yes, it looks like a magic trick
Secretary of War - I think she/he is adorable
The Pope - The hat represents god
Queen – Right
King - I would rather see the man and the woman
Queen - It’s symbolic sweetie
King - I know
The Pope - It is true that through marriage we become one, I mean you
Queen – Yes, under God
The Pope – Right.
The Master of Counterinsurgency - That’s why gays cannot marry
Secretary of War - Exactly, it’s like you need both parts… to reproduce
The Pope - It’s nature too. Like fish for example, or oranges. There’s no lesbian fish, faggot oranges
Queen - Right, it’s always male and female… oranges
Head of Intelligence - But she is both
The Pope - No, she is the symbol of marriage
King - It’s not she
The Pope - He, it whatever, it’s the unity
Secretary of War - It’s love
The Master of Counterinsurgency - Exactly love
CHOREOGRAPHY
The End

Medea

2009-07-09T04:35:00.000-07:00

MEDEA. Annotation by Susana Cook
Euripides. The Medea: The Complete Greek Tragedies. Translated by David Grene. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955.

Medea is considered by some people to be a feminist icon. She rejects normative images of femininity, motherhood, and love. She shows strength and power. She is not a passive, submissive wife; she is excessive in the social scheme by acting out of bounds. She acts violently and she threatens patriarchy. The action of the play moves with her passion, her wrath, her anger. Her ire approaches, galloping furiously even before the play starts. Act one finds Medea already at the apex of her anger, and with everybody around her terrified of the possible outcome of her actions, wondering how far would she get with her intentions for revenge and destruction. We can hear her yelling and crying inside the room. There’s a magnifying effect created by the fear and whispered comments of the nurse and the tutor and everybody who had heard about her curses, threats and deep pain. Medea is seen as a strong woman who transgresses boundaries. She is threatening, she is howling, and her grief cannot be contained. But is this “strong?”
In my opinion Medea is just one more construct of an image of woman created by a man; one that becomes imprinted in our culture as a primal idea of womanhood. I see Medea as the epitome of the sexist depiction of women. She embodies a very visceral fear of women by men. Her position is ambivalent: she is a product, or a construct of the patriarchal system but she is also breaking it.

The construction of her character is based on extreme passion. She loves Jason so much that she kills her father and her brother to help him. When they arrive to Athens, Jason leaves her to marry the princess, daughter of Creon. When she is scorned she goes on a rampage and nothing can stop her from trying to destroy Jason, Creon and his daughter. Medea then kills her rival, the princess, with a poisoned dress. The image of women killing each other over a man is a clear patriarchal construct. The princess is the stereotype of the frail victim and Medea is the stereotype of the scorned woman, the dangerous one. Both of these stereotypes deny women’s complexity: a complexity that is, however, available to male personas.
The play provides many (sexist) definitions of women that are drawn from Medea’s behavior. “You were born a woman”, says Medea to herself, “And women, though most helpless in doing good deeds, are of every evil the cleverest of contrivers.” (72) Medea claims Hecate, a three-faced goddess associated with witchcraft and curses, as her “mistress, guidance and partner…In craft and silence I will set about this murder… I swear it by her” (72). Medea’s destiny, as a woman, has been marked by a long line of dangerous conniving women. Everybody who interacts with Medea or hears her painful and threatening laments also feels fear and also comes to the following conclusions about women: “It would have been better far for men to have got their children in some other way, and women not to have existed. Then life would have been good.” (77). This is Jason’s comment, and it limits women’s roles to being the bearer of children and in addition reveals how male believe that alternative ways of giving birth would liberate men from the burden of having to deal with women at all.

Medea’s anger and desperation drive the main action of the play. While drowning in jealousy she is seeking for revenge as the only relief for her intolerable pain.
I would like to focus on her motives; Medea kills her brother and her father to keep Jason close to her, and when she loses him, she kills his new bride, her father and her own children to relieve her thirst for vengeance.
The motive behind the killing of her family is to keep Jason and his love, and the motive behind killing the princess and her own children is to take revenge on him, caused by the uncontrollable anger she feels after losing him .
The Greeks, considered the “Fathers of Western Civilization” gave us as legacy: the ideas of State, Polis and Religion. But we also inherited their ideas of gender. Medea is one of the most resonant images of women in literature, and many of the motifs of Western psychology and philosophy is based on her story of jealousy, desperation and vengeance.
In summary, Medea is part of a larger legacy of images of the femininine constructed to help perpetrate a patriarchal system, devoted to oppressing and controlling women, who appear as hysterical, frenzied creatures capable of so much death and destruction under the thralls of obsessive passion, when all they want is a man’s love. In my view, Medea is a constructed image not of feminist liberation, but of masculine oppression.

2009-05-29T14:15:00.000-07:00

Stop calling us Hispanics. We don't want to be named after our colonizer

2009-05-22T16:29:00.000-07:00

In the era of the sanctity of “opposite marriage”, when being gay is worse than torturing, and people are afraid of the “big gay storm”. When politics is becoming so theatrical then theatre has to be more political.

Hamletango

2009-05-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

HAMLETANGO, Prince of Butches
by Susana Cook

A working class butch prince and the ghost of her mother borrowing some respect from the classics.
What would happen if an Argentinean immigrant and her gang of butches decide to do Shakespeare?
"The most feminist, erotic, exotic and hysterical adaptation of Hamlet I’ve ever seen"

"Butch Hamlet uses the classics to make a point about Argentinean culture and colonialism" or not
Why Lesbian Hamlet? Is Hamlet coming out? Was Hamlet a lesbian? Could he have been? What would have happened if he was? Would it be a classic? Is the classic culture too straight? Or just straight? Or white? What if Hamlet was a Spic? What if he wasn¹t a prince? What if he was working class? What was happening with the working class in the meanwhile? Were they also seeing ghosts? What would a ghost have told them? Were they also killing each other? Where ghosts visiting people at the time? Were they asking them for revenge?
HAMLETANGO: The Power of classics. The power of lesbians.

HAMLETANGO, Prince of Butches, written and directed by Susana Cook opened at WOW Café Theater on March 7th 2002 with the following cast:

Susana Cook as Butch Hamlet
Lisa Haas as Maria Josefa
Mistah as Ceferina
Storme as Francisa
Nora as Aron
D’Lo as Yoyo Ramona
Anita Maldonado as Cindy
Moira Cutler as Felia
Ira Jeffries as Rony
Fanya Cutler as dead Felia
Dexter Thompson as Clown 1
Liz Reynolds as Clown 2
Migdalia Jimenez as the Ghost of the mother

HAMLETANGO, PRINCE OF BUTCHES
BY SUSANA COOK

Characters:
Butch Hamlet (a butch)
Her friends: Ceferina, Francisca, Aron, Yoyo Ramona and Cindy
Felia
Dead Felia
Rony
2 Coffin carriers
Clown 1
Clown 2
Ghost of the Mother

The stage has three different areas: To the left, a porch, to the right a living room and the center stage is empty. Ceferina, Francisca, Aron, Yoyo Ramona, Cindy and Butch Hamlet enter, they go to the living room, Maria Josefa's house. The house looks very cozy. The gather around the table and make comments about different ornaments in the house.

Cindy - This is lovely

Maria Josefa - You like it?

Ceferina - It smells good in here

Maria Josefa - I made a little something

Francisca - We didn't see each other in a longtime

Aron - I know, we should get together more often

Yoyo Ramona -When was the last time we all got together?

Ceferina - Oh, my God, I think it was for Litti's funeral!

Yoyo Ramona - That's right, it was for Litti's funeral

Cindy - The poor thing

Aron - Yes

Francisca - I still have her ashes on my clothes

All - What do you mean?

Francisca - You didn't notice? When they were spreading her ashes, as she asked, the wind blew . Her ashes came right to my pants

Ceferina - She was like that

Francisca - I know, that's what I thought. This is Litty, who else would do that?

Butch Hamlet - And you never washed your clothes?

Francisca - I couldn't. How could I send Litty to the laundromat? She is resting in peace in my green pants

Cindy - Your green pants?

Francisca - Yes

Yoyo Ramona - So you don't wear them anymore?

Francisca - Well, no.

Butch Hamlet - Where are they?

Francisca - In a box

Ceferina - So Litty is in a box in your house?

Francisca - I guess

Yoyo Ramona - And we thought all these years that she was buried down there

Ceferina - I even went to visit her

Aron - I brought her flowers

Ceferina - Can we visit her in your house?

Francisca - You sure do

Maria Josefa - Oh, Litty is in your green pants!

Francisca - And a little bit on the shirt

Ceferina - Which shirt?

Francisca - A black shirt. I don't think you'd remember it

Yoyo Ramona - We should see the shirt

Ceferina - I don't even remember the green pants to be honest

Aron - I do

Yoyo Ramona - We should go to your house

Francisca - Yes, sure. Anytime.

Cindy - She was my best friend. Why didn't she come to my pants?

Maria Josefa - It makes sense to me. You were friends.

Cindy - What do you mean? (to Francisca) You were ....?

Maria Josefa - Oh, Cindy, you didn't know?

Cindy - You guys, were lovers ?

Aron - I didn't know either

Butch Hamlet - Oh, girls. It was so obvious!

Cindy - That's not the point. We were friends. How come you didn't tell us?

Francisca - You know Litty. She was very particular about those things

Cindy - Litty was great

Francisca - Oh, I know she was great. I mean, she was very particular about her privacy

Cindy - But we were friends. She was my best friend

Ceferina - (to Maria Josefa) You have a lovely place

Francisca - It's beautiful

Butch Hamlet (looking at the audience) - Who are those people?

Maria Josefa - My neighbors.

Butch Hamlet - They are so nosy

Maria Josefa - I know. They are looking at me all the time. But they can't hear a word, don't worry about it

Cindy - I am in shock

Butch Hamlet - Let go already, forget Litty

Cindy - To forget Litty? She was my best friend!

Yoyo Ramona - We were all friends. I hate that best friend thing

Maria Josefa - Who wants tea?

Aron - I do

Ceferina - I love these cookies

Maria Josefa - I invited you all here because I have something important to tell you

Cindy - Oh, my God! There's more?

Maria Josefa - Well, I didn't know that you were going to start talking about Litty

Aron - It's ok

Cindy - And for how long were you lovers?

Ceferina - Cindy, let go already

Francisca - It's ok. On and off for two years

Cindy - Do you have any idea why didn't she want to talk to me about it?

Ceferina - Maria Josefa said she had something important to say

Francisca - (to Cindy) I am not sure. I don't remember

Cindy - Oh, come on. She didn't talk about me?

Ceferina - Of course she did honey

Cindy - Somehow everybody kept the secret from me. You all knew and I didn't

Aron - I didn't know either

Yoyo Ramona - She thought you might love her, in a different way that she loved you

Cindy - What!? (to Francisca) She thought that?

Francisca - I don't remember to be honest

Cindy - Yes, you do. Tell me. She thought that I was in love with her?

Francisca - (to Yoyo Ramona) You have a big mouth

Cindy - I thought we were best friends

Yoyo Ramona - You were too jealous

Cindy (to Francisca) - That's what she thought? She thought I was too jealous?

Francisc - You are jealous honey

Cindy - She could have been honest with me

Maria Josefa - Let go already. Litty is dead. Let her rest in peace

Cindy - In her pants!

Maria Josefa - Yes, in her pants. Wherever she chooses to rest

Cindy - So everybody believes that she has chosen to rest in her pants for eternity

Aron - Apparently

Cindy - I want to see those pants. I don't know if I believe this

Aron - You saved the shirt too?

Francisca - Yes

Cindy - And why the shirt? You are a butch. Aren't you?

Maria Josefa - Don't be silly

Butch Hamlet - It was just the wind!!

Yoyo Ramona - Yes, for God's sake! It was the wind

Ceferina - Exactly. She could have flown to my pants

Cindy - Yes, or my pants

Butch Hamlet - Your skirt

Cindy - Yes, what's wrong with a skirt?

Butch Hamlet - There's nothing wrong. You just don't wear pants

Cindy - Sometimes I do

Ceferina - She wanted to say something

Francisca - Yes, what's going on?

Maria Josefa - Thank you. It's very important

Butch Hamlet - Shouldn't we close the window?

Maria Josefa - It's ok. They can't hear, and I said that before. Stop interrupting me

Ceferina - Stop interrupting her

Butch Hamlet - We are listening

Ceferina - Go ahead

Maria Josefa - I have a ghost in my porch

All - What?

Maria Josefa - There's a ghost

Butch Hamlet - Yes, in your porch, we heard. What do you mean?

Ceferina - Stop interrupting her

Maria Josefa - Every evening I sit on my porch to have my tea. I look at the trees, the sky. It's my relaxing moment. One night, last Thursday, I heard the sound of chains and leaves moving. I got afraid at the beginning. I was about to go back in the house

Cindy - Did you have a gun?

Maria Josefa - No, I didn't have a gun

Ceferina - Stop interrupting

Maria Josefa - And then I saw it

Aron - You saw what?

Butch Hamlet - A ghost she said. Aren't you listening?

Yoyo Ramona - A ghost, what is a ghost? There's no such a thing. You were having hallucinations

Ceferina - -Shut up. What's wrong with you?

Yoyo Ramona -You believe in those stories? You all need a therapist then

Maria Josefa - I don't know if I believe it or I don't believe it. I saw it

Ceferina -What is that you saw?

Maria Josefa - A ghost

Yoyo Ramona - In the shape of what?

Maria Josefa - In the shape of a woman

Yoyo Ramona - Then it was a woman

Francisca - What was she doing?

Maria Josefa - Nothing. She was standing there, looking at me in the eye

Cindy - It was a woman honey

Aron - What did you do?

Maria Josefa - I started walking back to the house. I was terrified. And then she disappeared

Yo Yo Ramona - And you went back inside?

Maria Josefa - Yes, I came back in. But I couldn't stop thinking about it

Francisca - Did you recognize her?

Aron - Was it Litty?

Maria Josefa - No, it wasn't Litty

Cindy - Of course not. Litty is in Francisca's pants

Butch Hamlet - Stop it

Ceferina - Nobody you knew?

Maria Josefa - No, nobody I knew

Aron - Was she pretty?

Maria Josefa - Yes, very pretty

Francisca - Did she talk?

Maria Josefa - No, she didn't talk

Yoyo Ramona - Was she...?

Maria Josefa - Let me finish. I couldn't go back to the porch for a couple of days as you can imagine. Last Friday I decided I couldn't give up my porch to a ghost, and I decided to go back there to have my tea

Aron - And she was there?

Maria Josefa - Yes, she came back

All - Oh, my God

All - Let's go to your porch

Maria Josefa - Well, that's why I invited you all here. I don't dare to go alone anymore

Cindy - I am not going there. Thank you for the cookies, but I can't help you with your ghost

All - Let's go

Ceferina - Let's finish the cookies first

Aron - We can bring the cookies to the porch

Yoyo Ramona - I'll bring the cherries too

Maria Josefa - What time is it?

Aron - 9 o'clock

Ceferina - Is this the time that she usually comes?

Maria Josefa - It is around the time I have my tea, yes. If she doesn't come, please do not think that I am crazy

All - Of course not. You don't worry honey. Well, let's go

They walk to the porch and they sit, waiting.

Francisca - This porch is so beautiful

Cindy - What a nice breeze

Ceferina - Who has the cherries?

Yoyo Ramona - I do, here

Maria Josefa - I want to thank you girls for coming. This means a lot to me

Cindy - Well, you invited us for tea. You didn't mention anything about helping you with a ghost

Ceferina - Oh, please. I wouldn't miss this for anything

Maria Josefa - It feels so much better having you here

Ceferina - This is a very crucial experience. We'll feel closer for ever after this

Yo Yo Ramona - For now, we are just sitting in a porch eating cherries

Ceferina - No, honey. We are waiting for a ghost

Yo Yo Ramona - I know, anybody could be waiting for a ghost in any porch. Is that gonna make them feel closer for life?

Ceferina - Gosh she is stubborn

Yo Yo Ramona - I am not stubborn, I am rational

Ceferina - That's not rational, that's boring

Yo Yo Ramona - Rational is always boring

Ceferina - In that case you are very rational, you are right

Cindy - Shut up now. We are waiting for a ghost here

Francisca - Shouldn't we stay quiet, so we don't scare her?

Maria Josefa - I don't know

Yo Yo Ramona - Ghosts do not exist

Aron - What do you know about what exists and doesn't exist?

The ghost appears. She carries a frying pan and makes noise with it. They watch quiet. The ghost mumbles sounds and words they don't understand

All - (soft voice) Oh, my God

Butch Hamlet - No!

They all scream

Butch Hamlet - Oh

Cindy - It's ok honey

Francisca - Are you ok?

Butch Hamlet - Oh my ... Oh, God

Maria Josefa - What hon?

Butch Hamlet - That's my mother

All - Damn. Your mother? Are you sure?

Cindy - I didn't know your mother was dead. I am so sorry

Aron - You had a beautiful mother

Francisca - Can you guys shut up, she is under a shock

Maria Josefa - Honey, I had no idea that it was your mother. I am glad you came

Butch Hamlet - Why is she coming to your house?

Yo Yo Ramona - Close enough

Cindy - Do you have a porch?

Butch Hamlet - No, why?

Cindy - I don't think ghosts can show up in apartments

Aron - I am really sorry

Butch Hamlet - About what?

Aron - I didn't know your mother was dead

Butch Hamlet - It's ok.

(to the ghost) Mom, is that you?

Yo Yo Ramona - Of course it's her. You said so

Butch Hamlet - Mom, why are you coming back? Is there anything you want me to know?

Ghost - Are you ok?

All - Awwww...

Butch Hamlet - Yes, I am ok

Maria Josefa - (some tears) Isn't that sweet?

Butch Hamlet - She came back to see if I am ok?

Maria Josefa - She is your mother honey

Butch Hamlet - Mother, you need me to avenge you? Is there anything you want me to do?

Ceferina - Could you ask her how death feels like?

Butch Hamlet - Are you resting in peace?

We can hardly hear the ghost' voice. They all hug

Aron - I miss you she said

Cindy - That's what she said?

Aron - Yes, I heard

Ceferina - I told you this experience will unite us for ever

Butch Hamlet - I miss you too. (to her friends) I feel like a prince

Maria Josefa - You are a prince honey

Cindy - I feel the goosebumps

Butch Hamlet - Maybe I should do something. Maybe she wants me to avenge her

Cindy - How did she die? Did somebody kill her?

Butch Hamlet - (to the ghost) Did somebody kill you mom?

Ceferina - She seems to be doing ok

Cindy - You don't know. Why did she come back then?

Yoyo Ramona - What?

Butch Hamlet - Do you want me to avenge you?

Ghost makes noise with the empty pan

Cindy - Your mother is so nice

Butch Hamlet - Do I have a British accent?

Francisca - More like Hispanic accent

Butch Hamlet - Like Othello ?

Francisca - Yes, right, like Othello

Ceferina - Well if she doesn't want you to kill anybody this could very well be the end

Yo Yo Ramona - I don't really see her. Do you all see a ghost or you are pretending?

Francisca - You can't see her? You didn't hear anything?

Yo Yo Ramona - No

Ceferina - What's wrong with you?

Yo Yo Ramona - Maybe there's something wrong with you. I don't do drugs

Francisca - We are not on drugs. She is there

Yo Yo Ramona - According to your mind

Cindy - She is calling us crazy

Ceferina - (to Butch Hamlet) Don't you feel like crying?

Butch Hamlet - No, why?

Ceferina - You didn't see your mother in so many years

Yo Yo Ramona - Are you sure she is dead?

Aron - Listen, that is not a person, that is clearly the ghost of a person

They all stare at the ghost that is disappearing slowly

Butch Hamlet - Where did she go?

Maria Josefa - She is gone

They all hug each other

Ceferina - Are we gonna tell people about this?

Francisca - Why not?

Cindy - They'll think we are crazy

TANGO

Butch Hamlet - To live, to die. To love, to be lonely. To starve, to worry about eating too much. To think, to believe. To work, to be unemployed. To be bored, not to have a minute to be bored because you are always working your ass. To care, not to care.
To be or not to be. Are you? Check one. Yes. No. If no. Check one. Woman? Lesbian? Person of color? Poor? Addict? Homeless?

Ceferina - These cherries are delicious.

Francisca - It's getting hot in here

Maria Josefa - Yes, feel free to take off some clothes

Cindy - Thank you honey

(They take off some clothes, and put on some other clothes)

Cindy - I feel more comfortable now

Ceferina - This is a lovely color

Cindy - I made it myself

All - No way

Ceferina - Really? And the skirt too?

Cindy - I make most of my clothes. You just give me a little bit of fabric and scissors. I have so many ideas

Maria Josefa - You were always very creative

Cindy - Yes, I enjoy it

Maria Josefa - The most creative of us all

Yoyo Ramona - I think each person is creative in a different way

Ceferina- You could make money designing clothes you know?

Cindy - I don't do it for the money

Maria Josefa - You just dress yourself?

Cindy - Yes, and the ones I love

Francisca - You never dressed us

Cindy - I made a great dress for Litty once. Do you remember the dress? It was blue, falling like that to the side with a neckline, a lace collar and a bow. You could see her legs up to here. She had beautiful legs. She loved that dress. You didn't see it?

Maria Josefa - Yes, of course we did.

Others - I don't remember

Maria Josefa - She was wearing it in that party, when they gave her the award

Aron - That was a beautiful party

Francisca - I couldn't go to that party. But I think I remember the dress, she wore it for a party

Cindy - What party ?

Ceferina - And where are all her clothes?

All - I don't know. The family probably has it

TANGO : I DRESS THEREFORE I AM

Butch Hamlet
I am a woman in a lesbian body
I am a man in a woman's body
I am a woman's body in men's clothes
I am a man born with earrings
I am a butch costume with long hair
I am a masculine voice of a feminine soul
I am a menstruating female body with masculine gestures
I have a non-shaved woman's skin
I have dyke's clothes
I transvestite when I put on a dress
I wear my name
I am the name
I get dressed, I perform
I can't perform my desire, I can
I can't dress my desire, I can
I have my desire, I am
I wear gestures
I wear expectations
I wear meanings
I don't wear breasts, I have
I don't wear a phallus I am
I say,
I have my sex, I am my gender
I am not naked
I've never been

Cindy - It's so true

Butch Hamlet walks nervously. He is looking at the curtain in front of them

Ceferina - What's with her ?

Cindy - I think she is right.

Francisca - That's the way she feels, leave her alone

Maria Josefa - She is processing

Yoyo Ramona- I think she needs medication

Butch Hamlet - Do you hear?

Cindy - What? What now? Honey, please, we are very stressed out. It's very true what you said. We all agree

Butch Hamlet - Behind that curtain. There's someone in there

Yo Yo Ramona - I don't hear anything. You guys should stop now, you are going crazy

Butch Hamlet - There's someone behind that curtain spying on us

Yoyo Ramona - I told you, she needs medication

Ceferina - I think she is right. There's someone behind the curtain

Yoyo Ramona - You all need medication

Cindy - You should have some respect

Maria Josefa - Please, I don't want this to be happening in my house

Francisca - You invited us here

Maria Josefa - I know. I wonder if this is some kind of message

Yoyo Ramona - There's no message

Cindy - I agree with her. There's no message.

(We hear noise coming from behind the curtain.)

Butch Hamlet - A sword

Aron - (She gives Butch Hamlet a sword) yes, you should go.

Butch Hamlet - They are looking at me from behind the curtains. Why are they spying on me?

Ceferina - It's not only you. They are spying on all of us

Butch Hamlet - No, it's me. I know. My phone is tapped .

(TANGO MUSIC)

To be seen, not to be seen. To be controlled, not to be controlled. To be suspicious, not to be suspicious. To be an honest person. To look like an honest person. To be suspicious. To look suspicious. To be followed. To be paranoid

All - Go!

Cindy - Do you think they are controlling all of us?

Francisca - We should be careful

Maria Josefa - This is so scary. I miss my civil liberties

Felia comes out of the curtain. The women sitting at the porch start yelling at her in Spanish

Cindy - Su mama! Quien la mato?

Yo Yo Ramona - Fue Usted?

Ceferina - Eso! Hijos de puta!

Francisca - La asesinaron

Cindy - Nadie dijo nada. Cobardes. Idiotas

Francisca - Cagones de mierda. Caca en los pantalones

Yo Yo Ramona - Si, si, caca en los pantalones

Cindy - (sad ) Ella estaba tan sola. Pidiendo ayuda

While they are yelling Butch Hamlet approaches slowly the woman. They are looking at each other

Butch Hamlet - What where you doing there?

Ofelia - I was swimming

Butch Hamlet - By yourself?

Ofelia - No, with some friends

Butch Hamlet - Are you a good swimmer?

Ofelia - Yes, I am a great swimmer. What were you guys doing there?

Butch Hamlet - We were looking at the ghost of my mother

Ofelia - Is she there?

Butch Hamlet - No, she left already

Ofelia - What did she want?

Butch Hamlet - Nothing in particular. It looks like she just came for a visit

Felia - You like me right?

Butch Hamlet - I do

Felia - And you would like to go out with me

Butch Hamlet - Yeah

Felia - Are you single?

Butch Hamlet - Yeah. I think so

Felia - And you would like to have a girlfriend

Butch Hamlet - Kind of, yes

Felia - So you have a crush on me

Butch Hamlet - You are very pretty

Felia - No, I am not. I am not really pretty

Butch Hamlet - Yes, you are

Felia - It doesn't matter, I don't care. You have a crush on me anyway

Butch Hamlet - Right

Felia - And you would like to go out with me

Butch Hamlet - Yes, I would love to

Ofelia - Well. I am not the marrying type you know. And I am too young to marry anyway

Butch Hamlet - We don't have to marry.

Felia - But you will still ask me to marry you.

Butch Hamlet - Yes

Felia - You'll say you'll love me forever and you'll want me to promise you that I will love you for ever

Butch Hamlet - Uh-huh

Felia - Forever and ever

Butch Hamlet - Uh-huh

Ofelia - Why?

Butch Hamlet - I am romantic

Ofelia - You could talk about depth of feelings instead of duration

Butch Hamlet - Sure

Felia - Good

Butch Hamlet - I never loved this way before. I loved in ten thousand other ways. You are not the first one obviously, but you could be the one for ever

Ofelia - No, there's no for ever. Can't you talk about depth?

Butch Hamlet - Yes, I love you deeply

Ofelia - That's good

Butch Hamlet - It's not enough

Ofelia - yes, it is

Butch Hamlet - I want you. I desire you. You are hot. You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen

Ofelia - You can't help it

Butch Hamlet - No, I can't. Don't you want to feel unique, somehow? My only one?

Ofelia - Yes, I am. I know I am. You have a big crush on me. I can tell. I care about now only

Butch Hamlet - About now? Are you monogamous?

Ofelia - yeah

Felia - Only now?

Felia - I am monogamous

Butch Hamlet - And how long does it last?

Felia - What do you mean?

Butch Hamlet - You care about now only. It's not very reassuring

Felia - I can't reassure you, sorry

Butch Hamlet - That's what love is there for

Felia - No, it's not

Butch Hamlet - Well, relationships

Felia - You have relationships to be reassured?

Butch Hamlet - No, I didn't say that

Felia - Yes, you did

Butch Hamlet - Some people do, that's what I meant

Felia - Do you like yourself?

Butch Hamlet - Oh, yeah

Felia - Are you sure?

Butch Hamlet - It goes back and forth. Sometimes I feel I am superman, and sometimes I am just the last of all

Felia - You are superman

Butch Hamlet - I love you. Do you want to meet my friends?

Ofelia - Yes, sure

Her friends - (waving) Hi.

Butch Hamlet - Hi, this is Felia

Her friends - Yes, we know. Nice meeting you

Ofelia - I have some cherries

Ceferina - We have cherries, thank you

Maria Josefa - It's ok, we can eat some of her cherries too. Here hon, this is my porch

Ofelia - It's very beautiful

(They start eating Felia's cherries)

Francisca - What were you doing behind the curtain?

Felia - Nothing much

Yoyo Ramona - You always eat cherries?

Felia - Sometimes

Aron - Are you dating?

Felia and Butch Hamlet - No, not really, not yet

Yoyo Ramona - But you like each other

Felia and Butch Hamlet - Yes, we like each other.

Butch Hamlet - (to Felia) I don't know. We discussed only how much I liked you. We didn't get to the part of you liking me

Felia - Yes, I like you

Ceferina - (to Butch Hamlet ) She is too young for you

Aron - It's ok. That's not a problem

Yoyo Ramona - It could be. Sometimes age becomes a problem

Francisca - You can work it out

Ceferina - I feel dizzy

Maria Josefa - I feel nauseous

Francisca - Yes, what is going on?

Yoyo Ramona - Are we all feeling sick?

Cindy - I have something in my stomach, like pain, cramps

Maria Josefa - I can't feel my hands

Yoyo Ramona - My head is killing me

Ceferina - This is very strange

Cindy - Something it's really wrong with these cherries

Ofelia - What do you mean, my cherries?

Maria Josefa - Don't worry honey, don't take it personally, but where did you get them?

Felia - I picked them myself

Ceferina - From where?

Felia - From a tree, duh

Francisca - Well, maybe is not the cherries

Cindy - And what else could it be ?

Francisca - Maybe we are stressed out

Cindy - This is not stress, I know when I am stressed out

Ceferina - It could be food poisoning

Yoyo Ramona - Were we poisoned ?

Felia - Are you saying that I poisoned you ?

Cindy - We didn't mention any poison. Why are you talking about poison?

Felia - (To Butch Hamlet) She said food poisoning

Butch Hamlet - Yes

Cindy - Food poisoning has nothing to do with poison. It means that you ate something bad, not necessarily that you ate poison

Felia - She mentioned poison

Butch Hamlet - Yes

Ceferina - You don't worry honey. We are all a little nervous here, we just saw a ghost

Cindy - I don't know about you, but I am feeling really sick

Yoyo Ramona - I am dizzy

Ceferina - It's the stress. (to Ofelia) It was a very intense experience you know?

Ofelia - I understand, but my cherries are perfectly fine, I was eating them myself

Ceferina - Of course they were fine honey

Butch Hamlet - (While her friends are throwing up) What is wrong with you ? At last I am happy. Can't you be more supportive? I love this woman like I never loved before. I never loved this way. I never loved before this way. This is not the way I usually love. I am loving, but loving, but in loving. My love is growing and growing

Ofelia (to Butch Hamlet) - It's ok, it's ok

Butch Hamlet - No, it's not ok. These are my friends. I wanted you to meet my friends and they accuse you of poisoning them

Maria Josefa - We are not accusing anybody

Ceferina - You didn't eat the cherries

Butch Hamlet - Are you insinuating that

Francisca - We are feeling sick. That's all

Cindy - Very sick, all at once

Ceferina - It has nothing to do with being supportive of your relationship. All I said was that she might be too young for you, but I was supportive, then I started feeling sick

Felia - You are jealous

Butch Hamlet - Yes, why are you doing this?

Ceferina - You are the one doing this

Others - Exactly, you wrote the script

Cindy- You wanted some kind of crescendo or conflict, that's why you brought the cherries?

Maria Josefa - Oh, my Goddess, you did this to us?

Butch Hamlet - No, I didn't want any crescendo or conflict. I don't need that. You guys are getting hysterical

Felia - Stop fighting, It's all my fault. You were all good friends before I came in

Francisca - You call yourself a feminist, and you put all these women fighting?

Felia - They were not fighting before I came. So maybe I should exit

Ceferina - She did this for a conflict, I know her

Cindy - You poisoned us for conflict?

Yoyo Ramona - Are you using us to get some respect ?

Maria Josefa - Oh, my God, She is trying to get a job teaching!

Butch Hamlet - I don't, stop guys!

Francisca - Guys? We are women.

Butch Hamlet - Stop women

Maria Josefa - And you wanted us to be supportive of your relationship? This little lady came here to poison us

Felia - I didn't

Maria Josefa - Just for some little orgasm. You know where conflict comes from? From men's orgasm.

Yoyo Ramona - From men's orgasm?

Aron - What?

Maria Josefa - The whole crescendo towards the conflict , The tension, and more tension, and then the denouement, and then you relax. That comes from men's orgasm. You guys don't read anything?

Aron - I read

Yoyo Ramona - Me too. I read. But I didn't know that. (to Butch Hamlet) You have orgasms like that?

Maria Josefa - No, women have many orgasms, it's different

Francisca - I have one, a strong one

Butch Hamlet - Yeah, I have one too

Cindy - So all this is about our orgasms? So, if there's no conflict it means you don't have orgasms?

Ceferina - So we had an orgasm?

Maria Josefa - In a way, yes

Butch Hamlet - Can we smoke a cigarette?

Aron - No, you can't smoke in here

Ceferina - Well, we can't have sex either and we did

Maria Josefa - No, we didn't. We had an orgasm, but we didn't have sex

Yoyo Ramona - Were we masturbating?

Maria Josefa - No, we were having an orgasm. You guys are so literal

Francisca- Her orgasm

Cindy - Oh, now we can relax. We had an orgasm. You had your crescendo. You can smoke your cigarette

Ceferina - Oh, my Goddess, she is going to kill us now. We all gonna die!

Butch Hamlet - Oh stop, you are going crazy

Maria Josefa - Oh my god, you are right, this is a tragedy. We are going to die

Yoyo Ramona - Are you trying to get funding?

Butch Hamlet - No, nobody is going to die

Cindy - We all gonna die. I know about this. She is lying. This is part of the plot

Yoyo Ramona - Are we starting another orgasm?

Francisca - So you are a feminist after all

Butch Hamlet - Because of the second orgasm?

Aron - I came already. I am done.

Yoyo Ramona - Where can we smoke a cigarette?

Maria Josefa - Nobody goes anywhere. We all gonna come together

Ceferina - And we can't even kiss. (to Butch Hamlet ) Brilliant idea, all butches, we can't kiss now, where did you get that ?

Cindy - Excuse me, I am a femme

Maria Josefa - I don't know how are we going to release all this tension

Ceferina - I feel more relaxed already

Cindy - Me too. I always believed in orgasms, I mean conflict, or both

Yoyo Ramona - Now I feel closer to you guys

Maria Josefa - Oh, yes, yes

They will walk to the table where big pieces of bone will be served. They will start eating ribs .

The Bones Monologue

Butch Hamlet - Who was carrying these bones, as a natural interior support of the flesh?

Ceferina - A cow, and we ate it

Butch Hamlet - We ate the flesh, we spat the bones. We are licking the bones of the cow they stole from us. Once she was playing with me in the lands

Maria Josefa - You play with cows?

Butch Hamlet - Once she was my friend, she made me laugh

Ceferina - We didn't kill the cow ok?

Butch Hamlet - Yes, we did. We do

Cindy - We all gonna die

Butch Hamlet - True. So we might as well kill one another. Let's all kill each other.
Let me eat you Felia until you die. What are we going to do with all the bones and all the blood?

Yoyo Ramona - It's too late to do anything. Keep eating and don't worry anymore

Butch Hamlet - I am not worried. I don't worry. I want fried chicken. Who can kill a chicken for me? So many bones. You kill it. You can do the frying

Aron - What frying?

Yoyo Ramona - The hot oil thing

Aron - That frying? Ok

Butch Hamlet - Would it be horrifying to have a skull on our plate?

Others - Yes, it would.

Maria josefa - I wouldn't be able to eat with a skull on my plate

Butch Hamlet - No, it wouldn't. We would get used to it. We eat with skulls on our plate every day

Cindy - Talk for yourself. I don't have any skull in my plate

Maria Josefa - Neither do I

Yoyo Ramona - I wonder what is she trying to say

Ceferina - I think this is the effect of her seeing the ghost of her mother. (to Butch Hamlet) You mother is fine. You should stop worrying about these things now

Aron - She works too much. She is tired

Cindy - Maybe it's the cherries

Felia - I knew you were going to blame me

Cindy - I didn't say your cherries, I said the cherries

Felia - Is she a vegetarian?

Butch Hamlet - Do you think I am paranoid ?

Others - No, we don't think you are paranoid

Felia - Vegetarian I said

Maria Josefa - Listen, we are good people here. I think you are insulting us

Butch Hamlet - Insults. You want to hear insults ? They are only for women. Blame the language

Cindy - It's true, blame the language

Ceferina - No, that's not true. There are insults for men too

Maria Josefa - Right. What about bastard ?

Yoyo Ramona - You are insulting the mother there

Aron - Pig

Francisca - Motherfucker

Ceferina - Leave the mother there

Francisca - Fucker

Ceferina - Right. (to Butch Hamlet ) You see ? (to the others) We don't have anymore?

Maria Josefa - I think that's it

Butch Hamlet -
I am a frigid bitch
My mother is a bald nymphomaniac
My grand mother is a hypochondriac whore
My great grandmother was an ugly dog
My great great grand mother was a dizzy dame
My sister is a flat chested witch
My aunt is a dowdy matron
My great aunt was a whiny bimbo
My mother-in- law was a cunt
My niece is a stinking vamp
My grand niece is an illiterate slut
My Mother Superior was a snobby, pretentious petit bourgeois
My step mother was a ball buster
My nurse is a hysterical wench
My butcher's wife is a tacky whale
My gypsy fortune teller is a dumb broad
My wet nurse was a fag-hag
My girlfriends are all low-class common fat-assed cows
My girl-scout leader was a sex-starved widow
My half sister is a vicious spinster
My manicurist is an old hag
My typist is a loony hussy
My Avon lady is a temptress
My god mother is a tramp
My seamstress is a bull-dyke
My landlady is an aggressive crone
My grandmother's maid is a home wrecker
My neighbor's washer woman is a bleeding-heart liberal
My midwife was an untalented chorus girl
My girlfriend is a whore
My queen is a conniving shrew

Rony appears yelling form the back

Rony - Hello, anybody home?

Maria Josefa - Who's that? What are you doing in my house?

Rony - You have to evacuate this place

All - What? Why?

Rony - Clear the way, open some room, there's a funeral passing by

All - A funeral?!

Rony - Yes, please, clear the way

A funeral passes by. A rolling coffin with a dead woman on it. At this point audience, performers and funeral are all mixed up. The rolling coffin crosses the theater, to the sides performers and audience look at the funeral quietly.

Felia - Oh, my God, that's me!

Cindy - What do you mean you?

Felia - It's me. I am dead, I died. That's my funeral

Butch Hamlet - You are not dead, I love you

Felia - That's why you love me, I don't exist

Butch Hamlet - You do exist

Felia - Yes, but I am not real

Cindy - Oh, my God. You are a ghost too?

Ceferina - She is like your mother, that's why you fell in love with her

Butch Hamlet - Were you dead all this time?

Cindy - It doesn't matter. You love her, that's the important thing, and she exists here inside your heart. She makes you happy

Ceferina - It never occur to me to check funerals, maybe I'll see mine

Yoyo Ramona - No, you won't, you are alive

Francisca - Yes, for once I have to agree with her

Maria Josefa - That's why the cherries made us sick. They were decomposing

Aron - Everything makes sense now

Yoyo Ramona - What makes sense? Nothing makes sense to me

Dead Felia wakes up and joins the group

Yoyo Ramona - (to the weird creatures carrying the coffin) Are you people also dead?

Maria Josefa - Please don't be rude.

Cindy - Exactly. We don't care. You are welcome here. Nobody will ask you if you are dead or alive, coming back from death, going there

Yoyo Ramona - We are cool with ghosts here

Cindy - Exactly, my very good friend Litty rests in peace in this lady's pants for example

Aron - And a little bit on the shirt

Francisca - Just her ashes

Maria Josefa - Her mother comes for frequent visits to my porch

Butch Hamlet - I was dating a dead person

Ceferina - You're still dating her

Butch Hamlet - I don't know

Felia - Are you breaking up with me?

Butch Hamlet - No, I don't know

Felia - You said you loved me for eternity. This is eternity

Butch Hamlet - I didn't say eternity. I said for ever

All - This is ever

Cindy - The poor girl, she is breaking her heart now

Maria Josefa - Where are your feelings? She just saw her own funeral

Francisca - How can you do this to her?

Yoyo Ramona - She is very pretty

Aron - And she is very nice

Butch Hamlet - Oh, now you like her?

All - Of course, she is dead

Ceferina - But we should stay away from her cherries

Felia - Yes, I am sorry

Butch Hamlet - Will we be able to have sex?

Cindy - Don't be rude

Maria Josefa - You'll have orgasms

Yoyo Ramona - No more orgasms!

Dead Felia - I should keep going

Ceferina - You don't have to go

Dead Felia - This is a funeral

Butch Hamlet - She is right. You guys keep talking about orgasms, this is a funeral

Maria Josefa - Funeral or no funeral, this is my house, and everybody should be comfortable. You might be dead but you are dating my friend, you should stay with us

Felia - You thought I was poisoning you!

Cindy - We didn't know you were dead honey

Butch Hamlet - I don't know if I want to date a dead person

Maria Josefa - Well, too late to think about that

Ceferina - Listen, you were happy. Don't let something so small change your feelings

Butch Hamlet - It's not so small

Deaf Felia - Yes, it is small. Believe me. I am dead, I can tell you that, it's not a big deal

Butch Hamlet - What if I meet somebody alive?

All - No way. Nothing will compare to her. You'll love her more. She is perfect

Butch Hamlet - Yes, she is perfect

Maria Josefa - I thought myself I couldn't deal with a ghost, and here I am, with all these ghosts and dead people, and ashes, and my neighbors. (to the audience) Hi, I thought I didn't like my neighbors. Everybody should sit down on this side now, we have a show for you

They will move all the chairs to one side of the theater and leave some space for a performance.

Butch Hamlet - Please sit comfortably, we have a show for you, about a prince and her mother and her love

Butch Hamlet is facing the audience the rest of the performers will talk from the audience

Ceferina - And her friends

Butch Hamlet - And her friends

Felia - And her girlfriend

Butch Hamlet - And her girlfriend

Maria Josefa - I was the first one to see the ghost

Butch Hamlet - Maria Josefa was the first one to see the ghost

Maria Josefa - And I invited everybody to my house, which was the beginning of the whole story

Butch Hamlet - Right, we are all here because she invited us

Yoyo Ramona - And we had multiple orgasms

Cindy - Don't be rude

Francisca - I had one

Butch Hamlet - We had some orgasms

Francisca - I brought Litty

Cindy - You didn't bring her, she is in your house, you said

Butch Hamlet - Now we know where Litty is

Cindy - No, we don't know anything, that's only what she says

Butch Hamlet - Ok, the performers are waiting. Please, enjoy the show...

The clowns come. The show starts

Clown 1 - The Queen is dead

Clown 2 - The King is dead

Clown 1 - The prince is dead

Clown 2 - The ex-King is dead too.

Clown 1 - Been dead for a while that one

Clown 2 - The ghost of the king is dead. The Princess to be is dead

Clown 1 - The father of the princess to be is dead

Clown 2 - The guy who wanted to kill the prince is dead

Clown 1 - They are all dead

Clown 2 - The whole royalty is dead. God we are sad

Clown 1 - We have no king

Clown 2 - No queen, no prince, no princess, no fathers of princesses. They are all fucking dead

Clown 1 - They killed each other

Clown 2 - They killed themselves

Clown 1 - The king killed the queen

Clown 2 - The prince killed the king

Clown 1 - The king killed the prince with the sword of the guy who wanted to kill the prince

Clown 2 - But then the guy who wanted to kill the prince told the prince to kill the king

Clown 1 - That's why the prince killed the king

Clown 2 - The second king, the one who killed before the first king

Clown 1- Throwing poison in his ear he killed the king

Clown 2 - With poison in the sword he killed the prince

Clown 1 - With poison in the drink he killed the queen

Clown 2 - He didn't want to kill the queen. He wanted to kill the prince. But then the queen drank the drink and she got the poison

Clown 1 - It was for the prince that drink

Clown 2 - And the prince killed the brother of the princess to be

Clown 1 - The princess to be killed herself

Clown 2 - Because the prince killed her father

Clown 1 - It was an accident. He was spying behind the curtain

Clown 2 - It was an accident, she was just swimming

Clown 1 - She was not doing ok

Clown 2 - The prince told her, go to a convent

Clown 1 - He did

Clown 2 - That's how they all died

Clown 1 - We didn't do anything

Clown 2 - Everything started when the ghost of the king told the prince that his brother, who became king after his death had killed him

Clown 1 - He wanted the prince to revenge him

Clown 2 - And so he did

Clown 1 - And everybody died

Clown 2 - We are mourning

Clown 1 - The prince found a skull then

Clown 2 - At the cemetery

Clown 1- And he talks about death and life

Clown 2 - Words we'll never forget

Clown 1 - Never

Clown 2 - That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. ... This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'erraches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?

Clown 1 - It might my lord

Clown 2 - Or of a courtier

Clown 1 - It might my lord

Clown 2 - Here there's another one. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer?

Clown 1 - The queen is dead!! The Queen is dead!!!

Clown 2 - Oh my God! Are you sure? Is she dead? Really dead ?

Clown 1 - Yes, really dead. She just died!

Clown 2 - Oh, my God. Oh, My God. I can hardly believe it! What are we gonna do?

Clown 1- What are we gonna do?

Clown 2 - What are we gonna do?

Clown 1 - Oh, What?? What are we gonna do?? I don't know, we are lost!

Clown 2 - We are lost

Clown 1 - We are lost. We have no queen!

Clown 2 - We still have the palace

Clown 1 - Yes, we have the palace

Clown 2 - Great, we have the palace

Clown 1 - What good is a palace without a queen ?

Clown 2 - And without a king ?

Clown 1 - And without a prince ?

Clown 2 - Who wants a palace without a king, and a queen and a prince?

Clown 1 - Nobody

Clown 2 - Nobody

Clown 1 - I want the palace

Clown 2 - I want the palace. Let's take the palace

Clown 1 - Yes, the queen is dead. God bless the queen

Clown 2 - God, bless the queen

Clown 1 - The palace. Let's go to the palace

Clown 2 - Yes, let's go

Clown 1 & Clown 2 - Noooooo

Clown 1 - We shouldn't take over the palace

Clown 2 - We shouldn't take the palace

Clown 1 - The palace is for the King

Clown 2 - And for the queen

Clown 1 - And for the prince

Clown 2 - And the princess

Clown 1 - We should wait

Clown 2 - Yes, we should wait

Clown 1 - God is gonna send another King

Clown 2 - And another queen

Clown 1 - God always sends those things

Clown 2 - Yes, God bless God

Clown 1 - King bless God

Clown 2 - Yes, let them bless each other

Clown 1 - We'll wait

Clown 2 - We'll wait

Clown 1 - We are waiting. They are all dead

Clown 2 - We should mourn

Clown 1 - Let's party

Clown 2 - Let's mourn

Clown 1 - party

Clown 2 - Party

Clown 1 - Yes, party

The end

Copyright 2002 Susana Cook

Quito

2009-05-05T19:47:00.001-07:00

I've been to the middle of the world and I have a key holder to prove it

Writing technique

2009-04-27T18:39:00.000-07:00

Feel. Don’t think. Or better, think about your feelings. Mmmmm, isn’t it nice?. We have everything inside, it’s all there. Get in touch with yourself. And nothing else. Then write. About yourself, about your feelings. Close your eyes. Try not to see what’s around you. You see? The world disappears. Nice, it feels nice.
And then, while you are writing about your emotions, try to figure out who would care to read that. There’s somebody out there very interested in reading about your emotions. And that person is… You
So now, read what you wrote. Do you like it?
Of course you do. And now try to get a friend who would be willing to read what you wrote. If you can’t find one sign up for a class where people read and listen to each other’s work. I know it’s expensive but it’s very important to get other people to listen to what you wrote.
The secret of this technique is to make sure that you have lots of emotions inside you.
So get out there and get emotions.
Emote yourself.
E-motion.
E-mailing it’s very good. Just make sure that you close your eyes from time to time, and get in touch with the e-motions that each e-mail produces

Dykenstein-Wow cafe 2003- written and directed by Susana Cook

2009-04-13T15:12:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

Mabou Mine's Doll's House

2009-03-07T08:05:00.001-08:00

It was around 1993 or 94, I wrote a proposal for a grant for directors. In that proposal I had to describe how would I direct Cloud 9 by Caryl Churchill. One of the elements that I proposed in my description was that I wanted to cast very short men and very, very tall women for the play. My intention was to impose a feminist vision of the world, stressing how women are sometimes invisible, I wanted to make them oversized. My idea was inspired by Sandy Allen, the giant woman in Fellini’s Caanova, this idea of the oversized women was the only strong visual element that was going to travel through the play.
I didn’t win the grant, so I didn’t produce the show because I didn’t have any money and don’t think I saved my rejection letter.
About 10 years later I heard that Lee Breuer, from Mabou Mines directed A Doll’s House with that same idea.
I thought, could it be a coincidence? I didn’t go to see the play, I was upset, and I don’t have any prove of who read my proposal. Mabou Mines is a very well established and respected theater company and I was nobody, new in New York.
Yesterday I went to see a re-staging of the same production at St Ann’s Warehouse and I found myself thinking again, could it be a coincidence? I guess I’ll never know.

2009-01-19T14:11:00.000-08:00

Screaming

Que el agua ya esta caliente! Que ya hirvio el agua!

Phone rings

Hi, oh my God! That’s awful. When did it happen? Oh, jeez
Yes, it’s true, we all gonna die
Okay, we’ll talk later

Screaming again

It’s dead now! The water is dead. It’s true, we waste too much water. And who cares about your stupid bath anyway?
I could be representing so many things at this mment. I could be meaning something
Have you been reading about mental illness lately? Do you know how it works? No, you don’t. Nobody does
We hope not to starve right?
Not to be tortured
Not suffer from illness, pain, injustice, heart break
We all gonna die anyway, but those two minutes that we are alive we want to be free. And the people around us to be free too. Happy, we are all happy
I prefer not to be killed harrased, tortured, sentenced to death,. And do not send me to war, cause I am not gonna fight
I stopped believing in God and I am running out of future, so I don’t believe in the future anymore
But everytime the sun comes up a new day starts and we feel hope again
Unless we’ve been devoured by the darkness already
I have
I used to be happy like a child
But we are dying, they are killing us, one by one
But I am here to make you happy, to give you faith in art and love and new forms
I want to be so post post modern
And I don’t want to be screaming. I want to murmur in your ear and make love
Let me give you some consolation. You don’t have to do anything. Stop accomplishing. You don’t have to accomplish anything
Look, the new thing in acting is to not act
The new thing about me is that you’ll never know which one is me

I am not acting, I am really dying, right here, in front of you
I tried before to kill myself, then I changed my mind. I am not just going to die, not kill myself, but stop existing

Ay estos latinos, mi dios, que tragicos que son, que melodramaticos!

- What are you trying to do? To make me feel guilty? Fuck you, fuck you. Go die in your basement!. I don’t need to see this

It’s too crowded in my basement. We are all dying in the basement! Nobody is going to notice if I die there!

Gosh it’s fun in there, we fuck and dance
How did I make it all the way here? I am free. It’s true, I shouldn’t be ungrateful. It’s thank to you that I am here
No, I don’t do drugs
I don’t pray, I don’t fast
There’s a lot of people marching. They are all leaving their homes and joining the huge march to end the wars, they are screaming and runing at last
I don’t want to die without seeing it. We talked too long already. They torture animals and people, even a flooding sounds better
They even believe in rapture. Their rapture
They took everything from us, god, earth, what is in here and what is in there
And who is them anyway? Who’s us?
I am the one cleaning your ass
No, I am not a nurse. But I should. To see you dying. Or them? Okay, them
I want you to hate me and throw stones at me
It’s you an me and 5 millions who don’t give a shit

I am going to dance to elevate your soul. I will show you my craft. I will prove you how beautiful a human being can be. I am healthy. I am alive. I am screaming and you are listening. There’s so much literature already. I am iliterate. I can’t even speak properly. And so what? You’ll go home and think, what’s next? And we all know so well what’s next. It’s all lined up for us. Waiting
One sip at the time. It’s just one more day at work, then we’ll take a break. There’s no more time for philosophy. Don’t analize me, we’ll march until we die. Because it’s all mashed up together.
It’s desperation I am talking about. It’s all the people out there, waiting. For us to do something about it. To help them. Do you know what is like to suffer and nobody knows? Nobody comes to help you. Nobody can hear you. Maybe we do. Maybe we can hear them. And that’s what’s making us sick, inside

Outside the realm of human-
people are different from humans. Gente es diferente de los animales

The bowel movement
The women’s movement
The dance movement

I am telling you, poetry dies when you are happy
I am telling you, it dies when you don’t care anymore
Or you have no more to say and you start repeating the same
Or when you feel burned out., no more. Did you make any change? So why do you continue?
I’ve been talking to you the whole time
I’ve been talking to you the whole time
It doesn’t matter if you don’t listen. Or if you are there at all
The important thing is
Actually, there’s no important thing
The thing is
There’s no importan thing
But it’s funny, it takes a lot of work to make you laugh
And what do I care if you laugh?
And who are you anyway?
It doesn’t matter as long as you love me or you hate me
Really, it doesn’t matter. This is actually about me
About me talking to you. Listen. Listen. I am no philosopher. I am no nothing. I walk. I walk. That’s what I do. I get tired. Phisically tired. Not even emotionally tired anymore. Everything goes so fast. When I was younger things wer moving slowly I thought. The old people, the children, everything was in one place as it was
Everything was more permanent, they were old, we were young. Then everything starts moving faster. People die, people grow, everything changes so fast, nothing stays in one place. We are not really much of anything. It makes sense to care you know. It makes sense. Break the space. Open a hole. For beauty, art. Come-on, scream, it’s art, it’s a protest, you are protesting now, and you are creating art, come on this is new york. I have to confess, I love New York. I have to confess, I…. mmm… should I say that? Snobby, pretentious piece of shit

Language! What a marvelous thing language
I am sure it’s knowledge that you are producing, poetry, politics maybe. Don’t mix up everything. We are here to witness the disaster.
The chaos, the disgusting injustice. And do nothing about it
It feels so burgeois to be thinking and acting and writing. If we would believe that this little moment that we are sharing. This little instant between you and me. If we believe that this little moment it’s important. If we believe in this instant, then we wouldn’t let it pass. We wouldn’t let it go. Now. Right now. In this little moment, we are being part of the universe. And we are together. For good or for worse, we are together. If I would tell you exactly what I think
It’s so good to learn how to lie, very useful
Let me tell you exactly what hapenned

2009-01-17T17:56:00.000-08:00

I wanted to write a play about the rights of animals
but people told me, why do you care about animals? There's children dying of hunger in the world, you know?
So I started writing a play about children dying of hunger in the world
And they told me, what about the war?
so I started writing about the war
but they were upset you don't care about the death penalty then?
so I wrote about the death penalty
Aren't you a lesbian?
okay, I'll write about lesbians
Who cares about lesbians, there's homeless people you know?
okay, I'll write about homeless lesbians then
What makes you think that you can make any change with your plays?
so I didn’t even try to make a change
who goes to see your plays anyway?
It's true, I should get more audience
Aren't you preaching to the converted?
Maybe I should preach to the non-converted
Why, you think the converted need no support, no preaching?
You are right, I'll write shows for my community then
You obviously can't leave your ghetto
Ok, I'll write about everybody
You just don't get it. Do you really think all those problems are isolated but they are really only one: Capitalism
Get it, we need a revolution
okay, I'll write for the revolution
Are you sure this revolution is for us too? We are queer remember?
ok, I'll write for the queer revolution
All you need is love
I'll do some abstract dance

The Fraud

2009-01-10T07:21:00.001-08:00

Click to Play

Lost or never had it

2009-01-08T15:24:00.000-08:00

This is a scene from The Fraud. During the play the characters think they lost something, they actually did, but then they think they didn’t, they think they never had it

ANDREA – Oh, my God, where are the kids?
JO – What kids?
ANDREA – My kids…
SAM – They were here
ANDREA - Wait , what’s wrong with me. I don’t have kids
JO – You do
ANDREA – Really? Where are they?
JO – I don’t know, but I know you have kids
Noah – I want to have kids too
JO – She has kids already
MARTA – You guys are going crazy
ANDREA – Why are you saying that?
MARTA – Because you are losing touch with reality, you are imagining things
ADELO – That’s not what crazy means
MARTA – Yes, crazy means that you are losing touch with reality
ADELO – What reality?
MARTA – The reality
SAM – I thought it was creative to imagine things
ANDREA – You can also lose touch with reality with a good meditation and I think that’s good
ADELO – What reality?
MARTA – You don’t know what reality means?
ADELO – I know what it means, I don’t know which one are you referring to
ANDREA – There’s plenty
MARTA – No, there’s one
ADELO – There’s more than one
MARTA – No, I can touch it. This is the reality. Touch it it’s over there (she touches the wall)
JO – That is the wall it’s not the reality
MARTA – It’s real, it’s over there. You can touch it, it’s the only thing you can touch
JO – I can touch you
MARTA– Yes, because I am real
SAM – Can I kiss you?
MARTA– No
SAM – So you are not real
MARTA – Not to you
SAM – real to her, not to me
ADELO - There’s more than the walls in here, and all those things are real
ANDREA - What do you mean?
ADELO - There’s plenty of stuff going on in here. For one thing we are talking
JO - Right, ok. There’s the talking. Touch my talking
ADELO -There’s words, there’s language, there’s history
ANDREA - So, it’s the wall plus everything we are saying
JO – Plus Marta. I touched her
ANDREA - Plus Marta
SAM - Not only Marta. I am here too
ANDREA - Plus her
ADELO - Let’s say all of us, plus the wall, plus what we are saying
MARTA- I could use a TV, or a radio
Noah - That would be too much

The Fraud was presented at WOW café after the 2000 elections in the U.S. Written and directed by Susana Cook. Original music Julian Mesri. Performers: Mistah, Imani Henry, Alison Duncan, Saira, Nora, Migdalia Gimenez and Susana Cook

OF HOW PROFESSOR ANDERSON DIED CHOKING IN THE HALLWAY WHILE WE WERE ALL WATCHING IN FEAR OF TOUCHING A SOON TO BE DEAD BODY

2008-12-11T18:20:00.000-08:00

Remember professor Anderson?

Anderson?

The tall guy, skinny, with glasses

Oh, yeah, the British guy

No, that one is Gallagher. I am talking about Anderson, the tall guy with glasses

And brown suit with the handkerchief in his pocket?

Yes, that one

What about him?

He was walking down the hallway, right there, he started choking and breathing heavily. He loosened his tie. He started grabbing the walls, he was about to fall. He was not screaming, he was choking

Oh my God!

Then he fell on his knees, he started coughing, he made a huge noise, some saliva started coming out of his mouth mixed with some other fluids, then he fell and he died

Oh my God, that’s awful

Yes, really bad

__________________

No, no, officer, he wasn’t doing drugs, he was just choking, he probably had a heart attack or something. Yes, Anderson, Professor Anderson…. Yes, he is a professor of British Literature. Extremely educated guy, almost British you could say… No, we don’t think he had a fight with anybody… I definitely don’t think that somebody could be trying to kill him… Who doesn’t have enemies officer? Who? Don’t you have enemies? But professor Anderson was for the most part loved by all of us… yes I agree, we should definitely analyze the fluids officer… in case there’s drugs there…. Autopsy?!? Officer, that’s awful! Let get professor Anderson rest in peace! Yes, of course… He was walking down the hallway… he started choking… I don’t know if you ever experienced anything like that… like your throat starts getting drier and smaller and the air doesn’t seem to have enough space to come in… He didn’t even have enough air to ask for help… to say a word… He started grabbing the walls

Officer - Nobody was helping him?

For the most part we were contemplating, we couldn’t understand what was going on… We had the suspicion that he was dying. And who wants to touch a dead body officer? And then being accused of killing him? You know the law better than me officer, you don’t touch a dead body without gloves

OF HOW THE AUTOPSIE OF PROFESSOR ANDERSON REVEALED THAT HE WAS IN FACT 1- IN DRUGS 2- POISONED 3- BY ONE OF HIS STUDENTS

I find horrifying this disgusting habit of opening people’s dead bodies to look for information that will not be relevant anymore to that person anyway , because that person is DEAD

Forensic doctor - Excuse me sir, this is a morgue, you can’t speak that loud in here

Screaming - Why? Why can’t I scream? Who is going to wake up? They are all dead, did you notice?

Forensic - Sir, please

Look what you did to professor Anderson! Please don’t dare to do that to me if I die choking in a hallway, got it?
Crying Poor professor Anderson, todo remendado

Forensic doctor - Excuse me sir, I don’t do this for fun and if you must know, yes, we did find some important information during Mr. Anderson’s autopsy

Oh, really? What did you find?

Professor Anderson was in fact doing drugs at the time of his death

What? Professor Anderson? It can’t be true

Well, we have scientific proof

Oh, my God, yo can’t get to know anybody, can you?

There’s more sir

More?
Yes, I have to tell you also that professor Anderson was in fact victim of poisoning, he was poisoned

Poisoned?

Yes, poisoned

Oh my God!

By one of his students

By one of his students?! Oh my goodness!... Wait, how could you find out who poisoned him through an autopsy?

Fingerprints

Fingerprints?

Yes, fingerprints. We found out, through careful monitoring that the person who poisoned him allegedly touched his knee, accidentally or intentionally, with a finger that had particles of the poison that subsequently we found in his stomach. By following carefully the path of the poison we could infer that the person ,( I am not going to venture myself into assuming any specific gender for the person in question but I am ready to assume that this person was of the male group because we also found our during the autopsy that Mr. Anderson was gay

Gay?! Mr. Anderson gay? Oh my goodness, it can’t be possible! He was such a good Christian. He was even homophobic! He really believed in the evil of sin!

Anyway… the “person” in question “touched” Mr. Anderson’s knee with a finger that was slightly dirty with the same poison that we found inside Mr. Anderson’s stomach. The fingerprints on the poison stain are being identified as we speak…

the gender of my characters

2008-12-09T17:41:00.000-08:00

wow, I didn't write in a long time, too busy with facebook or what?
Okay, this is how I am writing the gender of the characters in my plays these days. I usually look for names that have no gender, but if I am writing in the context that I have to say if it's a man or a woman, then I write knowing if it's a man or a woman or whatever gender the character has/is/. I keep going. Then when i finish the scene or act or play, I switch the gender.
Even if we don't like it, but we all have stereotypes and shit to deal with, but then when you reverse the gender, ( I know there's more than two genders, but I am saying for the sake of writing the play), it's so much more interesting
No se, digo

La Furia de los Dioses

2008-04-05T16:51:00.000-07:00

LA FURIA DE LOS DIOSES- escritos contra-biblicos

Despues que cayeron las flores y los frutos, los arboles quedaron desnudos. Asi que sintieron pudor y fueron a esconderse.
Entonces dios que queria castigarlos, los castigo.
Y los arboles se cayeron entonces. De golpe. Tantos arboles pesados cayeron al mismo tiempo que hicieron mucho ruido. Entonces la gente se dio cuenta de que los dioses estaban enojados. Porque temblaba la tierra de furia divina.
Tan fuerte fue el impacto de los arboles cayendo que se sacudieron los mares y produjeron unas olas enormes que se tragaron a la tierra
Y toda esa furia tenia una razon. Los dioses estaban enojadas por los homosexuales que vivian en la tierra, mas que nada en los estados unidos de america, donde se los llamaba gays. Y no iban a parar de tirar arboles con el viento, arboles muertos y desnudos hasta que se acabaran los gays de los eeuu.
Y fue asi como un grupo de gente muy piadosa devota a la gloria de dios y servicio del projimo quizo ayudar a los dioses y decidieron empezar a matar a los homosexuales , para que los dioses ya no esten enojados.
Cada homosexual que mataban los dioses se ponian un poquito mas contentos. Cuando ya se habian terminado los homosexuales y los enterraron a todos en el centro de la tierra, entonces los dioses se pusieron contentos y se calmaron los mares y los vientos. Y volvieron a crecer arboles con hojas y flores. Las niñas saltaban en los jardines, con sus vestiditos rosas con moñitos y los niños jugaban con los camioncitos y los revolveres. Habia paz y armonia, porque asi era la voluntad del padre. Y por cada niño con camotito habia una niña con panochita. Porque un dia se iban a casar y tener mas niñitos.al consumar matrimonio que es un camino de santidad. Y cada hijo de la iglesia comprendio que estaba llamado a ser santo. Asi que dios ya no se volvio a enojar. Dios se enoja cuando ve homosexuales. Pero ya no quedaba ninguno. Dios tambien se enoja si la gente no reza. Pero toda la gente rezaba. Dios tambien se enoja si la gente se acuesta con el vecino o comete adulterio. Pero nadie se acostaba con el vecino ni cometia adulterio. Dios tambien se enoja si cocinan al cordero dado vuelta sin sal y si le ponen levadura al pan. Pero nadie le ponia levadura al pan y todos dieron vuelta al cordero.
Y que habia que ayudar a los pobre decia dios. Asi que le cambiaron el nombre a los pobres. Asi que estaba todo bien, ya no habia pobres en el sentido biblico.

Y a los que quedaban les dijeron que habia un mundo mejor esperando por ellos. pero que tenian que morirse primero.
Los pobres se pusieron contentisimos porque ellos serian bienvenidos en el reino del Señor.
Pero entonces los ricos, que habian inventado la mentira se pusieron celosos. Ellos tambien querian entrar en el reino del Señor y empezaron a rezar y dijeron:
No es verdad que los ricos no van a entrar al cielo! El cielo esta lleno de millonarios!

El cielo esta lleno de Americanos because God Loves America!

Va de Retro Satanas! Dijeron los demonios y escupieron unos fluidos asquerosos

Y las gentes de la tierra seguian leyendo y aprendiendo sobre sus origenes

Adan fue hecho del polvo y Eva era una costilla!
No! Gritaron las mjeres, Eva no era una costilla, Eva fue creada con una costilla!
Adan estaba solo , dijeron los hombres, entonces Dios creo a Eva para el y deliberadamente despues de el
Y por eso comemos las costillas de los cerdos porque nos recuerda a la esposa de Adan y la santidad del matrimonio
Y advirtieron a los cristianos del desorden y el lio que se armaria si la gente no se casara.
El mundo empezaria a pudrirse con fornicacion, inmundicia y promiscuidad

Y las mujeres entonces se tiraban el agua hirviente de las cacerolas en sus ropas para lavar sus pecados

Y los mal pensados empezaron a insinuar lo que no podia insinuarse
Porque ya tenia 33 años y no se habia casado.... NO! Gritaban los pelegrinos NO!
Jesus no era gay! Todavia no se habia casado porque estaba ocupadisimo curando a los enfermos!
Y que tanto rollo con los pobres? era communista?
No, Jesus no era comunista! gritaban los fieles
Estaba un poco confundido con el tema de los pobres pero no apoyo activamente ninguna revolucion!
Era el hijo de Dios y Maria
Virgen Maria, madre de dios ruega por nosotros pecadores ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte

Y Dios les dijo: No Mataras!

Pero ellos mataron a los ciervos y colgaron las cabezas en la sala de sus casas
Y los guerreros se pusieron celosos y dijeron:
Porque pueden los cazadores colgar las cabezas de los ciervos? Nosotros tambien queremos colgar las cabezas de los que matamos!
Y colgaron en sus casas las cabezas de sus enemigos!

Y la sangre seguia corriendo por la tierra y se hicieron rios de sangre derramada

Y mataban a los pollos, y mataban a los niños y mataban a las vacas y a los cerdos y a las mujeres y a los soldados

Y los ministros de dios dijeron es culpa de los hijos extramatrimoniales
y los sacerdotes dijeron es culpa de los homosexuales
Y los obispos dijeron es culpa de las mujeres liberadas e inmorales
Y las mujeres dijeron: Es culpa de la guerra

Y dios les dijo: No robaras, pero seguian robando

Y bajo Armageddon y los angeles tocando arpas doradasy se murieron todos con las plagas porque les faltaba el aire, Y todos se arrepintieron de sus pecados y pidieron piedad al señor, pero era demasiado tarde, el agujero del cielo se estaba tragando a la tierra y se quemaron con el sol hasta incinerarse.

Los unicos que quedaron vivos eran los gays y lesbianas y transexuales y bisexuales que habian escondido abajo de la tierra.
y como a los gays les encanta reproducirse llenaron la tierra otra vez de hijos con inseminacion artificial
y las mujeres prestaban sus vientres y los hombres prestaban su esperma
Y las mujeres y los hombres hacian trueques de vientres por espermas

Y los hijos crecian llenos de padres y de madres

era todo tan raro. asi como trans para todos lados , re-queer

Hot Tamale

2007-10-22T20:38:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

Dykenstein (The monster)

2007-10-22T20:19:00.001-07:00

Click To Play

dykenstein 2

2007-10-22T19:55:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

dykenstein

2007-10-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

Butch Fashion Show in the Femme Auto Body Shop

2007-10-22T18:13:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

Susana and Lisa

2007-10-12T18:44:00.001-07:00

Click To Play

The Idiot King

2007-10-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

Click To Play

The Idiot King was presented at Dixon Place and at WOW Cafe in May-September 2006
Written and Directed by Susana Cook
Original Score by Julian Mesri
Camera Narren Henry
Performers: Jennifer Fomore, Karen Jaime,Consuelo Arias, Erin Markey, Julian Mesri, Jose Maria Armenter, Anni Amberg, Lucy Mackinnon and Susana Cook

Rachel Corrie

2006-03-22T14:34:00.000-08:00

http://www.ifamericansknew.org/cur_sit/rachelsletters.html

Las Revueltas (Buenos Aires)

2006-03-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

Winners

2006-03-02T06:01:00.000-08:00

What is that winners win exactly?
Our Flesh? Our blood? The hours of our life for a very low price?

Why is it that we worship them exactly?
Because, hey, you never know, one day it could be you on top of the pile

Kitchen Magnet

2006-02-25T16:09:00.000-08:00

very old stuff

2006-02-25T16:05:00.000-08:00

OLD MESSAGES

My country is not really homophobic, because there are no homosexuals there. The word "heterosexuality" doesn’t exist, because sexuality means heterosexuality. It would be redundant.
The word homosexuality exists, but it’s not part of every day’s talk. It is considered bad taste to talk about diseases in social conversations. Besides there’s a treatment for that, many psychologists specialize in the cure of it.
Maybe because of that problem with language, or maybe I was lacking imagination; but I didn’t use the word until I was in love
with a woman.
But then, I didn’t know if what I was feeling was love or the symptoms of a scary disease. I didn’t know if I was supposed to buy flowers
or medicine. Even in the case that I was suffering an illness, I didn’t know if I wanted to be cured.
I thought I was the first lesbian in my family
I thought I was the first lesbian in history.
- That never, ever happened in my family!
I heard from my parents.
They scoured in the other one’s family for signs of the problem:
weird celibate ancestors, suspicious spinsters, trying to make sure that the genes were not coming from their own blood.
I was outcasted, outblooded. I decided to give them consolation. I told them that I had to have been a genetic accident.

I inherited all the trash in the family that they considered “Theatrical”
old fans, to act a lady, women’s gloves, tight enough to make my hands useless, corseted women’s dresses, uncomfortable enough to faint from time to time, men’s suits with worn pockets where they reached for the money, elbows worn from reading, pipes to increase confidence.
I accumulated a gendered archive.
How many things that never happened in fact happened.
In that garment (designed by men, sewn by women), appropriate scenery for social conversations ,good taste costumes, honorable genes, educated blood, I found a hat.
The label said “Joseph Creations”. But I found a thread that didn’t belong to Joseph’s design and a message that didn’t fit that scene:
a lesbian diary, carefully sewn inside the hat.
She didn’t throw it away, she sent it like a message into the ocean of family blood and it waited, hiding into the hat for two respectable generations, until grandma decided to show it to me.

I read about her passion for Emily, the family moving to a different city
her medical treatments, her marriage, the long hours playing the piano.
And that love, that stayed with her until the last days of her life,
when she was 89 years old and she wrote the last page of her diary,
before sewing it inside the hat:
“I read in the newspapers the other day that you died Emily, I know I am going to join you soon, maybe this time we’ll be allowed to be together for ever.
I love you.
Augusta.”

She died five days later.

Hunters

2006-02-13T16:44:00.000-08:00

Dick Cheney is gonna have to hang the head of his friend in his living room now. Hunters love killing just for the love of killing
and they love to keep heads as trophies to be reminded that they have killed.

Trophies of war, death penalty, homelessness, poverty

2006-02-05T17:44:00.000-08:00

If hunters are allowed to hang the heads of the animals they kill in their living room, then people who kill people should be allowed to hang the heads of the people they kill in their living rooms too.
Can you imagine how many heads would some people have to hang?

Duct Tape

2006-02-01T18:11:00.000-08:00

We forgot everything about the duct tape. What a shame, because we still don’t know where Osama Bin Laden is. He could be anywhere. People should seal their holes, all of them. Take the outlets for example. Nobody knows where those holes go, not even electricians know. And we still know nothing about how those terrorist networks work. A couple of weeks ago, a family in Kansas was going on vacation and they decided to unplug the air conditioner, leaving the holes of the outlet open. Then, they heard the voice of Osama Bin Laden coming through the holes. They didn’t know Arabic, so they couldn’t understand what he was saying. They were terrified, they called some neighbors, but they didn’t understand Arabic either. They all realized that duct tape was a very good tool against terrorism. They appreciated the efforts of the government in this preventive action against bacteriological weapons , nuclear weapons, chemical weapons and cancer.
Cancer kills more people than terrorism, so our government decided that every American Citizen will undergo a Chemotherapy treatment, sponsored by our most respectable pharmaceuticals.

Orange Alert

2006-01-28T17:35:00.000-08:00

Orange Alert: Go Shopping
Red Alert: Shop only online

Jesus Loves you

2006-01-28T17:32:00.000-08:00

Go shopping

Turdo & Zoretenz (from 100 Years of Attitude)

2006-01-07T19:31:00.000-08:00

Turdo – Do you really have something to say?

Zoretenz – My ass. It is hurting, my ass

Turdo– Why is that?

Zoretenz– I have a big piece of shit that doesn’t want to come out

Turdo – Oh, no. It’s so big! I can see it!

Zoretenz – Can you help me to get it out?

Turdo – Look what a big piece of shit he has there!

– Oh, awful!

Zoretenz – Can you help me to get it out?

Turdo – How did you get such a big piece of shit in there? Were you eating a lot?

Zoretenz– Oh, please, get it out! Get it out!

Turdo– I don’t think we can get that thing out. I think it’s stuck in there for ever

Zoretenz– Oh, no! Will I have to live forever with this big piece of shit inside me?

Turdo – Yes, I think so

Zoretenz – Oh, no!

Turdo – It’s your soul

Zoretenz – What? That is the soul? I have a soul?

Turdo – Yes, you have a soul and it is stuck in there. It is not going anywhere

Zoretenz – Are you sure this is not some kind of turd that is supposed to get out through a natural digestive tube or something, like the anus?

Turdo– No, I told you. It’s stuck in there. It’s too big

Zoretenz – Oh, I have a big soul

Turdo– A very big soul

– It stinks. Get it out already!

Zoretenz– Alright, alright. I’ll put on my pants.

Como escribis?

2006-01-07T19:25:00.000-08:00

- De donde viene lo que escribis? Como te inspiras?
- Me lo dictan
- Eso es esquizofrenia
- Ezquizofrenia?
- Si
- Es malo?
- Es muy malo
- Porque?
- Porque significa que no estas bien
- Yo estoy bien
- No, no estas bien
- Si, estoy bien
- Estas segura que tenes esquizofrenia?
- No, vos me dijiste
- Claro, porque escuchas voces
- Eso es esquizofrenia?
- Si, psicosis
- Vos no escuchas voces?
- No
- Nunca?
- Bueno si, si alguien me habla, o si estoy escuchando la tele o la radio
- Yo tambien
- Bueno, pero vos tambien escuchas voces de nadie, voces que no se sabe de donde vienen
- Que importa de donde vienen?
- Claro que importa, si no vienen de nadie o nada real es una falla mental
- Pero sabes que bien escribo?
- Y en que idioma te dictan?
- Depende, a veces en ingles, a veces en castellano
- O sea que son varias personas
- O no
- Es verdad, o no. Bueno igual vos no sentis dolor o depression ni nada, no?
- No, yo te dije que estoy bien

Radio Renata- Una historia

2005-11-25T16:58:00.000-08:00

Por aquellos dias la radio ocupaba muchas horas de nuestra vida, la voz de Renata Gleinrock ya era parte de los sonidos cotidianos de la casa, Radio Pulso Cuatro transmitia durante las 24 horas del dia programas que abordaban los mas variados temas: Clases de tejido, cocina, teatro, yoga, ingles, Taichi, relatos de football, comentarios cientificos, neurocirugia, todos ellos coordinados, dirigidos y conducidos por Renata Gleinrock.
RENATA: Buenos dias, Buenos Aires, desayuno Pulso Cuatro,cuatro, cuatro, cuatro cucharadas de yoghurt,cuatro, cuatro nueces y cuatro vasos de soda, mientras desayunan paso a leer las noticias....Pulso Cuatro informa primero y mejor, cuatro veces mejor. (lee las noticias del dia).Ahora si ya es hora de salir, A comenzar el dia! A trabajar! A estudiar!

El tiempo de la casa se ajustaba a las propuestas de Renata, papa llegaba media hora mas temprano al trabajo y yo jamas estuve presente cuando mis companeros izaban la bandera, mama se esforzaba por preparar los desayunos que proponia Renata que variaban de acuerdo al dia.

RENATA: Temperatura 15 grados, pero atencion, sensacion termica 2 grados bajo cero, bufanda, guantes, camiseta y chalequito azul con los Cuatro botones de Pulso Cuatro.

Nunca supe porque Renata pedia chalequito azul, mama tampoco, pero nos tejio uno a cada uno con los cuatro botones de Pulso Cuatro. Cuando saliamos de casa nos sentiamos un poco perdidos, y la extranabamos, recuerdo una vez en que papa la saludo antes de salir.

RENATA: Batimos los huevos sin salpicar, picamos el perejil bien finito, recostamos el pez sobre la harina blanca y lo palmoteamos...

Mama se habia transformado en una exelente cocinera gracias a Renata, adorabamos sus recetas, papa seguia todos sus comentarios de football, yo tome con ella clases de geografia y violin y progrese notablemente.

RENATA: (Con voz de radioteatro) Apartate Rodrigo! Sabes que ya no te amo. (Se escucha el ruido de una puerta que se abre) Oh! Peter, porque tenias que llegar justo ahora? Ya sueltame Rodrigo!
PETER: (Todas las voces las hace Renata) Lo he visto todo Helena, ahora comprendo.
HELENA: Oh! No! Peter! No es lo que te imaginas!. Ya sueltame Rodrigo, mira lo que has hecho!
PETER: Oh, Helena, eres una mujerzuela. Sabes lo que traia en este paquete traidora?...
HELENA: No Peter, que traias? Ya sueltame Rodrigo!
PETER: Los anillos, venia a pedirte que fueras mi esposa. (Peter rompe a llorar) Ya sueltala Rodrigo!
HELENA: Peter debes escucharme, dejame explicarte, sueltame Rodrigo!, yo soy solo tuya Peter. (Helena rompe a llorar).
PETER: Mia? Solo mia? Ja, Ja, Ja,no me hagas reir nena.
HELENA: No Peter! No te rias de mi, no lo hagas!
PETER: (Riendo desesperadamente) Mira lo que hago con los anillos! (Peter se traga los anillos).
HELENA: No Peter! No te los tragues! Podrias morir! Dije que me sueltes Rodrigo!
PETER: (Hablando con mucha dificultad) Me marcho para siempre nena. (Portazo o ruido de puerta que se cierra violentamente).
HELENA: (Llorando desesperadamente) Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter! Por favor abrazame Rodrigo!........

Mama lloraba y se contorsionaba junto a la radio, a veces trataba infructuosamente de ayudar a la pobre puta de Helena.
MAMA: Oh Peter! No la dejes, ella es buena, fue ese traidor de Rodrigo que quiso ensuciarla, pero ella te quiere a vos, y te quiere de verdad....
TOMMY: Pero mama, no puede escucharte, es solo Renata.
MAMA: Pobrecita, sos muy chiquito vos para entender estas cosas. (Me explicaba mama en medio de una inmensa tristeza)
TOMMY: Calmate mama, pensa en otra cosa.
MAMA: Pensa en otra cosa, se dice facil, sos un insensible vos igual que tu tia Gladys....

Habiamos escrito infinidad de cartas a la radio felicitando a Renata, comprabamos tarjetas, sobre y papeles de colores, yo le envie tambien algunos de mis dibujos de aviones, que eran los que mejor me salian.
Un dia Papa entro en casa visiblemente emocionado, apretando un sobre contra el pecho.
Era Renata.
Un sobre de Renata que nos invitaba a visitarla a la radio.
El revuelo de la casa fue instantaneo, todos queriamos leer la carta, banarnos primero, papa no encontraba sus zapatos, ni mama sus horquillas, recuerdo que abotone orgulloso mi chaleco azul y acomode el cuello de mi camisa frente al espejo ilusionado, lleve conmigo mi violin y mi carpeta de geografia, Renata se sentiria orgullosa de mi.
Llegamos a la radio radiantes y perfumados, papa mostro en la puerta la carta de Renata y nos dejaron entrar, indicando que subieramos al segundo piso; entramos en una habitacion donde habia un vidrio del tamano de una ventana a traves del cual podiamos ver a Renata sentada en una mesa, sola, frente a un microfono, rodeada de papeles.
Renata tenia los cabellos claros y unos gruesos anteojos, mama opinaba que tendria unos 50 anos, papa en cambio aseguraba que no pasaba los 45, tenia sobre los hombros un tapado azul y creo que era un poco gorda. Fumaba mucho, se reia mucho y tosia.
Estaba hablando sobre el ultimo encuentro sudamericano de Taekwondo, mientras se enfrentaba con un rival imaginario, miraba fijamente al microfono, amenazante, luego dejo el tapado sobre la silla , comenzo a hacer movimientos rituales con los brazos y estirando su pierna derecha lanzo una fuerte patada contra la mesa, produciendo un estruendoso ruido y desparramo de papeles.
A las noticias deportivas siguio el radioteatro, yo tenia que ponerme en puntas de pie para poder ver y ya sentia un fuerte dolor en las pantorrillas, pero no podia despegar mis ojos de aquella ventana, lamentaba que Renata no podia oler mi perfume ni ver mi chalequito azul. Casi no podia creerlo, era Renata la que abria y cerraba las puertas que ambientaban el radioteatro, besaba el microfono apasionadamente, se tiraba a llorar sobre la mesa, se enojaba y tiraba sillas por el aire; y las recetas de cocina eran autenticas!
Renata rompia huevos, batia y freia sobre la misma mesa que lloraba por amor; para las clases de geografia se ponia un delantal blanco y revoleaba un monton de mapas, mapamundis y manuales.
Luego de cuatro horas ininterrumpidas de transmision papa opino que era hora de volver a casa, yo acepte porque el dolor de pantorrillas y cuello casi no me permitia caminar,mama se seco algunas lagrimas emocionada con un panuelo al que habia bordado el nombre de "Renata, una mujer inolvidable..." lamento mucho no haber podido entregarselo.
Papa permanecio callado todo el camino de vuelta a casa, de tanto en tanto un melancolico suspiro, de tanto en tanto un profundo suspiro interrumpia su silencio. Durante los dias siguientes pasaba largas horas mirando a la radio, la limpiaba cuidadosamente, la perfumaba.
Las cosas empezaron a cambiar en casa, lentamente, casi sin que nos dieramos cuenta.
Las comidas de mama empezaron a transformarse en unos espantosos pastiches imposibles de tragar.

RENATA: 4 huevos, 4 cucharadas de pimienta, 4 vasos de vino, 4 tazas de harina y al horno, souffle Pulso 4.

Mama seguia las recetas como de costumbre y nosotros intentabamos comer.

RENATA: El chalequito que sea rojo, con botones al costado, 4 siempre 4.

Mama tejio los chalequitos siguiendo las indicaciones de Renata, pero algo anduvo mal, el de papa resulto algo parecido a una media y el mio a una cortinita.
Los domingos la transmision de los partidos de football era confusa.
RENATA: Avanza Cosentino, pica la pelota, salta, envoca en el aro, Goooool!
Remate de Coppola, 5 vuelta por la izquierda, avanza, arroja la bala, Goool!
Freddy tira la jabalina, Centro Fower mete el palo Goooool! Increible senoras y senores. Gooolazo! Goooolaaaazooo!

Relataba 15 0 20 goles por partido, papa estaba visiblemente aturdido.
RENATA: Deportivo San Francisco 15, River 2, pasamos al segundo set.
Avanza Dedalito, sal;ta la valla....Goooool! Gooool de partido Veteranos Luz y Fuerza.

La profesora de geografia pidio hablar con mis padres, mi leccion de rios valles y quebradas presentaban serios rasgos de confusion.
Nuestros desayunos consistian en cuatro tazas de te, bebidas alternativamente con y sin leche.
Mis companeros se sorprendian al verme llegar con bufanda y guantes, era septiembre, ellos estaban en mangas de camisa, por suerte en la puerta me habia sacado el gorrito de lana con cuatro pompones, pero todavia tenia mis cabellos transpirados, cuando comenzaron a hacerme bromas yo les conteste orgulloso : "Lo que pasa es que ustedes no saben lo que es la sensacion termica!".
Papa se apuraba a volver del trabajo y se sentaba a tomar un jerez junto a la radio, mojaba sus dedos en la copa y los pasaba lentamente por las perillas, hablando casi en secreto. Adorno la antena con una cinta amarilla, que habia sido de su madre y se reia estruendosamente de cada estupido chiste de Renata.
Mama lloriqueaba sola en la cocina y a escondidas trataba de imitar las voces de Renata, casi siempre abandonaba sus intentos llorando sobre un repasador. Aduciendo tener problemas de vista se encargo unos gruesisimos anteojos, iguales a los de Renata y andaba por la casa tropezandose con todos los muebles, a toda hora con un tapadito azul sobre los hombros que le habia prestado la tia Teresa, aclaro sus cabellos con agua oxigenada y Herminia, la vecina le enseno a fumar.

Empece a odiar a Renata como a una madrastra, me apenaba mama hablando con ese tono de locutora sensual, repitiendo textualmente frases de Renata, con el pelo rubio pajizo, casi sin poder moverse por los anteojos y el tapado; abandone mis clases de computacion Lotus con Renata.

Un dia papa hablo gravemente: -Rosa, tengo que darte una noticia de ultimo momento....la amo.....amo a Renata....
Abrace a mama para consolarla, pero ella soltandose de mis brazos se avalanzo sobre Renata, le arranco el mono con bronca, tironeo de las perillas y los cables, arrojandola finalmente al piso, mientras la pateaba con furia.
-Callate Bruja! Que te calles! Repetia histerica.

Renata emitio sonidos desagradables unos minutos y luego callo para siempre.

Reino el silencio. Luego de mucho tiempo.

Quedamos inmoviles, sorprendidos. Papa lloriqueaba acariciando los cables y la antena, mama sonrio triunfal, acomodandose orgullosa el delantal.

-Damos por finalizada esta transmision.- Repetia papa en tono lugubre-
- Renata- Decia mientras la besaba- Habla decime algo...

Poco a poco fuimos llenando el vacio que dejo su ausencia con nuestras propias voces, pude por fin contarle a mis padres que habia salido abanderado en el colegio en segundo grado, mama sabia pilas de anecdotas de la feria y papa tenia un companero de oficina que contaba chistes, papa me contaba los que se acordaba, yo los repetia en el colegio y tenia mucho exito.

Pero con el tiempo las anecdotas de mama empezaron a repetirse hasta tornarse insufribles, los chistes de papa eran siempre los mismos y yo no volvi a salir abanderado. La Tia Teresa no cambiaba de novio hacia un tiempo, la carne del muchacho de la feria era siempre un mamon, pero el gordo de la otra cuadra queria estafar a mama con esa carne que parecia carne de caballo, el precio de los tomates era siempre una barbaridad, salvo cuando estaban podridos, aunque los peritas a veces estaban baratos, pero no servian para nada, las jornadas de papa eran siempre agotadoras y siempre habia trabajo acumulado y el jefe lo tiraba a matar.
Yo trataba de elevar el nivel cultural de nuestras charlas contandoles a mis padres que los diaguitas usaban tunicas hechas de piel de animales y que eran guerreros y agricultores y vivian de la recoleccion, porque eran sedentarios , no como los onas que eran nomades y vivian de la caza de animales salvajes, otro dia les comente que Bach habia nacido en Liepzig y que desde chiquito mostraba virtudes para la musica, estudiando clavecin, clave y clavicordio.
Me parece que mis padres no estaban muy interesados en el tema, pero me escuchaban con atencion y asentian silenciosamente con la cabeza. Creo que estaban orgullosos de mi, mis conocimientos a veces resultaban abrumadores. Mama me seguia escuchando mientras lavaba los platos y Papa leia el diario, me gustaba conversar con mis padres.

Un dia hablo Papa: -Estuve pensando en nosotros, uniremos nuestros esfuerzos, ahorraremos dinero para comprar un televisor.
- Papa! (Grite emocionado y lo abrace con fuerza) Estaba orgulloso de las ideas de mi padre, mama tambien, estrujo un repasador y le dijo- Ay viejo!.

Empezamos a ahorrar, mama caminaba durante horas para conseguir precios mas baratos, yo suprimi la compra de figuritas, bolitas y boletos de colectivo, me ingeniaba para viajar colado o iba caminando, Papa trabajaba horas extras, Mama consiguio trabajos de costura para hacer en casa y yo ayudaba a Don Fernando a entregar pedidos en la verduleria y cobraba la changa y las propinas.

Eramos felices. Saliamos de paseo a mirarla en la vidriera, mama estaba tan ilusionada.Planificabamos cuidadosamente donde la ibamos a poner, probamos corriendo los muebles para que no este al lado de la ventana porque el sol la podia estropear, contabamos el dinero todos los dias y hablabamos de ella.

Nunca olvidare aquel dia.Entramos triunfales en el negocio, mama se habia puesto su vestido verde a lunares y se habia sacado los ruleros, Papa lucia aristocratico con su maletin marron lleno de billetes.
Y nos compramos la television.
Durante varios dias estuvo apagada en casa porque tenia que venir el electricista a hacer la conexion y a instalar la antena, pero ya era el punto de reunion de la familia, la mirabamos apagada, tratabamos de acostumbrarnos a ella, nuestras charlas giraban ahora en torno a las pulgadas, la imagen, las transmisiones. Mama nos puso un monito rojo a cada uno en los zapatos porque aseguraba que en el barrio nos miraban con envidia, y que espiaban por la ventana para verla.
- Es mas! (comento irritada) Es por pura envidia que Don Antonio no vino todavia a conectarla! Ya mismo llamo a un electricista de la guia!.
Eligio un numero de electricista al azar y resulto comunicada con la casa del mismisimo Don Antonio, que acudio culposo a realizar la conexion correspondiente.
Y fue asi como aquella caja de 18 pulgadas, encendido automatico, y control remoto con tambor horizontal que nos contemplaba oscura y quietamente desde la mesita cobro vida, se poblo de voces y gente hermosa.
Enmudecimos. Estabamos maravillados.
Durante siete increibles horas mis padres y yo permanecimos sentados, inmoviles descubriendo ese mundo maravilloso que se abria en nuiestra casa, solo para nosotros tres.
- Gracias Papa! (Me atrevi a decir timidamente).
-Gracias Evaristo! (Agrego Mama enamorada).
Al final de la transmision nos arrodillamos los tres a rezar guiados por un cura evangelista, que tenia una cara y voz de sabio barbara. Nosotros no eramos evangelistas, pero acordamos que ese hombre podia iluminar nuestras vidas si seguiamos diariamente sus oraciones.
Mama empezo a ver todos los dias los tortuosos capitulos de la novela "Donde esta mi padre? ", la protagonista era una tierna nina de unosa doce anos, con rostro angustiado, que se habia criado en una escuela de monjas y ocupaba todos sus dias en la busqueda infructuosa de su padre, del que conservaba tan solo una antigua foto borroneada, una corbata y los relatos de su madre que se agolpaban confusamente en su joven memoria.
YUYU: - Debo encontrar a papa! (Repetia cada tarde empapando su panuelito floreado) -El debe saber que mama murio amandolo! Luego de nueve anos de ausencia, de interminables dias de fiel espera! Papa volvera! Repetia cada manana mamita. El dia de su muerte, me dijo: Yuyu, debes encontrar a tu padre!-

Mama lloraba sobre su tejido terracota con pintitas de color ambar, y la tristeza a veces no le permitia conciliar el sueno; comento el caso con cada una de sus amigas, que eran muy solidarias y todas juntas decidieron ayudar a Yuyu.
Armaron un identikit basado en la foto que guardaba la nina y un cuestionario con preguntas claves para descubrir al insensible padre de Yuyu.
Todas las tardes las amigas de mama se reunian en casa a ver la novela y a comentar la informacion obtenida por cada una de ellas.
Un dia llego a casa muy nerviosa Francisca, la amiga mas rapida y astuta de mama, aseguraba haber encontrado a Ramon Bernardez, el padre de Yuyu, que ahora se hacia llamar Gaston Martinez, era un vecino que siempre habia intrigado mucho a las personas curiosas del barrio, no se le conocia novia, ni esposa, ni primas, ni madre y se parecia notablemente a la foto que guardaba Yuyu.
Se encaminaron decididas a la casa de Gaston Martinez, intentaron hacerlo entrar en razon, le hablaron de las virtudes de su hija, que estaba muy apenada por su ausencia.
El hombre juraba no recordar haber tenido una hija, pero le entusiasmo la idea de que fuera tan bonita y famosa y luego de varios dias, discusiones y esfuerzos por recordar decidio unirse a estas mujeres para encontrar a Yuyu. En el correo les dieron la direccion del estudio de filmacion donde se grababa " Donde esta mi padre?", y decidieron que el miercoles iba a ser el dia del encuentro.
Gaston Martinez estaba muy nervioso y emocionado aquel dia, para ese entonces ya se hacia llamar Ramon Bernardez, para recuperar su identidad perdida,por alguna razon que no alcanzaba a recordar.
Cuando llegamos a CANAL 4 " EL CANAL DE LOS SENTIMIENTOS", ya eramos 20 las personas que acompanabamos y alentabamos a Ramon, mama me recomendo prestar atencion y guardar silencio porque iba a ser un momento muy importante.
No nos permitieron entrar a CANAL 4, a pesar de la mision importante que nos impulsaba, mama alego el parentezco directo de Ramon Bernardez con Yuyu, exaltando el parecido increible de este hombre con la foto.
El portero del canal explico sonriendo que Yuyu era una actriz que tenia padre, madre, hermanos y tias y que solo en la ficcion buscaba a su padre, y que si lo que querian era un autografo que esperen en la cola.
Mama lloro indignada acusandolos de farsantes, pervertidos y degenerados; Ramon volvio tristemente a su vida de Gaston Martinez, empleado, tranquilo y solteron sin hija.
Yuyu paso a ser para mama y sus amigas una bivora, iguana y mentirosa.
Papa recomendo que nos limitaramos a escuchar los noticieros, que con riguroso sentido periodistico se ocupaban de averiguar y transmitir la verdad, y nada mas que la verdad, Mama coincidio en que era muy importante para nosotros mantenernos informados y estar ahora si seguros de la honestidad de la persona que nos habla a traves de la pantalla y de la veracidad de sus relatos, -Y no como la tarada esa de Yuyu! (acoto mama indignada).
Marcelo Lopez Terzian era nuestro periodista predilecto, todas sus notas estaban impregnadas de una emotividad y una sensibilidad casi exquisitas, su amor al projimo y su solidaridad eran emocionantes, mama y papa sostenian que era un elegido; Su especialidad eran las noticias policiales y las misticas, impulsado por su amor a la verdad y la justicia recorria pueblos, ciudades, entraba en los hogares, escuchaba a la gente, mostraba su dolor, los comprendia, los filmaba.
La nota del satiro de la bicicleta asusto mucho a mama, una joven de cabellos colorados contaba ante las camaras, valientemente como habia sido violada por el malhechor. Mama me hacia muchas recomendaciones : -No converses con ningun desconocido, sobre todo si anda en bicicleta. No aceptes caramelos, ni ninguna otra golosina, sobre todo si ves que las reparten desde una bicicleta. No camines cerca de las paredes ni de las bicicletas. Usa siempre zapatos que te sirvan para salir corriendo y ni suenes con que te compre una bicicleta.
Por aquellos dias las calles parecian pobladas de ciclistas, los sospechosos pasaban pedaleando ingenuamente por la puerta de casa sin imaginar que mama y su amiga Otilia espiaban atentamente cada uno de sus movimientos escondidas en la terraza munidas de un largavista y los numeros telefonicos de la comisaria y del mismisimo Marcelo Lopez Terzian.
El primer sospechoso resulto ser Domingo, el repartidor de diarios que desde muy tempranas horas recorria en su bicicleta las oscuras calles del barrio. Mama se despertaba en la madrugada perturbada por el misterioso pedaleo de Domingo y espiaba.
-Su cara es muy extrana- pensaba- sus lentos paseos por las calles harian pensar que esta tramando algo macabro. Otilia aporto nuevos datos: Domingo era ojeroso y tartamudo; coincidieron en que eso agrababa su situacion, tornandolo aun mas sospechoso. Era preciso suspender el diario y evitar en nuestras caminatas pasar por el puestito de diarios de la via, para el cual trabajaba Domingo. Mama y Otilia alertaron a los vecinos, ya casi nadie en el barrio recibia el diario. Porque entonces Domingo seguia pasando cada madrugada con su diabolica bicicleta?
Mama paso muchos dias encerrada en casa, la cercania del satiro la aterrorizaba, decidio llamar a Marcelo Lopez Terzian para solicitarle que viniera a atraparlo. Luego de varias horas de intento logro comunicarse, el periodista agradecio a mama sus investigaciones y se traslado con su camion de exteriores hasta nuestro barrio.
Apenas dos horas mas tarde, el mismisimo Lopez Terzian tocaba timbre en casa. Mama corrio radiante a atender y los invito amablemente a pasar.
Rudy y Cordoba eran los dos camarografos de Marcelo y Melena el asistente.
La casa se lleno de cables, camaras y sanguchitos que mama traia alegremente, deseosa de que no se fueran nunca. Luego de algunas horas empece atemer seriamente que quizas no se irian nunca; ya se habian acabado todas las provisiones de la casa: mis galletitas, los manies de papa, la cerveza, el vino, las arvejas.
La estrategia de Marcelo era aguardar escondido en el patio la horta en que habitualmente pasaba Domingo, para tomar unos planos de su cara y su bicicleta.
Mama alago su valentia y espiritu de sacrificio, Marcelo agradecio humildemente y remarco el incalculable valor de sus desinteresadas investigaciones; mama resto importancia a su modesto trabajo comparado con la heroica tarea de enfrentar al criminal que el estaba por cumplir; Marcelo insistio en que nada de eso hubiera sido posible si ella no hubiera dirigido sus pasos en el rumbo correcto, mama se sintio orgullosa de colaborar con este importante equipo de investigacion periodistica al servicio de la seguridad y la informacion de la poblacion, Marcelo alabo la desinteresada labor de una ama de casa, que movida por un intertes social y sin abandonar sus deberes de esposa y madre se lanzaba a la riesgosa mision de identificar nada menos que a un satiro!.
Papa interrumpio preguntando si tenian para mucho, porque no le dejaban leer el diario con tanto cacareo floreado.
Mama se dirigio entonces en silencio a preparar un enorme puchero para todos, que luego comimos inmersos en un clima realmente profesional, hablando de cables, enchufes, tomas, luces, focos, microfonos, primer plano, segundo plano, copete, cierre, fue realmente apasionante.
Luego del cafe comenzo la tarea, corrieron muebles, desenroscaron cables, probaron luces y microfonos, enchufaron cables y lamparas por toda la casa; Marcelo se maquillaba cuidadosamente frente a un espejo y papa lo miraba con desconfianza, busco la complicidad de mama con una risita ironica, pero mama respondio con un gesto molesto y siguio dando vueltas por la casa acompanando la preparacion de la gran filmacion.
Cuando todo estuvo listo, solo restaba esperar en silencio la llegada de Domingo.
No recuerdo cuanto tiempo permanecimos asi, quietos, callados, parecia interminable la espera. De pronto se escucho el pedaleo de la bicicleta de Domingo, senti como se aceleraban los latidos de mi corazon, me dolia el estomago, permaneci inmovil, palido, respirando apenas, detras del aparador.
- Ahi viene! (Murmuro mama).
Marcelo hizo un gesto a sus companeros, inmediatamente los focos se encendieron iluminando a Domingo que quedo paralizado con las manos en alto.
Marcelo se acerco triunfal,con el microfono en la mano, mirando a las camaras.
-Senoras, senores, queridos televidentes, CANAL 8, EL CANAL DE LA JUSTICIA, gracias a un impresionante esfuerzo de produccion, en primicia exclusiva, tiene ante sus camaras nada mas ni nada menos que al Satiro de la Bicicleta!
Que quisiera decirle infame a toda esta gente atemorizada, a la sociedad, a sus victimas, a la justicia?
Domingo intentaba responder pero los nervios y el miedo acentuaban su tartamudez, solo alcanzaba a emitir sonidos incomprensibles para cualquier ser humano...menos para Marcelo Lopez Terzian que los traducia a su antojo para los televidentes.
- Se confiesa arrepentido senoras y senores, los reportajes que yo he hecho a sus victimas le han tocado el corazon y desea reintegrarse a la sociedad.
Domingo intentaba hablar, tenia los ojos llorosos y las manos en alto, no alcanzaba a comprender a que se referia Marcelo, pero no alcanzaba a armar una frase coherente, sin embargo el periodista seguia interpretando sus lagrimas y sus pensamientos. Rudy tomo un primer plano de sus lagrimas y le pidio que arrojara su bicicleta como simbolo de su arrepentimiento, Domingo obedecio confundido y se marcho corriendo sin alcanzar a comprender si se trataba de un ovni o de un asalto. Marcelo cerro la nota con un primer plano de la bicicleta vacia tirada sobre el asfalto con la rueda trasera girando apenas hasta detenerse y pidio que en la compaginacion pusieran musica de fondo con esa imagen, el tema musical elegido fue "Lloran las almas" de Jacinto Montulo.

Los jueves a la tarde, el Doctor Zurk, que era un psicologo, daba consejos y charlas por CANAL 2, sus programas eran una especie de clase de psicologia, pero tambien una terapia por correspondencia, o una charla con un amigo, o un padre, a veces tenia invitados de otras profesiones a los que psicoanalizaba ante las camaras, mama lo escuchaba atentamente cada jueves y lamentaba no haberse psicoanalizado antes, un dia me pidio disculpas por no haberme amamantado lo suficiente y trataba de hacerme recordar algun episodio de mi infancia en el que yo, simbolicamente, me la hubiera tragado.
- No mami, no creo.
-Pensa es muy importante que te hayas tragado a papi y a mi!
- Bueno mami, quizas me los trague.
- Sabes como se los traga a los padres nene, mientras vos comias lo mirabas a papa o me mirabas a mi, y asi es como que en vez de tragar la comida nos tragabas a nosotros.
Eran los primeros tiempos de mi adolecencia, algunos granitos empezaban a aparecer en mi cara, mama pensaba ahora que se debian a la falta de caricias, pasaba todo el tiempo las manos por mi cara y le pedia a papa que hiciera lo mismo, el intentaba timidamente y con desgano acariciarme, pero mis granitos no se curaban, creo que con tantas caricias mi cutis estaba cada dia mas graso.
Luego de interminables reflexiones en torno a episodios de mi infancia, empezo a recordar la suya, llamaba a la abuela indignada y le pedia explicaciones:
- Porque te pusiste a llorar el dia de mi primera menstruacion? Y encima me preguntaste distraida con que me habia lastimado! Suponias acaso que cada mes yo me creia que vos te creias lo de la lastimadura? No queriamos hablar del tema mama! Nos estabamos evadiendo!
Porque me apagabas la luz de la pieza? Yo le tenia miedo a la oscuridad y lloraba abrazada a ese osito que despues donaste al ejercito de salvacion.
No te diste cuenta que era mi objeto acompanante?
La abuela no recordaba casi nada, pero le pedia disculpas avergonzada, ella tambien escuchaba al Doctor Zurk y lamentaba sus errores, un dia le dijo a mama: - Si no te hubiera sacado el chupete tan temprano... que me iba a imaginar la angustia oral que te produciria, seguramente hoy serias mas delgada, y hasta quizas mas inteligente. Dejame pensar: Habia chupetes en esa epoca?
- Mama no te hagas la tonta que me estas queriendo decir? Que soy gorda y bruta? Que es lo que queres crearme un complejo de inferioridad? No estaras celosa porque papa me llevaba al circo y vos te quedabas en casa limpiando como una burra?
- No hijita, yo no iba porque me daban pena los osos, quizas porque me recordaban a mi padre que andaba por la vida como balanceandose en una cuerda por temor a los azotes.
- Pero porque me hablas asi de mi abuelo, que fue el Patriarca de mi infancia, ya que estas decime que los monos te recuerdan a mi padre.
- No nena (respondia la abuela preocupada porque cada vez la embarraba mas) -Son imagenes de mi inconciente, pero parece que cada uno tiene el suyo!
- No mama, no ves que no entendiste nada? El inconciente es hereditario, no viste que empieza desde que uno esta en la panza?
- Entonces, vos porque no le tenes miedo a los osos nena?
- Y, eso me vendra de la familia de papa, no viste como le gustan a La Tia Rosi los animales?
- Tenes razon! Ahora que lo pienso, vos sabes que mi mama sufria de vertigo y yo tambien? Y vos Tommy, no sufris de vertigo?
- No abuela.
- Que suerte! Ves? Eso te viene del inconciente de la familia de tu padre.
- Te digo mas (agrego mama entusiasmada) se le da por comer gofio igual que a mi cunada.
- Que maravilla la ciencia (comento la abuela) Como le aclara a uno la cabeza!
Unos dias mas tarde me compro un perrito "para suplir la ausencia de hermanos" segun dijo -"para que aprendas a compartir el mundo y el afecto de tus padres"
Lo llame Saxo y nos hicimos muy buenos amigos, lo sacaba a la manana para que haga piz, y a veces para que corra.
Mas tarde descubrimos que Saxo era en realidad una perra y que estaba embarazada.
Nacieron tres perritos bastante feos, pero mama se opuso a separarlos de su madre hasta que no cumplieran los tres anos, le pidio a papa que cumpliera el rol de padre aunque sea por ese lapso, porque esos lactantes no podian crecer sanos sino tenian una figura paterna,y no sabiamos quien era el padre, asi que papa leia el diario junto a los perritos mientras su madre los amamantaba.

continuara....

Thanksgiving

2005-11-24T10:17:00.000-08:00

It's the day that Americans celebrate the slaughter of Native Americans with a slaughter of turkeys.

The good side of being homeless

2005-11-11T18:03:00.000-08:00

There’s something very good about being homeless
Poor or desperate

You will go to heaven

Stay poor

There’s a better world waiting for you, but you have to die first