Rich Little comes on about 2 minutes 10 seconds on...
this is the gig Colbert killed with last year.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
rich little...
Rich Little comes on about 2 minutes 10 seconds on...
this is the gig Colbert killed with last year.
dos chicas theater commune Presents "The Lower Depths"
ok...down below there is the "story" but what this play is about is - our common humanity, what it means to be rid of all our trappings and down to just the man, the consoling lie vs. the hard truth, man as animal, what it means to be rootless in society, etc...
every character in this show has something to it and every line speaks volumes....
although first performed in 1902 it feels very modern and relevant. The big ideas of this play are still big ideas today, and they resonate through our lives...
anyway, think we've got a helluva show on our hands -
don't miss it!
www.DosChicasTheaterCommune.com
***IF YOU WISH TO BE REMOVED FROM OUR EMAIL LIST, PLEASE RESPOND WITH AN EMPTY EMAIL WITH THE WORD "REMOVE" IN THE SUBJECT LINE************
every character in this show has something to it and every line speaks volumes....
although first performed in 1902 it feels very modern and relevant. The big ideas of this play are still big ideas today, and they resonate through our lives...
anyway, think we've got a helluva show on our hands -
don't miss it!
dos chicas theater commune presents
The Lower Depths
by Maxim Gorky
Directed by Mark Carrier
The Lower Depths
by Maxim Gorky
Directed by Mark Carrier
STORY
Subtitled "Scenes from a Russian Life," The Lower Depths premiered on December 18, 1902 at the Moscow Arts Theatre under Stanislavski's direction, and quickly became the hallmark of Russian Socialist Realism. Gorky focuses on the daily tribulations of a group of lower-class citizens forced by their circumstances to rent out mere square feet in a small, squalid tenement. Being denied opportunity and forced into conditions that have killed any faith they had in themselves, they eagerly accept the comforting lies of the newest member of their little community. By pushing aside the harsh truth, they hope to hide themselves from the bleak reality of their conditions. Through the characters' motives and thoughts, Gorky indicts a perverse civilization that dooms thousands as superfluous and unnecessary in society.
CAST
Tony Esparza, Ken Watkins, Jeremy Carlson, Donna Kay Yarborough, John Dunn, Stephen Foulard, Patrick Jennings, Elizabeth Seabolt, Wilson Limpo, Mari Gianukos, Mike Switzer, Jon Harvey, Lee Finch, Kira Vincent, Brian Nichols, Ashley Barker
PERFORMANCE DATES
ALL SHOWS BEGIN PROMPTLY AT 8:00 PM
Weekend Shows: Fri/Sat May 4, 5, 11, 12, 18, 19
Pay-What-You-Want shows - Thursday, May 3 and Thursday, May 10
LOCATION
Freneticore Theater
5102 Navigation
Houston, Tx 77011
TICKETS
$10
RESERVATIONS/INFORMATION
832-283-0858
OR
dccommune@yahoo.com
www.doschicastheatercommune.com
http://myspace.com/doschicascommune
PERFORMANCE DATES
ALL SHOWS BEGIN PROMPTLY AT 8:00 PM
Weekend Shows: Fri/Sat May 4, 5, 11, 12, 18, 19
Pay-What-You-Want shows - Thursday, May 3 and Thursday, May 10
LOCATION
Freneticore Theater
5102 Navigation
Houston, Tx 77011
TICKETS
$10
RESERVATIONS/INFORMATION
832-283-0858
OR
dccommune@yahoo.com
www.doschicastheatercommune.com
http://myspace.com/doschicascommune
www.DosChicasTheaterCommune.com
***IF YOU WISH TO BE REMOVED FROM OUR EMAIL LIST, PLEASE RESPOND WITH AN EMPTY EMAIL WITH THE WORD "REMOVE" IN THE SUBJECT LINE************
Monday, April 23, 2007
Ulrike Meinhof Writes From the Dead Wing - June 16th 1972 to February 9th 1973
Ulrike Meinhof Writes From the Dead Wing - June 16th 1972 to February 9th 1973
The feeling, one’s head explodes (the feeling, the top of the skull will simply split, burst open) —
the feeling, one’s spinal column presses into one’s brain —
the feeling, one’s brain gradually shrivels up like, for example, a baked fruit —
the feeling, one is uninterruptedly, imperceptibly, under a torrent, one is remote controlled, one’s associations are hacked away —
the feeling, one pisses the soul out of one’s body, like when one cannot hold water —
the feeling, the cell moves. One wakes up, opens one’s eyes: the cell moves; afternoon, if the sun shines in, it suddenly remains still. One cannot get rid of the feeling of motion. One cannot tell whether one shivers from fever or from cold —
one cannot tell why one shivers — one freezes.
To speak at a normal volume requires an effort like that necessary to speak loudly, almost like that necessary to shout—
the feeling, one stops speaking —
one can no longer identify the meaning of words, one can only guess —
the use of sibilants — s,ss, tz, sch — is absolutely unbearable
guards, visits, the yard seems to be made of celluloid —
headaches —
flashes —
sentence construction, grammar, syntax — can no longer be controlled.
When writing two lines — by the end of the second line, one cannot remember the beginning of the first —
the feeling, internal burn-out —
the feeling, if one must say what’s wrong, if one wants to let it out, it’s like a rush of boiling water in the face, like, for example, boiling water that scalds one forever, that disfigures —
Raging aggressivity, for which no outlet exists. That’s the worst.
Clear consciousness that one has no possibility of survival; a complete breakdown of the capacity to mediate this;
Visits leave nothing. A half an hour later one can only mechanically reconstruct whether the visit was today or last week.
Compared to this, bathing once a week means: momentary thaw, a moment of rest — to stop for a couple of hours —
The feeling, time and space are interlocked —
The feeling to find oneself in an amusement park house of mirrors —
to stagger —
Afterwards: awful euphoria, that one heard something — beyond the acoustic day and night differentiation —
The feeling, time now flows, the brain again expands, the spinal column sinks down after weeks.
The feeling, as if one’s skin is thickening.
The feeling, one’s head explodes (the feeling, the top of the skull will simply split, burst open) —
the feeling, one’s spinal column presses into one’s brain —
the feeling, one’s brain gradually shrivels up like, for example, a baked fruit —
the feeling, one is uninterruptedly, imperceptibly, under a torrent, one is remote controlled, one’s associations are hacked away —
the feeling, one pisses the soul out of one’s body, like when one cannot hold water —
the feeling, the cell moves. One wakes up, opens one’s eyes: the cell moves; afternoon, if the sun shines in, it suddenly remains still. One cannot get rid of the feeling of motion. One cannot tell whether one shivers from fever or from cold —
one cannot tell why one shivers — one freezes.
To speak at a normal volume requires an effort like that necessary to speak loudly, almost like that necessary to shout—
the feeling, one stops speaking —
one can no longer identify the meaning of words, one can only guess —
the use of sibilants — s,ss, tz, sch — is absolutely unbearable
guards, visits, the yard seems to be made of celluloid —
headaches —
flashes —
sentence construction, grammar, syntax — can no longer be controlled.
When writing two lines — by the end of the second line, one cannot remember the beginning of the first —
the feeling, internal burn-out —
the feeling, if one must say what’s wrong, if one wants to let it out, it’s like a rush of boiling water in the face, like, for example, boiling water that scalds one forever, that disfigures —
Raging aggressivity, for which no outlet exists. That’s the worst.
Clear consciousness that one has no possibility of survival; a complete breakdown of the capacity to mediate this;
Visits leave nothing. A half an hour later one can only mechanically reconstruct whether the visit was today or last week.
Compared to this, bathing once a week means: momentary thaw, a moment of rest — to stop for a couple of hours —
The feeling, time and space are interlocked —
The feeling to find oneself in an amusement park house of mirrors —
to stagger —
Afterwards: awful euphoria, that one heard something — beyond the acoustic day and night differentiation —
The feeling, time now flows, the brain again expands, the spinal column sinks down after weeks.
The feeling, as if one’s skin is thickening.
Red Army Faction - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Red Army Faction - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
On May 9, 1976, Ulrike Meinhof was found dead in her cell, hanging from a rope made from jail towels. An investigation concluded that she had hanged herself, a result hotly contested at the time, spurring a plethora of conspiracy theories. Other theories suggest that she took her life because of being ostracized by the rest of the group.
On May 9, 1976, Ulrike Meinhof was found dead in her cell, hanging from a rope made from jail towels. An investigation concluded that she had hanged herself, a result hotly contested at the time, spurring a plethora of conspiracy theories. Other theories suggest that she took her life because of being ostracized by the rest of the group.
so...
I should be asleep
letting myself worry instead
shouldn't
but do
sometimes
i just think all the wrong thoughts
the voice lately says
"I'm broken."
i've even caught myself
saying it aloud
even if I think
Laing is right
and broken
is the only
way to be
in this broken
world
i wonder
am i broke right?
or broke wrong?
nights like this
when the brain
starts up
every time
I close
my eyes
I have to wonder...
i have to wonder...
so i do.
i lie there
and i motherfuckin'
wonder
when i should
be sleeping
enjoying the parts
of my life
that are going well
and not worrying so
much about the rest
letting the ones
sabotage the others
wonderin'
so much craziness
running rampant
rampant
i say
now i'm up
typing this
and chatting
baader-meinhof
and other bits
of 20th century
german history
with a friend
and trying to
get tired enough
that when i close
my eyes
it all goes
dark.
letting myself worry instead
shouldn't
but do
sometimes
i just think all the wrong thoughts
the voice lately says
"I'm broken."
i've even caught myself
saying it aloud
even if I think
Laing is right
and broken
is the only
way to be
in this broken
world
i wonder
am i broke right?
or broke wrong?
nights like this
when the brain
starts up
every time
I close
my eyes
I have to wonder...
i have to wonder...
so i do.
i lie there
and i motherfuckin'
wonder
when i should
be sleeping
enjoying the parts
of my life
that are going well
and not worrying so
much about the rest
letting the ones
sabotage the others
wonderin'
so much craziness
running rampant
rampant
i say
now i'm up
typing this
and chatting
baader-meinhof
and other bits
of 20th century
german history
with a friend
and trying to
get tired enough
that when i close
my eyes
it all goes
dark.
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