Fun Fact

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Supermodel Dovima forged her moniker by combining the first syllables of her real names--Dorothy Virginia Margaret.

Sex and the Viv-y.

World renowned fashion designer, and personal idol/muse, Vivienne Westwood has spoken up about the Sex and the City movie! And she was not amused!

Well, what can be said? Viv is a goddess, no doubt, and she's entitled to her opinion. Personally, I thought the costumes (for the most part) were fabulous (although Pat could've lightened the Mugler load on Samantha), but it's understandable that she didn't think they were edgy enough. I do, however, find it a little rash on her part to walk out of the film after ten minutes, although I fear what she would do if she saw what they did to her collections during the Fashion Week scene! 

In other Viv news, her "Man" Summer collection showed in Milan and it is, as always, fabulous. Too bad this 'mo doesn't have the dough. 

Fun Fact

Pablo Neruda wrote only with green ink because it was the color of Esperanza (hope). 

Of the Earth

Human law is often puzzling, irrational and, sometimes, contradictory. In Alabama, it's illegal to play dominoes on Sunday. In Michigan, you may not swear in front of women and children. In New York, the penalty for jumping off a building is death. In North Dakota, it's illegal to fall asleep with your shoes on. But one law has never ceased to confused me: under United States federal law, it is illegal to possess, use, buy, sell, or cultivate marijuana. Even with the medical marijuana rise, the decriminalization of it in certain states, and Alaska's wacky guidelines, at the end of the day marijuana is still considered a schedule 1 narcotic, and therefore, illegal. 

Despite the fact that THC is not physically or psychologically addictive, nor does it present any health concerns that nicotine does not, the real reason this law confuse me is the fact that cannabis grows right out of the earth. I suppose the government does what they can, prohibiting the farming and selling of the plant by humans and so forth, because that's human intervention, but how can something natural be illegal? Why should what grows in our backyard be plucked up? Because it's dangerous? Should Poison Ivy be illegal? Or Nightshade? If something creates itself autonomously how can people slap jurisdictions on it? It's like saying sunshine or wind is illegal. 

Obviously the same thing can be argued for the sake of heroin, cocaine, and the whole slew of other things  that are derived from the earth, but in the case of marijuana it doesn't go through as rigorous a process to become a "drug" and it is not nearly as dangerous.  

I guess it all has to do with the human domination of earth and their quest to reverse the order of nature, but unless they plan to put everything they find disagreeable about nature into extinction (which is certainly possible, and may even become a reality within our lifetime), I think people should be more concerned about playing dominoes on Sunday than sparking up.    

It's Official...

...either something significant happened today, or I need to have myself committed. Or both. 

While riding my bike this afternoon, I was deep in thought ("pensive", if you will) about a lot of things: School, work, television, Vogue, food, paint, politics, toothpicks, cats, Truman Capote, abortions, deodorant, potholes, trees, Manhattan, Carrie Bradshaw, marriage, Dovima, Grey's Anatomy, fish, getting my cigarette lit, Short Fiction for Retards, South Pacific, Vivienne Westwood, sex and, of course, my future; mainly, my hopes of becoming something more than a little gay boy on Long Island by making some kind of impact or contribution to the world on a large scale. (Dayum, that's a long sentence). And, just like that, a feather fell down right in front of my face. After accidently inhaling it, stopping my bike short, burning my finger and falling forward, I spit it out and remembered that, last week, I had decided that, if it were ever necessary, my insignia would be a feather. And that was a little scary.   

 

Now, birds fly. A lot. In the sky. Above our heads. And they molt. Logic would say there's nothing unusual about this occurrence and, in reality, there isn't. But it was striking that, in my whole mini chain-reaction of thoughts that, the split-second I was thinking about my career the symbol of said career would drop in front of my face and down my throat. I mean, haven't had some conversion where I'll now run into the nearest church and start praying and flogging myself, nor do I even think I'll remember this damn feather next week, but it's just another one of those things.

Goddamn universe. 

What a Piece of Work is Man.

It's been a year since I saw Romeo & Juliet in Central Park, and I'm all riled up to see Hamlet this year. I just hope the Public Theatre continues the streak of "good" Shakespeare plays in the years to come, hopefully including Macbeth and The Taming of the Shrew and bypassing Henry the...whatever and Two Gentlemen of Verona. Anyway. It's not just Hamlet I'm super excited bout this year; it's the American Tribal Love-Rock musical Hair. The musical that actually revolutionized Broadway and brought the concepts of free love, peace, protest and drugs to popular culture. It's the forerunner to all other unconventional musicals, but, more importantly, it still has the ability to stand on its own today, without being (completely) a period piece. Of course that's due to some striking similarities of the present day to the 1960's, but that's for another post... 

To be fair, I did see it during the extremely limited three day engagement last September, but I was so unfamiliar with it, not to mention tired after a long day of classes, that I couldn't appreciate it very much. But, after nine months of blasting the soundtrack, watching the (slightly terrible) movie, and reading up on criticisms and history of the play, I'm excited to see it once again. This time in a better frame of mind. 

There is, however, another reason I am dying to see this production. Namely: 

Jonathan Groff.

Sure, it's pretty fangirlish of me to have a crush on an adolescent Broadway star, but I'm only human (well, that's debatable, but I do have raging hormones, so there's your explanation). Ever since seeing him (all of him, if you catch my drift) in Spring Awakening last year, and again in Hair, and in addition to knowing from a reliable source that he does indeed play for my team, I have been a little obsessed with him. I probably would never have the nerve to act upon these feelings, or even bring myself to talk to him for that matter, but it's exciting to see him in person. He's a brilliant performer and has the ability to take command of the stage when he's on it. Oh, and he's hot. 

There is also, one more reason that I am excited about both of these plays. The tagline on the poster advertising the plays is "What a piece of work is man." Now, to someone unfamiliar to these works, that quote might seem unimportant, however, a shrewd eye will tell you that it's the beginning of a soliloquy that appears quite predominantly in both plays. It's that aspect of design that I find impressive and worthy: the simple nuances that are well researched, apropos, and give you something to smile at while reading the poster. Not to mention the symbol of vanitas/iconic skull on the poster that sums up both Hamlet and Hair quite nicely in one image. 

I have, as usual, a good feeling about the Public Theatre this summer. It's one of the few things to look forward to in these scorching months. 

Green Living

For three years now, I have been a staunch vegetarian and animal rights activist (I take pride in the fact that I once participated in a protest at KFC) and, with the gloomy, acid rain-filled cloud of global warming hanging over us every day, I think it's time not just to reassess our gas and electricity consumption, but also the use animal products. Since I cannot eloquently describe every cruel and pollution-inducing flaw associated with factory farming, I'll refer all three of my readers to this article from the New York Times. 

Next time, don't worry about filling your tank; worry about having a burger. 

Sophomoric my ass.

WARNING: This post will come off as arrogant, but I'm not in a good mood, so, so be it. Please don't let the tone of this post reflect your overall opinion of me. 

                                                            

I thought that, instead of sitting around on my ass this summer, I would be productive and take summer courses. Not just to lighten my load during the fall, but to be able to devote my attention purely to two courses of study instead of juggling eight or nine. I thought, in particular, I would like my Short Fiction class, because one of my few strengths is English, and I happen to enjoy short stories.

Turns out, to be as polite as possible, the class is full of retards. Accordingly, the teacher is about the most basic one could ever find. She's like a kindergarten teacher: she overanalyzes to the point where she takes everything literally and defines words such as "through" or "as" on a regular basis. We read stories, such as "The Necklace" and "The Story of an Hour", that I was an expert in since Junior High. It's frustrating. I realize the Fashion Institute of Technology isn't exactly an academic school, but this is just embarrassing. 

What's worse is, the professor refuses to acknowledge me and my participation. I'm frequently the only one who knows the meaning of a word or symbol, and I find myself speaking out almost every two minutes. Does she care? No. She asked what necrophilia was (and even had the audacity to write it on the board as if we were children, although some of my peers could pass) and when I answered, quite eloquently, she said "yeah, that's it" quietly without even looking at me. I'm sorry, but that's just rude. I can understand that she wants others to participate, others who may be in need of education, but I worked very hard to get to the point where I am now, and I feel this should be appreciated by others. And while some may call me sophomoric, I know better. 

In high school, it was always the smart people who got attention. I wasn't one of them. Now, in college, only the stupid people get attention. And I am not one of them. That is just a big grand WHAT THE FUCK?

Sorry. 

There's a little bit of Broadway in everyone...

                                 

Well, the countdown to the second-best awards show on television is coming down to the wire. The Antoinette Perry Awards will air this Sunday night at 8 on CBS. Even though I have only seen one Best Musical nominee this season, I am nevertheless excited to see what shows win which awards. Along with the excitement of who wins (and, more importantly, who loses) there is the excitement of viewing the several live performances during the program. Among them is a performance from the rock opera RENT, which ends its 12 year run this September. 

Upon being a devoted fan of RENT for many years now and seeing the phenomenal revival of "Gypsy" this year, that coupled with the tagline for the Tony's this year, "There's a little bit of Broadway in everyone" made me think a lot about what has happened to Broadway in recent years. In my view, it seems to have gone from this prestigious, adult venue, filled with brilliant works from Sondheim and Bernstein and brilliant actors (not to mention Divas) like Ethel Merman and Angela Lansbury to something...else. Something  different, and not in a good way. Seeing Gypsy reminded of this "Golden Age" of Broadway, showing that a musical can have, and should have, an effortless combination of a good book, good score, good lyrics, good singing and good acting. Like Hollywood, Broadway was once a platform for these attributes. Recently, though, Broadway has been watered down to a sort of pop culture standing. The theatres are filled with musical remakes of bad movies, American Idol cast-offs, and, worst of all, Disney. This isn't to say the entire  blame of this degradation  should be placed upon the shows themselves. I still think RENT, for example, is a brilliant piece of musical theatre, however recent productions have sullied anything good about it. Not to mention the huge amount of tweens and fangirls who have deemed themselves "theatre geeks" and "RENTheads" when the only exposure they've had to, say, an incredible musical such as "Sweeney Todd" was through Johnny Depp, and they list their favorite musical as "Legally Blonde". 

Not to sound elitist, because I am hardly in the position to do so, but Broadway once had a certain air to it, a certain distinctive quality that made it special. Considering it's confined to one rather affluent and cultural city: New York, and that the cost of tickets needs to be rather high to keep a production going, it was reserved, basically, to people in a high standing in society, a standing that usually came with education and class. Obviously that sounds incredibly slanted, but it's obvious to see that, nowadays, most people have a lot of money regardless of class and education and, more importantly, lots of children have lots of money--from their parents. Not to say that I'm not supported by my parents, but I do earn said money; I'm not a spoiled MTV-generation girl who watches "The Hills" and goes to prom or whatever such nonsense these ridiculous rich children do nowadays. It's "these" people who seem to have had a rather large influence on Broadway, considering they are becoming a legitimate target audience. Therefore, more and more current shows don't have the Je ne sais quoi Broadway once had. In fact, not many musicals are particularly good, to be rather blunt about it. Sure "Spring Awakening" was the runaway hit of last year, and deservedly so, because it was very good, but that show seems so very "current" that it would be hard to see it being revived successfully twenty or thirty years from now. Not to mention that it appear to be curtailed to the younger generation. It's really saying something when a show like this wins the Best Musical Tony award. That, a show which is obviously largely influenced by this "new" Broadway, regardless of its strong points, is seen as the best of the current season, really says a lot for what Broadway is becoming. The same goes for this year's hit "In the Heights".  Broadway just doesn't really have classics anymore...it seems to be churning out more and more "good" musicals that are likely to be forgotten after their initial run, which is admittedly a shame, but not really an unlikely occurrence instead of making true groundbreakingly good shows. 

So, this Sunday, we will sadly watch not only RENT's departure, but we will see a bunch of musicals win awards, and shortly thereafter and be forgotten.  Broadway has become increasingly depressing over the years, and it does not look like it will get any better. Sadly, those bright lights will probably get dimmer and dimmer until it's nothing but an attraction for vapid teens and tourists. I mean, it's almost there already.

Yes, there may be "a little bit of Broadway in everyone", but they're not all necessarily the same Broadway...     

Ecofeminism!

So, I'm taking "Short Fiction for the Mentally Retarded" this summer, and I just handed in my midterm paper analyzing John Steinbeck's short story "The Chrysanthemums". It's not perfect because I only had four days to write it, but I figure it's worth sharing. Please forgive the repetitiveness, awkward transitions, and over-reliance on certain devices. On a side note, I just discovered the  incredible philosophy of Ecofeminism and I wish I was a woman. Well, more of a woman anyway. 

Flower Power

In most criticisms of John Steinbeck’s work “The Chrysanthemums”, the flowers are often thought to represent the protagonist Elisa’s sexuality: a common symbolic interpretation, reaching even to the works of Georgia O’Keefe and Judy Chicago. However, English Professor Cynthia Bily was the first to suggest that the story has an underlying theme of ecofeminism: the chrysanthemums symbolize an intense connection between Elisa and the earth, with the flowers themselves acting merely as a conduit. Elisa appears to channel the energy and force from the planet, developing a kind of spiritual power as she gardens, a power she uses to combat the various oppressive and restraining forces in her life, such as her husband, the tinker and society as a whole. Could it be possible, then, to see a connection between the way men treat women and the way they treat the earth in Steinbeck’s work, and, by extension, see the connection drawn between the two forces?  

Throughout the story, Elisa is seen as a trapped and lonely woman. As it starts, the “high grey-flannel fog” covers the area and “makes of the great valley a closed pot”, already illustrating her predicament as she gardens. She longs for her husband to take her out, away from the farm, and melts at the first sign the tinker appreciates her work. In addition, her clothes, masculine and clunky in appearance, do not seem to fit her frame, both figuratively and literally. Although Steinbeck was not “officially” a feminist, it is clear that the character is under the thumb of an androcentric society, objectified by her husband, with the only means of venting through her flower garden.

As Elisa is seen as a lonely woman in the story, men are often shown as tough and unappreciative. At the beginning of the story, her husband Henry is seen as an archetypical farmer: strong, masculine, and tough. He had violently plowed the soil in the orchard so that it would draw more water when it rained, in an attempt to manipulate nature to his liking and he had let the cattle become “shaggy and rough-coated” since they were not ready to harvest, showing his general disinterest and objectification of nature.  While Elisa tends to her exquisite chrysanthemums, Henry, though outwardly appreciative of her talents, comments on their size and wishes she could focus her abilities toward the orchard, so that they can produce larger apples, not flowers.  Along with Elisa asking his permission to drink wine and their apparent separate bedrooms, Henry is shown as a distant and selfish person.  

When the character of the tinker comes along, Elisa is more than defensive upon their meeting, thinking he is only trying to manipulate her into spending money.  When he compliments her flowers, though, she immediately gives in to his charm. She begins to tell him of her techniques, and it is here that the clearest example of the ecofeminist theme is shown:  “I can only tell you what it feels like. It’s when you’re picking off the buds you don’t want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips…your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know.” Elisa explains (the best she can) about her “planting hands”:  her ability to tend to her flowers through only sheer intuition and fondling. It is seen here how strong a connection she has to the earth, and how her hands are almost able to communicate with it to aid in her gardening. Foolishly, she hands over some of her chrysanthemum shoots to the tinker in a hubristic effort to show her skills off to another woman. However, soon enough, she discovers the awful truth: the tinker, bent only on business, tossed the shoots out of the pot onto the road. When she sees them, trampled and thrown on the ground, she begins to cry “like an old woman”. This is the clearest instance that shows men’s place as the destroyers of nature in the story. In true ecofeminist fashion, there are direct correlations to be seen between the destruction of nature and the undervaluation of women in Steinbeck’s story. The tinker could not have cared less about Elisa’s garden, illustrating his contempt for both women and the earth.

Even though the story was not necessarily feminist-based, through a critical analysis it is obvious to see the feminist inspiration, and, by extension, the ecofeminist theme.  The earth filled the attention and connection Elisa was lacking through the male figures in her life; she developed a stronger relationship with her flowers than she ever had with her husband because she identified with them. In Steinbeck’s story “The Chrysanthemums”, women and the elements of the natural world were obviously treated in the same dishonorable manner, and developed an intense bond because of it.