“Trump’s candidacy, it has exposed not just that tragic, the ramifications of that betrayal of a transformation of our country, but too, he has exposed the complicity on both sides of the aisle that has enabled it, O.K.?”
The question of why our show was called Macbeth of the Oppressed has come up several times, from several different quarters. There was no evident reference to the work of Augusto Boal, and the idea of a near-future setting/forces of political correctness that showed up in some of the initial advertising flavor/promotion materials had fairly well evaporated by the time we got to rehearsals.
Now, I was simply an actor in this show, and the question was not addressed at length in the rehearsal room, at least not in my presence, but my thoughts on our arguably oblique title boil down to race, gender, and sexuality as they are presented/performed in civic and military life.
We live in a time and place where there is at least some kind of appetite for diversity in the world of creating theater. And while this impulse does intersect with the population in general, there is a decided lag in the public sphere. We are still waiting for a female head of state in this country, and there are precious few out queer leaders of governments or military branches anywhere in the world.
Note that those links refer to positions held within the last single-digit number of years. Note at the same time that some of the forms of oppression inherent in that fact would seem to have been absent, in some important ways, in the ancient world. I contend that the title of our show asks what that might tell us about the concepts of 'progress,' 'power,' and, not least, 'oppression.'
And that's what I have to say about that.
Also, since we're on the subject of witches, Happy Halloween!
Social Summer is ending. Meteorological Summer endures for a few more weeks.
Stewardship Farms has been our CSA this year. For Labor Day weekend (which is and must be about Labor), I'm posting some photos of recent food from our farm share.
Listening to the new Neil Young album, because of course I am. It has taken a certain amount of heat in the critical community for being maybe a wee bit unsubtle, perhaps unartful in its lyricism. And whatever, maybe they have a point. But there’s something that downright tickles me about this particular crotchety grungy grumpy Old Man deciding to make a record themed around abuses in agribusiness and rampant capital and then come right out and name it “The Monsanto Years.” Whilst rocking as hard as he ever did. Just sayin’.
In related news, Donald Trump continues to be a dipshit.
[And in related news of a different kind, I'm wondering if Southern Man has been getting a little more play lately...]
"Living well is an art that can be developed: a love of life and ability to take great pleasure from small offerings and assurance that the world owes you nothing and that every gift is exactly that, a gift."-Maya Angelou
What can you say? By all accounts a kind and generous person, thoughtful, caring, devoted to the arts and helping humanity and the environment, with a great sense of humor, he created one of the most iconic characters of the 20th Century (and beyond). He'll be missed by entire generations of fans and fellow travelers.
Not unpredictable to spend a cold-but-not-quite-as-COLD-as-it-has-been Saturday mostly indoors.
What it sounds like is: opera on the radio + the "let-me-out-of-here" hiss and gurgle of the steam from the last few drops of coffee in the thermos + the "what-the-shit-is-going-on?" rattle clank and hiss of the radiator racketing valiantly against the weather.
Snow just starting to fall. Again. Cory taking a nap trying to shake the head-throat-and-chest cold that came along with the stupid-cold temperatures. I've been going back and forth between the paper, magazines, a book, and the multitude of screens.
Squeezing shows in wherever we can. Did a BMI reading on Wednesday. Last night was a Bud Light- (for the performers) and Murphy's- (for me) -soaked Hank V, with nary a Hank Cinq joke to be heard, as part of Sherin & JP's going away extravaganza in honor of their imminent West Coast relocation. Tonight is the Gob Squad at Skirball. Tomorrow Cory presumably will rally for a seminar she needs to attend; I may hit a matinee, and then the Oscars tomorrow night.
Anecdote from this morning:
Cory asked about the music I'd put on.
Oh, it's a compilation Fast Folk put out in the late 80s.
"Have you played this before?"
No, I just found it a little while ago. Frank used to read & listen to the Fast Folk stuff a lot - I just found all these streaming versions of their releases. I was looking for a dulcimer player we used to listen to.
"Of course you were."
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| Photo K. Devine for SpeakEasy Musicians' Cooperative |
I am thankful for a lot (overwhelming evidence from all quarters to the contrary). So, while we can't and shouldn't ignore the reality (as opposed to the cartoon pageant version) of the Pilgrims or the rest of the European occupation of this continent and the one to the south, we can still make use of a national opportunity to express gratitude.
Small dinner, as Thanksgivings go, with Bruce and Caroline from the building, and Caroline's brother and his girlfriend. Lentil soup, mussels, turkey roulade, roasted root veggies, mashed potatoes, green beans, brussels sprouts, sweet potato pie & pine nut tart for dessert. We shared the cooking tasks, and it turns out that the brother is a wine distributor, so there was a bunch of that flowing. Much to be thankful for.
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