Flipping the New Wave

I recently listened to a countdown of the best New Wave hits starting from 101 down to the ultimate number one song of that period (starting from the late 70s to the early to mid 80s.) Of course, Best Of lists are subjective and we can argue that point until New Wave makes a comeback,…

Directing, Creative Freedom, and Vandalism

Originally posted on Bitter Gertrude:
From endlessorigami.com Once upon a time I worked at a theatre that received two cease-and-desist orders in two seasons– one for copying dialogue from a Disney film word-for-word and performing it without permission, and one for rewriting the lyrics to Godspell. The artistic director of the company told me, “The New…

A Closed Circle

Spring, 1995. The spiral tubes and breathing machines. The ICU and the specialists. The spinal taps and blood tests. They will become a litany of memories… But not for me. For my mother and my sisters, yes. And especially my father—although I will never ask. But it will end there. My mother will speak of…

When in (Left of) Rome

He read the email from our landlady. It was a threat of eviction. “Oh hell no,” he yelled. “Who does that bitch think she is?” He referred to the next-door neighbor who just moved in two weeks ago and whom we had yet to meet. Apparently, we were being too loud—definite grounds for eviction. We…

Not Quite Ready For That Close-Up

From the Sunset Blvd screenplay Slow dissolve to: Hollywood, seen from the Hilltop at Ivar & Franklin Streets. Joe Gillis (VO) I was living in an apartment    house above Franklin and Ivar. Camera pans toward the Alto Nido, an ugly Moorish structure of stucco about four stories high. Actually, it is six stories high.…

Murder at Dawn

The rays of the sun cut through the mist, forcing its retreat. Wounded by the oncoming light, the mist leaves behind parts of itself. The dampness on the ground, the droplets on the tree limbs: dismembered parts reminding the world that no crime shall go unpunished. The day grows and the sun sweeps through the…

A Gem Among Minerals

He didn’t exactly hand it back to me. He threw it at my face with a flick of his wrist. At least, that’s how I remember it. In reality, it was a combination of the two actions. He went up and down each aisle, returning each assignment to its respective student. The class was alive…

Your Memory Is Who You are Now

Over the past summer, I was introduced to a fascinating development in the study on the biological functioning of the brain: Memories change every time we remember an event. When we recall a past event, we aren’t recalling it back to its origin, but, in fact, we’re recalling the last the last time that we…

Madonna of the Brassiere

Do it! Do it! The mandate hissed in my head like air escaping from a deflating tire. The truth of the matter was: I didn’t want to Do it! The idea of it terrified me. They terrified me. Yet, here I was goaded on by a couple of horny teenage boys. Robin was in my…