Monday Foofarah!

Yoinks!  I think I may have bit off more than I can chew with this whole weekly FOOFARAH / Whatever thing I’ve assigned myself.  I may literally not have ten minutes worth of things to talk at people about after only a week’s time.  At least, that’s what it more often than not feels like when I sit down to type this thing.  Let’s see if that’s true or not.  Away we go!

FIRST AND LAST CHANCE TO SEE:  Only one new show, that I know of, starting up this week, and it’s a doozy.  A last minute replacement for YOU FANCY YOURSELF at the GCTC, Pierre Brault is bringing his legendary one-man show  BLOOD ON THE MOON back for a return engagement.  I haven’t had the chance to see it previously, so I’m tickled.  I assume, of course, it is a harsh examination of the menstrual cycle.  I HOPE so.  Also, Third Wall is putting on the second of their EMPTY SPACE reading series on the 18th, this time rocking a little Henry Beissel for y’all.  Be there!

NONCOMMITTAL CHANCE TO SEE2 PIANOS 4 HANDS continues at the NAC, while LOST IN YONKERS carries on over at the OLT, and I can happily attest to the fun-ness of both shows.  Check ’em out!  I cast this LEDERHOSEN LUCIL video in both their directions, with luv:

I’ve been really digging into Grant Morrison’s new non-fiction book SUPERGODS this past week, trying to savor it.  For those not in the know, Grant is my fav’rit comic book writer of pretty much ever.  Not only is he writing one of the VERY few bright spots in DC comics’ foolhardy and ill-advised ‘new 52’ reboot, he’s also introduced such fantastic concepts and characters over the years as Hypertime, Danny the transvestite street, King Mob, We3, Batman Incorporated, Chubby da Choona and the Brotherhood of Dada, to name but a mind-blowing few.  His book is part history of the comic book superhero, part autobiography, and it’s giving me a serious nostalgia jones for old-time comix.  I’ve already bought and been poring over a reprint volume of the first ten issues of FANTASTIC FOUR, and I suspect there’s more expensive trips to the Silver Snail and Comic Book Shoppe in my near future.  Which is a good thing.

In other news…not much, really. Aside from getting some cleaning done in my apartment, and another thing I’m not allowed to tell you about (kinda cool, tho), I have woefully little to report.  That being said, I have reinvention on the brain, and a few tasks I’d like to set for myself.  For instance, finish that god-damned play I’ve had half-written for six months.  It’s all there in my head, I can see it, I can HEAR it, I just have to beat my personal demons Fear and Sloth and get that shit down on paper (or electrons, that would be fine too).  I honestly think it’s a decent, fun little piece…again, if I ever finish it.  THEN I have to find someone I trust to read it, and tell me all the ways it’s terrible so I can fix it.  Then I can get started on the next one, and the other one, and the one after that.   I swear, I wanna have BECKY SUE IN THE BIG CITY, THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN VIDEO and MISSY VS.DINOSAURS finished by summer.  Well, first drafted, anyhow.  You know how it is.

I’m running out of things to say earlier than usual this week, so I’ll leave you with the song that, almost 10 years ago, inspired me to start writing that BECKY SUE piece I mentioned in the last paragraph.  From my fav’rit Neko Case album, The Virginian:

Trust me, it’ll all make sense once you see that shit on stage.  Fringe ’13, mayhap?  Peace, love and soul, folks,

The Visitor (and Winston)



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