Marie

This quarter, I'm producing a play for The Phrontisterion, the student group I coordinate. We're staging The Birds, an ancient Greek comedy by laugh master Aristophanes. We started rehearsals this week, starting things off with a string of ridiculous improv games, which basically serve to break the ice between a gaggle of relative strangers. It would be a drag to describe the games in detail here, but suffice it to say that one of them is called "Bunny Bunny" and another "Big Booty, Little Booty".

So what does this all boil down to? Four weeks of rehearsals, infinite emails, phone calls, meetings, signatures, paperwork. And how is all this possible? How am I, a student unaffiliated with any academic program, allowed and able to put on a full-scale comedy in one of Evergreen's most coveted performance venues? The Student Acitivities Board, that's how. One of Evergreen's most endearing qualities is its commitment to making services and facilities open to students. If there's a will, there's (almost always) a way, and this time, the way is three nights of performance to a total audience of 600 people. I can't wait, but I'll be holding my breath until then...

Posted by Marie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sitting in Caffe Vita on a Sunday afternoon, these are the things I see:

Two young men in black suits, looking ridiculously serious, cross the street and storm into the cafe. They cross the room in measured, authoritative, steps. One of them slams a black briefcase down on a table where a hipster-looking student type sits unperturbed. He, the tall one, reaches into the briefcase and grabs a roll of ducktape. Oh crap, I laugh. He rips off a piece of tape and smacks it over the kid's the mouth. What the hell, I laugh harder.

I'm not worried--I see one of these black suits, the short one, on the bus all the time; I'm pretty sure he works at Evergreen. They leave just as surely as they came in, amid muffled laughter and DID YOU SEE THATs. One of the baristas asks the kid if he's okay, if he wants her to call the police. He keeps his head down, shakes out an ambiguous "no". I laugh again, look out the window. I see a rockabilly couple crossing the street: skinny pale dude with a pompadour escorting a plump vixen decked out in a black skirt and heels, wearing lots of blush, laughing. She knows she looks good.

Meanwhile the couple next to me (are they a couple, I wonder, or is she his personal trainer?) carry on their conversation about pumping iron. She is the dominant voice here, outlining the best way to get cut, as opposed to buff. He looks terrified. Maybe they're a couple, I consider, but if they are, he's trying to escape...

This is great, I laugh once more. I catch a glimpse of "low-rider bike guy" cruising around outside, headphones on as usual. He's got tattoos on his arms, on his face. Wears a backward cap. He rides about six different versions of the same bicycle, frame kissing the ground, arms stretched toward the handles above his head.

I love it. I see him all the time.

Posted by Marie at 02:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

'Oh, the cathartic qualities of electronic music,' I mused as I stood squished between giant speakers on my right and a kinetic, dancing couple on my left. Friday night I was privy to the intoxicating sights and sounds of Gumar and his Magical Midi Band, an Oly-based performative phenomenon that's swept through the town like wild fire. This weekend, the band--a DJ, two additional vocalists, and a slew of friends touting glammed up mock instruments-- took prestigious stage at the Washington Center for Performing Arts, "rocking out" to a crowd of fiercely loyal followers. I'd caught snippets of Midi Band shows in the past, but this was the first time I had the privilege of experiencing an entire set. Yes, experiencing, not listening or watching. The band performs, in the strongest sense of the word, and the audience ingests it all: emphatic and infectious beats, heartwarming and hilarious lyrics, off the cuff dance moves, glamor and glitz to the utmost, and sweat--a whole lotta' sweat.

Speaking of sweat, Gumar's audience got a little warm-up from another Oly-originated group, The Blow. Comprised of a behind-the-scenes DJ and a commanding front woman, The Blow elevates electronic music to philosophy and sophisticated stand-up. While the dude provides the beats, the singer traverses the set with songs and stories of break-ups, trips through the digestive system, and girl power. If you listen closely, you'll even glean lessons in econ and existentialism; if you attend a show, you'll learn how to dance like a malfunctioning robot and still look cool.

Posted by Marie at 01:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)