“It was the first time that anyone in the country was killed by police gunfire.”
“‘In the 1970s, Congress was intensely interested in pornography,’ which led to the Library’s collecting examples of the genre for use by congressional committees looking into obscene materials.”
in the way
that stones are soft
(if you think stones cannot be soft you will never truly know a stone)
push against a stone and
all you will get is frustrated
they are the earth’s bones after all
but you can chip away at it
(i am the same way)
one sharp blow at the right place can cause a stone to
as far as i know
there is no good way
to repair a stone
we’re quiet types
(stones and i)
we prefer to listen
if you come sit by us
rest with us
don’t expect conversation
we’re happy where we are
if you reach out gently
and touch me
i am softer than i look
when placed in water
i become radiant
can i tell you a secret?
more than anything
i would like to be
in the pocket of a person i love
(stones are the same way)
in the way
that stones are soft
(if you think stones cannot be soft you will never truly know me)
This is too long for an ask, and FYSS lacks a Submit box, so I subject you to my ramble this way:
It seems to me that “or my service will explain,” has become the only untenably dated lyric for productions of Company which do not overtly intend to be 70s period pieces.
Given the other modernizing changes which were made for the 2006 revival, I’ve been contemplating possible alternatives—something like “or I’ll text you to explain.” It’s difficult to find one which sings as well and conveys the same übercontemporary cynicism and detachment as the original would have at the time. I’d be interested to learn your thoughts on this lyric in particular, and in general on modernizing shows intended to be cuttingly current as-written. How “frozen” must a show remain if anachronism is death to the intended experience?
I would argue that there are other lyrics in Company that keep it tethered to the 70s, and even more so, there are elements from the book - basically all of it - that keep it tethered to the 70s. (Can you really play that pot smoking scene as taking place in 2013 convincingly? I don’t think so. Ditto for the karate scene. Ditto for the discotheque scene.) Why do you feel the need to modernize the text? Do you not trust an audience in 2013 to relate to characters in 1971?
I’m not sure that everything intended to be “cuttingly current” can remain “cuttingly current” for the duration - nor should it. Rent and A Chorus Line both became period pieces during their original Broadway runs, but that didn’t hurt the effect of either. In fact, early on in the run of A Chorus Line, there was an attempt to “modernize” the references (both in script and costumes), and it didn’t work, so the production reverted to its original form and went on to become the longest-running show on Broadway. If shows have something true to say about the human condition at the time of their original production, that truth should shine through even once it is no longer contemporary.
And if you really, really must dress it up in a different era, why do you need to change the text? Somehow people manage to accept Rigoletto set in Vegas in the 60s or Romeo and Juliet set in Venice Beach in the ’90s despite texts that clearly refer to other times and places. If an audience can hear “sword” and see a gun and make sense of it, I promise you they can survive a passing reference to an answering service without the play falling apart for them.
"But Sondheim updates his shows!" Sure, and if you write a show, feel free to update it.
Mm. Well said. Of COURSE Company is dated in other ways, and of /course/ only Sondheim Himself is empowered to revise its text. I should’ve framed my question more clearly as being in light of http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/10/15/sondheim-working-on-a-revised-version-of-company/ that, and being only a hypothetical academic wordsmithy contemplation of what else might work for that particular lyric.
People in polyamorous relationships see an opportunity now to come out and show it’s not just about sex, but about love and families, too.
"Polyamory is the nonpossessive, honest, responsible and ethical philosophy and practice of loving multiple people simultaneously,"
I don’t love the article, but nor do I hate it—which is more than I’ve come to expect when CNN.com reports on social issues. This one is mostly balanced, though with many niggling quibbles and nits-to-be-picked.
(Potential trigger warning.)
I suppose I should have known the Lansbury, Moreno, and Duncan videos were all part of the same series.
I think we need to create a contemporary revival of this concept:
AUDRA’S ASS OF STEEL
LOOK LIKE YOU’RE TWELVE… FOREVER! WITH BERNADETTE PETERS
SWEAT YOUR VOWELS OFF WITH PATTI LUPONE
“What do you mean, you don’t like soccer? What other sport is there?”
“Well, I like basketball. I play on a local team.”
“Basket ball? What’s that?”
“Well, players try to get a ball into the other team’s basket.”
“Ok, I follow. Like soccer.”
“Yeah, except you bounce the ball with your hands instead of using your feet.”
“Wait, what? You mean you can CHEAT?”
“No, it just has different rules.”
“What do the other players think about that?”
“Well, they all play by the same rules.”"
The first and last time you’ll ever find a sports metaphor on my blog.
“Sylvia Rivera kicking ass on stage after some radfems & transphobes tried to refuse her the right to speak at the 1973 Christopher Street Liberation Day rally. Said radfems then had their own march in part protesting trans participation in Pride. A precursor to today’s Dyke March.”
It is women like Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson who started the Stonewall riots and queer liberation. 43 years later, trans women of color, the people who started the movement, are the people maligned and left behind by it.
In Sylvia’s words, “What the FUCK is wrong with you all?”
[[Trigger warning: suicide]]
Sylvia went home that night and attempted suicide.
Marsha Johnson came home and found her in time to save her life.
Sylvia left the movement after that day and didn’t come back for twenty years.
It’s hard to be a velociraptor…
I go to a tiny liberal-arts Great Books school in Chicago called Shimer College.
We celebrated Valentine’s Day with an existential cookie-decorating party.