Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Things To Do When You Realize That This Whole Time Jesus Was Carrying You and Those Footprints in the Sand Were His

Have your tongue roll out of your mouth and hit the ground like a cartoon, and then have your head pop off and confetti spew out of your neck.
Print out a million crappy pamphlets about it using an “elegant” font.
Realize that Jesus must really like the movie Kangaroo Jack because he carried you to see it so many times.
Start dressing really boring – wear outfits cultivated from a wardrobe of “basics” from Old Navy and Wal-Mart.
Subtly maneuver government policy to the exclusion of women, gays, and minorities.
Affect an expression of maddening piety whenever anyone tries to talk to you about anything.
Heavy pet yourself.
Shift uncomfortably when you realize that you still have to live in a charmless apartment complex next to the highway and go to your shit job at the mortgage firm tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

How To Psychologically Destroy The Competition At Your MFA Program

Arrange for 1-800-FLOWERS to send you a dozen white roses in the middle of the class with a card signed "With Love From The Dean". Then as you shyly caress them mention that white is the color of genius.

Buy a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales, an anthology of Greek Myths, and print out some African slave tales from the Internet. Then bring them all into class and say, "These stories are not up for grabs, I am in the midst of adapting them all."

Lift weights while other people read their work aloud. During the really sad parts, stand up and do some poses where you stand with your back to the group and squeeze your buttcheeks really tight while flexing your arms.

Whenever someone brings in some new work that hasn't really had a chance to breathe or find its feet yet, say something like, "Um, I think I saw this movie ... yeah, wasn't it called KINDERGARTEN COP!?!?" Or, alternatively and perhaps more brutally, just cough "*PLAGIARISM*" loudly, yet under your breath.

Never laugh at any of their jokes. Instead, look as austere as possible. Try to look like a statue the Library of Congress will mount of you when you are dead and incredibly famous. Or, wise and amused, like the black-and-white image of you that will be printed on Barnes and Noble tote bags in the future.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Fun Games To Play On A Rainy Day

Ever been stuck indoors on a rainy day and considered bashing your head against a wall just to beat the boredom and blues away? Well, with these fun games to play on a rainy day, that will never happen to you again! Just grab a partner and go!

Fun Game #1: Soon-Yi, How Could Ye?

In this game, one partner pretends to be Mia Farrow, while the other plays Mia's adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn who, in 1993, shocked the world by running off with her adoptive coparent, filmmaker Woody Allen. The object of the game is for "Mia" to finally confront Soon-Yi after all these years of silence and pain and get to the bottom of what she was thinking when she let Woody Allen seduce her, wed her, and even adopt a baby to raise with her. Ten points shall be awarded for every time "Mia" says something to the effect of "You ungrateful whore, I took you out of Korea where your whore mother dumped you on the streets!"

Fun Game #2: Soon-Yi, Will You Marry Me?

In this game, one partner pretends to be filmmaker Woody Allen, while the other pretends to be Soon-Yi Previn, his 21-year-old adopted daughter whom he scandalously seduced and married in 1993. The object of the game is for "Woody Allen" to propose to Soon-Yi and get her to accept. So that "Soon-Yi" will put up a good fight, she will be rewarded with bonus points for every neurotic habit of Allen's she demands that he change if the two are going to co-habitate as man and wife. "You're not going to have your own private bathroom at my house like you did at Mom's!" would garner twelve points. If Soon-Yi says yes to marriage, then the board is flipped over and Woody and Soon-Yi have sex on the board.

Fun Game #3: Backgammon

'Nuff said.

Hawk You Are My Brother

Just this afternoon I was walking down one of the many tree lined pathways that compose the university where I attend grad school, when a bluebird landed on a branch in front of me. I thought “big deal,” and kept walking. Then the bluebird flew past me and landed on a trash can I was approaching and about to pass. I thought, “I wonder if he lives in the trash,” and still kept walking. Then the bluebird landed directly in front of me on the path and that was when it occurred to me that he was probably trying to get me to follow him. So I did. I followed him up the path, through the parking lot behind Bryan Hall, around the ampitheatre and towards the library, the whole time wondering where we were going and isn’t life full of adventures. Finally, we ended up in front of the Roberston Media Center and the bluebird flew up and away never to be seen again. I stood there wondering what the fuck. Then I got it: the reason he had led me to the Media Center is because that’s where I was supposed to return the copy of Flatliners with Keifer Sutherland, that I rented the day before. DOY!! Thanks little guy, where ever you are…

Saturday, May 07, 2005

The Highlights of Getting your MFA at the Yale School of Drama

The Yale School of Drama gives a good all-around education in the art of theater. Have you ever wondered what makes the curtains open at the beginning of a show? The answer is: ropes. Somebody's pulling those ropes, and when you're at the Yale School of Drama, chances are that somebody is either you, or someone you hate. Gaining admittance to the halls of this esteemed institution offers a once-in-a-lifetime chance to learn important theater facts such as:
What is the difference between comedy and tragedy?
Where should I put my costume after I've worn it to ensure that it will be laundered by an inferior?
How can I ensure that people I hate will not become famous?
Is it possible that there are this many homosexuals in a school of less than 200?
Is theater dead? Am I fatter than I was before I came here? In the immortal words of Hamlet, "The play's the thing." So put on your character shoes and your plot hat and ride the theater train up to Drama School Station. It's time for the show!

Friday, May 06, 2005

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Always Do Again

What’s it like going to a water park? It rocks. Why? Because it’s fucking awesome. You never even KNOW what’s going to happen. You could find yourself sliding down a triple whirl zinger and slamming your face into someone else’s inner-tube at the bottom, or standing in line at the Splash Station waiting to get a soft drink while the sun is in your eyes. Sometimes it kind of sucks, though, how you have to keep checking in with mom who looks all young while reclining with the other adults next to the wave pool. The worst/best thing about it is when you’re at the top of a slide and you feel kind of nervous and there are all these people in line behind you that are like, “just go.” And you’re not sure if you should go feet first or head first. And even though you know head first is kind of dangerous you just saw your brother do it…it also doesn’t help that you feel uncomfortable in your dang bathing suit because you’re just starting to get breasts. Then you’re sliding down super fast and it’s the best thing ever. And then when it’s done, and you come of the dark slide and slam into the bright pool at the bottom, it’s pretty much the closest you’ll ever get to getting a high-five from the sun.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Profound Update from a Shaman

Jean-Paul Sartre claimed that "Hell is other people." He got it right ... almost. In fact, Hell is other's people's eczema. As a native healer, I know from personal experience that when a friend suffers from the horrible condition known as eczema, it can tear your life apart. It's worse than second-hand smoke, or colonization. Luckily, with a dollop of native wisdom, you can cure your friend's eczema faster than a goose's shadow skimming over water by simply pointing out that if she didn't shove her fat face full of mozzerella cheese all day long she might not have that nasty rash! Next week: awake your chakras with spirit rocks.

How To Be A Man

Join the Army. Let the blood of a near-fatal wound trickle down the side of your nose, mingling with the smoke from the Marlboro between your lips. Adjust yourself. Putt. Receive golf-themed novelty items for your birthday and Father's Day. Guard the system that keeps you in charge and milk it for all it's worth. Slam your fist down on a boardroom table. Spin around in an office chair and put your legs up on the desk. Scream: "SHOW ME THE MONEY!" Jerk off. Throw up a gang sign. Roll with your homies in a bouncing Cadillac. Rape someone.