Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Herpes On Inner Thigh

Peter Stein. A day of demons.


Twelve hours.
The representation of the Demons Peter Stein lasts exactly one day, twelve hours acting intense, complicated plot and unpronounceable Russian names.

A theatrical marathon to reduce it into words, wind and air the seven hundred pages of Dostoevsky's masterpiece j .


Despite the rosy predictions do not, the show went well: the audience appreciated and managed to resist all the time sitting on the uncomfortable seats of the stadium, largely helped by the frequent coffee breaks and lunch - even at the end of the show , seemed genuinely moved, try the long minutes of applause and a standing ovation release.


A bit 'fashion, a bit ' the event, a little 'esteem for the inhuman effort that must have cost the actors to memorize thousands of lines of' work, a bit ' the genius of Dostoevsky, a little 'eating practically free - they are all possible answers, but are not sufficient to explain the flow and the success of the work of Stein.


Twelve hours of cogitation ol'inesistenza high on the existence of God, the legitimacy of suicide ol'illegittimità;

twelve hours of overtime on the deepest abyss of monologues' human experience and the "demons" that infect the nihilism and drag him to a crazy thought and self-destructive;

twelve hours masterly reconstruction of the reasons - philosophical policies of the Russian crisis of the late nineteenth century, and bitter (for prophetic) satire on the pseudo-socialist societies - Russia's Revolutionary provincial

twelve hours of the purest tragedy dramas of social and individual, demons note: all ingredients for the most hair-raising, and completely unable to compete with the sublime pleasure of a day at sea.


Imagine then if the agony lasts a full day of sunshine.


I felt the need to think about other causes, to investigate a bit 'deeper into the reasons for the success of the show on 26 June and the enthusiasm of the public.


As often happens to me, I found in the ancient tradition that continues to flow in our blood, and that we are unable to leave.


reasons rooted in the Greek theater days when, during the dramatic events we spend a great deal to the theater to go see the hundreds of characters ed'intrecci tragic scene, a commitment which was intended to improve the public since the purified (catharsis).


This case is similar.

The fundamental difference lies in the duration .


A performance of two or three hours occupies a small part, although culturally important, in our lives. We have the opportunity to decide our free time, and we can use those sacred Oretta to our spiritual growth.

The pleasure of going to the theater! how nice our subscription! let us see how nice the other in the foyer, and tell their friends, with that so neat and just, "Tonight there are going at the theater! "


Finite two or three hours, you return home, try to remember some important or funny joke and row to bed satisfied. End of spiritual growth.


choose to sacrifice a whole day to a show, so that, for once at least, is the show to be life and not vice versa, change all of a sudden the tables.


participation is really active, both for the viewer to be an actor: you can not help but follow, or risk losing complete a full day, and for obvious artistic reasons, there can be no thrill of the character played.


The intimacy between actor and audience grows every minute until it touches heights unthinkable (and unexpected) in a show called "normal": the effort is shared by both sides, s 'Learn to recognize the salient features of each character, his vocal timbre, his tics, his gestures, and with them the care that the actor has spent to create his alter-ego.


is formed slowly among the spectators that sort of student spirit that exists during the trips, or during long journeys, which excites the minds and stimulate the attention and the personification of "the public-one with men on the scene.

We learn to know your neighbor who laughs and jolts as well as learn to know the character I play.


Increased awareness and commitment from the public, caused simply by the increased duration of the show: This is the main reason for the success of Stein.


The famous
fourth wall, the metaphysical distance separating actor and audience, performance and life, was finally demolished by the scene of Stein.

is not found Pirandello's stage, it is instead a far more radical sharing in size, or time.


From a purely physical point of view is the time that is shared by actor and spectator is not the time of the condensate "normal theater, where in three hours" real "years are compressed" theater "( I am reminded of Brecht): here the time of the public coincide the scene in time.


This is enough to engage the public in an original and complete.

This is testified by the almost unanimous bumps during the duel between Starovgin and Gaganov, masterfully rendered by German, the laughter provoked by the collective culture and provincial windbag Stepan Trofimovich, the grimaces of horror painted on every face, wrinkled or not, the arguments of ill Kirillov.


Stein has managed to revive a work of art: The paper was released from prison, writes Bernhard, and has delivered to the public in its context, which is essential to understand it. As he himself confessed that these are not new to marathons, no matter what it takes to stage a book like demons, we must give it the time it takes.


only way the work now is far from our time, takes on new meaning , and seems to speak directly to the terrorism of our day, we hear of that self-destructive demon hovering in the air before the crisis, the nihilism of youth, of the evil that seems absolute, but in reality it is not and never has its raison d'etre choices and in the history of the individual.


only way the theater regains its true historical function , too often forgotten in the foyer and velvet chairs: getting the message to the widest possible audience; educate, purify, democratize.

Monday, June 21, 2010

1099 G Form Illinois 2010 Received It

Change on Eròtion, or I'll

Small bud emerald
Among the sounds of distant worlds,
wave of my heart, mother
steering wheel on the dreams of all dreams:
Capture the crumbs of life
As follows from the terrestrial world
clods please
strewn with mud, vulgar sunset.

The story of your little fairy tale
It feeds from my palms unfolded.
Already the whole, lacks nothing
A smile thrown to the flocks
abducted from the South Seas, an island on which
live life alone And
to sleep, after life,
slightly covered with earth.

My baby .. I would like blackberry
Or maybe blonde, such as berries
magical fruit that comes from the gnomes,
I would like to speak to me like the breeze to limes.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Solution For Vitaligo

The trip and the disappearance of geography. Venice. Humiliation

I dedicate this post to Andrea Bottarel - el xe a vecio Virgil.


Where is Venice?

Oh, there were only rhetorical questions.

Unfortunately it is not: a) it would be easier to answer and b) I would not have felt the need to write this posting.

Unfortunately for all of us, this is a question more urgent than ever.

some time now, Venice is disappeared, eclipsed by the tourism objectives flattened, emptied out of life - the only thing that makes a city is a city true. It has long been hidden and not find more.

Many do not even realize it, blinded by a beauty too much, or too busy to find the way to the hotel without getting lost.

There are also those who do not even care that the city is gone. Aspirations of artists, from feminine shit: what it means to disappear? The buildings are still there, firmly, channels stink as usual, selling blacks always distorted their bags on the sides of the Grand Canal.


What happened?

We were distracted for a few years, we could not imagine that everything was going so fast.
We did it just for the picture - and money.
On the other hand was the city's top tourist, Italian pride, a standard which will be imposed.

economize, economize, economize.

I have already mentioned elsewhere in Venice, with its progressive prostitution; flattening due to mass tourism, a slow and steady process of destruction that threatens to stifle atrophy and some of the most beautiful cities the world. I do not want to repeat. It is now to find a city that you want to find.

The city has responded! It is hidden , has shifted. Find it has become an explorer.
Even the physical point of view is difficult, you have to have good legs and good patience. And, of course, luck.

Venice is a fish, it is true, in that it slipped from my hands.

I visited often, and I have never made a fool. So many people, so that I could not even speak. Eternal destination of thousands and thousands of schools Romagna, and lamentations for stairs and walk forced towns of art and the Biennale, a city of fashion, whim of the city, city of luxury and celebrity.

Everything that I hated the show congeals along the narrow streets and alleyways along the Salizada and rivers, in fields and squares, in the form of tourists, glittering shops of Venetian scorbutic and anesthetized by tourism, which does not speak dialect to be understood.
All this still happens today.

How to find the city?

is the great change of our times. No sense the expression "visiting a city." Or rather, no longer makes sense to say to all cities. You can not, for example, to visit Venice.
You can go there to look at her, admiring the buildings and the Persians all the same green and peeling and moisture, to study architecture, you can go there with the woman in search of sunsets and tear strappassegni.

Not ever live.
Need a guide, someone who was born there, and we grew up. Dante's Inferno as you need a Virgil me take your hand, and that makes you discover the (increasingly) small portions of land not yet conquered .

All this is sad: if only the fact that they need guidance implies a minority, a sign of the times that we live, time to time fathers and children.

This minority, however, teaches a very important thing, which now include a few more. A lesson hopeful who understands thoroughly and make a really immeasurable distance between the tourist and non-tourist. Teach the meaning of the journey generations increasingly disinterested and bored. It teaches us to be happy visiting the city foreign.

regain possession of geography, bringing home a piece of that city will build another, infinitely more important. The your city, which does not coincide with the residence, domicile, the place of birth, with the favorite, but it is a summation of all these and all other cities we visited in life and, in a Somehow, always different, we have enriched.

This is called ideal city.

Then you realize that Venice is not in Venice, but San Michele, a miracle artificial square fortress lapped by the waves of the lagoon, another dimension, the rhythm of cypress trees and graves, and the flush of the tides against the lions of stone eroded by the salt.

understand that Venice is Sant'Erasmo , lying on fields improbable and Patagonian that are lost horizon.

Venice is in the courts defended by heavy iron gates, and opens up into small miracles of marble and ivy on capitals forgotten, hidden from the mosaics in black moisture .

Venice is Castle at night, in the silence of a former car-free and silent rustle of the fishing nets hanging closer to home .

Venice is in the columns of fish market, on the thirteenth-century engravings of ships waiting for the Crusaders in Istanbul.

Venice is in statues of crooked Mori, who seem to watch them (those who still have a head) with immense sadness, almost with fear, perhaps thinking of their businesses lost, when Venice was the most powerful city in the world, and was in danger of being lost.

Venice is in the taste of cod fish and shadows in taverns where you do not speak Italian.

Venice in colored stones with chalk children, in the field San Giacomo.

soldiers in Venice is forgotten and dusty, like Lari of Roman houses, lost inside the walls of narrow streets.

San Marco in Venice is - but only night, when the city begins to breathe.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Black And Crystal Centerpieces



Forget the evil thoughts in the shadow of the tavern.

The cool of a May immature tickles the air.

patrons sat whispering, giggling

seem happy, sad look.


A couple approaches the counter. I stop to watch.

She seems tired, I do not know why, he

white curls and a broad forehead, hair grease. Holds the freckled hand.

"A sparkling wine! and the best, thank you. "Smile of lime.


bustle. They have the innocence of schoolgirls,

as during a search. What is it?

rummaging through the bottles, looking for the right one -

sizzles the glass and kissed the soft lips with lipstick.


is a time of trial. Nose dive into the vitreous circle.

"No, no we. This wine is gone. "" Excuse me, I will change it.

The open another bottle. "Compassion. "No - let it be.

I take in what you have open. Forget it. "


I feel the words hidden in her eyes: do not bother,

you do not know, you're not in a position, you do not understand.

endure this time. Bear with disdain.

come out laughing and I do not know if I laugh or be silent in bitterness.


I drink the last glass, I am alone. I am sad

as if I just had the wrong, and I'm ashamed.

How many forms has violence ? What other forms

hiding the 'humiliation ? Which dirt


Seed born again, still shame ?