I often think about how much better off this country would be if we had universal healthcare, not only for the usual reasons, but because of what it would do for artists and art.
This is so great. I had a group in Seattle in the 90's called Piece of Meat Theatre and we did work that was similarly extreme and... impolite. We would be physically attacked today. One day I will write about it, but I'm kind of scared to admit the shit I used to be involved with. Thanks for reminding me.
Where is the billionaire who will shower you with money to mount a revival of Bitzy La Fever’s Kingdom of Passion? (on stage? animated? 70MM Sensurround?, How about an all blow-up doll extravaganza!!)
Why are those MFers investing in tax-deductible politicians and mega-yachts to impress their third wives when Bitzy (whom we all know is a thinly-disguised Cintra) cries out for creative release?
Let me assure you that your creative vision is just one lottery ticket away from me funding The Cintra Wilson Institute of Randy Puppetry.
All of Cintra Wilson's writing is entertaining, but today's post is amaze-balls! She totally grasps the sad fate of SF, CA--which has lost it's soul. She makes me yearn for all my departed friends and that wonderful heartbeat of a city full of freaks, artists, and misfits. Bagdad by the Bay is currently full of boring and overpaid techies and has lost its soul to high rents and uninspired food and music. I wish I could have seen and heard her trilogy
in the dimmer spotlight of history sirens like you gifted of such subversive art and boldness and with only the potent capital of their own vision, imagination, would have certainly been burned as witches
for some obscure reason I was dismissive ot this from the get go..... instead I love it as usual....of your stuff....
My weirdness art trip was 10 years earlier than yours in NY... by your time I was back-to-the-land way Downeast in Maine..... living off grid, revelling int the simple and primitive life.....
thank you so much for every word and menory..... or memory and word....
I will be forced to sell my body in the street, just to be able to buy enough bread to survive.. and then I will become... addicted to heroin! And I will starve, and I will die in the gutter unnoticed, and my face will be eaten by a pack of wild dogs! Oh Donaldo!! I will make you pay for your selfish cruelty!
All these years later this is still in my brain. That's my fave monologue I ever had the pleasure of delivering... but it's from memory. What am I missing?
I remember seeing some of your OBSCENE puppets on KQED and I was going ‘hot dog’! Where did you live in the Lower Haight? I was at 510 Haight with several old college friends who were really good musicians…them and their cats and fifty million billion cockroaches. I had the room facing the air shaft and neighboring Germans put in lounge chairs and decided it was their patio! Right outside my window, when I was trying to make sweet gentle love!
Years later, when I heard the Shut Up, Little Man tapes, I heard those two gay tosspots talking about O’Looney’s and I was like, “why, see this paunch? $3.99 sixes of O’Looney’s Lone Star beer gave me it!” I never had the guts to refer to the morose Palistinean who ran the place as “Mr O’Looney” and now I’m glad I didn’t. Oh, it was a scurvy place, the Lower Haight, but now it’s just one more bleached coral reef crawling with crown of thorns starfish. No wonder SF is a Sahara of the Beaux Arts.
Imagine re-creating it but using the Netflix guide to social engineering? All of the cast would be non gender normative. The blow up prostitutes would be very “strong women “, etc. The entire weirdness woukd take on a second layer of weird. I’d pay to watch it.
Just occurred, rereading this piece's title, that jazz would be entirely dead if not for NYC rent control and subsidized arts housing. I know of three iconic jazz musicians who'd have had to have left the city decades ago if not for their ~$200 rents (two studios and a one-bedroom) and one in Manhattan Plaza (fed-subsidized towers).
..."The Iago of the play was Nunzio, a diabolical, unethical, entirely perverse Italian dwarf...." Is there a more perfect sentence than that? At least for today anyway. *chef's kiss, wildy gesticulates in Italian*
Fever’s Kingdom of Passion Trilogy. I soothe myself with the notion that your chronicle of it is probably more fun than the actual experience (that has been the case with much underground theater for me), but the description makes it impossible to be *sure.*
I often think about how much better off this country would be if we had universal healthcare, not only for the usual reasons, but because of what it would do for artists and art.
This is so great. I had a group in Seattle in the 90's called Piece of Meat Theatre and we did work that was similarly extreme and... impolite. We would be physically attacked today. One day I will write about it, but I'm kind of scared to admit the shit I used to be involved with. Thanks for reminding me.
Where is the billionaire who will shower you with money to mount a revival of Bitzy La Fever’s Kingdom of Passion? (on stage? animated? 70MM Sensurround?, How about an all blow-up doll extravaganza!!)
Why are those MFers investing in tax-deductible politicians and mega-yachts to impress their third wives when Bitzy (whom we all know is a thinly-disguised Cintra) cries out for creative release?
Let me assure you that your creative vision is just one lottery ticket away from me funding The Cintra Wilson Institute of Randy Puppetry.
Cintra! I remember that apartment well! And
the Bitzy shows were a huge part of my life. That era was San Francisco’s last golden era. There shan’t be another.
All of Cintra Wilson's writing is entertaining, but today's post is amaze-balls! She totally grasps the sad fate of SF, CA--which has lost it's soul. She makes me yearn for all my departed friends and that wonderful heartbeat of a city full of freaks, artists, and misfits. Bagdad by the Bay is currently full of boring and overpaid techies and has lost its soul to high rents and uninspired food and music. I wish I could have seen and heard her trilogy
in the dimmer spotlight of history sirens like you gifted of such subversive art and boldness and with only the potent capital of their own vision, imagination, would have certainly been burned as witches
theres a compliment for ya!
for some obscure reason I was dismissive ot this from the get go..... instead I love it as usual....of your stuff....
My weirdness art trip was 10 years earlier than yours in NY... by your time I was back-to-the-land way Downeast in Maine..... living off grid, revelling int the simple and primitive life.....
thank you so much for every word and menory..... or memory and word....
I will be forced to sell my body in the street, just to be able to buy enough bread to survive.. and then I will become... addicted to heroin! And I will starve, and I will die in the gutter unnoticed, and my face will be eaten by a pack of wild dogs! Oh Donaldo!! I will make you pay for your selfish cruelty!
All these years later this is still in my brain. That's my fave monologue I ever had the pleasure of delivering... but it's from memory. What am I missing?
xo, Gazelle
I'm going to be thinking about how great "Vaticannibal" is for the rest of the day.
I remember seeing some of your OBSCENE puppets on KQED and I was going ‘hot dog’! Where did you live in the Lower Haight? I was at 510 Haight with several old college friends who were really good musicians…them and their cats and fifty million billion cockroaches. I had the room facing the air shaft and neighboring Germans put in lounge chairs and decided it was their patio! Right outside my window, when I was trying to make sweet gentle love!
Years later, when I heard the Shut Up, Little Man tapes, I heard those two gay tosspots talking about O’Looney’s and I was like, “why, see this paunch? $3.99 sixes of O’Looney’s Lone Star beer gave me it!” I never had the guts to refer to the morose Palistinean who ran the place as “Mr O’Looney” and now I’m glad I didn’t. Oh, it was a scurvy place, the Lower Haight, but now it’s just one more bleached coral reef crawling with crown of thorns starfish. No wonder SF is a Sahara of the Beaux Arts.
Imagine re-creating it but using the Netflix guide to social engineering? All of the cast would be non gender normative. The blow up prostitutes would be very “strong women “, etc. The entire weirdness woukd take on a second layer of weird. I’d pay to watch it.
Just occurred, rereading this piece's title, that jazz would be entirely dead if not for NYC rent control and subsidized arts housing. I know of three iconic jazz musicians who'd have had to have left the city decades ago if not for their ~$200 rents (two studios and a one-bedroom) and one in Manhattan Plaza (fed-subsidized towers).
I'd time travel to see this.
..."The Iago of the play was Nunzio, a diabolical, unethical, entirely perverse Italian dwarf...." Is there a more perfect sentence than that? At least for today anyway. *chef's kiss, wildy gesticulates in Italian*
Fever’s Kingdom of Passion Trilogy. I soothe myself with the notion that your chronicle of it is probably more fun than the actual experience (that has been the case with much underground theater for me), but the description makes it impossible to be *sure.*
I’ve been uncharacteristically complacent about my life of late, but now I am aware that it has been an empty husk. Because I did not see Betsy La