If you are not human
there is nothing I can do to stop you from reading this
Greetings, Terrans,
So. it’s the 21st annual UFO fest coming up. Anyone going? Some good numerology is in the picture: 2021, 21st annual? No? Not in the plans?
Speaking of aliens, I got into an impassioned discussion with LadyTeen (my daughter) about Octavia Butler’s “Bloodchild,” and she was in an uproar because they read an assigned article in class that claimed this short story wasn’t science fiction. (The story is set on another planet, where humans and sentient aliens have an interesting symbiotic relationship.)
Science fiction (according to the article) should be relegated to only stories set in imaginary worlds or the future that are about power and who has it, and the article wanted to rename speculative fiction that dealt with social justice as “visionary fiction.” LadyTeen argued that ‘power and who has it’ is the very core of all social justice. Which I applauded. Right there. Standing ovation.
(which makes me wonder why we don’t say “sitting ovation” for regular applause or “standing applause,” for that matter.)
And right after my ovation, we were further mocking the article-writer who limited the scope of science to only military matters — because biology, sociology, ecology, psychology, geology…aren’t all these also science?
Which brings me to my thought of the week: if biology, geology, etc are all sciences, why is astronomy the hard science, and not astrology?
This week:
I went to see some terrific (and outlandish!) Lithuanian performance pieces last Sunday. The first was Sun & Sea at BAM Fisher Theater. It is a fabulous operatic beach installation and if you like people-watching, you won’t be sorry you went.
Here is my complete review (with photos).
The second was even wilder!! In a tiny back room in the East Village at a place called Pangea with cool mod art on the walls, there was a large room hidden behind a black-curtained doorway.
The hidden room was lit in red, and the art on the walls was made of pink and gold sequins. At the end of three long communal tables, on a tiny one-person dais, we were told to expect a double-header of performance art.
The first performer was Judith Ren-Lay, a 70+ year-old word poet. I have never heard an authentic beat poet and this was miraculous. She climbed the single step with difficulty, hooking her simple wooden cane on a small side table after struggling to get up on the four legged stool. She announced she was from Denver, and looked, in fact, like a suburban mountain-time-zone grandma, probably with Native American wall hangings, and fresh cookies in the oven. (I looked her up and in fact, she lived four decades in NYC, and studied with Merce Cunningham among other greats!)
This act, she told us, had been performed on various East Village stages in the 70s, and 80s, and had a rather long run at PS1. “I looked different back then,” she said wistfully. “Longer hair. And this piece used to end with me writhing all over the floor.”
The crazy things she did with her ultra-rhyming poetry and wandering voice! At first it made everyone laugh in embarrassment (for her? for ourselves? for the wide-eyed amazement we were all trying to hide?) but we were there for the duration, and she was fully committing to this performance so we….kinda….just…gave in. By the end, we loved this woman: tambourines, shaky-eggs, shrill harmonica, vocal ululations, and all.
Then there came the Lithuanian: Kestutis Nakas is well known (among Lithuanians) for his one-man shows/acting/performance art. (Famous, for a while, for an East Village play called “When Lithuania Ruled the World.”) He emerged from the pandemic having taught himself ventriloquism. You haven’t lived until you see a guy rip the head off his dummy and throw it across the stage. (spoiler alert: the dummy survives.)
Then yesterday, we decided to up and go to the Renaissance Faire. I love this, usually, but yesterday so many people were on their way to the Faire that the two lane road was backed up for more than five miles—it took two hours just to reach the parking lot. People were getting out of cars with three miles to go, just to be moving forward (they also got in before we did). Good times once we were there, though. Good times.
I have a lot of irons in the fire, as they say, right now. Supposedly there is an all-villanelle issue of Limp Wrist Magazine coming out in September. No rush, there are still four days left. Light a candle for my bigger project. I’m waiting for something big to include in a newsletter.
Parting thought:
I’m hesitant to post this, in case this is an invasive species, but a good friend sent me a photo of these glass pumpkins and I had never seen such a thing before. I’m wondering just how far this species has spread. I understand that they cover all of San Fran area and north up to Seattle. People who live in other time zones, have you seen these pretty glass plants? Send me a photo from wherever you are if you are outside of the Pacific Northwest area. I’m curious.
