Rollin' with the punches

So I learned last Thursday that I no longer need to look for a new roommate. I now need to look for a new place to live. My landlords have decided that when my roommate moves out, they are going to stop renting out our flat completely. So both myself and my roommate will be relocating in July -- him to New York, me to god knows where (any ideas? suggestions? leads? please?). Two key differences: 1) He has been planning his move for over a year now; me for going on four days. 2) He wants to move; I had planned to stay at my current place of residence (a place of residence that I truly love) for years.

I have a lot of big decisions to be making right now. Which sucks on an immediate scale, but I can't help but be convinced that there is some sort of really amazing opportunity lying beneath all of this. My life on July 1st and my life on July 15th will look vastly different no matter what course I take. There's something immensely frightening and a little bit exciting about that.

I was going to spend this time writing about Die! Mommie, Die! and Beggars in the House of Plenty. You'll pardon me if I give the crib notes, I'm a little preoccupied.

Die! Mommie, Die!: I've got nothing groundbreaking to say, really. Camp only works if the performer really believes what they're doing while realizing deep down that it's ridiculous all the same. David Cerda has it d-o-w-n, down. Some of the other members of the cast, eh, not so much.

Beggars in the House of Plenty: I don't like John Patrick Shanley. There, it's out. That said, I was kind of taken aback at what Kevin Christopher Fox and his uniformly furious (in a good way) cast were able to do with Shanley's script. By mercilessly attacking these words at full-bore and with a distinct threat of everything falling off the rails at any time, the production manages to distill the horror and abstraction of Shanley's memory play and keep it at a pace that twists our neck just as we keep thinking we know what Shanley's deal is.

And then he hangs them out to dry at the very end with a bunch of introspection and monologuing. I don't see that Fox could have improved his staging; there's only so much you can do when your lead character decides to stop for ten minutes to hash out everything that we've just seen. Bravo, Mary-Arrchie. Tsk, John Patrick Shanley.

Like I said, crib notes. Pardon the lack of eloquence. This week's tentative schedule includes picking up a couple o' things before they close: Steep's Greensboro: A Requiem on Thursday, Pegasus Players' Golda's Balcony on Friday, Lifeline's The Mark of Zorro on Saturday, and City Lit's Pudd'nhead Wilson on Sunday.

Off to more apartment hunting...

EDIT: I'm really digging the meme Bilal's got going on over at his place:

1 - Go to Wikipedia Random Article.The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to Random Quotations.The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album. (If you want to do this again, you'll hit refresh to generate new quotes, because clicking the quotes link again will just give you the same quotes over and over again.)

3 - Go to flickr's "explore the last seven days". Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover. Put it all together, that's your debut album.

Here's my baby and today's latest hitmaker:

The latest, greatest album from Ênio:

"I Wanted To Be"

Hey, I kinda like that... I may just add one of these to posts at random. Until I tire of it, that is.

P.Rekk
2008