Friday, August 13th
Finally! A play I can write something bad about! Praise the universe!
Basically, nothing happened in "El box." A man injected himself with clear liquid a few times while people with odd bodies walked around in odd little flesh-baring outfits. The actors punched each other and humped each other a fair amount, but also randomly quoted Marx and Proust to show that the play had “intellectual substance.” On top of it all, the lead actress shouted her way through the entire piece. At least it was only an hour long.
I’m still glad I got to go for two reasons.
Reason one, it was interesting to see the space. We entered through a marked but modest door into an entryway, which led into a house, behind which was a warehouse-type structure in which the performance took place. High, tin roof; concrete walls; minimal catwalk (that thing high above the stage where the techies walk around and hang lights from); and enough seats for about fifty people.
Reason two, I got to hang out with three students from the fourth-year class, whose rehearsals I watch every Thursday. We talked before the show started, I made some embarrassing language-errors, I tagged along with them after the show and we had a beer. (Apparently, I don’t hate beer. Apparently, I just hate PBR and Natty more than I hate beets and fennel [the latter are healthier than bad beer but equally as vile, as far as I’m concerned.]) The Argentines hated the show, too. They discussed just how much over the beer. They asked me to recite some Shakespeare for them. My mind was blank for a while, until I finally recalled a bit from Midsummer Night’s Dream. They dig iambic pentameter.
I continued to awkwardly tag along with them for a quite a long time afterward. We went to the apartment of one of the girls, and I found a kindred spirit music-wise and movie-wise, which I was ecstatic about. She is now in my phone as “Andrea Box,” so her name and number will forever be associated with that night and the putrid performance we saw together.
Afterward I met up with my Unitedstatesian chicas. Gwen described hanging out with Argentines as being “the Fez of the group.” I love this analogy, because it is both ridiculous and accurate. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you clearly haven’t seen as much silly 70s-themed television as I have and you should get on that post-haste.
Besos,
Isa
Word of the day: copado – adj. Cool (in the ‘groovy’ sense of the word)
Ugh fennel is disgusting. Isn't it like, supposed to "clean your pallet" and whatnot? That is a lie. Also, we've already been talking about how much nice beer we're going to drink this year, so I'm glad you like it. Also, haha Fez. But they know where you're from. Although it would be really great if every time you said "Estados Unidos" a loud truck would go by or you would sidestep the question.
ReplyDelete