Thursday, December 4, 2008

The Dreamer, The Creator

Ride the elevator to the top floor. A bit shaky but secure. The good kind of anxiety hits. Run to the familiar door. It is white and sterile, but inside…
Press the button. “Quien es?” asks he. “It’s GABY!” The smell of expensive cologne wafts through the air. A running start and my legs and arms are everywhere, only to be contained in curvilinear arms. The usual crisp linen shirt is a bit scratchy, but I shrug it off. Then, it is time to look around and explore through all the treasures. My own secret Louvre awaits me. The statues stare back salaciously. I snicker for they must be cold standing so high on their pedestals for all to see. Charily examine each painting closely. My nose almost touches the canvas. Such unusual paintings they were. Disfigured humans, spats of paint thrown, hidden shapes and animals. They are the dreams no one speaks of for they make no sense. Imagination runs wild, colors pour out in every direction. Up to the balcony, the top of the world I go. Up the cold marble steps and touch the chalcedony walls for support. So shiny I can see my younger self. On one side, cars whiz by and the apartments are my height; the other, the ocean. Oh, the beautiful ocean! Let me stay up here forever! Please? But there is a surprise. Let us visit him. Take my hand and off we go. We pass the lissome palm trees and the quaint houses while the guitar serenades. Air turned all the way up to escape from the torrid heat, though the leather still burns. Redolent paints of caput mortuum and gamboge. Different. Blotch here and brush there. The artist talks with mellifluous voice of his paintings. They are the paintings of the unusual dreams. I have found the dreamer, the creator.

  • curvilinear: (adj.) consisting of or bounded by curved lines
  • salacious: (adj.) appealing to or stimulating sexual desire; lascivious
  • charily: (adv.) carefully; warily
  • chalcedony: (n.) a microcrystalline, translucent variety of quartz, often milky or grayish
  • lissome: (adj.) easily bent; supple
  • torrid: (adj.) oppressively hot, parching, or burning, as climate, weather, or air
  • redolent: (adj.) having or emitting fragrance; aromatic
  • caput mortuum: (n.) also known as Cardinal purple, is the name given to a purple variety of haematite iron oxide pigment, used in oil paints and paper dyes. It was a very popular colour for painting the robes of religious figures and important personages
  • gamboge: (n.) a brownish or orange resin obtained from several trees of the genus Garcinia of south-central Asia and yielding a golden-yellow pigment
  • mellifluous: (adj.) flowing with sweetness or honey

Monday, November 24, 2008

The Dichotomy of Marilyn Manson

With “The only major performer who can justifiably call himself an artist” and the “Antichrist” as some of the titles given to him, Marilyn Manson has certainly been called many things. Yet, with the many controversies surrounding his stage name (including the tragic Columbine school shootings), he continues to up-root the MTV generation from its monotonous hinges and slither his way back time after time. His music questions society, religion, politics, and everything deemed moral. He has down right raped the genre of “shock rock” to where it can never return to the more innocent times of Alice Cooper and KISS. His music videos (at least from my experience) leave us queasy and unsure. “Unsure of what”, you may ask? Well, I’m still trying to figure it out myself. Despite these numerous things and the questioning feed back from my peers, I’ve decide to write on this artist who has shaken the music world for the last decade.

To say Marilyn Manson’s childhood had no effect on his present life would be beyond false. Born into a middle-class family (Don’t they all start out that way?) in Canton, Ohio, Brian Werner was influenced by Ozzy Osbourne, David Bowie, comic books, the occult, and surprisingly, the King James Bible. He and his father were subjected to physical and psychiatric testing for his father was part of the group assigned to drop Agent Orange over Vietnam; a highly toxic bomb feared to have many side effects on those who were in contact with it. His grandfather was a cross dresser with a basement reminiscent to that of Buffalo Bill’s in The Silence of the Lambs. Only after various attempts, Werner was expelled from the Christian school he attended. One such antic was selling bootleg albums, and then stealing them back. It was not until he moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida where he organized Marilyn Manson & the Spooky Kids in 1989. At that time he was studying journalism and writing music reviews which led him to meet future band mates such as Daisy Berkowitz, Olivia Newton Bundy, Madonna Wayne Gacy, Gidget Gein, Sara Lee Lucas, and Twiggy Ramirez. Their stage names were formed by combining the names of women sex symbols and infamous murderers; emphasizing the dichotomy of good and evil. Manson is quoted as saying “Marilyn Monroe had a dark side just as Charles Manson had a good, intelligent side.” Manson is continually shape-shifting like his idol David Bowie. His latest album, Eat Me Drink Me, contains allusions from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.

Such bands (new and old) to draw comparisons to Manson are: My Chemical Romance, Slipknot, Dresden Dolls, KISS, Alice Cooper, The Who, and Jimi Hendrix. Theatrics in their performances are used to shock and prove a point. The majority use heavy imagery to portray mainly death and evil. Marilyn Manson has used piñatas filled with animal parts, alluded to sexual acts, and exposed himself in many of his concerts. Needless to say, he defies everything. In response to the many protesters from parent and Christian advocate groups he says, “We merely present the audience with a mirror so they can see themselves. People need to connect with something that represents how they feel. I'm not on some moral crusade to do that in particular, but ... everything is coming apart at the seams, and I'm just here to record for posterity.”
I also leave you an interview with Bill O'Reilly:

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Putting Holes in Happiness by Marilyn Manson (Explication)

Note: Due to content, the actual music video could not be posted.

Lyrics:

The sky was blonde like her/It was a day to take the child/Out back and shoot it./I could have buried all my dead/Up in her cemetery head/She had dirty word witchcraft/I was in the deep end of her skin./Then, it seemed like a one car car wreck/But I knew it was a horrid tragedy./Ways to make the tiny satisfaction disappear.

Blow out the candles/On all my frankensteins./At least my death wish will come true./You taste like Valentine's and/We cry,You're like a birthday./I should have picked the photograph/It lasted longer than you.

Putting holes in happiness./We'll paint the future black/If it needs any color./My death sentence is a story/Who'll be digging when you finally let me die?/The romance of our assassination/If you're Bonnie, I'll be your Clyde./But the grass is greener here andI can see all of your snakes./You wear your ruins well/Please run away with me to hell.

Blow out the candles/On all my frankensteins./At least my death wish will come true./You taste like Valentine's and/We cry,You're like a birthday./I should have picked the photograph/It lasted longer than you.

Taking a turn from his usual, Marilyn Manson digs deeper (no pun intended) into his feelings and thoughts on his divorce and the pain of moving on. Allusions to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland is apparent in " The sky was blonde like her". Like Carroll, Manson was involved in a relationship with a much younger woman after his divorce. The younger woman symbolizes the innocent child. Knowing that society would not except such a relationship and "take the child/out back and shoot it." He is then left with "buried dead" he wishes he could of buried with his ex-wife. With "the dirty word witchcraft", she brought him down with words and put him in a depressed state.

"Blow out the candles/On all my frankensteins. " refers to the cycle of relationships that seem to have been blown out and re-lighted only to be blown out again. The frankenstines allude to his failed hopes and means of procreating. As the years pass by, the photographs remain, but the cycle continues. In other words, love is hopeless.

In the third stanza, he refers to love as a drama filled with assassinations, criminals, and demons. His love life has been thrown out and documented for everyone to to see like that of the infamous Bonnie and Clyde. In doing so, a part of him dies. He asks, "Who'll be digging when you finally let me die?" There is a part of him that wants to be with her, but he knows her manipulation and "can see all of her snakes".

Thursday, November 20, 2008

LAUGH IT UP!

The benefits of laughter...

So, you set your alarm at a ridiculously early time to study for an AP Spanish test the next day. You wake up to sunshine through your window and the birds chirping. Five mintues to get ready starting....NOW! It gets better. You forgot to fill up the tank yesterday. In other words, your wallet is as barren as the Yukon. If only there was a way to get the daily recommendation of caffeine in one cup....

With all the stresses of the world encroaching upon you, this video offers a short and simple suggestion. LAUGH IT UP! They say laughter has many benefits including helping to lower blood pressure, relaxing muscles, and relieving pain. What's holding you back? Afraid your friends might think you cracked? JUST LAUGHT IT UP! "Red Alert" by Basement Jaxx emphasizes this message with the repetitive line "And the music keeps on playin' on and on." The upbeat tempo may prompt your feet to move on and on. Subliminally, do not contemplate on the hardships of your daily routine and instead enjoy it. Images of comedians and people laughing also portray a lighter and less serious side of life. Short. Simple. To the point. LAUGHT IT UP!

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Sadie's Monologue


I told him
I told him to do it
I might a well had the gun in my hand
I killed Willie Stark

I am what man made me
He was too drunk and lazy to pay for a doctor
I became the plaster face Medusa
My brother-dead

A slap in the face I secretly enjoyed for I let Willie do the same to me
Leave me in the shack while he plays with the Nordic Nymphs
Remember that one time?
He got so drunk
What a sap!
Then, he got drunk with power
I loved him anyway

I swore I would
I swore I would kill him before I ever let it go
And I did
Jut as sure as he lies in the dirt
This time, he won't come back

It was one thing to still be with Lucy, but Anne Stanton?!
So high-toned and noble, huh?
I am Medusa
Snakes for hair and hated of mortal man

I made my way to the top
No feelings, just politics
He was the sacrificial goat I saved from the slaughter
Well, before I knew it, I was in too deep
He beheaded me
He beheaded me like Perseus did Medusa

-Sadie Burke

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

All the World's a Stage

An enigmatic smile forms from my lips every time I think about it. The non-existent rules of the Green Room, the late night practices, and Ms. Day’s constant urging for us to “Raise the bar, people!” have blended together into a sort of spin art. It is the cycle of creating an unforgettable performance that starts with flexible scheduling. Splashes of stress and forgotten lines are added in as the wheel hastens. Coffee and energy drinks are quickly consumed in astronomical amounts. “Is your microphone on? I totally missed my mark!” It is a whirlwind that will continue until the last performance when we run outside of the Santini Center to congratulate each other, not only for a job well done, but for surviving. In the end, we are left with another abstract and equally beautiful masterpiece. From the outside, it is viewed only as a blank canvas with odd shapes and colors. But for those who have taken part; who have felt their adrenaline pumping (when the musty, dark green curtains open) and have seen the curious eyes from the unsuspecting audience, they know it is something wonderful that can’t be explained and analyzed like a science book. No, it is not just some high school kids playing around on stage. It is theatre- a microcosm of an interdependent nation of thespians.

For the past four years, these thespians have become my family and I will certainly miss those who have grown with me and helped me develop my own identity. A few years ago, I was an innocent freshman with no clue of what Ms. Day was capable of doing, and before I knew it, I was thrown into a world of blocking, scripts, and peculiar smelling dressing rooms. As the stage transformed into the Garden of Eden, a construction site, and even a tropical island, I too transformed in all aspects- physically, mentally, and emotionally. You see, Ms. Day does not pick the cookie-cutter play such as “The Music Man” or “Annie” that solely requires those with certain physical attributes. Instead, the plays we perform can sometimes come across as controversial, especially for a Catholic high school in Suburbia. I can distinctly remember, much to our dismay, scenes and songs like “Brother Trucker” bowdlerized for questionable content. Death, racism, and sex are inevitable subjects in many of the plays, but they are more realistic than any perfectly choreographed song and dance sequence. The stories we perform and the characters we become are real, and they parallel the world around us. This can also be the challenging part. I had to step out of my confined box many times and research who I was portraying: I became a migrant worker yearning for a better life, an eccentric wife bent on burning down the farm house, a cleaning woman dreaming of a better life for her daughter, and a peasant girl eager to tell the story filled with family.

Though the costumes and props are stored away and the stage is splintered and taped, the memories are ever present- unflawed and clear. On stage I met my best friend, shared a glance with a secret admirer, bowed and said goodbye to former family members. Soon, I must also face the spotlight as part of the class of 2009. I will create my own set and write my own script. Ms Day and my family may not always be there to help me with my lines, but I can take with me more than I ever expected. With me I will take relationships which will not be broken, shared struggles to reach a high note, celebrated accomplishments, and numerous tears. I cannot help but quote the all too cliché “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man [or woman] in his [or her] time plays many parts…” In this case, Shakespeare was right. We don’t just act; we live.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Ghosts of the Past

Encaged in a circle of ghosts
The paraffin-colored faces stare back mockingly
It is the hue of the blood red petal
Like arsenic through twisted veins...
Maggots in the chase or your self-esteem...
The rale of one’s own struggle for breath…
The smell of the peppermint chewing gum and feel of the lips are distant
But still here
Those cursed jewels strewn around hoping to turn yellow and forgotten
Remember the wild hair and the doll’s face
Well, she is no longer the Egyptian bas-relief you once possessed
You are no longer here for you know what you need
The same rush Barney Oldfield felt while you talk of the metaphysical (Whatever that is)
All she needs is the sea and the aqueous green light leading to somewhere
Somewhere other than those photos
Those damned ghosts of the past

Finally sliced with a scimitar


Saturday, September 20, 2008

Eugene O'Neill

Dearest: I give you the original script of this play of old sorrow, written in tears and blood. A sadly inappropriate gift, it would seem, for a day celebrating happiness. But you will understand. I mean it as a tribute to your love and tenderness which gave me the faith in love that enable me to face my dead at last and write this play, write it with deep pity and understanding and forgiveness for all the four haunted Tyrones.
These twelve years, Beloved One, have been a Journey into Light, into love. You know my gratitude. And my love!
Gene
Tao House July 22, 1941


This letter to his third wife only further exemplifies the quintessential Eugene O’Neill. To fully understand O’Neill’s complex character, one must be knowledgeable of his literary muses. O'Neill's was heavily influenced by such philosophers as Friedrich Nietzsche and radical authors like August Strindberg. Edmund Tyrone, O’Neill’s persona in Long Day’s Journey into Night, quotes and mentions them many times throughout the play. O’Neill’s use of such ideology better helps us to understand his relations with women, the sea, and ultimately, himself.

Mary Tyrone, Edmund’s mother, is often portrayed as a burden on the Tyrone family, partly due to her morphine addiction. Much of her escape from the present is rooted in her inability to forgive and forget past failures. "…Mary still thinks wishfully of her lost career as a nun or pianist. She yearns even more to be able to fulfill her chosen 'career' as a proper lady of a proper family." (The Role of Women in O’Neill’s Plays) This "yearning" was too the case for Eugene’s mother, Ellen Quinlan. Her condition was further stressed by her submission to a patriarchal society where the husband was expected to provide the status quo; a respectable house, an income, decent maids and servants, etc. James O’Neill was unable to give her the stability needed because he was an actor whose vanity could not distinguish himself from anyone other than Dante in The Count of Monte Cristo. O’Neill’s earlier plays portrayed women as weak and nuisances in such societies. "Mother, wife, or whore can be incorporated into one woman." (The Role of Women in O’Neill’s Plays) Over his lifetime, O’ Neill’s was married three times and a womanizer. Much of his views on them are shared with the playwright August Strindberg. Strindberg was also married three times and a misogynist. When asked his opinion on women’s suffrage, he described them as "half-apes ... mad ... criminals, instinctively evil animals."

Like the theme of women in his works, O’Neill utilizes descriptive imagery of the sea. Much of his life was spent in the Navy and traveling to such places as Buenos Aires and Honduras where he prospected for gold. His character Eugene describes his love of the seas and quotes the author Charles Baudelaire. Edmund states, “I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky."(Act 4) Baudelaire also spent time at sea and was fascinated by its romanticism. A translated portion of Baudelaire’s Le Voyage reads:
"But the true voyagers are only those who leave Just to be leaving; hearts light, like balloons, They never turn aside from their fatality And without knowing why they always say: Let's go!"
This wander-lust found at sea eloquently describes O’Neill’s willingness to question and search for the truth. He once spoke of himself as "…a wanderer and a mountain climber…I like not the plains, and it seemeth I cannot long sit still."

O’Neill continued to observe the relations around him; however, he was unable to fully come to terms with himself. He was the stereotypical "tortured artist haunted by a family that was unorthodox and dysfunctional, often emotionally brutal…" (Eugene O’Neill: A Biography) He sought comfort in those who were practical and wrote of the human condition in a logical manner. The most present is those of Friedrich Nietzsche and his controversial "God is dead." This nihilistic quote is extremely influential in the forming of the Edmund’s cynical personality. Like Edmund, O’Neill was rather cynical and would criticize the materialism in the world. "I don’t love life because it’s pretty. Prettiness is only clothes deep. I am a true lover than that, I love it naked."

O’Neill stripped away the fiction of life and fully developed stories of complex human relations such as those present in Long Days Journey into Night. Much more than a brooding artist; he has lived it and incorporates his beliefs into the characters and theme of the play. He states: "I don not think that you can write anything of value or understanding about the present. You can only write about life if it is far enough in the past." The past and the present; a recurrent theme in many of his works, and O’Neill continues to live on and instill it into the future.


Sources:

"The Role of Women in O’Neill’s Plays" Readings on Eugene O’Neill. Greenhaven Press: 1998

"O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night and Irish-Catholicism" O’Neill: A Collection of Critical Essays Prentice-Hall, Inc.: 1964

Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal <http://www.piranesia.net/baudelaire/fleurs/index.php>

"Eugene O’Neill: A Biography" Readings on Eugene O’Neill. Greenhaven Press: 1998

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Debate

Competing for satisfaction they clash
Like slithering snakes that strike at the small
Words slice the air
Hands signal wildly
Suffocating one another until there is nothing else to say
Building bridges leading to nowhere
These exchanges are meant to break the concrete
barriers
Blow
after blow is given
They fold
We return to the ebb and flow
Mouths close and the lull commences
Eyes behold the
static gray
We sleep again