I'm Leaving Now

See you all in a couple weeks. Have a great break, all you student types. Try to take a break, all you non-student types.

This is not what my trip will be like:



With my luck, this is probably what my trip will be like:

One Last Hair Piece (I promise)

I Google myself. Get over it.

Anyway, I do it whenever I am scraping the bottom of the barrel procrastination-wise. And, with an as-of-yet paper due a few hours from now, tonight was a perfect time for such a distraction.

Usually I just get the same responses I've always gotten, but tonight I was rewarded with something special. Apparently The Observer, a student newspaper from our sister campus Rutgers-Newark, had some pages to fill last week and ran a very nice review of Hair (after the show had closed, but whatever).

Here's a link, but I don't know how long their archive stays up so I'll just post the whole thing here:

Sex and Drugs Alive and Well at Rutgers
New Brunswick delivers an amazing production of "Hair"
ZACHARY HUFF, LIFE & LEISURE EDITOR
Issue date: 3/4/08 Section: Observations

The Cabaret Theatre is a pretty non-descript building on the Livingston campus in New Brunswick. Nothing really stuck out about it aside from some live music (heavy on the drums) filtering out of the windows and a huge sign on the lawn that read "Hair."

Needless to say, I really had no idea what I was getting into. Even as I was sitting in a folding chair, watching as the cast stumbled out of the curtains and into the giant open space inches from me, my thoughts were racing, struggling to try to take it all in.

Maybe it was the fact that it was 11:54 on a Saturday night.

Maybe it was the thick smell of pot that seemed to dance about the air.

Whatever the case was, it was 1968 and I was about to go on a trip. And as I sat there, contemplating my hands and my fingers and why the fuck we were in Vietnam, the performance took off.

Berger (played by Jon Bershad) set the mood of this "American tribal rock musical" rather quickly; his pants were off and he was thrusting at a few lucky ladies in the audience within ten minutes.

The audience was welcomed into their tribe, and we were basically told to sit back and hold on as our minds were about to be blown.

What followed was a collective of thoughts and songs pieced together by themes of love and the Vietnam War. Every cast member had their chance to shine, and boy did they shine.

Several of the players stood out in my humble eyes. Anthony Preuster as Woof was captivating, constantly demanding my attention and making me feel as though his obsession with Mick Jagger could be a matter of life or death.

Dina Graziano (playing Chrissy) persevered through a bit of technical difficulties to deliver "Frank Mills," a heartfelt song of unrequited love. Madeline Orton's portrayal of Sheila eloquently captured the spirit of protesters with shouts and stomps one minute, and the pain of a lover scorned the next.

The entire cast made the performance feel a little more than real to me. They weaved through the audience at all times, touching and feeling (and blowing) whoever they wanted.

I've never felt more involved in a performance; it was a refreshing guerrilla-style show that pretty much raped me of my preconceptions of musicals.After an hour and a half of getting to know the tribe, the first act ended with considerably less clothing and the second act began. The plot line of the second act was much more focused and driven, following Claude (played brilliantly by Ben Regan) as he examined Vietnam and the draft through drug-induced fantasies. While it wasn't as flighty and easy going as the beginning, it really grounded the musical. The resolution was heavy, and I was more than a bit sad to have to leave the tribe.

Unfortunately, by the time you read this, the production run of "Hair" at the Cabaret Theatre will have already wrapped up. Check out www.cabarettheatre.org for other upcoming productions as well as more information on the theatre.

You'd think that I'd be upset that I did not warrant a mention in his "actors that stood out section" however, I'm just glad that now, whenever I Google my name, the phrase "Sex and Drugs Alive and Well at Rutgers" appears prominently.

PS. A longer post of stuff I myself actually wrote is coming soon (I had a fairly exciting weekend filled with sex, violence, and duct tape). Soon after that the entries will slow down for a while while I am in Europe. So, sad for you and yay for me.

Random Video Fun!

Mena posted this on the CAP message board and I feel the need to pass it along.

Super Secret Career Opportunities

So I was going to the grocery store to buy three loaves of Wonder Bread today (there's a reason, although I suppose it's a story for another entry) and I decided to stop by McDonalds, an establishment I frequent because I love the taste and I hate my body.

As I'm sitting there, munching on my fries, I hear Don Henley's classic "The Boys of Summer" come on the radio. I'm enjoying it and it's about to come to the first chorus when, all of a sudden, the music cuts out. Apparently, McDonalds does this thing in their restaurants where they break into the music playing with recorded advertisements for new specials and stuff. They do this about once a song and it's incredibly annoying if it's music you like and, besides, it's kind of stupid because, if you're relaxing and listening to the McDonalds radio, chances are you've already bought your meal anyway.

However, they played this ad that has to be one of the most bat-shit crazy things I've ever heard. I swear to God this is what it said (in a ridiculously cheesey voice, of course):

"You'd be surprised how many famous and successful people have started out working at McDonalds. Actors, athletes, politicians, businessmen, they all started their careers here. Is there a coincidence? We'd tell you, but half the fun is disovering it for yourself!"

Oh my God.

Can we just think about what this is implying? They are basically saying that there may be some kind of secret organization (probably something along the lines of The Skulls at Yale) that creates amazing opportunities for McDonalds employees in literally any career path they choose.
Want to star in the new Indiana Jones movie? No problem, Dave the manager will send word to Spielberg. Want to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Just ask and we'll get Ronald McDonald himself to personally call Donald Trump on your behalf. Just make sure you mop up the crapper first. Someone puked up a McFish.

That is just so deranged, I absolutely love it!

Anyway, to make a long story short, the ad ended and the song came back on and it turned out not to be Don Henley but just some shitty cover and I was disappointed.
Then I went and bought Wonder Bread.

The end.



P.S. I googled Steven Spielberg to make sure I had his name spelled right up above because I'm an idiot and I noticed that the first entry says "Books by Steven Spielberg" and then just lists all the books he has made movies based on, thus implying that he actually wrote them. I think it would be great if I lived in a world where Steven Spielberg wrote The Color Purple.

Random Video Fun!

Oh my Christ, is this disturbing and hilarious.

My March Playlist

I posted my monthly playlist. It's a tad late, I know, but give me a break. Like always, I will put it in the corner of the page, but here it is for people who, I don't know, are at the edge of their mouse pad and can't scroll to the right.



Some Highlights

• First things first, Track 4 is not by Dylan Bob. As far as I know there is no Dylan Bob. By posting the song under a fake name, you get to go around the record labels and post the whole thing as opposed to just a sample and, since the song is 11 minutes long, a 30 second piece really wouldn't cut it. It's a wonderful song from the 1975 album Desire. I'd never heard it until I bought the CD last week and it's quickly become my favorite track, even surpassing "Hurricane" although that song's convicted felon hero actually deserved the hero treatment that Dylan gave him. Oh well.
• Track 10, the Okkervil River song, is off Black Sheep Boy, they're last album before The Stage Names, the CD that found a nice place in my top 5 of 2007. Black Sheep Boy is less poppy than Stage Names and thus takes a few more listens to get into. In the end, however, I think it's a more rewarding album (although that could just be because I can listen to the last minute of the epic track "So Come Back, I Am Waiting" over and over again).
• Track 14 is off the soundtrack to The Assassination of Jesse James. It's a great score that comes from an absolutely amazing movie. Check it out if you haven't seen it yet which, judging by the size of its release, is more than likely.
• And the M.I.A. song at Track 1? Maybe the most fun song ever.

Jon's Hastily Hatched Plan for the Future

That's it. I've figured it all out. When I go to Europe in a couple of weeks, I'm just going to stay there.

I feel like I've exhausted the possibilities of Jon Bershad, Rutgers student and drama enthusiast of a generally pleasant disposition and decent nature. I need something new; a new beginning filled with choices and opportunities. So I will discard my past, change my name, and create an entirely different identity for myself.

I will be a new man! A debonair man! A mysterious man! A man younger men would be envious of and older men would try to keep their daughters away from. But they will fail. Oh, how they will fail.

I'll sell the plane ticket for my return flight and, with the money, I will buy one suit. It will be a glorious suit of clothes; one that seems both bursting from the present and echoing the past at the same time. I will wear this suit and ingratiate myself into a friendly family. I will tell them that I come from America, where I was a rich and powerful man until my evil uncle stole my inheritance and stranded me alone in Paris...or London...or Venice...or wherever.

I will give my name as Edward Worthing, or Jack Bannister, or Duke Alexander Bedswallow. When they ask me about my past, I will get a hazy, far-away look in my eyes and say it's all too painful and I can not allow myself to relive it. I will give only one hint: a name, a woman's name, that I mutter to myself while staring into the horizon. It will be a classical name. Something like, I don't know, Victoria. When they ask me who she is, I will mumble something vague about a fire and quickly divert my eyes and change the subject to wine or Rennaisance art.

I will become the toast of high society, living off the money of lonely, old, rich women who pay handsomely merely for me to appear at their gala parties. At one of these parties I will meet a woman. Maybe she'll be a duchess, maybe she'll be a princess, maybe she'll simply be an especially beautiful chamber maid. We will have a wild night of passion during which she will fall madly in love with me.

In the early hours of the morning, she will awaken to find me standing on the veranda, looking out to the sea. She will join me and ask about the large scar on my back. I will have a large scar on my back.

When she asks this, I will suddenly become very cold and, telling her that this could never be, I will rush down the stairs and out the house, walking quickly down the damp cobblestone road and out of view. She will call after me, her voice choked with sobs of despair, but I will be gone.

I will become an adventurer. Perhaps I will join the secret service and become embroiled in high stakes political intrigue. My life will be filled with action and my charming exterior will hide an interior that is half stone cold assassin and half red hot lover.

Or maybe I will be a globe-trotting explorer. I will climb snowy peaks and descend into thick, green jungles. Isolated tribes who have never seen a white man before will come to know me as their friend, and the artifacts from my explorations will be seen in museums around the world.

Eventually I will return to that first European city where my new life began. There, will be the setting of my final adventure. At the end of it I will be killed. I will die heroically of course, saving a princess, or two princesses, or five. Each of them will love me more than the last but none will love me as much as that one girl, the one from the party all those years earlier. She will be there at the end, cradling me in my last moments. She will ask me to finally reveal to her my true name and, with my last breath, I will almost eke out the name, "Jon" before I succumb to my wounds. My spilled blood will puddle around me. It will be the darkest red imaginable, dilluted only in the places where it mixes with her salty tears.

I will be succeded by a child, her child, a beautiful daughter who will know her father only as the man of legends which will be repeated, in hushed whispers, for years and years to come.

That will be my new life.



...

Sigh. I've had a lame week.

God Bless America (but only my God)

The Eve of Aquarius: Hair Cut-Off and Wrap-Up

"Like it or not, they got me."

Well, I finally did it. Today after class I drove to some random Super Cuts in a desolate strip mall on Route 1 and got my hair cut.

While I flipped through the latest issue of Vibe (it was that or a tabloid) waiting for my turn in the chair, a small tinge of doubt began to form in the back of my mind. And then, while Shaggy's imortal song "Boombastic" blasted out of the radio and a woman with an impenetrable Jamaican accent (I simply nodded to everything she said which resulted in my purchase of an expensive hair "relaxing balm") began bringing out her scissors, the doubt turned into a full-fledged panic. Could I do it? Could I have the chapter in my life that was Hair the musical so clearly cut short? Of course, in an instant, it was too late and George Berger had been forcibly severed from me and had fallen to the ground, where he would be left until someone swept him up into a plastic garbage bag.

Hair was over.

Obviously, part of me is relieved. I no longer have to drive to Douglass every day. I get hours upon hours of free time back. And I never again (thank God) have to sing the song "Donna" for the rest of my entire fucking life.

But still, as my hair fell down just like the Hair set came down a day earlier, I was genuinely sad. And I was even more sad then I always am at the end of a play. I think a large part of that has to do with the fact that, unlike the last few plays I've worked on, the people I did Hair with weren't the people I hang out with anyway. I'm not going to see them every day now that the final curtains fallen. And let me say, I've loved working with these people.

Seriously, this was one of the best groups of people I've ever worked with. They were just so much fun and so diverse. I genuinely feel like, had we not been working on an incredibly stressful play the whole time, I'd probably have actually enjoyed spending time with them.

If any of you are reading this, I love you all and I hope to see you sometime soon.

The other reason I was so sad, was that doing this play was so different for me and that was really exciting. I did a lead a musical with pretty much no singing or dancing talent (which is kind of like going to a shooting range with no bullets...or hands) and you know what? I survived. And hell, I even did full frontal nudity. I did everything on stage in this show that I've ever been afraid of doing on stage. And I got through it! It was truly exciting (although it's a little worrying that there's nothing left to do that really scares me except perhaps for sacrificing a Christian virgin on stage).

So, let me give a big thank you to everyone involved. Both to the wonderful cast and crew and to all of the people I knew who came out to see us. I had a wonderful time.

And now, here's a little summary of some of my favorite parts of closing weekend:

• While Thursday night's was definitely our worst performance, the last three were all fantastic (although we did really miss Shannon during the last two)
• The ad libs got stranger and stranger throughout the run. This maaaaaaaaaaaaay have had something to do with the rapidly descending sobriety of the cast.
• I accidentally kneed Danielle in the chin during the "Sodomy" blow job scene on closing night. She was very nice about it.
• Cabaret people filmed a lot of the performances and back stage stuff. I would love to see all of it. One moment I'm especially excited to see is a clip of us during Set Strike performing scenes with all the roles switched around. I'm really glad we hadn't done this until after the show was done because the directors would have definitely fired me and had Ayesha play Berger had they seen the realism and intensity she brought to the role.
• We had a big cast party at my house after Saturday's show. We christened the bong from the set which I had to name the Agora Bong and we even ate some fantastic brownies that Danielle, Ayesha, and I made before the show. Of course, I ended the night a complete mess and had to be helped to my bed in an epic quest that Rachel likened to the end of Return of the King starring me as Frodo and Danielle as Sam, boldly carrying me the last stretch of the way.

I can't believe it's over.

Today, on the way home from my hair cut, I was listening to some music (a Bob Dylan CD no less) and went to bob my head and was surprised to find thatI couldn't feel my hair bob with me.

Sigh. Ka-lookah-koo.

Random Video Fun!

Star Wars credits if they had been done by Saul Bass:


Absolutely brilliant. Or, at the very least, definitely more entertaining than the prequels.

The Coolest Thing I Ever Got Outbid On

Ok, who wants to loan me money?

Check it out, who remembers Lou Pearlman? No one. Right, that's what I though.
Pearlman was that big, fat "To Catch a Predator" looking motherfucker who used to manage all those boybands in the late 90s. Ah, now you remember.

Anyway, as it turns out, Pearlman was ripping all those bands off and is now facing huge fraud charges. To pay for his legal fees, he had to auction off all the memorabilia from his glory days. Some guy ended up buying it all and now he's auctioning it himself on eBay.
So what does this have to do with me? This:

A 1997 MTV Europe Music Award.

Can you imagine how awesome it would be if I had that beauty sitting on my coffee table?

"Hey, Jon, what's that?"
"Oh, that's just my MTV Europe Music Award."
"What, is that a replica?"
"No, it's real."
"Uh..."
"I'm big in Sweden."

Yeah, man. I would get so much pussy with that thing.
If only I had money. Sigh.
I first read about this on the AV Club, by the by.

P.S. I'm ridiculously exhausted and I've got closing night of Hair (come see Hair come see Hair come see Hair) in a few hours. Fortunately, I know the best way to wake a person up. That's right, the The Harder They Come soundtrack!