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:
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: ObservationsThe 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.
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!"
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
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.
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