Crazytown

A DAY WITHOUT A WOMAN

By Alisha Giampola (writer/performer)

Today is International Women's Day, and a lot of women around the country are participating in a "strike" organized by those who also organized the recent Women's Marches, in support of income equality and also resistance of the current administration's agendas that so disproportionately affect women. Some schools are even closing because of how many educators requested the day off, which is awesome. The school I work for sent an email to us encouraging those who were still teaching today to wear red in solidarity. I encourage my fellow artists to participate in any way you can. For many of us writers, freelancers, performers, actually striking today will be impossible. But we can wear red, call our representatives in congress letting them know how the current administration negatively affects women and women's issues, and demonstrate our economic power by choosing not to spend money today. If half of the population becomes marginalized, especially the half that represent the lion's share of jobs in caregiving and education, everyone loses- the next generation most of all. You can support women's voices in the media and the arts- may I recommend a great article written by my dear old friend Rhana Natour, a journalist for PBS, who yesterday wrote this super interesting article about the divisions in our country?

Even though I can't fully strike today, I can wear my red and my awesome new "Nevertheless She Resisted" shirt, and stand with all you awesome ladies (and lovely feminist guy allies, of course), and refrain from a regular full-length blog post. See you all next Wednesday, same time same place, and Happy International Women's Day to all! 

Solidarity, sisters!

ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer and strong female character.
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WE'RE ALL MAD HERE.

In this review: SPOILERS for the experience of seeing Then She Fell. You've been warned.
By Alisha Giampola (writer/performer)

I am a sucker for immersive theatre experiences. I loved Sleep No More. I want all of my future theatre experiences to involve snacks and/or alcoholic beverages and even slightly intense prolonged eye-contact. Perhaps because I know what it feels like to be on the actor's side of the fourth wall, I love shows that totally destroy that wall and ask the audience to step over the crumbled ruins of it and into the action. If Sleep No More offers a voyeuristic haunted house for guests to explore masked, unguided, and at will; Then She Fell is a much more intimate, playful, disorienting experience that you engage in alone but constantly accompanied by members of the cast as well as nurses and orderlies of the institution. Oh, did I mention that you'll be spending the evening in a Victorian mental hospital? 

Inspired by the works of Lewis Carroll and his real-life, possibly romantic relationship with the child Alice Liddell, Then She Fell is a theatre piece I have come to, rather typically, several years after it started getting rapturous reviews in the Times. Honestly, it fell under my radar for a while, and then when it popped onto my radar I had to wait to rationalize the ticket price (admittedly, not cheap, but then the experience is WORTH IT), which I'm glad I did because they have a closing date of April 30, 2017. They've extended before, but who knows? So if you want to definitely go see this amazing production, I recommend getting tickets now and seeing it this spring.

Knowing that you're seeing a wildly popular show that only sells 15 tickets a performance is intimidating. For most of it, you are being directly performed to. I spent several minutes sitting silently across from an actor who was a sort of non-literal representation of the White Rabbit, painting a white rose red with a tiny paintbrush, feeling a genuine stress that we wouldn't be done in time. I participated in a mad tea party, smashing my tea cup on the table with the White and Red Queens, Rabbit, and Hatter, and then sipping a deliciously brewed concoction that I had helped choose before being whisked away again for a bedtime story (and being literally tucked into a crisp, white bed). I watched two Alices dance through a mirrored glass, once from inside the Red Queen's luxurious apartment, and once from inside a sparkling fairy burrow, while being fed purple grapes by the White Queen. Later, one of the Alices had me hand her clothing after her bath, all while asking me questions about love. At the end of that scene, we were looking directly into each other's eyes between the bannister of a staircase and she queried if I had lived happily ever after with that first person, that first person I ever loved. When I laughed lightly and said "No," her face darkened abruptly, and she ran up the stairs in a huff, too fast for me to run after. 

After the show, my husband Daniel and I tucked ourselves into a nearby bar and over a nightcap excitedly exchanged stories of everything that had happened to us since we'd been split up. We had seen part of the show together. For a few scenes, like when the Red Queen spiraled into insanity with a bottle of pills in a locked ward, we had been the only two audience members watching. But once we were separated, Daniel was led off by the Mad Hatter, a redheaded chanteuse whom we'd watched dance on top of a wardrobe earlier in the evening, and was asked riddles. I was redirected into a room with a gramophone and instructed to open increasingly large books with bottles hidden inside as a Doctor concocted me a cocktail. Then he left me alone with a stack of letters to read and the voice from the gramophone reciting The Walrus and the Carpenter. I barely had time to skim the first letter before the White Rabbit retrieved me to come paint roses with him. Meanwhile, Daniel peeled and ate an orange with one of the Alices while I, somewhere else in the building, was watching the other Alice wrestle with the Red Queen. 

Like Sleep No More, this is dance theatre. Most of the scenes have a movement-heavy element driving them. Unlike Sleep No More, the experience feels tailor-made for you and you alone. You aren't eavesdropping on these people, they are inviting you to take part, have a sip, take a bite, answer a question. "Do you take dictation?" the actor playing Lewis Carroll asked me in a room that would have been a regular writer's study, except for the pools of water sinking into the floor in unexpected places. After I wrote his letter, he signed it, placed it in a bottle, and waded into the black water barefoot to send it off with all the others. The Doctor retrieved me and brought me upstairs to play a game of chess with him. I knew immediately that it was the chess game from Through The Looking Glass. He explained the entire sequence of moves to me, guiding me through playing Alice's white pawn, as if he was reading a particularly perplexing case study. At the end, he handed me a cup of tea, retrieved the ring of keys I'd been entrusted with during the performance (and encouraged to use on any lock I found), and suddenly orderlies began bringing the 14 other people of the audience, including Daniel, into the room where I sat. The show was over. I had been the only one, maybe, to play chess with the doctor. I definitely had been the only one to finish my stay in Wonderland with the chess game scene. 

As a long time lover of Lewis Carroll's Alice books, I was delighted to recognize so many moments from the stories and from the sad and strange real-life tale of Carroll and Alice. The show is a beautiful and beautifully sympathetic exploration of duality, sanity, reality, and the magic of childhood. At the beginning of the show, just as the audience members are starting to be whisked off by different actors to begin their own personalized journey through the piece, the Doctor offers a definition of liminality. From the Latin limin, meaning "threshold". We get our English word "lintel" from here. Liminality is the quality of ambiguity and disorientation experienced by participants in a ritual, usually magical or spiritual, that occurs midway through- before the participant has been changed completely by the ritual, but are no longer what they were before they began. The show attempts to make adolescent Alices of us all. Not quite big, not quite small, not quite having drunk all of the bottle yet, but definitely having taken a nice sip. Few shows have touched me and haunted me as much as this one has, and I am excited to see more from Third Rail Projects, who developed this and other immersive pieces, as theatre like this becomes more and more prolific and available. I look forward to the day when the idea of seeing a piece of theatre that isn't located in a repurposed warehouse space in Brooklyn is unusual. 

The only photo here that I actually took (after the show was over of course) of my "prescription" for the tea I chose during the Mad Tea Party and the stamped program I was given at the end of the show. The two other pictures in this article are press photos. The current company of Then She Fell can be found here.

 

ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer who did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
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OSCAR MUSINGS

By Annissa Omran (Writer/College Student)

In the fall of 2015, a friend of mine got an internship to work on a local film that was being produced on a relatively low budget. They needed people to work on securing locations, and to this end they secured a small, grimy office in Midtown, Miami. On the first day of pre-production, I drove my friend to the office. It had a very mom-drops-kid-off-at-the-first-day-of-school kind of vibe to it.

As I drove away, I wondered to myself what would become of this tiny film project nobody had ever heard of.

Over the course of the next few months, my friend regaled us with stories from the location office and later - on a rare occasion - stories from set. The locations coordinator seemed moody and the production was fraught with everything from hung-over PAs to angry homeowners hell-bent on derailing filming.

When the time came for the wrap party, my friend invited me as her plus-one. I went, feeling as though I had been a part of the film due to all the hours spent listening to stories and occasionally acting as intern chauffeur. The party was held at Miami's historic Vagabond Hotel. The crew in attendance was small but full of cheer and they crowded the small space between the bar and the pool. The bartenders were friendly and the drinks were free and it seemed as though everyone around us was letting out a collective sigh of relief after a long haul.

My friend and I strayed from the pack to join two little boys - the only children present at the very adult celebration. I was told they were two of the child actors from the film. I forgot their names quickly, just as they forgot mine, but the four of us played tag around the shallow end of the pool. We had water fights with the colorful fountains that shot into the air. 

When the boy's parents decided it was finally past their bedtimes, my friend and I rejoined the party. It soon moved locations and en route to a downtown dive bar I was notified that we were going to celebrate the director's birthday.

In a dimly lit bar, surrounded by relative strangers but recognizable camaraderie, I raised a glass of beer along with the rest of the crew and toasted the director I had never met from a film I had not worked on. When I finally made my exit half an hour later (I had an exam the next morning) I went up to the bar and tapped the director on the shoulder and wished him one last "Happy Birthday." He turned back to me and flashed a big white smile along with a cheery "Thanks for celebrating with us!"

On the way home I wondered again what would become of this tiny film project nobody had ever heard of.

ON LA LA LAND

On the Bandwagon
By Sam Perwin

Damien Chazelle's gorgeous film La La Land, about an actor and a musician who fall in love, dance, and sing their way through modern LA, is by no means perfect. You'd think, for all the praise it's been receiving, that it's the Citizen Kane of our time, but in truth, it's much more like the Singin' in the Rain of our time: a movie that believes wholeheartedly in the saving graces of music, dance, and movie magic. 

Watch that broken wrist, Ryan!

There's been a lot of talk about the political situation we're currently in and its many apt comparisons to the rise of the Hitler and the Nazis in 1939. Things were bad - downright terrifying, and out of that climate cinematic artists brought forth some of the most beautiful, lasting, and important films in history: The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind just to name a few. La La Land is arriving at a similar time. It's charm is so undeniable and it's message of believing in yourself and your dreams so important right now, that we and all the critics, are able to overlook its minor flaws and get swept up in its magic.

For example, as much as I adore both Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling as actors (and both do a wonderful job in that department), neither has the singing or acting chops to really sell the musical numbers. This is a shame, because, well, they're delightful. The choreography (by Mandy Moore! Yes, girl!) is playful and perfect. The songs by beloved NYC composers Pasek & Paul (whose Broadway musical Dear Evan Hansen is also getting some pretty strong raves), are heartfelt and meaningful. This could have been a wonderful opportunity to give some of the hard working Broadway singers and dancers some well-deserved love. Imagine Tony Yazbek as Sebastian or Pippa Soo as Mia. It's a whole different experience.

But, as I said, these are small gripes. The filmmaking and cinematography are so stunning and the seamlessness of the musical numbers so expert that Chazelle has really pulled off a miracle: a movie musical that is both completely, believably contemporary yet whose heart is firmly, romantically in the past. For me, it was a reminder to keep the faith. [SPOILER ALERT] Both characters get their dreams come true, if not with each other. You just have to believe in a little bit of magic.

SAM PERWIN Actor. Singer. Writer. Tall. www.samperwin.com
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DOWN BUT NOT OUT

Working through the Unimaginable
By Sam Perwin

I am at a loss. Still. It's been a week and I'm not yet able to wrap my head around what happened to our country last Tuesday. And it's really not just about the vast Republican takeover (though that is depressing enough), it's about the man we just elected president. This is a man who represents the worst of us - the nationalism, the xenophobia, the isolationism, the racism, the egoism, the selfishness, the sexism, the anti-intellectualism. This man will be President of the United States. We should all be ashamed that this man was taken seriously as a candidate. Those who voted for him - even with the understandable (though absurd) motivation of "draining the swamp" or of voting only with your wallet (also absurdly short-sighted and self-interested) - should be ashamed. 

This is actually my first blog post about Trump himself. I wanted to dedicate my lowly platform here to advancing Hillary Clinton, a politician, candidate, and person I believed deeply and wholeheartedly would make a fantastic President. I also wanted to heed the advice from John Oliver in the early days of the campaign. He argued that Trump was drawing on his name as a brand of success, which was ultimately distracting from the fact that he had absolutely no political experience, was threatening the constitution, and making a mockery of the political process. Seconding that advice was the ever gorgeous and gracious Michelle Obama, who never once mentioned his name in any of her rousing speeches. 

But here we are. This man will be our President. The only solace I can take right now is actually the one thing I know about Donald Trump: the man is a cipher. He stands for nothing and no one but himself. For just about every horrifying thing he's said, you can find a tape of him saying the opposite. He has proven himself to be uninformed, uneducated, and unversed in every aspect of governmental precedent, constitutional law, and basic civics. My greatest hope for the future of this country is that his presidency will be as empty as he is, that the dysfunction that reigned in his (miraculously successful) campaign will reign in his White House and nothing will be accomplished.  This is especially possible if we organize now and take back the Senate and House in the 2018 midterm elections. 

There's one other thing I want to get off my chest. To anyone who voted for Trump: you have been fooled. This man does not care about bringing back jobs - every thing with his name on it is made in China, the steel in his hotels and casinos (the ones that haven't gone bankrupt yet anyway) are built with foreign steel and on the backs of undocumented workers. He is a charlatan and a hypocrite and yet he has someone fooled you into believing he will do you or this country any good. Is it any wonder that in his home town of New York City, the very place he built his "empire" he is reviled and was overwhelmingly voted against? I will never understand how white, suburban, rust-belt, working class America saw in Donald Trump a savior. How does a sleazy, orange con-artist from Queens speak to the heartland? I will never understand it.

Meanwhile, friends, as many have noted, here's the agenda. We're all grieving, we're all hurting, we're all scared. First, self-care. Second, love and support each other. Third, organize, act, donate, volunteer. 2018 is closer than we think. 

 

SAM PERWIN Actor. Singer. Writer. Tall. www.samperwin.com
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REASONS TO VOTE (FOR HILLARY)

In Case You Didn't Already Have Enough
By Sam Perwin

Hello Crazytown America. You all know where I stand in this election. I would venture 99% of you guys reading this blog feel similarly. But here's the actual most important thing that happens today (besides Hillary getting elected president): you. voting. Yes, you. Putting the ballot in the box.It matters more that you actually vote (for Hillary), than who you vote for (Hillary). I've written about this before, so now I'm just going full list. Here are some awesome things about voting (for the first female president of the United States).

1. Not everybody in the world gets to do this!

Yeah, that's right, democracy is a privilege. There are many many countries in the world where people still don't get to do this. This is your responsibility as a citizen. Do not take that lightly.

2. Women and minorities didn't even get to do it until very recently!

For the first hundred years, it was only white men. Black men didn't get the right to vote until 1870 and women couldn't vote until 1920 (that still blows my mind every time I think about it - half the population!?). Conservatives have been trying to keep minorities and women from voting for at least the past 200 years - it's still going on right now. The only way to show them how much it matters is to exercise that right!

3. You get to participate in things that matter!

Voting is actually how most things get decided in this nation. We vote for the people. They vote for the bills that become laws. They vote to confirm judges to the Supreme Court and many many other appointments. The people we choose to send to Washington have a direct effect on our lives. It all starts in the voting booth.

4. It shows you care about people other than yourself.

Not voting is the definition of privilege. The decisions made by the people you vote for today matter to a lot of people. They matter to women, minorities, LGBT people, and, well, everyone. Politics is personal. Silence and apathy will only harm us. 

5. You get a sticker!

Well, at least you do in New York. Then everyone knows you voted! Also, it's public record. So if you don't vote, someone will google it and shame you.

So, do it, America. VOTE (for Hillary. Because, duh. Seriously, how is this even a contest!?)

 

EXISTENTIAL DREAD

Anyway the wind blows; doesn't really matter...
By Alisha Giampola (writer/performer)

It's only a week till the election, guys. Can you/your stash of bourbon make it till then? What about the very likely resulting fallout of angry racists who feel disenfranchised? Or worse, the opposite of that? A lot of people are feeling some major existential dread this week, and you can really feel it here in New York City, safe haven for liberal intellectuals who already live with a taco truck on every corner and are here to tell you that it's fantastic.

May I recommend trading in your very real and valid current concerns for some terrifying television diversions? Here are the things I'm most excited to watch on TV this month, no matter what happens on November 8th... AND YOU CAN TOO:

BLACK MIRROR - SEASON 3

OMG, you guys, this new season of Black Mirror is so deeply unsettling. I questioned my own existence like twelve times during the first episode. If that's not enough to make you want to watch, let me also tempt you by saying that this season contains the only genuinely heartwarming episode of this show that has probably ever existed. I teared up three times watching it, and I literally cry at nothing, you guys. Baby animals, emotionally manipulative commercials, Schindler's List, nothing gets to me. But the episode titled "San Junipero"? Get ready to feel like you just watched the first 15 minutes of Up, basically. There's also an episode during this season that is one of the best criticisms of the horrors caused by xenophobia and war that I've ever seen. I guess what I'm saying is, have you got a case of modern existential dread? Black Mirror has got your catharsis right here. And by right here, I mean that humanity has teetered off the delicate edge of empathy and fallen into the abyss of meaningless self-absorption and nothing really matters anymore. The Germans probably have a word for that.

WESTWORLD

Have you been enjoying Game of Thrones but wish it had a lot more nudity and way fewer humans? Behold, Westworld. Based on a 1973 Yul Brynner film of the same name (yes, for real), and hopefully not destined for the same fate as Lost, I have big hopes for this new SciFi thriller that is making use of technology that Spielberg could only dream of in 2001 when A.I. came out. I know de-aging CGI is getting to be old hat at this point, but the Benjamin Buttoning of Sir Anthony Hopkins during the episode where his character flashes back to thirty years earlier was actually my favorite special effect so far in a show literally bursting with special effects. If you'd like to take a break from your everyday angst and introduce yourself to the very real possibility that our existence is nothing more than a manipulation of code in some kind of universe-sized digital reproduction of actual sentient life, tune in to HBO on Sunday nights at 9.  

 THE FALL

Gillian Anderson, aka, Literally Everyone's Dream Girlfriend, returns in Netflix's season 3 of The Fall. Thing is, we already know whodunnit- although we only semi-kind-of know whyhedunnit (probably daddy issues, as usual) -and there's lot of interest in how the show will handle the ultimate punishment for its misogynistic, sadistic, but somehow weirdly sympathetic serial killer male lead. Will he be killed off quickly? Will the entire season devolve into a slow court drama? It's either going to be awesome and the end of the story, or too slow and ending on a slightly boring cliffhanger that no one really cares about tuning into another season for. (The title of this spoiler heavy article makes me feel like it's gonna lean toward awesome, but I'm only on episode 3, so I'm not reading it yet LALALALALA.)

* * *

So... that's it for today... except that I have one more reccomendation: if you partake in no other media this week, partake in this episode of This American Life. And definitely listen to this song, which made my day this week. I guess let's just all meet back here next Wednesday if the USA is still a thing? Haha, just kidding, kind of.

Seriously though, would you all just do me a solid and exercise your democratic right to vote on Tuesday? And read up on your local government, and propositions, and all that good stuff too. Because remember, the President is like when you do your makeup and everyone is like: "Oh wow! You look great today!" But the rest of your representitive government is like when you take really good care of your skin long term and don't get wrinkles. Obviously it would be fantastic if we could have both all the time, but ultimately we all know that second thing is the most important. 

ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer who is trying to take better care of her skin.
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A VERY NASTY HALLOWEEN

By Alisha Giampola (writer/performer)

So it's almost Halloween, and you're interested in going as this year's most topical costume, a Nasty Woman. You might even have a Bad Hombre or two to take pictures with! This is pretty much the only political Halloween costume I'm interested in everyone I know dressing up as this year, so let me help you narrow down all the possible bad ass Nasty Women of American History that you could choose to go as. (If you missed the 3rd presidential debate and somehow have no idea what I'm talking about, please avail yourself.)

ANGELICA SCHUYLER  

As my favorite 6 year old recently said to me: "Shisha, don't you wish you could vote for Alexander Hamilton for president?" So while you're working on that time machine to bring back our most woke founding father to provide a viable third candidate (is it too late to change my party affiliation to 'Federalist'?), you might as well pay tribute to one of Hamilton's fantastic female characters. This doubles as a possible group costume if you have a couple other nasty lady friends you're hitting the town with on Halloween. What you need to pull this costume off: An absolutely fantastic pink silk authentic colonial era ballgown. If you can't track one down, may we recommend just snapping your finger in the air all night and saying "WERK"?  

JUSTICE RUTH BADER GINSBURG 

I mean, obviously. The Notorious RBG is a delightfully easy and comfortable costume. Trump had some choice words to say about RBG as well during the last debate...likely because she's such a Nasty Woman. While he's busy keeping the foundation of America's democracy "in suspense", you can pass the time rounding up a black robe, white lace cravat, and crown. Bonus points for bun, gavel, glasses and pocket Constitution. 

HARRIET TUBMAN

Being one of history's most interesting spies is a great Nasty Woman costume idea. You'll need a headwrap, shawl, posse of Union soldiers and some $20 dollar bills. Speaking of, this makes a fantastic couples costume if you can round up a grumpy Andrew Jackson with his own handful of twenties to be your bad hombre for the evening. 

HILLARY CLINTON

Of course, you can always go as the original inspiration for this entire concept. All you need is a pantsuit, really. Bonus points for the blonde mom-hair. Even more meta might be to go as Kate McKinnon's genius impression of her... we'll leave it up to you to figure out how to convey that. 

SUFFRAGETTE

A lot of Trump supporters on the internet have been calling for a repeal of the 19th Amendment, so what's more relevant than going as an original fighter for women's right to vote? Really all you need is a skirt, a throaty Glynis Johns vibrato (preferably), and a picket sign that says "Votes For Women". There's also always the option to get really controversial and be Ironic Sexy 19th Amendment, just print it out and pin it strategically to your underwear. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

This first lady famously wrote to her husband and all of Congress the words: "Remember all Men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the Ladies we are determined to foment a Rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation." WERK, Abigail. What do you need to costume yourself as this original founding woman of female rights and anti-slavery? I guess if you can't actually BE Laura Linney, the next best thing is to get that sweet hat. 

 ELEANOR ROOSEVELT and LORENA HICKOK

She wasn't publicly out during her lifetime, but if you're looking for a good same-sex couples costume that exemplifies the Nasty Woman point of view, you can't do better than one of America's most beloved first ladies and her long-time lover. To pull it off, the two of you will need some finger waves, pearls, cigarettes, and absolutely no PDA. 

THE 2016 U.S. OLYMPIC GYMNASTICS TEAM

Simone Biles firmly stated this summer after becoming, arguably, the best Olympic gymnast of all time, "I’m not the next Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps, I’m the first Simone Biles," and immediately became the world's tiniest feminist hero. If you and your squad want to roll up as these strong ladies, you'll need some red white and blue leotards, a whole lot of confidence, and hair/eye glitter. SO MUCH GLITTER. 

JANET JACKSON

It's the obvious choice, and begs the question "how will you get the song 'Nasty' to play in the background everywhere you go", but it's still a great costume: military inspired jacket, huge side-fall of curls... and if everyone mistakenly thinks you're Beyoncé, it still works. 

ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer who is proud to be a very nasty woman.
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JUST WHEN YOU THINK THE WEST VILLAGE HAS LOST ITS SOUL...

...salvation comes in the form of Indian tacos.
By Jennifer Anderson (Actor/Singer/Foodie, obviously)

When famed West Village jazz club Garage closed last December, I felt as if the final nail in the coffin had been unceremoniously hammered into the once vibrant and eclectic neighborhood. Sure, a walk down Bleeker would still yield finds like John’s Pizza and Rocco’s Pasticceria, but they had started to live in the shadows of the ever present Starbucks',  DavidsTeas, and Caliente Cabs.

Kneel before thy margarita.

Losing the Garage meant losing a piece of West Village history. And when I’d heard rumors that it would become a TD Bank…I might have shed a few tears. (I also might have been drunk, but that’s beside the point.) Thankfully the Garage still stands and, although it’s shuddered, it’s not transformed into a dark and greedy corporate storefront (yet).

Around the same time that the Garage was closing it’s doors for the last time, I noticed another local stronghold had gone too. A small magazine shop housed in tiny alcove on the corner of Bleeker and 7th Avenue south appeared with the all too familiar brown window dressings and chain-locked doors. And while I had never really frequented the store, (I think I bought some gum there a few years ago), I was still sad to see it close. I assumed that, yet again, sky-high rent rises had forced another mom and pop out of a business they had been running for God only knows how long. The whole thing added to my already mounting depression about not only the West Village, but the expense of living in New York City in general.

I was wrong.

WEDNESDAY ROUNDUP

By Alisha Giampola (Writer/Performer)

I went to Boston over this long weekend, and ate a lot of food and hung out with some friend's babies and made some observations about the stupidity of celebrating Columbus Day. A lot of terrible things happened this weekend too, like Hurricane Matthew, and the airstrikes on Aleppo, and the second presidential debate. And now it's Wednesday, and we all need something to get us through the rest of the week.

So may I suggest.....

~ The new season of Drunk History is FINALLY HEEEERREEEEEE!!!

~ Go see Mary-Louise Parker in Heisenberg (no not that Heisenberg, or that Heisenberg) at the Manhattan Theatre Club. 

~ Read Jonathan Safran Foer's new book, Here I Am. I just started it too! Let's start a book club and talk about it! 

~ Season 3 of Black Mirror drops next Friday on Netflix. JUST IN TIME FOR HALLOWEEN. 

~ Speaking of Netflix, have you been watching Easy on Netflix? What about Luke Cage? Do you think some episodes of Easy condone rape culture without being challenging enough material to earn the privilege of portraying it? Did Luke Cage effectively nod to the blaxploitation films of the 70's while still managing to feel current in this current climate of tenuous race relations? Aren't you glad we live in an era of truly fantastic television options? Me too.

And now, until next week, here's a picture of me in Boston posing like Lin-Manuel Miranda's Hamilton next to a statue of actual Alexander Hamilton. And also, here's the very first Drunk History webisode about Hamilton starring Michael Cera, which will never not be amazing. And also predates the musical version by like 6 years. So who's more of a genius, really: Derek Waters or Lin-Manuel Miranda? Hmmm.

ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer who sat behind Matthew Broderick at the theatre last night. He's exactly as short as you think he is.
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