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Monthly Archives: February 2016

On Top of It #18: Loans and Indoor Rock Climbing

29 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in On Top of It

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On Top of It #18 by Lisa Martens

Loans and Indoor Rock Climbing

What do repaying loans and indoor rock climbing have in common?

I’m terrified of both. I have the upper body strength of a T-Rex and two liberal arts degrees from New York institutions. Your girl is in trouble on both fronts.

I want to travel, and enjoy my life, and I think I’m starting to notice a crease on my neck and forehead, so the fear of death is settling in. An episode of Family Guy where Peter needs a kidney had me in tears the other day. I was wondering if I would have the courage to give my kidney to a loved one and a bunch of other bullshit. If I want to do the things I want to do, I have to take some control.

So I called my student loan provider and went on an income-based repayment plan, which will cost under $100/month. I had been terrified of calling them for months, and after a five-minute conversation realized that they weren’t as scary as I had remembered. A couple of years ago, I had gotten a particularly nasty call from a collector who told me I wouldn’t be able to get a job if my credit was bad. He started asking me if I ever wanted to own a house or a car. It happened to be the same day a family member of mine committed suicide. While I know it’s random, that experience runs through my mind every time I see Navient’s number on my phone.

But it’s something I have to deal with. And I (FINALLY) called back and set it up.  I also went bouldering at the new Brooklyn Boulders in Queens (the native New Yorker in me screams at this title for eternity). On the way, I saw the above quote spray painted into the sidewalk:

Processed with VSCOcam with c1 preset

And it sort of gave me renewed hope in humanity or something.

I also bought a ticket to visit a friend in Florida who works at Universal Studios, so hayyyy, I can get in for free! Traveling on the cheap. My job can be done from anywhere with Internet access, so I want to start taking advantage of that. Desperately.

Of course, I want to end up in a place more exotic than Florida, but this will do for now.

_______

Lisa Martens

Lisa Martens (Episode 22) currently lives in Harlem. In her past 10 years in New York, she has lived in a garage on Long Island, a living room in Hell’s Kitchen, the architecture building of CCNY, and on the couch of a startup. She grew up in New York, Costa Rica and Texas, and she’s still not sure which of these is home. She completed her MFA in Creative Writing from CCNY. Her thesis, What Grows in Heavy Rain, is available on Amazon. Check out her website here. Follow her on Instagram here.

Episode 194: J. Scott Brownlee!

27 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Episode, Poetry

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Episode 194 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing, literature, and drinking, is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I interview the poet J. Scott Brownlee,

J Scott Brownlee

plus Dan Lauer reads his memoir essay, “Helen of Troy.”

Dan Lauer
TEXTS DISCUSSED

Requiem for Used Ignition Cap

Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs

Break Every Rule

NOTES

Check out Dan Lauer and Joshua Martin’s cinema series and podcast, Uncomfortable Brunch.

_______

Episode 194 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing, literature, and drinking, is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

Aesthetic Drift #7: The Ten Best Films of 2015

25 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Aesthetic Drift, Film

≈ 1 Comment

Aesthetic Drift #7 by Brett Pribble

The Ten Best Films of 2015

With the Oscars dropping on Sunday night, I’ve decided to hurl out my own opinion about the best films of the Trumpian Year of the Pig: 2015. I didn’t include documentaries or foreign films because I didn’t have time to watch enough of them, but I did spend countless hours watching English language features. And while I think the Oscars got a few things right this year, here’s a healthy serving of what I’m eating up.

  1. Applesauce

Applesauce

Nothing says love and romance quite like receiving a severed finger in the mail. Onur Tukel writes, directs, and stars in this fresher than fresh horror-comedy-meditation on relationships and commitment. His character Ron is a cynical high school teacher just dying to tell the tale of how in college he accidentally sliced a man’s fingers off. After failing to reveal this on live radio, he spills the beans about his sordid past on a double date with friends. This confession throws Ron’s world into chaos. His best friend’s girl tells his wife that he fingered her at a party. At work, his condescending lectures to his class about resolving international conflicts peacefully lead to his own fanatical paranoia (“You may be Italian, but I’m Turkish. And Turkish people are fucking crazy!”).

Did I mention that Ron receives amputated body parts during all this? While trying to keep his love life and irritated students in check, he discovers severed limbs the mail, his laundry, and even his Chinese food. Is his cuckolded former friend Les the culprit, or is something more nefarious at play? If you like your comedies with a dose of ghastliness, a touch of social commentary, and a dash absurdity, mark this one in your queue.

  1. Anomalisa

 Anomalisa

If you’ve been waiting your whole life for a movie about a narcissistic puppet dealing with existential crises, well friend, your wait is over. In this haunting oddity, Charlie Kaufman demonstrates once again his ability to craft a bizarre, wholly original work of art. Some of his previous screenplays include Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In 2008, he released his first directorial effort and possible magnum opus, Synecdoche, New York. His sophomore effort Anomalisa illustrates once again that he belongs both in the writer’s room and behind the camera.

The puppets in Kaufman’s movie simultaneously feel both real and fake. Their expressions, movements, skin—all appear life like, but they are held together by strings to remind us that they are just puppets (like all human beings). The protagonist is British author Michael Stone (voiced by David Thewlis). He’s travelling to give speeches after writing a successful book about Customer Service in America. But he hates customer service and customers. He doesn’t like anyone, not the cab driver making jokes on the way to his hotel, not his wife and kids back home, not his ex-girlfriend he rings for a booty call, not anyone. Everyone is the same: fake, boring, meaningless. And for this reason Kaufman chooses to have every character but Michael voiced by the same male actor (Tom Noonan). Well, there is one exception. Jennifer Jason Leigh voices Lisa, an insecure fan of his he meets in the hotel. Her voice sounds unique and beautiful to him, and it’s through her that this movie finds its poetry.

But like every hot jolt of excitement a new romance provides, it eventually fades. This movies drifts in the black hole at the center of every skeptic’s heart. Everything is ultimately meaningless. We’re always alone. Life is completely absurd. It’s a script that would make Albert Camus proud. But it still has its meaning and resonance in the way it drifts back and forth between heartache and heart failure. Most beautiful things are tragic in their own way.

  1. Clouds of Sils Maria

 Clouds of Sils

 It’s a question we’ve all heard: does art imitate life or does life imitate art? Olivier Assayas takes us to the French Alps to explore the answer. In the filmmaker’s latest piece of thought porn, Juliette Binoche is Maria Enders, an aging actress tasked with starring in a new rendition of the play that gave birth to her celebrity. Only this time her character won’t be the young femme fatale that she is famous for. Instead, she’s forced to play an older woman manipulated by the younger vixen. This mirrors the 1980 film Rendez-Vous, also directed by Assayas. In it Binoche plays a young actress at the brink of stardom. Binoche herself (now in her fifties) doesn’t command the attention she once did as audiences are drawn to dystopian teen romances.

And who could teach Binoche a thing or two about this generation’s pop-culture obsessions better than Twilight heroine Kristin Stewart? She inhabits the role of Valentine, Maria’s assistant, with ease and potency. Valentine convinces Maria to take on the role of the older character because (unlike Maria) she sees strength in her. Stewart owns this performance, and it’s a shame she wasn’t nominated for Best Supporting Actress. It washes away any bad taste that Twilight might have left in your mouth.

This richly textured movie is a film within a film. Valentine and Maria practice the roles of the characters in the play to wrench Maria from her doubts. Meanwhile, it becomes clear that the sensuality extends beyond their roles and into each other. If you enjoy complex characters and crackling dialogue more than chase scenes, you’ll be lured into Sils Maria’s vibrant landscapes and erotic tension. Chloe Martez is also excellent as the Lindsey Lohan-esque troubled young actress taking over the femme fatale character from Binoche. There are enough layers here to watch this movie several times and take away something new with each visit.

  1. The Revenant

 The Revenant

 In a supporting role, Tom Hardy steals this film as murderer John Fitzgerald. He looks directly into the camera with burning eyes at the end of a monologue about his pa finding religion: “In that moment, he told me, he found God. And it turns out, that God, he’s a squirrel. Yeah, big ‘ol meaty one. I found God, he used to say. While I was sitting there basking in the sublimity of mercy, I shot and ate that son of a bitch.”

The quest to slay Fitzgerald for killing his boy is the only thing that keeps protagonist Hugh Glass’s (Leonardo DiCaprio) heart ticking. The theme of survival—in all of its barbarity, selfishness, and grace—courses through every frame this beautiful film. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki turns a lush wilderness into savage ghost lands. You’re so immersed in the bloody trees that you can feel snow cutting your flesh and freezing your limbs. Critics who claimed writer-director Alejandro G. Inarritu’s Birdman was just a gimmick ought be silenced by the scope and ambition of this staggering work.

It’s said that the more a character wants something, the more we want it too, and Hugh Glass wants to avenge his boy so fiercely that he’ll eat raw bison, sleep inside horse carcasses, and endure being mauled by a grizzly bear to attain justice. Watch this film and see if you can survive the beating it puts you through.

  1. Sicario

Sicario

Dread. Ominous, pitch-black dread wails through this movie like a soul falling straight to hell. But hell is a better place than the cartel controlled neighborhoods of Juarez. That’s where FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) travels in director Denis Villeneuve’s finest work yet. After a raid on an Arizona house leaves her with nothing more than rows of corpses wrapped in plastic, Kate seeks an answer. Josh Brolin, with more than a touch of patronization, is happy to give her one: go on a secret mission to capture the head of a cartel in Mexico. The details of how, why, and where are murky, but Blunt’s Kate is willing to go along with it.

Through her eyes, the film’s singular conscience, we sail through a nightmare world. The shadows and contours of it are filmed in brilliant detail by Roger Deakins (probably the best cinematographer still working—just watch most Coen Brothers films from the last two decades if you don’t believe me). In this nightmare, we’re left to ponder if the war on drugs can ever work, and even if it could work, is it worth the moral price we’d have to pay to win it? Josh Brolin’s morals went out the window a long time ago, and Emily Blunt does a great job struggling with hers. Also along for the ride is a demon more mysterious than Josh Brolin: a former prosecutor named Alejandro played by Benicio Del Toro. Del Toro won the Oscar for his role in the last great movie about the futility of the war on drugs, Traffic.

While this isn’t the first movie to deal with this subject matter, the tight and rule-breaking script by Tyler Sheridan breathes new life into the genre. As the film states at the beginning, Sicario is the Mexican word for hit man. This may seem a relatively clear and simple title on the surface, but much like the movie’s themes, it proves more complex.

  1. Room

 Room

 We hear about their stories on the news: women kidnapped and forced to live in captivity for years. On May 6, 2013, Amanda Berry escaped the home of Ariel Castro with her six-year-old daughter. Shortly thereafter, Castro pled guilty to 937 counts of rape, one of which led to Amanda’s daughter, Jocelyn. Before escaping, Amanda created a schoolhouse in her prison to give Jocelyn some semblance of normal life. It’s easy to see parallels between this story and Room. The book of the same name that it was adapted from was actually influenced by an Austrian case in which a 42-year-old woman told the authorities how her father imprisoned her and fathered seven children from her.

It’s impossible to imagine experiencing such terrors. But that’s exactly what Room does. The fact that the film is imbued with hope, love, and beauty is nothing short of a small miracle. Brie Larson is brilliant as Ma. Imprisoned seven years in an outhouse with her five-year-old son Jack (Jacob Tremblay), she does everything she can to shield the dark reality of their situation from him: their imprisonment, that Jack is a product of rape, that Old Nick visits them to sexually assault her, and her desire to kill herself if it weren’t for loving her boy. Filling Jack’s life with games and distractions, she convinces him that the world doesn’t exist outside of the room they inhabit. It’s just the two of them and the window in the ceiling.

The story is told from Jack’s perspective, which was a genius decision. It allows the universe to take on a magical quality instead of grim desolation. Room is about imprisonment, but it’s also a thriller about escape. What if they found a way to get free? And how then would a child react to experiencing other people, animals, nature, the world—if he was raised to believe the entire universe was contained in four by four walls? Unlike the outhouse Ma and Jack are trapped in, the amount of emotions and ideas Room wrestles with is numerous.

  1. Carol

 Carol

 Melancholy permeates every facet of this bewitching adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel The Price of Salt. If you swooned over the wistful imagery of Todd Haynes earlier works, Carol will not disappoint. It swims in murky puddles of the ‘50s that Haynes treaded in Far From Heaven. Some like to romanticize the ‘50s as a golden age. The economy was booming and a man could provide for his family while his wife stayed home and took care of the kids. But what if that man didn’t fit into society’s idea of the model life? What if he (or she) was black or gay or simply refuses to go with the flow? How golden would things be then?

This movie is about such questions, as Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara struggle to live out their lesbian love affair. But it’s more about the somber mood than the somber message. It allows you to wallow in New York’s rainy streets, the expressions of desire and innuendo on the faces of its talented actresses. It basks in the midcentury style of its cinematography: cool and warm magentas and greens, pronounced but limited color. At times the camera is positioned away from the characters, allowing us to ease drop on their conversations, which further highlights the fear and alienation of homosexuals in the ‘50s. Adding to the visuals is the dreamy score by Carter Burwell, which further plunges you into the movie’s melodrama and sensuality.

Blanchett and Mara are a couple to be remembered. Blanchett’s Carol is always in control, always three steps ahead (if perhaps a bit self-defeating) in her luxurious coats, and Mara is perfect is the younger artist, the naïve and curious Therese. Kyle Chandler does excellent work as Carol’s jealous husband who wants her to stay home and raise their daughter with him. In order to tame her, he’ll hire private detectives and attempt to declare her unfit to raise a child—for her perverse sexuality. It’s indeed a melancholy romance, but one with traces of hope and gallons of beauty. Lose yourself in its sumptuousness.

  1. Ex Machina

Ex Machina

What makes us human? What makes life valuable? These are some of the questions mined by Alex Garland’s psychological thriller. Films have touched on these questions in the past, but in comparison to this movie most have only grazed the surface. More often than not, philosophical inquiries are pushed to the side so that explosions and fight sequences can take center stage. Alex Garland has written some of the smartest Sci-Fi screenplays out there (Sunshine, 28 Days Later), and for the first time he got to direct one of his scripts. Ex Machina seeks out a more analytical science fiction viewer, one more interested in ideas than eye candy. Though, there is plenty of imagery to marvel over in this slick addition to the genre. Alicia Vikander is Ava, an artificially intelligent android with a machine-like body and a human face. The CGI is fantastic, but the best special effect is Vikander’s acting. She is confident, alluring, and wiser than any natural born male gives her credit for.

We are introduced to Ava and the world that keeps her hostage by Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson). He’s flown into the secluded compound of his billionaire boss to test whether or not she has human intelligence. Oscar Isaac gives a tour de force performance as Nathan, Caleb’s brilliant employer. Isaac seduces Gleeson with his masculine charms. They share beers and shoot the shit about life like two dudes in a frat house. But in an instant, Nathan shifts into a terrifying monster. He’s both mentally and physically threatening. He didn’t just create Ava to improve the world—he views A.I. as the inevitable end of the human race. He wants to be a God (“If you’ve created a conscious machine, it’s not the history of man. That’s the history of gods.”). Like many brilliant sociopaths, he’s lacks empathy, and Ava is nothing more to him than one more thing to control and manipulate to fortify his manhood. His relationship with Ava, and her struggles against him, work at giving the film an underlying feminist message.

But for all its themes, Ex Machina is still a thriller. It puts you in a vice grip and never lets go. Caleb’s feelings are blown back and forth like little leaves. What does Nathan have planned for him? Why would a billionaire genius need an underling like him to test Ava? Was Ava programmed to exploit his emotions? Is Nathan right about the inevitability of machines taking over? In a fortress designed like a Kubrick film from the ‘70s, we are taken through a maze of danger and ideas that’s hard to forget. Eat your heart out, Avatar.

  1. The Diary of a Teenage Girl

 Diary of a Teenage Girl

The title of this film initially gave me pause. Not another quirky indie film like Juno, I thought. Not zany, millennial garbage masquerading as something meaningful. Luckily, you can’t judge a film based on its title. The Diary of a Teenage Girl is a true gut punch. Forget hybrid T-Rexes that can blend into their environments. You’ll experience the claws of life ripping into you with much sharper precision if you spend a day in the life of 15-year-old Minnie Goetz.

In the opening scene of the movie, Minnie (Bel Powel) smiles with exhilaration and says, “I had sex last night. Holy shit!” She triumphantly struts through Golden Gate Park in slow motion as the song “Looking for Magic” by The Dwight Twilly Band plays. Little do we know, the sex she had involved losing her virginity to her mom’s 35-year-old boyfriend. The skeazy boyfriend, Monroe, is expertly played by Alexander Skarsgard as a manipulative man-child with touches of humanity. While the film shocks you, causing your full body to recoil in disgust, it avoids being just another public service announcement about sexual predators by telling the story from Minnie’s point of view. We experience her excitement, sorrow, horniness, and the plethora of other emotions that come with youth. Because we’re yanked between revulsion and joy as whimsically as the actions of a teenager, the film contains lurid complexity. She has Monroe take a picture of her face after losing her virginity and later says in her audio diary, “This officially means I’m an adult!” But you can tell she senses something acrid has taken place, but she’s too caught up in the moment to see it.

Unapologetically honest, The Diary of a Teenage Girl triumphs by not portraying a young girl’s sexuality as fragile or simple or repulsive. It revels in the splendor of female sexuality without exploiting or objectifying it. As far as characters go, there are few as intricate and alive as Minnie Goetz. You’re compelled to root for her as she grows in her pursuit of love, art, and sex. We follow her through cocaine hazes and the glam rock streets of ‘70s San Francisco. The comic book artwork of Aline Kominsky-Crumb flows in and off the screen, symbolizing Minnie’s inner world. She imitates Kominsky’s comics in her own art, and in one scene has a conversation with a walking cartoon of Komnisky. “I just want to be touched. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Minnie says to her. “Maybe you’re a nympho,” Kominsky replies before adding, “Eh, I’m just fucking with your head. Everyone wants to be touched.” I agree with Kominsky. Everyone does. And everyone should see this movie.

  1. Beasts of No Nation

 Beasts of No Nation

Netflix struck gold with its first major feature film. If there’s one film in 2015 that that will be remembered as a masterpiece, it’s Beasts of No Nation. It’s not an easy film to watch, but it shouldn’t be. After showing signs of his brilliance directing the first season of True Detective, Cary Fukunaga demonstrates his true artistic power with this jewel of a film. Acting as writer and director, Fukunaga adapts Uzodinma Iweala’s 2005 novel about Agu, a young boy who is forced to become a soldier after losing his family in an unspecified African country.

Agu is played by first time actor Abraham Attah, who shows more range and intensity than most award-winning actors. Your heart breaks for him and then breaks for him a dozen more times. After witnessing grave atrocities and having nowhere left to call home, he becomes easy prey for the ruthless Commandant played by Idris Elba. Elba’s performance is towering. He is terrifying yet charming, savage yet tender. Elba gives the most convincing performance of any actor this year. The fact that Idris and the film itself didn’t receive Oscar nominations is the clearest example that the voting system in the Academy is flawed. While I wasn’t impressed by Will Smith’s “snubbed” performance in Concussion, it’s easy to see how those claiming the Academy lacks diversity would pounce all over this one. Elba blows away all of the actors nominated for Best Supporting Actor (and the SAGs agree with me, who awarded him the prize), and no film nominated for Best Picture takes a tenth as many chances as this one.

It’s easy to see how some might be put off by the grim savagery depicted in this film. The horrors of Africa aren’t something Americans like to think about. Africa is a far away place with atrocities we have no idea how to mend. No one likes to think of child soldiers taking over villages with machine guns and machetes. It’s punishing to watch a sweet boy like Abu slaughter women and children. But this is the reality of many nations in Africa. The fact that we want to turn away from it is all the more reason to embrace it.

But don’t think this is just a depressing movie about child soldiers. It’s also an elegant story with arresting cinematography. At times the landscape becomes neon shades of pink and blue, which further emphasizes how surreal the world has become to Abu. And through all of his suffering, Agu still brings us a glimmer of hope. But not before he asks in despair, “Sun, why are you shining on this world? I am wanting to catch you in my hands, to squeeze you until you cannot shine no more. That way, everything is dark and nobody’s ever having to see all of the terrible things that are happening here.” And yet, he does maintain hope. He’s stronger than most adults will ever be.

Some critics said the film would have a greater impact if it referred to a specific country and conflict. But these critics missed the point. Fukunaga is interested in more than just a single conflict because children have been turned into soldiers in many countries, and more of them will surely be again in different nations in the future. Much like the First Season of True Detective, watching this film leaves you wondering how a loving God could allow such horrors. The film provides no God, but it does give us a devil. Elba is an acting wizard as the Commandant. He is both nurturing and petrifying when he tells Abu, “I will always protect you because you are my son. And a son always protects his father.” Human beings are capable of greater depravity than any fallen angels.

The main reason Beasts of No Nation didn’t receive any Oscar nominations is likely due to its distributor, Netflix. Many members of the Academy had to wait for the screener (or watch it on Netflix) instead of seeing it in theaters because AMC, Regal, Carmike, and Cinemark all refused to show it. The major chains protested Beasts because Netflix didn’t allow theaters 90 days of exclusivity before releasing it on its streaming service. Nevertheless, Netflix managed to show it in 31 theaters in 30 US cities, which qualified it for Oscar contention. But whatever the reason for it not being nominated, whether because the subject matter was too challenging, or new streaming technology too intimidating, or because it didn’t appeal to old white men—Beasts of No Nation will be remembered as a classic.

Honorable Mentions:

  • The Hateful Eight: Tarantino brings his signature dialogue to a western horror hybrid that includes delicious turns from actors Walton Goggins and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Easily the most polarizing film of the year, it deserves a shout out simply for giving pretentious people something to debate about.
  • Mad Max: Fury Road: Director George Miller recreates everything magical about his trilogy from the ‘80s (especially Road Warrior). This film made every other big budget summer blockbuster feel like an exercise in punching yourself in face. The cinematography is beautiful, the car chases through the Australian desert are impeccably choreographed, and its upending of gender roles is refreshing. Charlize Theron steals the show as Imperator Furiosa, a female warrior fighting for the freedom of other fierce women. This certainly isn’t your father’s action hero.

_______

Brett Pribble

Brett Pribble teaches writing courses in Orlando, Florida. He’s afraid of sharks and often isn’t sure whether or not he’s dreaming. He was previously published in Saw Palm, The Molotov Cocktail, and 10,000 Tons of Black Ink.

21st Century Brontë #10: The Money Problem, Part 2

25 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

≈ 2 Comments

21st Century Brontë #10 by Brontë Bettencourt

The Money Problem, Part 2

I kept telling myself that I could handle whatever my job throws at me. This work was not, technically, what I graduated college for, but ultimately this would be a secure, if random stepping stone on my path to publishing stories. This job paid the bills. I would be letting a lot of people down if I crumbled. I was afraid of disappointing my excellent peers at this job, who always seemed so polished and apt at the game of social interaction.

In one of my creative writing workshops back at the University of Central Florida, the professor said something that stuck with me ever since:

“Some writers don’t make it, not because they don’t have the skill or the drive, but because they love people too much.”

Writing is a selfish, solitary activity, despite its goal of making readers feel less alone. It is disappearing into the crevices of my mind with these extensions of my personality, entering the world on occasion to beg for feedback, like nourishment.

But I’ve never had a knack for isolating myself. As a kid I was always on the phone. In high school I would come home and toy with the idea of completing homework while either dungeon-crawling in World of Warcraft or creating stories with friends online. In college there were clubs, work, and classes.

Post-college, it’s been the standard 9-5, complete with a home-cooked meal and a boyfriend to cuddle with. My job deals with companies and representatives across the continental United States. With someone always needing to speak to me via email or phone call, I was never truly alone.

I’ve decided to leave this job.

Fortunately, my prior employer offered me enough hours (20-30 a week) at a coffee shop to take care of essentials, ultimately giving me time to focus.

I’d like to think walking away from a secure job makes me a stronger person. I would like to think I’m not making a mistake by forsaking a standard day job, ousting a potential career path before it could blossom. I’ve committed myself to delaying having a place of my own. I share rent and living space with my boyfriend and two other roommates. I’m overcome with insecurities of somehow fucking up my 20s, because now is apparently the time to lay the foundations for a house, for marriage, and… children?

That’s what my mother did, at least. She took care of me, my grandpa, and our two dogs. She earned her Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees, studying way into the early hours of the morning before a computer she taught herself to use. All of this was achieved, not through her passion for art, but with a solid 9-5 job as a litigation paralegal. By no means does she regret her decisions, but it did come with a cost.

I had a secure upbringing because she was so selfless, so there is a part of me that believes that the lack of security is what fuels my own ambitions.

Meanwhile, I flounder at the thought of eating because that is another deterrent from productivity. An entire day can pass, fruitless, as I devour entire seasons of shows on Netflix. I’m either emotionally detached or reeling from experiencing too many feelings simultaneously.

Wuthering Heights

Did my mother have to be reading Wuthering Heights at the time of her pregnancy with me? Wuthering Heights, where the characters are either too bland or too lost to unyielding chaos of their own emotions. Maybe I revel in the chaos. If I settle, if the pattern becomes too monotonous, and I grow complacent. All I need is enough to get by, in order to keep the dream of publishing alive. Because there has to be an amount of selfishness in order to publish, to think that your thoughts and ideas are entertaining enough for a publisher to take a risk on you. And maybe that’s why a selfless role in the corporate world is ultimately so difficult for me to uphold.

I want to believe that my time creating is more valuable than a paycheck derived from data entry. I want to believe that my stories are too entertaining to be left unwritten.

I want to prove that I am an artist. I don’t want to commit to a full time job when those hours should go to writing my novel series. If I can get by with part time work and freelancing, then I’d rather do that. The solidity of office work feels too final, when in my 20s I should be able to make stupid mistakes. I still want to get my Masters, and if funding allows it my Doctorate as well. I want to be a published author and I’ll put as many hours in as I need because a part of me would crumble without it. I’m not saying I’ll become a best seller. But I’d be damned if I didn’t give it 100% while this spark of madness still felt possible.

_______

21st Cen Bronté

Brontë Bettencourt (Episode 34) graduated from the University of Central Florida with a Bachelors in English Creative Writing. When she’s not writing or working, she is a full time Dungeon Master and Youtube connoisseur.

Shakespearing #41: OST’s The Tempest

25 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Shakespeare, Shakespearing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Anne Hering, Lisa Wolpe, Orlando Shakespeare Theater, The Tempest

One of my articles of literary faith is that Shakespeare is the best writer who has ever lived.

A related article of literary faith is that few of my writer friends quite understand this because they think Shakespeare can’t really be understood, or play in an authentic way.

They think this because their curiosity has not survived trying to read his plays in high school and college. They blame the bard for their reading mildewed books with half-assed footnotes.

When you see a good production of any of Shakespeare’s plays, though, the experience is vital, and fun. They are called plays, after all. When performed well, the stories are not much hard work at all to follow.

Orlando Shakespeare Theater offers wonderful productions of Shakespeare that simultanously deliver some classic sense of period and also enough imaginative flair to surprise more experienced audiences. I’ve seen every one of OST’s Shakespeare productions over the last five years, and every one of them have been superior.

Lowndes Center Red Carpet

OST’s The Tempest is no exception.

The Tempest is one of those plays that is so conceptually weird that the stage is actually a far superior place than the cinema for showing its action. At the core of the play is the wizard, Prospero, driven to something like madness in his exile. He controls the loyal sprite, Ariel, and the disloyal beast Caliban as well. Prospero has lived his life on an island alone from any human company, except for his beloved daughter, who has grown up in the time of his exile.

When the noble relations are traveling near the island, Prospero cataclysmically affects the weather in order to shipwreck them onto his home in exile, and sets about forcing these people into undergoing trials in their survival, in the hope of gaining retribution for his betrayals, and a reconciling with his family. The Tempest is known as a problem play, for it feels as dark and wrenching as a tragedy, even if it has some moments of slapstick hilarity, as well as the marriage plot ending typical for comedies. Making the tone of the play seem natural is a great accomplishment.

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As usual, the acting from OST’s players is superior. Richard B. Watson makes a formidable Caliban, animalistic, barbaric, yet vibrantly human. John P. Keller is delightful as the alcoholic butler, Stefano, well-matched with an equally crapulent Brad DePlanche as Trinculo. Dameka Hayes is a compelling Ariel, otherworldly, balletic, yet intelligent, and somehow the conscience of the play. Gracie Winchester as Miranda renders the love story of The Tempest wonderful, along with Brad Frost as her suitor, Ferdinand. Greg Thornton brings a noble gravitas to the role of the wizard, Prospero. Joe Vincent adds just the right amount of pathos as Gonzalo. And Lisa Wolpe, as the treacherous usurper Antonia, extracts exquisite humor as a self-satisfied villain, yet with a few subtle gestures manages the transformation of profound contrition. The Tempest is a difficult play, in all its bizarre modulations of emotion, yet this production by Anne Hering finds the psychological logic perfectly, as if it were a straightforward play.

I don’t want to reveal too much about the staging and effects that OST uses to make The Tempest feel like a tempest, how OST makes Ariel seem like a multi-dimensional being. I need to leave some surprises intact. But Orlando Shakespeare Theater is a blessing upon our town, and you owe it to yourself to get out to see a show. Tickets are only slightly more than the cost of going to a movie, and this particular theatrical experience, unlike most movies, is unforgettable.

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Production photos by Tony Firriolo.

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John King (Episode, well, all of them) holds a PhD in English from Purdue University, and an MFA from New York University. He has reviewed performances for Shakespeare Bulletin.

McMillan’s Codex #27: Bayonetta

24 Wednesday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in McMillan's Codex

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McMillan’s Codex #27 By C.T. McMillan

Bayonetta

When judging female representation in video games, too often the issue is defined by how female characters are dressed, and what the color of their skin is. The question of who they are in terms of story is never considered, especially in regards to overly sexualized characters. Bayonetta is often cited as an example of poor representation of women when in fact its titular character is, I argue, the most feminist figure in action videogames.

Bayonetta 1

Bayo transcends gender. She treats everyone the same, regardless of who they are. If you are not her, your value is dirt. She is sadistic.

She sees the act of killing enemies as punishment, and takes pleasure in torturing them in creative and painful ways. Her general attitude is devoid of any seriousness. As all hell breaks loose, she will find the time casually stroll through a maelstrom of debris, and insult giant bosses sent by heaven itself. Bayo embodies what it means to be a strong woman.

Not long ago I reviewed Metal Gear Rising, a character action game. The progenitor of the genre was Devil May Cry, a title defined by its style and combo-oriented combat. Bayonetta is best described as its spiritual successor and female equivalent. It uses the same Judeo-Christian iconography for its aesthetic, enemy designs, and its story. What sets the two apart is that Bayonetta is faster, the combat depth-full, and it is arguably more stylized.

Bayonetta 2

One thing people remember about Bayo is that she is disproportional, with long legs and arms and a very small head. The reason her limbs are elongated is because her attacks and animations are oriented around her arms and legs. She moves like an acrobat and a burlesque dancer, flipping, kicking, and jumping as she fights. A key feature of her style is that she has guns attached to her heels while holding two in her hands. As she does these elaborate moves, she is shooting or using whatever weapons you have equipped her with. Bayo will also perform a short dance when initiating a Torture Attack, a special move where she summons a torture device to finish off an enemy in gory fashion. In cut-scenes she moves in much the same way, swinging her hips, arms, and throwing her legs in an exaggerated motion.

Combat is based on a system of combos. Performing them is a challenge because the game gets harder as you progress, even on its lowest difficulty setting. You are always up against multiple enemies with varying degrees of strength who swarm you the moment there is an opening. I was barely halfway through when I encountered some of the more powerful enemies that started out as mini-bosses. Thankfully you have the ability to dodge on-coming attacks if you time your moves correctly. Pulling off a successful dodge will slow down time and give you the opportunity to inflict more damage before enemies can counterattack. Boss battles and special attacks rely heavily on quick-time events that must be completed in order to progress. The button prompts come up quick and they are not forgiving.

Style and a sense of the ridiculous is key to good character action and Bayonetta epitomizes the genre. The boss battles are fought against giant monsters on floating and falling platforms or on the wings of huge planes that would not logically fly in the real world. Levels range from nondescript towns and cities usually in ruin, to otherworldly dimensions inspired by the Divine Comedy.

Enemy designs in general are something else. Angels are these grotesque bird creatures and some of the larger monsters wear Greco-Roman masks with bodies that are so strange and diverse I find it hard to describe.

Bayo’s type of magic adds to the ridiculous factor as spells are based on her hair. Her main attacks are called Wicked Weaves, where a phantom fist or heeled-foot of hair will strike enemies. Her skin-tight outfit is made of hair and when performing a Torture Attack, she will become partially naked. She can also transform into a bird or cat to run faster and traverse wide-open spaces. While performing a double-jump, butterfly wings will sprout from her back to giver her a boost. When stationary, even her shadow has wings.

Bayonetta 3

Bayonetta is a great title that just happens to have one of the better, most recent female protagonists. If you are looking for a true character action experience, look no further.

_______

CT McMillan 1

C.T. McMillan (Episode 169) is a film critic and devout gamer.  He has a Bachelors for Creative Writing in Entertainment from Full Sail University.

The Global Barfly’s Companion #24: Vinyl Arts Bar

22 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in The Global Barfly's Companion

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The Global Barfly’s Companion #24 by Josh Dull

Bar: Vinyl Arts Bar

Location:  75 E Colonial Blvd, Orlando, FL 32801

Vinyl Arts Bar

The first time I stepped into the red glow of Vinyl Arts Bar was with Ashley Inguanta and our friend Tara. Though the bar’s grand opening had yet to occur, a few patrons danced to deep house while we sat on plush couches and smoked hookah. Owner Wilson Santos approached us, greeted Ashley with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek, and stood humbly as she praised him for attaining his vision. He shook my hand, told me that his intention with Vinyl Arts Bar was to marry two of his passions – art and nightlife. Plenty of bars around town feature paintings for sale on their walls, and while Vinyl does, Wilson’s appreciation for the arts extends to poetry, performance, music, and dance. All of which exist and thrive within this place, located just outside the urban maelstrom of Downtown Orlando, next to the 7 Eleven and a tattoo shop on Colonial.

Vinyl Arts Bar 2

Before even having their grand opening, Vinyl was already packed the second time I came. Wilson hosted Demagnetic Cabaret, fusing the haunting eloquence of Ashley Inguanta’s poetry with the abstract, quirky, yet fascinatingly engaging performance of Tony Christy and Laura Mansfield.

Ashley at Vinyl Arts Bar

Ashley took the audience into her mindscape, a desert beneath glittering stars, and introduced us to the many “unbearable angels” by whom she’s been inspired. As one poem would end, Tony would appear and anything would happen. At one point he had an argument with a recording of himself on his phone. At another point he and Laura played several measures of bass and drums. He would even engage the audience, whether in a demonstration of hugs or “parking” people, where he lassoed myself and three volunteers, then lead us out of the building, into the back parking lot and into a parking spot. In the beautiful weirdness of it all, barriers dropped like veils among everyone in the bar. We didn’t know each other, and we didn’t completely understand what we were seeing, but that was the unifying thing we had in common.

This cohesion made it easier for us to come to the stand after the performance once Wilson opened the floor for open mic poetry. One after the other, we read. Many read original work, some read cover poems. The bar became a group of friends reading poetry to each other, reminiscent of the gatherings read about in Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg’s circles. For Vinyl’s first event as a venue for the Orlando literary/art scene, it was a roaring success.

The Grand Opening took place on a rainy Saturday evening. Classic deep house reverberated through the speakers and servers moved from couch to table to groups of people standing in the bar area, making sure everyone had a drink in hand, or prime Latin American fare from the new Coconut Latin Grill food truck parked outside. Guests sampled some uniquely crafted cocktails such as the Mixtape Mojito and the Long Island LP, which feature wine-based versions of tequila and rum. Other specially crafted drinks include a Saketini made with chilled sake and wine-based gin, and the Sangria remix. Vinyl stands as the only bar I’ve been to that’s been able to circumvent the lack of a hard liquor license this creatively. As patrons sipped their beverages, conversed, smoked hookah, and danced, local artist Cavan Koebel from RAWDEVIATIONS painted vibrant and colorful artworks on his easel.

Vinyl Arts Bar Cavan Koebel

Wilson moved through the crowds, making light conversation and ensuring all of his guests were having a great time, which we were.

Vinyl Arts Bar is brand new to both the nightlife and the art scene, but radiates with promise. In addition to open mic poetry slams, Vinyl also features Salsa on Wednesdays, guest DJs for Throwback Thursdays, and other cool and eclectic events. As Vinyl builds momentum, I hope to see it become a permanent fixture in the Orlando Art and Literary scene. It has already had an explosive beginning, and I only see it becoming more successful. Orlando needs places like this.

_______

Joshua Dull

Josh Dull is a U.S. Air Force veteran and an aspiring fiction author with an emphasis on social issues. He has recently completed his Bachelor’s degree with Honors in the Major from the University of Central Florida. When he isn’t at his computer writing and revising, he enjoys finding new and eclectic venues in the nightlife of whatever city he happens to be in. He currently resides in Orlando, Florida.

On Top of It #17: A Lesson in Humility and Tone

22 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in On Top of It

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On Top of It #17 by Lisa Martens

A Lesson in Humility and Tone: Talia Jane

This weekend, the Internet caught fire with Talia Jane, a Yelp customer support representative who wrote a public, scathing letter to the CEO of her company and, of course, was fired soon after.

I agree with a higher minimum wage. I also agree that student debt cripples the dreams of many young Americans . . . such as myself. And so, I opened the link ready to read a letter written by an educated young woman, a fellow customer support rep, my peer, addressing these points.

What I read was a condescending rant that looked like a long drunk text I might send to the person labeled “Fuckboy” in my phone. Asking the CEO to pay her phone bill? Complaining that she couldn’t take the free food home? Bitching about the $20 copay to visit a doctor?

I cannot help but feel that the whole point of this letter was to be fired. It was cheeky at best, and outright abusive at its worst. The Internet always makes everything feel more sarcastic, and the anonymity it provides brings out this kind of behavior. As a customer support rep for a tech company, she must have experienced this phenomenon in her day to day. Which brings me to this question:

Would Talia have spoken to her CEO like this in person? Would she have compared her modern work environment . . . which is laden with free food . . . as a starving pack of wolves? Would she have said the coconut water tasted “like the bitter remorse of accepting a job that can’t pay a living wage”? Or said something as snarky as “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t have to pay my phone bill”?

Most likely not. She would have had to craft her grievances like a human talking to another human, a twenty-something out of college talking to a CEO.

So I will use this opportunity to tell a bit about my own story, minus the snark, to express the kind of sentiments I had believed and hoped Talia’s letter was going to bring to light.

When I came to New York for college, I knew NYU was going to be expensive, and my parents were not financially prepared to support that journey. I knew if I wanted it, I would have to do it myself. I petitioned for aid my first semester at NYU, but it was decided that I would receive aid if I could prove myself with a good GPA. So for the first year at NYU, I had to take out private loans. I applied to every scholarship I could find. I lived with a family in Queens for $600/month, and then in ⅓ of a living room in Hell’s Kitchen for the same price. I worked as a tour guide, I handed out fliers, I tutored, and I participated in psychology experiments. A lot like Talia, I had to look for change and find metrocards so I could use the subway. I went to school club meetings just for the free food. I knew which supermarkets gave out free samples and when. I walked and rode my bike when I couldn’t afford public transportation, and I lived at work and at school several times when I was in-between places to live.

I once slept under a school desk with nothing but an electric blanket. It was winter, and the heat in the building was off. I could hear rats running past my head as I struggled to sleep.

I had fainting spells because I wasn’t eating frequently enough, and at one point I lost so much weight that I started to lose my hair.

All the while, my wealthier friends were having a great NYC college experience, laden with unprotected sex and popping prescription drugs in the library to stay up all night. I was jealous. I was human.

Don Quixote at NYU

Sculpture of Don Quixote, somewhere at NYU.

However, I still managed to get a good enough GPA for NYU to give me more aid, and this cut down on my dependence on loans. Once I graduated, I worked one full time job and one part time job so I could repay my loans. I shared a one-bedroom in Queens for $700, still keeping my rent low, because my student loan payments were double that.

I currently live in a living room again, having just graduated from graduate school. I have a full and part time job, and my rent is still low so I can afford my loans, which I am behind on. I don’t have privacy or even a real door to my room, but again, this is the sacrifice I’m making so I can have low rent. It’s been rough, but I’ve always been grateful to the places who have employed me, who have given me a chance to prove myself, and I’ve always understood that my personal and financial problems are not the fault of my employer, of NYU, or even of my parents, who help me every time they can.

What do I feel now? A little disappointed. Letters like Talia’s get millennials dismissed as spoiled and entitled, and any good points get thrown away in the sea of sarcasm. But this could potentially be an opportunity for growth for Talia, I hope, once the Internet fanfare dies down—a lesson in humility, tone, and appreciation.

_______

Lisa Martens

Lisa Martens (Episode 22) currently lives in Harlem. In her past 10 years in New York, she has lived in a garage on Long Island, a living room in Hell’s Kitchen, the architecture building of CCNY, and on the couch of a startup. She grew up in New York, Costa Rica and Texas, and she’s still not sure which of these is home. She completed her MFA in Creative Writing from CCNY. Her thesis, What Grows in Heavy Rain, is available on Amazon. Check out her website here. Follow her on Instagram here.

Episode 193: Mary Gaitskill!

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Craft of Fiction Writing, Episode

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Beverly Army Williams, David Foster Wallace, Mary Gaitskill, Mothershould, Orlando Shakespeare Theater, The Mare, The Tempest, Veronica

Episode 193 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing, literature, and drinking, is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I interview fiction writer Mary Gaitskill, and share her reading from Miami Book Fair International,

Mary Gaitskill

plus Beverly Army Williams and I discuss Mary Gaitskill’s new novel, The Mare.

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TEXTS DISCUSSED

The MareVeronicaNOTES

Check out Beverly Army Williams’s site, Mothershould.

Litlando-PosterGet tickets for Litlando here.

The music used in this show was by Michael Hearst. “Alprazolam” (Songs for Fearful Flyers) and “Nicht Lustig Fight” (Film Music and Other Scores, Vol. 1) appeared in the opening, and “Theme From Magic Camp” (Film Music and Other Scores, Vol. 1) at the close.

Check out his wonderful music.

Film Music and Other ScoresSongs for Fearful FlyersIf you live in Orlando, check out Orlando Shakespeare Theater’s 2016 production of The Tempest.

Greg Thornton (Prospero) and Lisa Wolpe (Antonia) star in Orlando Shakespeare Theater’s production of William Shakespeare's The Tempest. (Photo by Luke Evans.)

Greg Thornton (Prospero) & Lisa Wolpe (Antonia) in OST’s The Tempest. (Photo by Luke Evans.)


Episode 193 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

21st Century Brontë #10: Notes on the Commonality of the Depressed Writer

18 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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21st Century Brontë #10 by Brontë Bettencourt

Notes on the Commonality of the Depressed Writer

When I was younger I idolized Anne Rice. All of her long, winding, ornate descriptions of her elegant vampires and their plights over humanity, immortality, and the ruthless effects of time on all things but them had me yearning to embellish like her. I learned that she suffered from depression.

Interview with the Vampire

Grieving over the loss of her daughter, Rice toiled on what would become Interview with a Vampire. Reviewers and fans go so far to state that Claudia, the immortal woman trapped within a child’s body, was based off of her daughter. In her Vampire Chronicles one of the topics her characters obsessed over was the role religion played in a world where their kind could exist, and if vampires were truly children of the Devil. This potentially godless world and the author’s attempts to rectify it illustrates her debating with this undefinable darkness.

Depression was a major contributing factor to my favorite author at the time. The sickness was glamorized from both an author and characters’ perspective.

But depression can’t be cool.

The Cat Lady Box

More realistic is The Cat Lady, an indie psychological horror game that I was introduced to by Cryaotic. Not five minutes into the story the protagonist Susan Ashworth consumes 34 sleeping pills, only to be brought back to the living realm by an otherworldly figure claiming to be the “Queen of Maggots”. She must track and stop several psychologically fucked up serial killers while reconciling with her own demons as the game progresses. The world is set in gray scale except for splashes of significant color, red being the most poignant.

At one point, Susan finally makes it back to her apartment. She attempts to unwind with a shower, coffee, and cigarettes. This should be simple enough but these tasks are complicated with obstacles such as an unpaid electricity bill, and crows pestering her from the balcony. It is possible to finish this segment with Susan going to bed at the end… but Cryaotic failed. After one of the apartment tenants yells at Susan, she completely breaks down.

The Cat Lady

Cryaotic could not comprehend why she reacted the way she did. To him it was just a pileup of minor annoyances, which in a way this is true. But I thought the scene was perfect because these same annoyances can evoke the onslaught of emotions, failure and inadequacy being reinforced like a broken record. And the negative moments in this segment are mostly unavoidable; the player must go above and beyond to really achieve the peaceful ending.

In her TED Talk, Your Elusive Creative Genius, Elizabeth Gilbert speaks of the commonality of the depressed writer. According to her, the correlation of depression and the creative mind is due to placing so much weight on the creator’s successes (or lack of them). She concludes that maybe that spark of genius should be considered more on loan to us instead of from us, diverting the pressure on the creative genius from the author and to a supernatural being such as a Daemon, or Muse.

Muses & Graces by Thomas P Rossiter, 1859, oil on canvas

What is being suggested is retrogressing from awarding credit to a personification of the arts and writing that chose to inspire the lucky individual, reducing them to a channel for such revelations. Instead of Anne Rice orchestrating her own chronicles, a muse would’ve inspired her creations. Thus, the phenomenal works are divine gifts, while a potential flop of a story is also the fault of a not-so-awe-inspiring entity.

I appreciate the attempt to alleviate that pressure. Writing feels like a conversation between myself and another who would pose questions for me to answer, like an interview or a debate. This sense of the writing experience also lessens the solitariness of the writing experience without bring another intrusive personality into the equation. This form of possibly insanity makes sense to me: when an epiphany hits, the entire ground beneath me shifts with its unavoidable weight.

According to Greek mythology, the Muses were brought to life to relieve the world of its sorrows. This ideal passes through us like a bolt of lightning. But that light eventually fades. I am still a human who sympathizes with Susan Ashworth’s unpaid electricity bill, and simultaneously loves and loathes the erratic behavior of Anne Rice’s vampires.

I understand their darkness, and because of that, the Muse can be valued all the more.

_______

21st Cen Bronté

Brontë Bettencourt (Episode 34) graduated from the University of Central Florida with a Bachelors in English Creative Writing. When she’s not writing or working, she is a full time Dungeon Master and Youtube connoisseur.

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