Today marks the 40th anniversary of the fall of Phnom Penh to the Khmer Rouge. It is an event that made hardly a blip on the radar of international news back then, and its remembrance four decades on is likely to make even less of one.
In the future, opinions will change, people will change, and the world will change. Books, however, are a constant force. Their themes will continue to be relevant, no matter how different the world may appear in the years to come.
Thank you to the brilliant and brave gut spiller and truth speaker, Lewis Black, who from his very proper podium in the cavernous atrium of the Indianapolis Central Library let loose to an assemblage of supporters gathered to honor the legacy of Kurt Vonnegut.
I love taking classes. I love learning. Since graduating college, I've signed up for courses all over LA, from UCLA Extension's writing seminars (they're great!) to improv workshops at The Groundlings (good too!). And I won't even get into all the acting classes I have experienced.
By providing arts-based avenues and outlets for extreme expression and rejecting the blanket, agenda-driven censorship of demagogues, we will provide alternate means by which to externalize the darkest inner storms of emotion and pain.
Vonnegut's literary time allows a reader to pause, to linger and perhaps to reflect. Narratives on the printed page permit and often encourage such interludes. But Eric Simonson's stage adaptation of the 1969 masterpiece allows no such digression.
Welcome to the Monkey House was first published by Playboy Magazine. Playboy's published countless controversial stories by likewise provocative authors. In spite of this literary contribution, or perhaps because of it, the pinup publication has faced censorship around the world.
Why does urban biodiversity matter at all? Because according to the UN, for the first time in human history more people are now living in cities than rural areas. The planet is urban. When people experience nature, that nature will be urban too.
Adapting a book for the stage can be tough. Especially if the book jumps around in time and involves trips to an alien world inhabited by single-eyed beings bearing more than a passing resemblance to toilet plungers.
Dance, when no one is looking. Then, if no one was looking, videotape it, upload it onto YouTube, use the ensuing traffic to establish a platform from which you can leverage yourself into a six-figure deal for a reality show based on your dancing at which no one was looking.
Reading Letters, a collection of Kurt Vonnegut's letters, edited by Dan Wakefield, allowed me to connect with my grandfather by pretending that I was their recipient. Though he's a legend, his image became tattered through reading his words.