today my
fictional debut CD
is called:

Gah Gah Gah
Gah Gah



featuring the
hit single:

I Added an "H",
Spoon
(you can't sue me
remix)


blog de
Dan Trujillo
(a playwright)
serving
continental breakfast


about
contact
site feed

coming events

plays
monologues

SHORT FILMS:

the rookie
the homunculus


The Rita &
Burton Goldberg
Dept of Dramatic
Plugging

presents:

a workshop of
EARLY POE
by Dan Trujillo

directed by
Charles Metten

Death, mystery,
disease, insanity,
blood, poetry:
Poe's turned
thirteen.


Aug 16, 17, 30
2007

part of the
New American
Playwrights Project
@ the Utah
Shakespearean
Festival
Cedar City, UT

for tickets:
click here



OREGON
LITERARY
REVIEW


featuring
THE DOG
by Dan Trujillo

an online
collection of
literature,
hypertext,
art, music,
and hypermedia


click here
to read









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all material copyright 2007 Dan Trujillo. All rights reserved.

 

 

 


Thursday, November 06, 2003

 
Would You Like Funny With That?

One Josh A. Cagan. Enjoy.



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Tuesday, November 04, 2003

 
The Tintinnabulation of the Belle’s

[I know, I said I wasn't putting up scripts this month. Here, try this new candy bar, it's milk chocolate with a creamy center made from SHUT UP!]

(MARSHA, early twenties:)

MARSHA
My spirit was speaking to me through my bladder infections. That was really where our relationship started to disintegrate. I could take my sinus headaches, my hangnails, but bladder infections are my better-hadn’t-dare point. Once my spirit started sending me messages through those, well...I cornered her in a dream. It was in my high school, between second and third period, by my boyfriend’s locker. I expected her to be wearing -- you know -- white robes, something long and flowy, but she was just wearing a lavender t-shirt and jeans. Though the shirt had a really low collar, and my spirit's cleavage was just like out there. Plus she had enough eye shadow to paint a house -- I was really scandalized by how slutty my spirit looked. I told her to knock off the bladder infections, she has something to say, she can say it right to me. She called me a name, and then said something about how we had to deliver the elephant to Belize by Thursday...that was when I lost it. I had a purse -- one of those with the long thin leather straps, I got behind her, wrapped it around her throat, and just started pulling. I was yelling, “Why do I always have to listen to you?! Why don’t you listen to me for once?!” Then she kind-of went limp, and I realized I’d choked the life out of her. Or maybe broken her neck, I’m not sure.

And I gotta say, ever since I strangled my spirit, things have been going better for me. I’m a lot more clear-headed at work. The newspapers are beginning to make sense. I’ve finally been able to get to the gym, I don’t have that voice nagging me about tethering self-image to my weight. I mean, I know what my true self is now, it’s whatever I decide it is. I was even able to get back in touch with you, mom. I never understood you until I killed my spirit. I mean, you had Dad to kill yours, but as long as I kept mine alive, we just couldn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. Now that we’re a couple of unburdened egos, free from bladder infections, we can finally talk about current events, husbands, the way all these mini-malls have popped up out of nowhere. We can figure out how to get more celebrities to come to town. We can finally put me back in the will. I love you, mom. No, not love. What’s the word? Register.

Belle Ambrose, NoApologies.org, November 4, 2003: What Do Bladder Infections Have To Do With God? Pt. II

[Belle, if you put out lines like that, I must run with them]



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Anthropomorphism on the Cheap

Little blogging, as I make the Herculean push toward completing another draft of At Sea With Sieves and Liars by the end of the month. So I'm loosening up on the scripts and letting it ride as a straight blog for the month of November. November at Venal Scene: Less talk, more...er, talk!

And then there's this...


image courtesy of The Bumpity Page


For you non-Oregonians, this was Bumpity, one of the ten bazillion local kids shows that cropped up in the early 70s at the behest of the FCC. The Feds were all in a tizzy over television's softening effect on the brains of America's youth, and decided to respond with a mobilization of amateur puppet antics.

Actually, I don't know if they were all puppet shows, but anecdotal evidence indicates that a large number were. Exhibit A, Mr. Peppermint, courtesy of The Structuralist. Even in this dark image, one can see that tell-tale sign of 1970s local kidsetainment: a pilly, motheaten puppet, staring with dead eyes into the vacuum of the camera.

In spite of this, I'm going to tout the unquestionable superiority (or maybe supreme inferiority) of Bumpity over Mr. Peppermint's puppet Muffin. Yes, Muffin may be an animal of indeterminate origin, and he gets points for that, but Bumpity was a bump on the ground. That's right. The best KATU-Portland could come up with was a talking mound of dirt. Did I mention his best friend was a worm?



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