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Attack Theatre: Remainder, Phase Two
Thurs., Jan. 8
Attack Theatre dancers return to Carnegie Museum of Art for Phase Two of Remainder, a 10-month process/performance inspired by Life on Mars.
Daily film screenings of Sharon Lockhart's Pine Flat in Carnegie Museum of Art Theater
2:00 p.m. daily
Additional screening Thursdays at 5:00 p.m.
Free with Museum admission
Running time: 138 min.
schedule is subject to change
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I found myself dong the same shit over and over. Work, the bar, sleep, repeat. I was a nice guy. People liked me. Girls found me attractive. I had a decent job. Sounds pleasent, right? Nah, it's not. It's boring as fuck. My life needed a little spice. I'd always loved reading Batman when I was little. I used to slide it on top of the text in my schoolbooks, instead of reading the mindless, drowning babble bullshit my school district gave us. I still aced every test though. I'd cheat off of this ridicously smart kid, George McGreevy. He was this child prodigy or some shit like that, all that mattered is that I passed all my classes with flying fucking colors all due to his smart ass. That's how I got into Yale.
So yeah, I've always idolized Bruce Wayne and the super cool double life he lead. So I decided that's what I'll do. Put on a mask and go out and night and save people. Not ugly people though, they don't need to be procreating anyway.
My first night out was uneventful. There were just a bunch of drunk chicks stumbling around with their boyfriends. My services were not needed or not wanted. I wasn't about to get suckerpunched. But the second night...shit, the second night made me wonder why I hadn't thought of this whole idea before. This chick, who was obviously a hooker, came up to me out of nowhere.
"Nice mask." Her eye makeup was all down her face like she'd been crying for hours. She looked young, but like she'd seen a lot of crazy shit.
"Thanks. I'm out to save people."
"Save people, huh? Like Batman or something like that?"
"Yeah, exactly like that, actually."
"I see...you want to have some fun?"
Usually I don't go for paying for my pleasure, I get it for free, but on this particular night, I found myself in a thrill-seeking mood, so I thought "What the hell."
"Sure."
"Mmm come with me."
She took me by the hand. Her hands were ice cold. Like just taken out of the freezer cold. I was surprised her damn fingers didn't snap off when accepted her gesture. She took me though alleyway after alleyway, with the lights that are tinged yellow from being so fucking old. It was nasty
Listed below are links to blogs that reference this entry: For Shame, a story inspired by the work Tristessa by Daniel Guzman.
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