First, a short rant. I had two loads of laundry in the washer this evening, and I went down to change them over to the dryers. The dryers were full of dry clothes already, so I took them out and folded the many, many towels in nice piles and put my laundry in the other two. I came back down later to bring it all up, and someone had taken my clothes out of one dryer and piled them on top of it in one wet mass. Whoever did it thoughtfully placed two quarters on top of the pile, as if that would make it okay to dry their clothes while mine moldered away for an hour. Where are we, college? Who does that?
Last week I reviewed The Artistic Home’s production of Marisol for Centerstage. The Artistic Home is an Equity company, so the production values were high (especially the sound) and the performances were solid. Here’s an excerpt:
In Jose Rivera’s “Marisol,” “time is crippled, geography’s deformed, you’re permanently lost,” and John Mossman’s staging is relentless in driving that point home from the opening scene. The New York City of the play is a disorienting, near-futuristic one in which coffee is extinct and the entire state of Ohio is on fire and drifting eastward in a cloud of smoke, but our protagonist still commutes from her Bronx apartment to her Manhattan publishing job in an attempt at normalcy.
You can read the rest of the review here.