Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I never really loved dance quotes... till now.

Ryan Nielson wrote this. Maybe I wasn't supposed to stumble across this. Maybe I wasn't... but it was accidently thrown in my path and for that I am grateful.

"In dance woman expresses herself as a member of a higher community; she has forgotten how to walk and speak and is on the way toward flying, dancing into the air. Her very gestures are of enchantment…. She feels herself to be a god, going about in ecstasy, exalted, like the gods beheld in her dreams.... She is no longer an artist, she has become a work of art. In a paroxysm of intoxication the creative power of all nature has come to light in her as the highest rapture of the one that is All. Nature, with its true voice undissembled cries out to us: "Be as I am! I, the primordial ever-creating mother amidst the ceaseless flux of appearances, ever impelling into existence, eternally finding in these transformations satisfaction." (Friedrich Nietzsche)"



As You Like It

I r­emember so little from my high school  (go Miners!) theater days.  What I do remember from that experience seems to be the equivalent to a short, yet entertaining (in the same way your parents’ gritty and embarrassing wedding video is entertaining), montage full of lots of teeth showing and bad renditions of “In My Own Little Corner”, flavored with the usual clichéd painting of sets and the giddy trying on of costumes and funny feathered hats, while ignoring the very obviously placed couple making out everywhere. Ah, the memories…  But there actually was something that I rather inconveniently forgot.  This something was my deep and never-ending love for the Shakespearian play “As You Like It”.  As I recently sat inside that little square, which is Hale Center Theater, the memories all came rushing back to me.  But before that rush or nostalgia, I sat in wonderment as the characters Celia and Rosalind frivolously bantered back and forth about a boy, and then as the snooty Phebe waxed nostalgic over the beauty of the youth she had just fallen in love with.  I knew these lines.  I just sat and said them in my head, word for word, as the lines were being given.   How startled was I over this occurrence!  But after that initial shock, I remembered.  In high school, for every classical scene or monologue I had to do for class, ­I would directly go to my old standard of “As You Like It”.  I really felt some kind of draw towards the playfulness and actual humanity I felt when reading into the characters.  It was always ­my choice and most favored of the Bard’s tales, and I am happy to rediscover just what drew me to it in the first place.

Which is why I might be a little biased towards this play.  Even though I had dragged my feet to get to ­that play, sat by myself next to an unfriendly elderly couple, and then didn’t have enough cash to fund my m&m’s craving, I had the most fun at a play as I have ever had.  As I sat and watched this play­, precariously edged between the silent giggling to a rather embarrassing ­full on eye’s-watering-rolling-in-the-aisles laughter, I completely felt the magic inside­ experiencing brilliant theater­.  It all seemed to come together perfectly for this production, from the details in the costuming, which fit each character’s personality to a tea, as well as nodded the correct nods to the time period portrayed, to the innovative use of the small square theatrical space.  I could breathe my praises to this attention to detail acting.

I would like to shake the hand at whoever brought this cast together.  Not only did the actors act with such profound strength and emotion befitting to­ their characters, but also they really were able to mold and fold­­­ their lines­ around their tongues and mouths, as if they were born speaking Shakespearian English­.  This cast spoke to each other as if they were their characters having this very conversation, making the speech easy to understand and follow.  They spoke to each other rather than speaking at each other, which is a mistake on all accounts.  They had and used their stage chemistry, which is something I have not been able to witness in a good long while.  As a dancer, I was especially pleased to find that this cast wasn’t afraid to really move.  They utilized their bodies in ways to more fully convey their characters.  Plus, when isn’t throwing oneself to the floor simply just the most amusing and satisfying thing to do?  I certainly enjoyed their willingness to roll, shimmy, and dance around a bit, and I’m pretty sure this cast enjoyed is as well.

All in all, I’m pretty sure that I would enjoy seeing­ this production again and again, even if there is a possibility of again being dragged on stage to do that ridiculous springtime dance or whatever that silliness was really called.  This play was a delight and something I would not hesitate to shamelessly plug.  Or even to call up one of my girl friends about after the performance, to ask why she isn’t already madly in love with Alex Ungerman…I mean, who wouldn­’t be in love with him­ after seeing this play? I­’m pretty sure that now I am.  Maybe I will go back and see this play again.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Very Simple Explanation for all this Madness

I really have a problem with “funny”. Today, “funny” has turned into “how randomly perverse can I be, in smallest syllables possible, all the while incorporating slapstick on the level of hit-the-groin with baseball bat?” Now, no one loves well-placed innuendo like I love well-placed innuendo (obviously the keyword here is well-placed), but I’m starting to hate/loathe/despise the predictable thoughtlessness placed in being oh so very “funny”. It’s not just the stupidity of the whom, what, and where that is getting is considered to be “funny”. It’s also that everyone, yes EVERYONE, as self-proclaimed riots, has jumped aboard the funny train. In my experience, people who tend to think that they, personally, are slap the knees hilarious; tend to be talent-less blowhards, tools, and hacks. So, humor continues to be dumb-ed down and dumb-ed down again and again, making humor unintelligent enough that even the most base forms of life (algae, cancer, certain types of mold) can find their new favorite loud perverse comedian to talk about to their other base life form friends after a round or two of conversation concerning their pet political topics (OMG. Global warming is totally, like, so not real...) and their new mall find of ‘affliction’ tee’s and wicker cowboy hats. I have started to really hate “funny”.

Fortunately for me, “A Very Simple Explanation for all this Madness”, written by Devon James Hoffman and directed by Patrick C. Kibbie, was actually funny. Westminster College’s theatre (yes, THEATRE and not theater) society put on this shindig on April 9-11, and I had the lucky chance to run across the chance to experience it. This play was seriously a riot, without the blowhards, hacks and tools of the normal self-proclaimed “riotously absurd”. The play started out on a high, which means of course, a very physical battle between sleepy/clumsy man and chair, in which, of course, the men dies (how else could this play start?). To be sure, the following insanity that followed only escalated that initial high more and more, making this play continuously divine.

This play had bluntness to the intent, which, as it turns out, was very political. Each character in “A Very Simple Explanation…” was loosely yet very apparently based on an un-named, but completely obvious, presidential administration (ahem…Bush…ahem…). The intent was to portray the absurdity of going to war for no good reason and how we mostly just sit back and watch these many uninformed decisions being made.

The very minimalist set was a perfect, just the deadly chair and a couple of props. This gave the actors space to really move around and fill out that extra space with their personality and physicality. My favorite character, and not just because of personal crushes on certain actors, his magnificent mustache, or because of my (completely ludicrous and unfounded) Freudian daddy-esq issues, was Reginald. I felt that the physicality that the actor used in his portrayal of his character really gave him a leg up and over the rest of the cast on stage. Which is actually saying quite a lot about this actor’s commitment to his character, because the entire cast had also seemingly found quite a lot of depth to their committal to their individual portrayals of their characters.

So, there is some hope in this world for comedy. I wish more people I know could have had a chance to have seen this play, mostly so I wouldn’t have had to attend all by my lonesome, but also so they too could see that there is such thing as actual comedy. Funny doesn’t have to have quotation marks around it all the time, and I can stop the cynicism from time to time and just enjoy myself. God bless talent, right?

(Awesome Photos by Mike Manning)

Max just might be the death of me.

I have been dog-sitting Max Powers since my beautiful friend Jessica P. left for vacation.

And although I'm pretty sure that Max has a death wish for me
(whole other long winded whiny story)...

I'm pretty sure that Max just might now love me more than
Miss Jessica P.

Sorry Jess.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


Let's talk physical afflictions.

Anyone wanna complain to me now, so that when I get on the phone with you later you won't be bugged that I'm whining about my light-induced migraine?


Don't say i didn't give you a chance here.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Banana Cream Pie Milkshakes

Cute-Boyfriend was a dear, and picked me up some sustenance from the little hamburger joint (I unwittingly called it a diner... Cute-Boyfriend was quick to correct me... gee... thanks Cute-Boyfriend) below Blufrog, where I was putting in a billion hours of work.

Can I just confess something deep and full of hopeful longing?

I really really really really really really really really really
long for another banana cream pie milkshake.

I think that this love that I'm feeling really might be the real deal.
Oh, my darling Banana Cream Milkshake...
how I long to have you at my side again, filling my life with
your creamy banana-y pie-y goodness and beauty.
Oh, how I long to see the cute little Sammy's employees
stuff an entire slice of pie into the blender.
Oh, how I long to get pieces of crust stuck in my straw...
not inconveniently... just delicately and delightfully.

So... anyways...

the moral of THIS story is that I love love love this joint. If you ever get down to Provo, UT, and need to put something inside of your belly other then gas station nachos (MEREDITH) and those orange fruit snack things (EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT LIVES AT MY HOUSE), I highly suggest you pull a cute-boyfriend move, and fill up on sweet potato fries and a milkshake made with real slices of pie...

Visit Sammy's and fall the way I fall every time.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Bartenieff Fundamentals did come in handy...Once

3:04 Claire

duuuuuuuuuuuh yourself

3:07pm Shane

How about I duh you!

and your sternocleidomastoid


3:08pm Claire

my STERNOCLEIDOMASTOID could kick your duh's butt

3:09pm Shane

well my duh's dad could beat up your sternocleidomastoid's dad!

3:10pm Claire

My dog's bigger then your dog.

3:10pm Shane

I kicked your dog. but in a nice way


Nice kicking seems paradoxical

3:12pm Shane

prove it

because YOU seem paradoxical

3:16pm Claire

Well, you start lifting your leg in a bound flow, using your femoral flexion and illiiospoas to initiate, to wind up for the impending direct force of a mean kick. Then you have to IMMEDIATELY change your dynamic to that of a sustained free flow as to not hurt the object of your differing emotions. It's too sudden. It can't be done. So you're stuck in this struggle between right and wrong and bound and free and to hurt and not to hurt and soon you get distracted by something shiny and wander off to examine said shiny thing, so all of your in depth analysis was in vain.

3:19pm Shane

Claire you have enlightened me. I will buy you a cookie someday to compensate for the time spend doing so. And a cake for having kicked your dog


3:19pm Claire

You know how I adore baked goods...


Bartenieff Fundamentals helped me receive the promise of baked goods.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Last Summer Edition of Mandee

(Look at me go... making progress on upgrading my blog.
I'm only 10 months behind now... ha.)

I'm probably the worst friend ever...
because I shot these for
Mandee Anderson Perkins
about half a year ago,
and FINALLY got around to posting them for her.

Isn't she lovely???

Mixtape 1

My adorable roommate, housemate, flatmate Ashleigh Brummy Brummer makes the best mixtapes (ah... mixcds) ever. She left one of these brilliant mixes for me in my Valentines box that is still hanging on my door since, well, Valentines Day. Sweetheart knew it was just the thing to pick me up out of the doldrums. So... If you have been dying to know what I've been listening to for the past month, check it out:

1. laura marling - ghosts
2. passion pit - sleepyhead (NEW FAVORITE SONG)3. ladyhawke - paris is burning
4. pacific! - hot lips
(below isn't ACTUALLY a band photo... google images failed me...
though that IS hypothetically the Pacific Ocean)
5. stricken city - lost art6. tokyo police club - juno7. kylie minogue - heart beat rocks (spank rock remix)8. the whitest boy alive - fireworks
9. appaloosa - the day we fell in love10. bloc party - signs11. Cansei de Ser Sexy - knife (cover of the Grizzly Bear song)12. fleet foxes - mykonos13. au revoir simone - sad song (pacific! remix)14. the dodos - fools15. lykke li - dance, dance, dance16. andrew bird - oh no17. stars - window bird18. the notwist - boneless19. azure ray - rest your eyes20. midlake - young bride21. bat for lashes - bat's mouth

Saturday, April 11, 2009


I just woke up.

Let's take stock in how I feel right now:

  • One REALLY great dream ended too quickly. Tragic, since I actually remember this one.
  • I had to share a bed with my sister (that's not the bad part, since she's like the hot water bottle I never had), since I slept over at my mom's house, thus missing my 5 month anniversary with B.
  • My neck and back... basically my entire spine... feels like it was crushed in a train wreck. Or that someone played tetris with each section of my spinal column.
  • I accidently slept in my contacts, so the world is very blurry right now. I'm spell checking the shhhhhh out of this when I get a chance to blink a couple hundred more times.
  • I remember turning over in the middle of the night to yell and shake at my sister, who I was convinced had stopped breathing. Um... she was totally fine. Girl sleeps like a log.
  • I need at least 3 more hours of sleep to feel normal.
  • Gladice, the midnight hairdresser did quite the number on my hair last night. Pretty?
  • Oh. The below photo refuses to be re-sized (Well... now it's ok...).

  • Mandee and Josh get sealed today!
  • I get to help the photographer (Becca Peterson Lund) pose the happy couple.
  • I get to wear my new sun dress all day long (something I'd probably do anyways, but, you know).
  • GOTH PROM. Maybe Bonnie will let me borrow a wig and some GOTHic lolita gear. Only time will tell.
  • Getting to dress up for GOTH PROM.
  • Making up for the fact that I only got to go to my own High Skoooool PROM once, and with a date who fell asleep on me at the end of the night (Thanks Eric Miller).
  • Making up for the fact that I never actually was GOTH when I should have tried harder to find an interesting genre in High Skoooool.
  • The capitalization of GOTH and PROM.

Friday, April 10, 2009

The Un-Vague

The time to be vague has past.

Does that statement strike you as being vague? I hope not.

I’m quite serious about this. The era of the vague, the cryptic, the mysterious, the enigmatic, the clandestine, and the elusive Claire B. tendencies has past.

Eons ago, I picked up the nasty habit of keeping all my secrets to myself… nasty, because this habit bled into every single aspect of my essential growth and life. I stunted myself by holding on to my self-made lifeboat of secrets, half-truths, and silly beautiful dreams. I held onto all these pieces of myself with such continuous ferocity that my joints eventually weakened with the stress. I was completely addicted to this behavior, and again and again I was left to bind my limp limbs back together with twine and duct tape and other painfully sticky household adhesives just to maintain my life under the radar. Believe you me, I was scrapping off stickiness for months… and there I go being vague… again.

What I mean to say is this: after getting so entirely comfortable in my secretiveness and vague-gality (did I just make up that word? The answer is yes. Shakespeare did it all the time. Get over it.), I lost myself to the outside world. I was stuck in my dream-like state, sustaining my movement and growth in and through the world and living like the air around me was entirely made up of peanut butter (yum). Frankly, I didn’t want the people I loved the most to know me completely, and subsiquently stop the love and adoration they felt towards me. I lacked honesty. Oh, I was exactly myself. I didn’t try to be anything else. I just edited and hid away some of the genuine parts and flaws and needs and wants and goals that I judged potentially as “SCARY”. I had almost completely cut myself and the beautiful details of my life off to my family, my friends, and any potential or actual romantic interests. Only the people with lots and lots of time on their hands and Hardy Boy/Nancy Drew-esq tendencies ever actually pieced together the hazy clues I’d drop in my day to day conversations, the lists and notes I wrote when bored at school, church, and other institutional learning facilities (Remember this?), and, of course, MySpace blogs (YES MY FRIENDS, I had a MySpace account. Since those dark days, I have graduated to Fbook and have picked up the tradition of mocking that establishment, fully realizing that the Fbook is EXACTLY LIKE MYSPACE… maybe just… less… slutty). As you can imagine, the process of detective work was tedious for even those crafty individuals, so my life went largely unexamined.

Another down fall of living my life so vaguely was that My Dear Sweet Parents had to punish me for deeds they would fundamentally contrive and throw small scale interventions for substance abuse problems I never had… oh how I love those dear sweet people. Looking back, I guess I deserved any flack that I got, since guessing and guessing and guessing sends normal people with normal amounts of patience over the edge and I, at the time, wasn’t willing to open up and express myself like an actual human being (and echolocation only works for bats and whales).

Since this dark time (up till... uh... now), I have been trying to amend my ways. I know that living less secretly will be worth it, and my various relationships will flourish and sprout beans, carrots, and other healthy vegetation necessary for hale and hearty living. I could take a vow, put my hand on some religious text, and swear on my great-grandfather’s grave to live out loud, without fear, as honestly and un-vague as I possibly can. But this probably will always be something I need to work on… plus being vague always had some artistic merit to it. Hmmm…

Maybe I’ll just stock up on double sided tape and red thread, PLUS a megaphone and ad space, and we’ll see how this experiment in living louder works out for me.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Double Take


My name is Claire

and I'm completely in love with . . . THIS:

Bathtub IV

Check check check one two check.