Adios, Amigos

This will be the last post to I make to this blog.

I'm just not that angry anymore.

At the time I started this blog, I was an angry Mexican guy in Chicago. It made perfect sense to piggy back off Don Hall's blog, An Angry White Guy in Chicago, and carry my own angry torch, in my own angry way. For a while, it was a great thing for me. I had an outlet for some of the things that were driving me fucking crazy in politics, religion and theatre. I could document my adventures in weight loss and all of that aggravation that goes with it. I had a place to live and revel in and enjoy my anger. It was fun.

And then it wasn't.

As time passed, and my life changed, as time passes and lives change, I realized that I wasn't as angry as I once was. I didn't have that energy. I didn't have that focus.

I would return to this space, ready to write about this, that, or the other thing and I felt stuck. Some of the things I wanted to write about didn't fit the Angry Mexican Guy in Chicago mold that I had carved out for myself. So I wouldn't write. I was turning myself into the Stagnant Mexican Guy in Chicago.

Fuck that shit.

In the coming weeks, I will start a new blog. I am not sure what the name will be. I am not sure what I will write about. At times it may still be very angry. It will also be sad. And boring. And offensive. And sexy. And happy. And funny. And all of the things that I am.

It will be about a guy in Chicago, and all of the things that I am.

Thanks to everyone that followed the on and off rantings I made in this space. Your comments and support always meant the world to me. I hope, when I come back around, you'll be there with me again.

Catch you on the flip.

Chuy.

Making A Mountain Out Of A Mole

If you have ever read something that angered you so much that after you read it you wanted to take your computer and bash yourself to death with it, you will understand how I felt after I read the following paragraph:

IN HARTFORD CONNECTICUT, THE MAYOR IS PUERTO RICAN. BUT IN THEATERWORKS PRODUCTION OF MY PLAY IN HARTFORD -- THE 2 LEAD PUERTO RICAN CHARACTERS ARE PLAYED BY WHITE ACTORS. THE PLAY WAS CAST IN NYC & CONN, AND IF YOU LOOK AT THE BREAKDOWN HERE, YOU WILL SEE THAT NOT ONLY DID THEY NOT CAST LATINOS, THEY DIDN'T EVEN SEEK LATINOS FOR THE 2 LATINO LEADS!!! IF THIS DISTURBS YOU, PLEASE REPOST. NOTHING AGAINST THE ACTORS CAST, BUT THIS IS INDEFENSIBLE BULLSHIT. PLEASE SHARE MY HEADSHAKING ANGER. THANKS! STEPHEN

I got angry right off the bat because it was all in CAPS.  I hate that shit. It is supposed to looking like you are yelling and it does and I don't like being yelled at.  When I get yelled at, I get angry.

I was already angry and then I got pissed because I had no idea what the fuck the Mayor of Hartford had done and then after reading that damn thing, like 3 times, I realized that the fucking Mayor of Hartford hadn't done shit.  It was confusing.  If you yell at me and you say some confusing shit, that is going to make me angry and piss me off.

When I finally got past the confusing yelling, what I saw was that a playwright was not happy about how one of his plays was cast.

Having been involved in many projects over the last 4 years and having worked with many playwrights the first thing that came to my mind was that this was only one side of the story.  Everyone involved in the process of creating a play is a human being.  As humans, when the shit hits the fan, we all have our side of the story.  Producers, Directors, Designers, Actors, Run Crews, the fucking Janitor that cleans the rehearsal room you rented, all of us, have different points of view on any give production.  When shit goes south, everyone says their piece and unless you have all of those pieces, you really shouldn't make a decision or take a side.  Especially when the source is using Facebook as a way to trash a production of one of his scripts.  (Facebook, really?)

I wondered why this playwright had felt the need to go to such a public route.  I mean, if he felt this strongly about the way those roles where going to be cast, would he not have made that clear in his contract.  Had the producers violated an agreement he had with them? If that where the case, why wasn't he suing them?  Why wasn't this an article from a blog?  What the hell was going on here?

I figured there was more to this story and I would wait until...OH, FUCK!!!

That "Oh, Fuck" right there was when I realized that this playwright wasn't just pissed about how his play was cast but that Latino actors weren't cast.  It was at that moment that I had to remind myself that I do not have money to buy a new computer.

You see, because I see myself as a theatre artist first and Mexican/Latino/Hispanic (I never know which one I am supposed to be) Male second,  I was lost in my imagination trying to figure out how all of the people in this process had gotten to the point that the playwright was blasting people on Facebook that it took me a second to factor in the Latino Component.  It took me a second to realize that I was going to be on the other side of the coin on this one.

I figured that a lot of Latinos would stand with STEPHEN and his obnoxious, tactless status update.  Without knowing all of the details, this would be the cause of the day.  Latinos the world over could sit at their Ivory Desks and cast themselves yet again in the role of the victim.  Yet again, the man was out there to hold us down!  And in a town with a Puerto Rican Mayor?! How dare they?!?  LA RAZA UNIDA, JAMAS SERA   VENCIDA....

Wait, wait, wait....Give me a fucking break.

I've said it before and I will say it again, before you take a position on these things you have to know the whole story.  Also, as always, it is best to consider the source.  At this point, earlier today, all I knew is that a playwright was pissed.  I mean, PISSED.  That in and of itself was not going to be reason enough for this Muchacho, to get involved.  I figured I would try to not get caught up in the Facebook, Twitter wars that soon followed and wait until I got more information.

So I went to work.

When I came back from work.  I read some more articles and this is the conclusion that I have come up with:

The playwright, who is not Latino, didn't even know who was cast in his play until last week when HOLA (Hispanic Organization  for Latino Actors) informed him of who was cast.  It was then that the playwright went to the producers for answers.  Not before he signed a contract where he could have added a "Cast Me Some Latinos Or Else!" Clause.  Not during the auditions or callbacks or anytime in between did it seem like there was a legal agreement that said, Cast Me Some Latinos Or Else!  This is important because if you are going to blast a theatre company for not casting what you wanted, you better have made sure to tell them what you wanted.  If you didn't, you can't really get pissed at them for casting who ever they cast.  Especially when you don't know who the fuck was cast until some Latino Actors Rights Organization comes knocking on your door.

When you wait that long you risk coming off as the Non-Latino playwright who got called out by some Latinos and so you are starting some shit with your producers because you don't want people to get all pissed that there aren't any Latinos in your play.  I could see why a Non-Latino playwright wouldn't want to anger Latinos when he is trying to make money off of his play about Latinos, don't get me wrong, Make Yo' Paper BooBoo.  But understand that this shit looks more like you are covering your ass and less like you are a supporter of the plight of the Latino Actor.

Anyways, after this playwright, contacted his producers, and his producers told him that his director cast who he cast because they didn't have enough time to cast anyone else, the playwright got even more pissed off because he didn't like the answer.  Why, he didn't like it, I don't know.  What I do know is that sometimes as a director you DON'T have enough time to cast people.  Sometimes, you have to pick up the phone, find the names you trust, start making calls, and hope you fill the fucking role.  That is perfectly believable to me.

I've cast that way.
You've cast that way.
You've been cast that way.
Admit it.
Come on.
Admit it.

What we have here is not a call to arms for the Latino Theatre Community?  Instead, what I see, is a playwright that got called out on some stupid shit, which compelled him to pass the buck before this thing made him look bad.

Its theatre bullshit.

It is not cultural, social change bullshit.

I am all for calling out injustices to the Latino Community of Actors or Citizens.  This is not one of those times.  Instead of achieving anything of consequences for either of those groups, we risk looking like a bunch of malcontents.

As the Fresh Prince of Belair once said to his cousin Hillary,  "You're making a mountain out of a mole, Hill.".



 

The Price of Michael Kaiser In China

Maybe, I am used to old rich white guys saying stupid shit.  Maybe, I think that heads of organizations speak from a position of protecting their organizations.  Maybe some organizations are so far removed from my interests or that of my community that I really don't care what their head says -- I mean, its not like the Kennedy Center has much of an emphasis on Minorities in the first place.  Maybe, I am missing something.

But, whatever the case, I still don't understand why people are so pissed off at this Michael Kaiser HuffPo Article.

So, the President of the John F. Kennedy Center for performing arts says that young people are culturally ignorant.  He says that we need to inject money into the school systems to raise the level of arts knowledge in the  populous.  He says that is the way that his organization thinks it can best draw in some of the younger crowd.

Now, some of what he is saying, I can totally agree with.  I lived it.  The rest of his argument does not come as a surprise to me.  Its the same old shit.  Nothing that he said, provoked anger in me.

It is no secret that we need more funding for arts education in this country.

When I was growing up in Logan Square, in Chicago, our arts education program was a weekly, half and hour of arts and crafts.  We made turkeys, and valentines, and stockings.  That was my arts class.  I think we took a trip to the Art Institute of Chicago, once.  Other than that though, there wasn't much in the way of Arts education.

Classical music, theatre, museums, dance, opera, that was something for white people.  That was something that was so far removed from my world that it wasn't relevant to my existence.   I mean, for Christ sake, I went to WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART ELEMENTARY and never heard classical music in school! For many people, that are growing up the way that I did, that is still the case.  Teaching kids about the arts is a good thing.  I can get on board with this.

The second part of his argument, the one that really pissed everyone else off, where he basically claims what culture and good Art is and should be, really didn't bother me.  Not in the slightest.

When you grow up as a minority, in this country.  You grow up in two worlds.  The White one, and the one you come from.

I've had people tell me my entire life what REAL culture was.  Baseball, Apple Pies and Chevrolet.  So hearing from some powerful white man that I, as an artist, am not producing anything good doesn't bother me BECAUSE I WILL NEVER PRODUCE ANYTHING THAT HE OR PEOPLE LIKE HIM WOULD EVEN CONSIDER TO BE ART.





When does La India Maria get her show at the Kennedy Center?  Will Cantinflas be in the Smithsonian any time soon?  Mana, El Tri, and El Buki, will they ever be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of fame?




Michael Kaiser's culture has never been my culture.  Not all of it anyway.  And when you spend your entire life being told that the culture you have at home, is different from the culture in the world around you, you really don't care what people like Michael Kaiser have to say about anything.  Instead of getting all bent out of shape, what we, as artist, should do is to keep on doing.

Make what you want.  Do what makes you happy.  Who gives a fuck what some old, rich, white guy has to say about anything?

Granted, I have 29 years of experience ignoring that shit so it maybe easier for me to not give a fuck than you.

Something About Mary

Author's Note:  Posts have been few and far between because The Author has been busy dealing with family, business, and theatre affairs.  Complacency and lack of focus on developing writing skills is also to blame, to be sure.  But mainly its because of the shit in the first sentence, not the second.  In the coming weeks, An Angry Mexican Guy in Chicago will return to a more frequent posting schedule.  For now, here is a motherfucking review. 

THEATER REVIEW: Mary

Mary
Written by Thomas Bradshaw
Directed by May Adrales
Presented by The Goodman Theatre *

If the last sentence in the Author's Note above, offended you in anyway, stop reading now and don't even think about going to see Mary at The Goodman Theatre.  You probably give words more power than I do and my swearing and the use of the word nigger in Mary may be too much for you.  Seriously, don't fucking do this to yourself.  Go back to saving the world via Facebook status updates and everything will be OK.  


Everybody else, follow me.

First of all, I think its important to note that I am not a trained theatre critic.  I have only my experiences in life and in the processes I have been a part of to inform my opinions about the show.  The closest I ever come to writing reviews of shows is when I g-chat or email with friends about a show of I saw.  


Second of all, SPOILER ALERT.  If you plan on seeing this play, and you don't want to know what happens, stop reading and come back after you have.  In order to address why I love this play so much, I am going to have to give the ending away.  You've been warned. 

Third of all, and most important, in the interest of full disclosure I should point out that I am biased as fuck.  I have worked at The Goodman on 2 Latino Fests and as a stage hand for a couple of other productions.  In that time, I have made friends there.  Friends that have worked on this production.  You'll have to believe that my respect for those people allows me to be as critical as possible about the shows I see there.  (Actually, that practice is the same for any show I see that a friend has worked on.  I trust and expect them to be honest with me about my work, so I am honest with them about theirs.) 

All of that said, it is my biased, non-trained critic, opinion that you go see this fucking amazing show.  You can buy your tickets by clicking on this sentence.  


The actual narrative of Mary is centered around Christmas Break in 1983 at the home of James and Delores, an upper class family living in Southern Maryland.  Their son David, a closeted homosexual, has invited his boyfriend Jonathan to spend sometime with him and his family during the break.  It is during this visit that Jonathan meets the family servant, Nigger Mary.  Through Jonathan, David realizes that he has a big problem with his family's treatment of Nigger Mary and Nigger Mary realizes that she has a big problem with David's sexual lifestyle.  Thanks to David's realization, Nigger Mary is given the option of learning to read.  She takes it and eventually graduates college.  Thanks to Nigger Mary's realization, Jonathan gets shot with a BB gun in the balls by Nigger Mary's husband, Elroy.  All of these events lead up to Nigger Mary's graduation speech at the end of the play, where in Nigger Mary address the audience directly.


Much of the controversy around this play if focused on the use of the word nigger.  And frankly, in this case, getting pissed off about that, in this show, makes no fucking sense to me.  If you get stuck on that word, you're going to miss the whole point. 


This is not a play about racism.  


This is a play about religion, homosexuality, and American Hypocrisy. 


Racism and the word nigger are but a setup.  They are used merely to illustrate the point that we as a society recognize that there are words we know we ought not use and that we recognize that there are ways people ought not to be treated.  We know that it is objectionable to call some one Nigger Anything.  We know that slavery was bad and that its effects still affect our society to this day.  These points though, are clearly addressed, and justified in Mary, though.


Nigger Mary is questioned by David, at one point, about how she feels when she is called Nigger Mary and about whether or not she feels like she is being treated like a slave.  Nigger Mary answers these questions on two occasions during the play.  Once to David, in the presence of his mother, Nigger Mary's boss, Delores and once hours later to her husband, Elroy, in her own cabin.  It is during these interactions that playwright Bradshaw, in my opinion, justify's his use of the word nigger and makes his comments about the African American community as he sees it today, making it a non issue.


Ok, so if we've address the Nigger Mary part, and the racial issues brought up by the play, we then examine what is left.  Sex, Homosexuality, and Religion are all addressed culminating in one of the greatest satirical monologues I've ever witnessed at the end of a show. 


Sex is a huge part of this piece.  There are three couples in the show, James and Delores, David and Jonathan, and Nigger Mary and Elroy.  We hear all three couples talk about or engage in sex.  James and Delores are trying out a penis pump.  David and Jonathan have some makeup sex after a fight.  Nigger Mary promises two blowjobs to Elroy, in exchange for the hit on Jonathan's balls.


Homosexuality and religion are also driving forces in Mary.  David's parents lament that he wont be honest with them about being gay and when they discuss this, they use words that I am sure make some in the homosexual community react the way some in the black community do when they hear the word nigger.  Before Nigger Mary learns how to read, she lives her life based on the bible stories she was taught from her mother, who learned them from her grand mother, and so on.  It is as a result of these stories that Nigger Mary resolves to do God's work by shooting Jonathan in the balls.


Racism is the setup.  Religion and Homosexuality give us some context, and then the end of the play, Nigger Mary's last monologue is the pay off.  


The end of the play, as I stated earlier, takes place at Nigger Mary's graduation ceremony.  She was chosen as the Valedictorian and is addressing her speech directly to the audience. She starts off by pointing David out in the crowd, asking him to approach the stage.  Once on the stage, she thanks David for suggestion she learn to read.  Learning to read was the first step that got her to graduate college in the first place.  At this moment, the audience is happy, "Things worked out in the end for everyone!".  If it ended there, no one would be saying shit about shit.  But the play doesn't end here.  This is where the play actually begins.


For the next 5 minutes or so, Nigger Mary goes into a rant against homosexuality that would make Glen Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and The Westboro Baptist Church proud, invokes the fundraising spirits of some of the best Arts organizations in the city, and proved that I learned something in English class in high school because I kept thinking that Jonathan Swift would have loved to see this play after he was done eating a baby. 


In the closing monologue, the audience member is reminded that there are people in today's society that vilify homosexuality the same way that African Americans were, and in some places still are, vilified.  That monologue shocks and upsets many because it hits very close to home.


Just as it is not okay to refer to someone as Nigger Mary, it is not okay to refer to someone as David the Fag.  We scoff at one and laugh at another.  Just as the idea of a family starting historical plantation to reenact the days of slavery makes us recoil in disgust, so too should the idea that a man could be shot in the genitals because of who he choses to sleep with.  Just as religion was used to justify why Slavery was a good thing, so too is it being used to justify why Homosexuality is a bad thing.


This piece was great because it hides its meaning from you until the very end.  If you are not careful, if you allow yourself to get hung up on the word nigger and the crazy claims made by Delores and James in their defense of their lifestyle, you miss the satire that presents itself when Nigger Mary, sets out to persecute gays they way Black people were persecuted. 


I love this piece because it acts as a mirror to our own hypocrisy.  We have just spent about 1 1/2 hour's feeling offended for this woman being called Nigger Mary, and laughed the whole time at her, and our, treatment of Fag David.








(If the formatting here looks familiar, it should -- its the same one the Angry White Guy Uses for reviews.  Unlike the blog's title, though, this one is directly Copied.)

The Model IS Broken

A comment in response to the blog posting "Waiting for a new business model for the arts." on Jumper: Diane Ragsdale on what the arts do and why.

What I hear, when I hear people say “the model is broken” is that the money they feel they are entitled to as arts organizations isn't getting to them. That for some reason, the money for the grants they are writing is given to other people, or that enough money is just not being allocated to the arts in the first place. The model that was set up to get them money isn't getting it to them as such, the model is broken.

What I mean, when I say that the model is broken, is that its a stupid system. The model itself from the get go is wrong and broken.

I come from a family of small business owners. At the end of the day, theatre companies, much as they like to deny it ARE businesses. People will pay money, or support your business, if you offer them a product worth their time and money.

“But we can’t cover all of our expenses for a season from ticket sales alone!”

Thats not my problem, nor the governments, nor the audiences. Produce within your means. Figure it out. Theatre companies will survive, and thrive, I think, if they focus on producing a product worth the time and money of whatever audience they are speaking too. (Audiences are not universal, nor should they be.)

The expectation that the government, corporations, or the generosity of others should fund your business has never made much sense to me. 

The model is broken.

Red Red Wine

Heads up, the Author of this post has consumed 4, maybe 5, glasses of Red Wine.  It worked for Hemingway, right?


Some thoughts on some things:

The Blog
Posts have been few and far between of late.  Shortly before Thanksgiving, during Thanksgiving, and after Thanksgiving, I had some personal, family, and business obligations to attend to.  I had to focus on those things which didn't leave much time for anything else.  I could either press on with going to the gym and continue working on my health or write the blog.  Of course, I chose to let the blog slide.  I had too.

In addition to not having enough time to focus on the blog, I felt stuck -- there are only so many ways that you can say that you are going to the gym.  The last two posts I needed to write for me, for my family.  After that, writing about losing weight didn't seem as important.

Going forward, I still want to write at least twice a week.  I love writing and I have things that I want to say, so I'll find the time to do it.

The Country
Today, was a horrible day for America.  DADT, Tax Cuts, D.R.E.A.M. Act, Volume Levels for Commercials... Instead of making some positive changes in the policies of our country, our leaders, that we elected, have done nothing.  Instead of addressing some of the major issues of our day, that could include people, we chose to keep them out.  Instead of making history, we kept with the status quo.  It makes me sick.

I am a lower Middle Class American, the son of Immigrants, with friends and family that are gay, who has a remote control that adjust the volume on his television.  Today, my government did nothing to help me, and everything to piss me off...Fuck this, lets move on...

An Angry Mexican Guy in Chicago will be back in a second.  The author, having read the last two paragraphs has slammed his wine and is on his way to get more.  Please enjoy this message from our sponsor:

Taco & Burrito House - Just Good Food

The Women

Um...Nope, not that drunk.  Lets keep going.

The Friends

I...Well...Um...You know...Right?  Yea...You know.

I love you all.

The Family
I...Well...Um...You know...Right?  Yea...You know.

I love you all.

The End

The wine caught up with me.  If you see above, I think it happened when I went to Google the picture for the Burrito House.   That is it for now.  

I'll be back soon.

Sober. 

Peas piece peace. 

Hemingway is a fucking G.  Writing is tough when your drunky. Really tough.

To My Favorite Skate Boarder:

Dear Dude,

I've never told this to anyone really, but things being how they are, maybe its time...

I've never tried to kill myself.  

Once in my life, though, I tried to make myself go insane...

About 5 or 6 years ago, I don't remember exactly when, I ate an 1/8th of Mushrooms.  For the second night in a  row.  I was working this crappy job, and my Boss at the time made an investment in Mushrooms -- a recession proof stock, really.  I was doing a good job at work around that time and I would frequently get tipped in 1/8th's of Mushrooms.  Back then, I couldn't believe how lucky I was but looking back on it now, it was one of the most dangerous and self destructive periods of my life.

As I have mentioned before, my Mother and I had a ton of issues.  The biggest of which, which you may or may not have heard about before, was when she confessed to me that she had been lying to me my whole life about who my father was.  I did not know how to handle that information.  Any sense of who I was, or what I was supposed to do with my life was gone.  

I had dropped out of college.  I was broke.  I didn't trust anyone or anything.  I was trying to use the people around me to make myself feel better, to understand what the hell was going on around me but all that did was push people away.  That brought on this intense loneliness and depression that I didn't know how to deal with.  I was a hot fucking mess.  I often thought that I didn't fit in, or know how to live in the world that everyone else lived in. 

I thought I was going crazy.  I can still remember those feelings.  When I think about those days, my neck tenses up, my jaws clinch, I start to get nervous and sweaty.

Well, one night, 5 or 6 years ago, I came home from work with my second 1/8th of Mushrooms in as many nights.  I held that 1/8th of Mushrooms in my hand, and I decided that I was sick of being afraid to go crazy.  I was going to take matters into my own hands.  I had eaten an 1/8th the night before, and I knew how strong these things were, but I also knew that they weren't going to kill me -- I was too afraid to kill myself, but I was perfectly OK with making myself go crazy.

So I ate this entire bag of Mushrooms and let me tell you, Dude, it was one of the scariest fucking things I have ever lived through.

For about three hours there, I thought I had done it.  I vaguely remember sitting in front of a television, in my living room, all alone.  I looked outside and I didn't know if it was day or night.  It was rainging, but I didn't know what rain was.  I couldn't understand the languages that were coming out of the speakers on the television.  I was terrified.  I couldn't stop crying, and laughing, and feeling nothing, and crying, and laughing, and feeling nothing.

For three hours I was convinced I was in hell.  

Somehow, 5 hours in, I ended up at my Mom's house at 3 in the morning.  I woke her up, I told her what I had done, I told her that I had gone crazy and that I didn't know what was going on.  I scared her senseless.  We called my Godfather, and I called a friend, I told them both that I was crazy, and that I couldn't deal with reality anymore.  I may have told the friend that I planned to hurt myself, at that moment, it seemed like the only way out. This trip wasn't ending.

My Godfather and my friend calmed me down, Dude.  They walked me back into reality, and gave me some hope.  My Godfather told me to spend the night at my Mom's and that he would take me to the doctor in the morning, which we did.  

That night was one of the worst nights of my life. 

I am sharing this with you, Dude, because you need to understand that you are not alone in feeling the way that you feel.  I want you to know that there are other people that have gone through what you are going through.  I also want you to know this because I hope that you never, ever, ever, live through something like that. 

Never, ever, ever.

You have a strong, loving, amazing group of people around you.  They love you.  So much, they love you.  In time, you will come to see, how I did, that there is strength and hope in that love.  You need to understand that if you ever feel like doing something so hurtful to yourself, you have people around you that understand, and while we may not feel how you feel, we understand.  

We are here for you.  Please, please, please don't forget that.

I won't lie and say that everything was great and perfect the next day.  It wasn't.  For a long time, it wasn't.

5 or 6 years later, though, having lived through all I have lived.  I can say, that things are better.  It took a lot of hard work, and there was a lot of bullshit to deal with along the way, but things are better.  

I have the greatest friends a guy could ask for.  I create awesome works of art, with amazingly talented artists.    I am still broke, but thats ok, haha....More time, more effort...

As cheesy as it sounds, it gets better.

Much Luv, Dude,

Chuy