Event
Dinner and a Show: Lost Coast food and Exquisite Corpse
Exquisite Corpse was the name given to a surrealist game where you would take some writing and mix it up a bit. When you turn the audience into collaborators. The first game they played (in the 1920's) they come up with the phrase "The exquisite corpse will drink the new wine." Thus, the name. It has been used a million different ways. We are planning on doing a little twist for our show on Saturday nite, and I hope you can come. It's a fancy 4 course gourmet meal and a show. $40 for singles, $75 for couples.
The food is all Lost Coast awesome: Nieves is orchestrating a fabulous meal featuring ingredients grown or foraged in Petrolia CA. and rounding out the menu with local goods.
The menu will be something a lot like this:
Apple Juice pressed and canned this last fall Nettle Ravioli in Broth Sweet and Bitter Greens Oakland Lemon Vinaigrette and a Parmesan Cheese Crisp Happy Cow Meat Loaf (or Nut Loaf if desired) with Truffled Mashed Potatoes and Seared Asparagus Strawberries poached in Dark Chocolate
The show is going to be built by you, the audience. But first, let me tell you a story...
A story of a man who spent his days sitting and writing. Imagine this man, sitting. Imagine him writing. It's not uncommon. Men sit and write. What do they write? Where do they sit? Who are they? Who reads what they write? These are good questions. I will answer them, and you will be able to participate in the confusion and frustration I feel. The man sat in a 10 x 10 room. With no windows. He'd get there at 8:00 am. He'd stay until 6 pm. He came every day. He would write longhand in spiral bound notebooks. Filling them. And putting them in boxes. Boxes on top of boxes. Stacked to the ceiling. In his storage locker.
I used to own a junk store on 29th Street. It was called Shuck and Jive. I used to go to the storage auctions and buy the contents of lockers that people didn't pay rent on. You buy kinda site unseen. I bought everything this guy owned that wasn't on him for $40 or so. There wasn't one thing I could sell in my store. I brought all the boxes back to the warehouse, and spent days reading his writing and drinking coffee. Chainsmoking. It was sad. Justice was absent. It was just so... wrong. I bought this guysâ entire deal. His life's work. It was not hundreds of notebooks. It was thousands. Now do you see him? Sitting in the little storage closet? Putting in his hours before he goes back to sleeping on the ground somewhere. Probably got really sick or beat up or something. Couldn't get the rent paid one month. Or got put in jail for being homeless. Maybe his crime was sitting or lying on the sidewalk or something stupid like that. And he lost it all. And I got to be the guy who was gonna benefit off that. It's a super scummy way to make a living. If you don't know... that's where all that shit at the flea market comes from. Storage lockers. It's like a scumbag-a-thon.
I didnât last in the junk business very long. Iâve got a few stories and a couple stains on my soul.
I saved some of the notebooks. I had to let the rest go. But I didn't throw them away. I slowly left them here and there. Cafe's. Airplanes. Cabs. Bus stops. Other people. Under seats in junk cars. I'd give 'em away as birthday presents. I have 2 boxes left. Maybe 50 books. Filled. With writing. Insane, rambling, incoherent madness.
We will use these books to create an exquisite corpse. You, the audience, will read the books. Comment, exchange. Then extract from the books the lines you want. Then, a group of us will arrange them into songs and a script. We will then perform a musical. We will do this in 4 acts, over 4 courses of food.
I can think of nothing better to do with an evening. I do hope you will come.
chicken
Details
Saturday, April 24th 7:00 Chez Poulet 3359 Cesar Chavez @ Mission $40 per person, $75 for couples
|
|
|
LocationChez Poulet
3359 army street
San Francisco, CA 94110
United States
Categories
Kid Friendly: No |
Dog Friendly: No |
Non-Smoking: No |
Wheelchair Accessible: No |
|
Contact
|