Went to see Miranda July’s performance piece at The Kitchen last night and it was terrific. Just amazing. It’s called Things We Don’t Understand and Definitely are Not Going To Talk About. Too bad the run is all sold out…but who knows, the website says there is a waiting list. I had recently read her book of collected short stories which is due out in about a month — No one Belongs Here More Than You — which are so good I was both inspired and jealous. Why jealous, I don’t know, I don’t aspire to write fiction. They are sweet, tender, innovative and sexy in a sometimes slightly disturbing way. It’s almost shocking to read or see — as in the case of the performance — something that is contemporary, post-modern, whatever, but also full of tenderness and appreciation for the subtle, funny and delicate connections between people. There was some audience participation involved, which is usually a very bad sign in contemporary theater or performance, but in this case it worked out so well that for a while I thought that the audience members that participated in the piece were plants.
