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Posts Tagged ‘Robert Isenberg’

Ophelia Street co-founder Robert Isenberg received some good news this week. From his blog:

In brief: My book, The Archipelago: A Balkan Passage, will be published by Autumn House Press in Spring 2011.

The project started in May 2009, when I decided to take a bus through five Eastern European countries and chronicle the journey. The first draft took about six months to complete. As many know, this early version was shortlisted for the Graywolf Press Nonfiction Prize. This was very encouraging news, and I have since expanded and refined the manuscript — I eliminated a trip to the Acropolis, but I added a Swiss mime, a guy covered in scars, and a magical fountain.

Congratulations!

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Miracles


For more monologues:

  • Pittsburgh Monologue Project
  • Friday, December 12, 8 p.m.
  • Rockwell Hall, Duquesne University, 600 Forbes Avenue
  • Free
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    By now, Kevin Smith has evolved into a kind of meta-human — a being composed of odd rumors and facts, a living flip-book of random sightings at Target and the Church Brew Works. Now that Smith has filmed Zack and Miri Make a Porno (watch the trailer, must be 18 or older) in Pittsburgh, he has become nearly as mythic here as in his native New Jersey.

    And so, after the comedy made its requisite indie-film debut at the Toronto International Film Festival, Smith made a “homecoming” to Pittsburgh, where a special screening of Zack and Miri preceded the wide-release by more than a week. For once, a major motion picture did not only premiere in Los Angeles, but also in little old Oakmont.

    And fittingly, the tickets to the screening Saturday at the Oaks Theater sold out on the second day of availability. The Oaks seats 429 people. Tickets were $50. You just can’t dissuade a diehard Kevin Smith fan.

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    Red + Blue

    Scene 1:

    Red is sitting on a bench, in a bus terminal. She is sitting, filing her nails, with an enormous, plasticky-looking bag lying at her feet. In the bench across from her sits Blue, who has a large, army-surplus duffel bag. While Red wears a hoodie and raver pants, Blue wears a sharp jacket, comfortable jeans and a Twins baseball cap. He’s reading a newspaper, flipping through the sections slowly, disinterestedly.

    Red’s cell phone rings. She huffs and pulls it out.

    RED: What? (Pause). No, I don’t want to talk right now. (Pause). Why? Because I can’t be private. (Pause). Oh, my God, Dad, because I’m in bus station. (Pause). Daddy, Jesus, because I’m taking the bus. It’s a layover. Haven’t you ever taken the bus before? (Pause). You haven’t. OK, well sometimes the bus stops, and you have to wait for the next one. (Pause). I’m not saying you’re stupid. You’re saying you’re stupid.

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    Puck It

    On the third floor of the Century Club, I am taking off my pants and shirt. In place of them, I will put on black tights, a white musketeer’s shirt, an ornate vest, a plush Renaissance cap and puffy black pantaloons. When I finish climbing into the awkward ensemble, I look in the mirror, and there I am: King Henry VIII.

    Unfortunately, I’m supposed to be Puck.
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    There you are, perched on your porcelain throne, holding court with a roll of double-ply paper, and then you look up and see it: graffiti. Verbal gems, indecently scrawled but impossible to ignore. What do they say about life and the universe? Who is this Jimmy who ♥ Alice? What vengeful hand offered the proverbial 411 on a “good time”? We’re looking for the best photos and quotes — the wisest quips, emblazoned in sloppy magic marker. Send your notes and photos to submissions@opheliastreet.com. But don’t forget to wash your hands.

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    Dear Cracked-Out Mugger,

     

    Since it’s unlikely you’ll ever get caught, I just wanted to thank you for mugging me today, a block from my new house. I was just telling some friends, “You know, Pittsburgh has its problems, but I’m so glad it has one of the lowest crime rates of any American city.” It’s good to know that, although drive-bys and homicides are pretty uncommon here in the Steel City, there are still drug-addled psychos roaming the streets, wielding claw-hammers.

     

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