Category Archives: comedy

See this?

Screenshot 2014-06-10 11.10.03See the cover of this program? See the picture of the hairy, chinky Latino screaming, that kind of looks like a caveman, and kind of like a monkey too?

Well, people think that guy is Cuban, Dominican, Jamaican, Brazilian, or Puerto Rican. He isn’t – he’s Nicaraguan – and that Nicaraguan is me – during a performance of my one-man show PET.

The month of May celebrated the one-year anniversary of that show’s premiere. So, I would like to thank everyone that came out to catch all the shows, and/or supported in any way. I would also like to thank the people that came out to see an excerpt of PET the other weekend, as part of the Design District’s new Site-Specific Performance Series.

Click on the pic for some more fun.

Ok – You may continue scrolling now.

 

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PET Promo

>>GET TICKETS HERE<<

PET is an interactive, one-man dance theatre piece set in a support group meeting for ex-lovers/serial monogamists built from an array of interviews and shared experiences of the broken-hearted. Drawing from a repository of human emotions, fears, hopes, dreams and instincts; while forging a blend of movement, speech and actions to tell its story — PET deals with the complexities of relationships, love, and lack thereof.

Written & Performed by Rudi Goblen
Directed by Michael Yawney
Commissioned & Presented by Miami Light Project

PET will receive it’s world premiere in May 2013 at The Light Box at Goldman Warehouse and was created with the support of the Miami-Dade County Department of Cultural Affairs and the Cultural Affairs Council, the Miami-Dade County Mayor and Board of County Commissioners.

Video Credits:
Shot by Jess Weos (https://vimeo.com/jessweos)
Edtied by Wrekonize (http://www.wrekonizeonline.com)

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D-Projects in Alaska.

Tonight and tomorrow night you can catch Insanity Isn‘t and Teo Castellanos’ “NE 2nd Ave” at Out North Contemporary Art House.

Insanity Isn’t

Insanity Isn’t is the story of Acey Sickly. While trying to sleep through the American dream, Acey wakes to an American nightmare to find himself plagued by financial burdens, media propaganda, religious beliefs, keeping up with the Jones’, his 9 to 5 and apocalyptic prophecies. B-Boy movements, rhyme, beatbox and live music weave together his journey back to insane sanity.


NE 2nd Ave

The emotional, often humorous one-man play depicts the lives of a Puerto Rican small time drug dealer, a deprived African-American young lady, a Haitian jitney driver, a Cuban-Jewish grandfather, Rasta Man, African American adolescent trying to find his footing in life, a Cuban rafter and a gay man, who each take the audience on a memorable journey through the intense streets of Miami.

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“NE 2nd Ave.” – Teo Castellanos

My mentor, teacher, father figure, director, collaborator, and very very good friend, Teo Castellanos brings his one-man show “NE 2nd Ave.” to Miami once again for its 10th anniversary.

Written and performed by Teo Castellanos and directed by Michael Garces, this evening-length one-man play is a compilation of some characters that make Miami their home.  A jitney becomes a metaphor for a journey that takes the audience through the bumpy streets of this city. The work conveys, with poignancy and humor, the profoundly rich and textured mix of Miami, in which distinct Cuban, Haitian, Jamaican, Puerto Rican, Jewish, Gay/Lesbian and African American influences emerge yet, interestingly enough, often in ways that reveal evidence of, often denied, cross-pollination.  NE 2nd Avenue brings voice to Miami’s marginalized urban populations, exploring underlying issues of racism and social injustice, acknowledging the differences among us and ultimately discovering the common threads that bind us together.

Voted Best Solo Performance by Miami New Times and Edinburgh Fringe Festival Winner

January 19-21 at the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts
BUY TICKETS HERE

Do yourself a favor and come watch this show, it might be the last time you get to do so. Tomorrow and Saturday night are almost sold out, so hurry.

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Eleven.


i’m just wondering — who will survive?

regardless of what petty points you can pet-peeve at, we all live here
the bus driver working 12 hour shifts 6 days a week that i gave my 2 dollars to yesterday
the politicians, soldiers, and rebels
witches, drunks, fuck-ups, drop-outs and quitters
smokers, thieves, liars, fathers and whores
mothers who adore and those that will leave their babies at doors
that plastic face lady who walks her dog daily only to show off something, maybe
that’s just my perception
kids in detention, love without mention
the man who treats everything around himself as an extension – he thinks…

“shit, if i’m surrounded by vegetarians, artists, people who dress thrift, push smart whips, read books like “the new earth” and shop at whole foods, trader joes and ikea; then i too am like that – except me, please – i will do anything for you”

we are all lost and found at the exact same time that never ends, the perfect balance shifting constantly to end all trends
walking oxy-morons talking on walkie talkies texting our lovers that we love them while they sit in the next room wondering if they made the right choice above them
sad sons, delightful daughters
students, scientist, priests and rabbi’s
enemies and allies
those who oppose the prose of the on-going knowing, knowing thy lie
realize, eyes are only there to stare and see past the tangible glares, not for seeing
you can only see with feeling
touch the taste of fate with a face full of faith and bathe in its believing
the ones that say it isn’t real unless your bleeding
the ones that give it all and don’t give up to keep succeeding
it’s sucks we’re leaving
but “only believers in death will die” mr. williams said into the heads when reading
are you with me?
it’s all just a bag of halo’s and horns
the painfully scorned
my mother, brother and seed guiding me thoroughly through the mud of life until i reach that seabord
cause lady life is fuckin sad, and moping around like a girl’s broken heart i didn’t break, but put up with because i’ve fallen, like her – an angel, with bat wings
homeless families and makers of guns
miners and finders of oil who sell it by tons
tattooed tongues, tykes in tanks who are way too young
the HIV league and the some with cancer in lungs
painters of the sun, dancers of the moon
encounters of the third kind, injecters of the womb
i hear you in the music, and use it when i lose it
this is not an opinion, or a plead
but simply a toast, to “the we”

may life, god, jesus, the universe, spirits, aliens, angels, cosmos, planets, demons, electricity, a collective consciousness, buddha, jehovah, santeria, oshun, yemaya, ganesh, osho, the dali llama, thich nhat hanh, conspiracies, ghost, crosses, demi-gods, saints, music, teaching, dancing, painting, instruments, light, darkness, the all, the nothing, or whatever the hell it is you do or dont believe in, guide you there while taking care of you. don’t worry, it’s all just one big forrest with many paths; and if you get lost, trees will be cut down, mountains will be moved, and skies will light up.

happy new years.

-g.

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