All kinds because, people, variety is what makes the long island ice tea so tasty.
In case you missed it, on February 18th, Buried Letter Press presented “La Petite Coquette” at First Row Centre for the Arts in Greentown, OH. Here’s what people are saying about it.
I went to a performance over the weekend, and I have to say that I was just appalled. It was lewd, lascivious and just downright crass! This troupe called Buried Letter Press put on a show that they were disgusting enough to call “La Petite Coquette”, which I’m pretty sure means something about whores in French or Spanish. One of those foreign tongues all the hip kids are speaking these days. In my day, the only tongue we ever spoke in was devoted to Jesus, like it should be!
Anyhow, there were all these la-di-da writers on the stage, speaking filth without concern for the impressionable ears of the middle-aged kids around them. I mean, really! I even distinctly heard several people say, “Shannon used all the fucks!” Can you believe it? How does one “use” a “fuck”, exactly?
Then this gal gets up on stage and proudly flaunts what she called “Gabrielle Henri’s Jezebel Jubilee”. Can you believe the nerve? They must have named the show after her. Then came the music, songs about killing and grandfathers and it was so loud! I had to turn my hearing aid down to low (but I have to admit, I kind of liked it). Thank goodness for intermission, because by this time my Depends had worn thin, if you catch my drift.
Then came a bunch of dirty young men reading poetry about lust and seduction. There were a few parts that made me cover my ears! But that Matthew fellow was quite dashing, if I do say so myself, I almost bought him one of those Stella’s he kept begging for.
Next these two gals got up on stage and one starts tossing the other one around like she’s a rag doll. And she was supposed to be a boy! I swear I nearly saw the doll-boy-girl go sidelong into a pillar before she got dropped. I believe that was my favorite part of the show. Although, it would have been better had she actually hit the pillar.
All in all, it was a wretched time for a lady such as myself. I can’t wait for the next one.
-Doris Morningside
The lights dimmed and the spectacle known as “La Petite Coquette” had begun. The emcee ushered the crowd through a titillating wonderland of words and melodies with his usual charm. Molly was a true example of “La Petite Coquette”, leaving everyone in awe with her hints of eroticism, intrigue and disaster. Brian’s ode to his muse touched the hearts (yes, hearts, get your minds out of the gutter) of the audience. Shannonsomehow managed to use all of the allotted fucks. As the attempt to be PG-13 had long-since been thwarted, Brie presented her comedic Jezebel Jubilee and coined our new favorite insult: ass weasel. We aren’t sure what that is, but we don’t want to be one.
The haunting echo of Mike’s guitar continued to sound long after the amp was unplugged and the melodies linger to this day. Between each act, of course, came the reminders that Matt quite enjoys a cold Stella and would gladly accept any offerings of related kindness (in case you’d forgotten… I just thought it kind to say it one more time, as I’m sure he also accepts gratuities via postal service and courier.)
Andrew told a love story that drifted between the worlds of space and poetry.
With a wink and a smile, Matt entertained us with a passionate thunderstorm of words.
Mesmerizing the audience with his overwhelming charisma, Robert transported us to ancient times with tales of heroes and longing. Brie dropped jaws and Danette to the floor. One lost her hat while the other lost her mind. The performers left the venue spent, and the audience left sated and thoroughly satisfied, if only for one night.
- Molly Fuller and Danette Kempffer
