Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!

Most Popular

National Features >

  • Village Voice

    The Great Walls of Chinatown

    With the exception of the electric rice cookers, this Bowery tenement could have come straight from the Nineteenth Century.

    By Elizabeth Dwoskin

  • Houston Press

    Getting Off

    DUI attorney Tyler Flood wins 80 percent of his trials--even if his clients were 100 percent drunk.

    By Mike Giglio

  • Miami New Times

    Park or Die Tryin'

    From the homeless parking mafia to the meter fairy, finding a spot in Miami has taken a turn toward the surreal.

    By Gus Garcia-Roberts

  • City Pages

    The Baddest Men on the Planet

    Straight from the Sam's Club tire shop, Brett Rogers prepares to meet Fedor Emelianenko in mortal combat.

    By Bradley Campbell

Making History

Share

  • rss

By Hiya Swanhuyser

Published on March 24, 2009 at 4:22am

Anne Lamott reports that Flannery O’Connor is the genius who said, “Anyone who survived childhood has enough material to write for the rest of his or her life.” Maybe you’ve been wondering who said that; now you know. Maybe you’ve also been wondering whether some people have better material, inherently more worth telling than yours, and the answer is no, of course not, but also yes. Jason Magabo Perez’ story floors: In 1976, his mother and another recently immigrated Filipina nurse were convicted of poisoning 10 people in a veterans’ hospital in Ann Arbor. The prosecution had the help of one million FBI dollars and a witness for the prosecution who called the women “slant-eyed bitches.” The women later appealed, and were freed, but we couldn’t find where the FBI or anyone else had apologized to them. A staged reading of Perez’ new pop-cultural lecture, autobiographical play, and metahistory, The Passion of El Hulk Hogancito, is his first step toward publicly telling his tale. As horrifying, deeply American, kinda maybe David Lynch-meets-hip-hop narratives go, this one is a doozy. The evening also includes a monologue called Click, by Allan S. Manalo.
March 28-April 5, 2009