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Zusatztext Choi's baffled, exasperated love for her family is at the heart of every anecdote. Even though they did leave her behind on Christmas by mistake. Informationen zum Autor Annie Choi is the author of Happy Birthday or Whatever . Her work has appeared in White Zinfandel , Urban Omnibus , and Pidgin Magazine , among others. She received her BA from the University of California, Berkeley, and her MFA in writing from Columbia University. She loves animals that eat other animals and hates musicals. Choi was born and raised in Los Angeles but now lives in New York. Visit her website at AnnieTown.com. Klappentext From the author of Happy Birthday or Whatever, an outright hilarious and heartfelt collection of personal essays about everything from underwear to musical theater.ANNIE CHOI HATES MUSICAL THEATER. SHE THINKS SANDWICHES ARE BORING. She likes camping, except for the outdoors part. At fifteen, her father made her read the entire car manual before allowing her to sit in the driver's seat. Her neighbor, who has no curtains, is always naked. And she once chased down a man who stole her handbag. All this is to say that Choi is one part badass and one part curmudgeon, with a soft spot for savage bears. Mostly she wants to ask the world: WTF?! Written in Choi's strikingly original and indignant voice, Shut Up, You're Welcome paints a revealing portrait of Annie in all her quirky, compelling, riotous glory. Each of Choi's personal essays begins with an open letter to someone (babies) or something (the San Fernando Valley) she has a beef with. From the time her family ditched her on Christmas to her father's attachment to the World's Ugliest Table, Choi weaves together deeply personal experiences with laugh-out-loud observations, all of which will delight and entertain you. Leseprobe Shut Up, You're Welcome Dear Musical Theater, Let me be frank: I do not understand you. I do not get it. I'm deeply confused and possibly offended. Theoretically, musical theater is something I should understand. For one thing, I understand music. As you know, I play in an indie rock band that's so indie and so edgy, we haven't even heard of ourselves. I'm also classically trained in piano and flute as well as a traditional Korean instrument called a gayageum. Its strings are thick and tough, and whenever I played too much, I got blood blisters. Question: How many people do you know who can shred on an instrument that dates back to the sixth century? Answer: Only one. That'd be me. So, really, I understand music. One might even say I'm a connoisseur; just check out my Deep Purple collection. In case you didn't know, Deep Purple wrote songs about trucks. In space. I, of course, understand theater. Someone talks and then someone else talks back. Then one of them yells or sobs. Most of the time, they do both. One of my friends has been involved with a number of avant-garde plays that explore different topics but always feature nudity. Those have been pretty good, I guess. They would've been better had they starred Captain Jean-Luc Picard (fully clothed). I know that if the play is by Shakespeare, there are a lot of words like thine and hast and questions like Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? If it's by Mamet, there are questions like You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? I enjoy theater because it asks the questions we ask ourselves every day. So yes, I understand music and I understand theater. But put them together and it becomes a riddle wrapped in a mystery stuffed inside an enigma, served with a side of trombones. Seventy-six of them to be exact. I'm not sure why I don't get it. It all seems so simple in concept: Something happens, something else happens, then an...
Auteur
Annie Choi is the author of Happy Birthday or Whatever. Her work has appeared in White Zinfandel, Urban Omnibus, and Pidgin Magazine, among others. She received her BA from the University of California, Berkeley, and her MFA in writing from Columbia University. She loves animals that eat other animals and hates musicals. Choi was born and raised in Los Angeles but now lives in New York. Visit her website at AnnieTown.com.
Texte du rabat
From the author of Happy Birthday or Whatever, an outright hilarious and heartfelt collection of personal essays about everything from underwear to musical theater.
ANNIE CHOI HATES MUSICAL THEATER. SHE THINKS SANDWICHES ARE BORING. She likes camping, except for the outdoors part. At fifteen, her father made her read the entire car manual before allowing her to sit in the driver’s seat. Her neighbor, who has no cur­tains, is always naked. And she once chased down a man who stole her handbag.
All this is to say that Choi is one part badass and one part curmudgeon, with a soft spot for savage bears. Mostly she wants to ask the world: WTF?!
Written in Choi’s strikingly original and indignant voice, Shut Up, You’re Welcome paints a revealing portrait of Annie in all her quirky, compelling, riotous glory. Each of Choi’s personal essays begins with an open letter to someone (babies) or something (the San Fernando Valley) she has a beef with. From the time her family ditched her on Christmas to her father’s attach­ment to the World's Ugliest Table, Choi weaves together deeply personal experiences with laugh-out-loud observations, all of which will delight and entertain you.
Échantillon de lecture
Shut Up, You’re Welcome
Dear Musical Theater,
Let me be frank: I do not understand you.
I do not “get it.”
I’m deeply confused and possibly offended.
Theoretically, musical theater is something I should understand. For one thing, I understand music. As you know, I play in an indie rock band that’s so indie and so edgy, we haven’t even heard of ourselves. I’m also classically trained in piano and flute as well as a traditional Korean instrument called a gayageum. Its strings are thick and tough, and whenever I played too much, I got blood blisters. Question: How many people do you know who can shred on an instrument that dates back to the sixth century? Answer: Only one. That’d be me. So, really, I understand music. One might even say I’m a connoisseur; just check out my Deep Purple collection. In case you didn’t know, Deep Purple wrote songs about trucks. In space.
I, of course, understand theater. Someone talks and then someone else talks back. Then one of them yells or sobs. Most of the time, they do both. One of my friends has been involved with a number of avant-garde plays that explore different topics but always feature nudity. Those have been pretty good, I guess. They would’ve been better had they starred Captain Jean-Luc Picard (fully clothed). I know that if the play is by Shakespeare, there are a lot of words like “thine” and “hast” and questions like “Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?” If it’s by Mamet, there are questions like “You think this is abuse, you cocksucker?” I enjoy theater because it asks the questions we ask ourselves every day.
So yes, I understand music and I understand theater. But put them together and it becomes a riddle wrapped in a mystery stuffed inside an enigma, served with a side of trombones. Seventy-six of them to be exact.
I’m not sure why I don’t get it. It all seems so simple in concept: Something happens, something else happens, then another thing happens, and then curtains close, applause, applause. Then we get out of our seats and wonder if we should take a cab home or take the subway. Boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, their families don’t approve, the families fight, blah blah blah. Oh no! There is death! Sad face. The end. Taxi! It’s all very classic. You can’t go wrong with classic—tha…