Posted in Almost Dorothy, Culture Clash

Ma & Almost Dorothy Go to Hell (Again)


Phallussy by Pioneer Winter

No, we didn’t really go to hell. We went to the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts, the most amazing place on Earth (or Miami), and watched Pioneer Winter’s Phallussy, which was long-v very nice. The dancer people performed artistically in funny costumes, wigs, and monkey mask faces. Some people even performed naked and exposed their fallacies, especially when Pioneer Winter, who is really a pioneer in winter, summer, spring and fall, took his pants off.

Ma was like whoa that’s hot. She almost had a catastrophe and stood up-ish and applauded his butt even when the show wasn’t yet over. I wasn’t disturbed, but the audience was. Ma popped her Hubba Bubba bubble gum like that and when the gargoyles booted us out, we weren’t tootles disappointed because the tickets were free. Thank Dorothy.

Phallussy by Pioneer Winter

Seriously, we were in red hell. I wore my red shoes and my red red hair to the theater or theatre. I was flaming. On fire. But I wasn’t turned on. The photograph below proves the power of red and of a red performance flown out of or into hell. The wild stage was on red red fire and all I wanted to do was make monkey love to the lighting director’s cousin Vinny because (unfortunately) the lighting director was a woman named Sally. I love men, silly.

Phallussy by Pioneer Winter

In one part of the performance the dancers faux masturbated their phallus in front of a giant screen where three woman ah-haaed and mmm-oohed them until they finished their stuff. I’m not sure what kind of stuff they did down there but when they were done, they flew. Ma said they really weren’t fake masturbating at all because all masturbating is fake love making anyway. I was in awe of ma’s undisclosed hat.

Phallussy by Pioneer Winter

In the end, everyone came out. They wore triangles pointed toward South Beach or somewhere left. Ma was impressed with the triangles’ ability to stay askewed while the dancers danced and tumbled like tumbleweeds and hopped or hoped like grasshopper-poppers. No one ever looked like Wilt Chamberlain. Not even the two guys below who lost their tops (or bottoms) as they looked indiscreetly into each lover’s eyes and lips for the answer to blue.

Phallussy by Pioneer Winter

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I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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