Angela Kariotis- IN CLASS Sept 28th.

Angela Kariotis


Check out: Reminiscence of the Ghetto and Other Things That Raized Me at UCLA

angela kaRIOTis is a Greek-American, writer, performer, educator, and mother. As an extension of her activist work, Angela’s creative works provoke thought and entertain, while aimed at cultivating social change. Her high energy work encapsulates the legacy of social protest theater. Called a "lithe and vital writer-performer" by The N.J. Star-Ledger, Kariotis possesses the raw energy to light up a small city. The Chicago Reader notes "it’s her sly and engaging use of language that makes her work memorable" in what The Austin Chronicle writes as "dynamic performances that are serious and seriously funny".

an excerpt from the one-woman-play
Reminiscence of the Ghetto
& Other Things That Raized Me
Written & Performed
by Angela Kariotis © 2003
www.angelakaRIOTis.com

Segment I:
IntroDICshun
1 [numbers signify light cues]
TOP OF SHOW [AT STOOP USR] (SOUND: TRACK 1) (LIGHTS UP @ END of SOUND CUE)
Down neck, it was all about maxing on the porch. Everybody was like, “ain’t nuttin’ but a thang.”
[TRAVELING DR-DL]
Since living down neck in Irvington, New Jersey, I moved to the sssuburbs to a phat house wit’a deck! Maybe
it’s my Mama’s house, but as long as she gets to claim me as a dependant, I depend on that deck. So I don’t
hear the poetry there like I did here because no one there sits out front for me to hear, like here. No Cuban
girls shouting words of affection, say oye peachy, like hey baby, like Puerto
Rican girls speak’n spanglish n’ suck’n their teeth. Black girls were loud. Polish folk. Filipinos and Tagalog.
Italian boys call out the only curses they know in their grandmother’s language. And me chiming in with my
Greek-lish. Yeah, the suburbs might be movin’ on up, trying to get a piece of that pie. But I think. I think of
what I had to leave behind…
[TRAVELING CENTER-DR-DL]
I think/ I hear /a reminiscence in my ear
one-two-three
Ain’t nuttin’ like the sound of ghetto lingo in my ears
It’s been too too long
Since crunchy consonants collide racing for an ear
Finally sssimmering in the salt of an ear lobe flap
Beating it restless like the hang of flesh in the back of your throat during a holleerrr
Yyyo! Holla’ back…
Vvibrations of “ain’t nothin’ but a thang” jargon releasing rippling waves
Verbal swordplay and proclamations of “say word” and “my man”
piercingly pounce and penetrate cartilage
Causing hand slapping, fist bopping salutations from homeboy to homeboy
A mono-syllabic bowlegged stride “opps upside ya’ head, I said oops upside ya’ head”
blooopp into an eardrum
Drum / dra-da-drum / pa ra pum pum pum …
and play them ear drums with a r-r-right about now. But I’m saying though…
play them ear drums like timbales out on the sands of Puerto Rico, ho!
Dance/ Dance/ Dance to the rhythm in your ear
Play on player
Play on
Cuz when we was kids it was aight to “ax” an’not “ask”
Cuttin da’ ends of words and tossin I-N-G’s
A homegirl axin’ “what’chyou doin?”
And coming with da’ primo passtime
“Chillen”