so writes penelope, the odyssey’s paragon of monogamy – “patient,” “faithful, “devoted.” our everywife. her life’s taken on a routine, rutted color. by morning: thread the bobbin, weave the mantle – swiftly stich with golden flash. by night: undo said stitching, protect kingdom from predatory suitors – await odysseus’ return.
and when will he return?
it’s enough to drive any domestic to spindle-pricking. odysseus - defenestrating cyclops, bedding calypso, writhing on a mast while sirens coax him to ear-gasm. penelope…the tiniest bit bitter, the tiniest bit jealous, in the tiniest bit of danger (of succumbing to victim complex?)
patient. faithful. devoted.
in dollhouse, a modern, folk opera retelling of the classic epic, we embark on an alternate odyssey as penelope considers the caffeine withdrawal of commuted co-dependency and the aching kind of growing that is “finding oneself.”
told by a greek chorus of modern-day incarnations, dollhouse asks: Is there deep betrayal in choosing made moments over the institution of marriage? are the trials, losses, and stranded-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-nomadry worth the quivering moments of becoming? and should (or can) we ever go home again?
who am i, without him? what will i be? what could i. (she muses. and the muses roll their eyes.)
xo,p
WE HAVE A TINY LETTER!
For arrogant suitors, hard blows, breath-holding, masters of land ways! sea ways! decanted arrows and All Things Epic: a Tiny Letter, straight to your inbox.
hearts, penny
AND YOU WOULD MAKE ME SMALLER
SO YOU COULD GROW
I WOULD FEEL YOU GETTING TALLER
AS I'M BURIED IN THE SNOW
AND IT'S COLD UNDERGROUND
BUT I HOPE YOU CAN SEE
PERCHED ON MY BODY
los angeles
CALIFORNIA
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