5.4.17 Editor’s Desk

5.4.17 Editor’s Desk

In the dirty-fingernail days of the late ’90s, replete with cheap beer and cheaper ambitions, I came to learn about Orlando Fringe – which had much longer hair and some kind of backpack back then – by simply walking among the freaks that used to populate downtown’s major thoroughfare, Orange Avenue. Conditions at the time were Spartan, to say the least, but emotions were high.

Nobody wanted to be surrounded by some TRL conflagration of boybands and cropped tops; they wanted to be entertained in a sound manner, one that implied intention, grass roots and ambitious plans. Or they just wanted to be high and left alone.

Back in those days, after the near-death of Church Street, that meant showing for small performances in small rooms, many without air conditioning, and, likely, official permitting. It was punk theater dressed up in all of the lovers and lace that Edinburgh, the oldest International Fringe Festival, had afforded us. But it was likewise the swill of dreams, the glory of projection, the sound of the crowd applauding at the end. For me, as unnerving as I can sometimes be, it was also something to roll my eyes at, a hot place pushing me to a cool place and, most of all, a reminder that I should stay humble, because someday my pre-paid haughtiness was going to come back and bite me in the ass.

Fringe today isn’t what Fringe 20 years ago was, though, and, let’s face it: It consumes Orlando’s better minds more than just about anything else going on in the area. Why? Because in an era where any creative type can be refused by text or pushed into a cubicle or simply forgotten, Fringe gives people a reason to think on their feet and make important decisions about a show that premieres in a week. Fringe is, in short, no joke.

In this issue, we opted for a different means of storytelling than normal – thanks, Fringe; we owe you – in part, because there are so many people who know the ins and outs of buttons and tickets and beer tents and food trucks; also, telling the “how to Fringe” story has become something of a distant drumbeat better left to those tending the background noise of Central Floridians who should get out more.

David Lee, a longtime Fringe persona and one of the most generous souls we can call a friend in this town, allowed us into the background, backstage scene of bringing one of these show to life. In his case, it’s the story of the Pulse Massacre. O-Town: Voices from Orlando is effectively a series of monologues attached to the deaths of 49 people and the reverberations therein. We considered a number of shows to chronicle – and indeed we did speak with many stars and producers – but this one struck us as particularly noteworthy. The reasons there are transparent: We care about our community, and there is a lot to atone for at this point.

We also reached out to Fringe to find out which shows might be most impactful on our LGBTQ readership, because when you are expected to provide a service, you abide.

As a result, we have a wonderful Fringe Festival issue that explains both process and performance. The voices populating our main Fringe package may seem familiar to you, but not one of them takes their position in these challenging times for granted. I can attest to that. I spoke to many.

We also have the birth of a new Fringe in Tampa’s Ybor City which is only tasting the first breezes of its growth, and doing so with aplomb. When they go low, we go art. So, though you will see many things within this issue concerning the chaos of our lives, our centerpiece at this Watermark festival is one of expression and excitement, one that comes with funnel cake and beer tickets.

Throughout, you’ll find the bits that you’ve come to expect from this paper – news on our terrible president and his own casting department, a celebration of a century for Planned Parenthood, some interesting facts about artifacts relating to the Pulse incident that are being curated by the Orange County Regional History Center, some political whimsy on party division and Lady Bunny. Nobody doesn’t like Lady Bunny.

We hope you’ll enjoy this issue and find it useful in following your mid-May bliss. There are still many bleak rivers to cross in the coming months, so it’s probably best that you allow yourself a good time with the freaks and the fabulous folks who are here to remind you why we are alive. Please enjoy. And set your cell phones to silent.

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