#Alison Carey

[rihanziad]

Mariah Carey Confirms Her Mom Patricia and Sister Alison Both Died on Same Day: 'My Heart Is Broken' (Exclusive)

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[shakespearenews]

Rauch had been told that the three pinnacles of theatre as a popular art in the Western world were Greek tragedy, English Renaissance drama, and American musicals. As a senior, he founded his own theatre company, and mapped out a mashup of “Medea,” “Macbeth,” and “Cinderella”—one exemplar of each style—so that they could be performed simultaneously. It was a way of seeing what they had in common, and how theatre could return to its populist roots.

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After that production was over, Rauch, Carey and their friends, calling themselves the Cornerstone Theater Company, drove to North Dakota, where they recruited locals to put on “Hamlet” in an old vaudeville theatre. At one point, Carey took over pouring drinks in a bar so that the owners could perform. The locals they recruited worried that Shakespeare’s language was too arcane, so the company modernized it, converting “arrant knave” to “downright prick,” for instance. (They ultimately changed that one: “downright prick,” they were told, was something “smart-ass college kids” would say. A rancher suggested “horse’s rear,” and that went into the script instead.)

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Rauch stayed in L.A. for fifteen years. He left in 2007 to become the artistic director of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, one of the country’s oldest and largest repertory-theatre companies, in Ashland, a small town just north of the California border. Rauch promised to expand its repertoire to include non-Western classics and to diversify both the company and the staff. He also announced a project called American Revolutions: The United States History Cycle—thirty-seven new plays to be written by a diverse group of playwrights and loosely modelled on the scope of Shakespeare’s collected works. Within a decade, actors of color made up around seventy per cent of the company, and they were putting on adaptations of Indian, Chinese, and Latin American classics alongside their Shakespeare productions. Meanwhile, American Revolutions, overseen by Alison Carey, achieved wide renown.

[boricuacherry-blog]

One night Alison booked me as the entertainment. Earlier that day she'd taught me the song "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane. It was an odd selection. When I was brought out to the living room to perform, all of the lights were out, and I was surrounded by burning candles and a circle of teenagers (as well as my mother). Watching Alison's face for approval, I let out the first verse:

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, and the ones that Mother gives you, don't do anything at all, Go Ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall

It was past midnight, and while all the other kids my age were nestled in their beds, I was belting out, "Feed your head!" for a candlelit gathering of wannabe-hippie teens conducting a psuedo-seance. Tell me that's not weird.

-Mariah Carey

[hiphopvibe1]

Mariah Carey loses her mother and sister on the same day

Mariah Carey loses her mother and sister on the same day Continue reading Mariah Carey loses her mother and sister on the same day

[liquoricebxxxh]

Why just the picture of the mom and not Alison, when Alison alleged that their mother was a very bad lady…

[filmreveries]

Saltburn (2023) dir. Emerald Fennell

[filmswithoutfaces]

Saltburn 2023 | Emerald Fennell

[mediademon]

SALTBURN (2023) dir. Emerald Fennell

[saltburnupdates]

SALTBURN cast and crew behind the scenes!

[boricuacherry-blog]

My sister seemed mature and had a hollow kind of glamour. She took a new interest in me as a preteen now rather than a little girl. She paid attention to the outside of me, swooping in and correcting my disastrous attempts to make myself pretty, which to a twelve-year-old girl means everything. After I accidentally made my hair all kinds of shades of ugly orange, she took me to get a toner for my hair and made it one color. She took me to a place that made my eyebrows beautiful. She took me shopping for my first bra. She and I would make earnest attempts at being normal. We were trying to be sisters - or so I thought.

Even though I was young, I knew my sister was doing things that were not good. I mean, she had a beeper, and only drug dealers, rappers, and doctors had beepers back then. She wore a nice manicure - bright-pink nail polish, sometimes decorated with rhinestones. Once, as she was dropping me off in front of my mother's house, she dipped a sharp pink nail tip into some white crystal powder and held it up to my face, saying, "Just try it, just try a little bit; who cares?"

I knew it was cocaine, and it scared me to death. Thank God, I didn't take the sniff. I played it off and calmly replied, "No thanks! Bye; see you later." I shudder to think what could've happened if I'd walked into her trap and then that house. I don't know what would've happened if I'd snorted cocaine right before seeing my mother, or ever in my life.

It was all such a setup. Alison began bringing me around her friends, and I started looking forward to our secret outings - though for all the initial glamour and excitement, it was a very scary time in my life. I still have nightmares about it.

One day, she explained that it was time to meet her boyfriend, John, and the other girls she hung around, who she'd been telling stories to me about. John was tall, with green eyes, a large, fluffy afro, and a strong charisma. Christine, a seventeen-year-old runaway white girl, an older woman named Denise - "older" meaning she was maybe twenty-eight - and my sister, then in her early twenties, all lived in a house together with John. I looked up to Christine; she had a worldly air about her, yet she also seemed like a little girl. Her pale skin was sprinkled with tan freckles, and she had medium-blonde hair that fell softly to her shoulders, which were long and thin like the rest of her body. She could've been in a teen movie, but instead she was here, in that house.

John's house was nicer, brighter, and cleaner than where I lived. They had a brand-new couch. There was a television, and I could watch whatever shows I wanted. They had all the snacks I could want. They had Juicy Juice. We couldn't afford any of that at home. A couple of times my sister came to where I lived and filled the refrigerator with the stuff I liked. This was part of the confusion I felt about our relationship. It sometimes felt and looked like she cared, but her motives were always unclear. It was manipulation masquerading as love.

My sister told me not to tell anyone I was going to the house where she lived with John, especially not my brother. She told me that my brother didn't like him because John had beat him at backgammon. Being so young and naive, I believed her. So there was no one who knew. Dysfunctional families are ideal prey for abusers. Now, of course it's clear to me now that the fun house was a whore house. I think my sister was kind of like the hustler, the talent scout. John, my sister, and I would drive to the city together. I remember one time we were going somewhere, and the radio was playing a song he loved. He loudly screamed out the lyrics, while my sister and I giggled at his strangled singing. They let me smoke cigarettes in the backseat of the car [I was twelve]. I felt free. We would go to IHOP. They took me to Adventureland and I played Pac-Man. I was having all these fun adventures and thinking to myself, I finally know what it feels like to have a big sister who's in my life for good. And I like this easy breezy guy, John. This was what I'd been missing. I was starting to feel something resembling a normal family. But confusing and curious things quickly started happening.

My sister had secretly gotten me my own phone line, which only she called me on. She would call me late at night during these bouts of drug-induced hysteria, constantly threatening to kill herself as I would talk her down, in the wee hours before I had to go to school. Then the calls stopped for awhile. Finally, one day, Alison phoned and said she and John were coming to pick me up. I was excited to think of the three of us together again, riding, laughing, smoking, singing, and playing. But John showed up alone.

We began driving, but there was no radio blasting, no talking. It wasn't fun at all, and I felt that something wasn't right. Finally I asked, "Where is my sister? When are we going to pick her up?" John kept his eyes forward and assured me, "Oh, she'll be here later." I was sitting in the front seat, and I could clearly see the handgun resting against his thigh. John, his gun, and I made two stops: a card game and a drive-in movie. There's a look, a feel, and a smell to rooms where grown men play in the dark. It was dank and cluttered. The air was dense with cheap booze, stale menthol cigarette smoke, and unspoken perversions. There were no pretty things. It was hard for me to see and hard to breathe. I don't know exactly how many men were there - but I do know it was all men, and me. I sat in a corner on the sticky floor where I could see the door and held onto myself. I would catch a glimpse of them leering at me or hear a lewd reference in their conversations. I knew my sister was not coming this time. I don't remember how I got from the card-room floor back into the front seat of the car. A panic bubbled up in my throat. Where am I going? Why am I alone with my sister's boyfriend? Our next stop was the drive-in, where John put his arm around me. My body went stiff. My eyes were fixed on his gun. I noticed an elderly white man peering at us with disgust from the corner of my eye. John pulled out of the drive-in slowly and drove me home in silence.

After a couple of days back in my room, the phone began ringing again, but this time I wouldn't pick it up. I resumed pretending I had a regular seventh-grade life. I wanted to be a child again. Sometimes all the kids in my neighborhood would play chase (tag) at night. Most of them lived in nice houses with two parents, and sisters who didn't burden them with thoughts of suicide and set them up with pimps. One night we were deep in a group game of chase, kids running and weaving, when I saw a car coming down the road. I recognized it as John's car. It was creeping along slowly, as if looking for someone. Panicking, I ducked behind a house, hiding. There was no way I could tell my friends that I was "it" to a pimp with a gun. John eventually drove away. Though I had narrowly escaped him, the fear of men followed me for a very long time. When I got home, I unplugged the phone from the wall and never trusted my big sister again. Sisters are supposed to protect you - not pimp you out.

-Mariah Carey

[heart0fclay]

the Saltburn team look so incredibly beautiful and handsome at the 2024 BAFTA’s 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[hinakyuu]

Cassie's List: Ⅰ. Madison Would you roll your eyes behind her back and dismiss the whole thing as drama? I don't know why you're mad at me. Okay, I'm not the only one who didn't believe it.

PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN (2020)

[filmreveries]

Saltburn (2023) dir. Emerald Fennell

[texaschainsawmascara]

Promising Young Woman (2020)

[speciallittleangel]

Saltburn behind the scenes polaroid dump

[mountainmagpie]

rip F. Scott Fitzgerald you would’ve loved saltburn