Recently I had the pleasure of a genuine theatrical experience.
This is the kind of thing that we’re suprised that the kids today don’t see enough of. It had really alive people (or convincingly puppeted cadavers) talking words from their mouths, close enough that I could make out their general body shape, sexual preferences and distinct clamminess. You have probably heard that lots of theatres have intervals so the actors can have a break to dribble and complain about the lazy trousers in the dressing rooms. This theatre was no exception in that regard.
The seats were about the right height for rolling cheese off and there was noone sitting in front of me so I had clear and uninterrupted view the person two rows in front. Mostly the lights were kept down quite low so it wasn’t easy to check for Belgians in the audience but I think I managed to find at least four.
The stage itself had the sort of shape you might find if you cut a honeydew melon in half and compressed it into the 2D plane, largely this went unremarked even when I pointed it out to the stewards (deployed regularly from space lifts). A general attempt had been made to remove the fine film of greenish paste but I could still taste it on my tongue.
Carpetting was excellent, all the way into the corners for the most part and when it didn’t quite make it in the upper left I found a small apology note gaffer taped to the underside by the industrious craftsman. WELL DONE, that man WELL DONE. This level of dedication did not extend to the facilities. I found the test tube samples entirely wrong and the less said about the crap shaft the better.
As I turned to leave, pondering six or maybe a hairy monk I turned to see myself turning to leave by turning into the theatre and turning around until I’d turned completely. Resultant vectors were plotted neatly and will form the basis of further testing.
The play itself was celebration of cack resting on the sole premise that a man dressed as a woman is the single most hilarious situation that could ever be contrived; and for two or three such happen-stances to occur in a three hour period? Oh Heavens! A comedy panacea the like of which has never been hoped for! Truly we have known no better times.
I stayed to the end thirsting for it to claw its way back and justify my evening spent, but all the while knowing in my knowing-place that it could not ever be redeemed.
Overall: Imperial Mauve
A feeling I find myself greatly disliking, is stagnation. I require the sensation of progress and the constant furtherance of myself toward new goals. If I feel there is more I can do, things that I’m not doing, I get frustrated with myself. Without my self-created goals and projects I become lost. Consequently, I don’t relax easily.