Eat Pray Laugh

Saw Eat Pray Laugh tonight – Barry Humphries’ farewell tour show.  Magnificent.  Got myself a gladioli too.  I remember getting – for my birthday, I think – a Dame Edna CD (Les Patterson and Sandy were on a second CD too) of a live concert he did, and I wanted to listen to it, but it was past my bedtime.  So, in the tradition of reading a book under the blankets by torchlight, I listened to the Dame Edna CD on my discman in my dark room.  I remember almost hurting myself in my attempts not to audibly laugh, because I thought it so funny, and didn’t want my parents to hear me.  This was the first time I’d seen him live.

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Home from The Pearlfishers last night, I realised that I hadn’t been taking the opera seriously, that the me – who a year ago would have been eagerly sucking in every sight and sound – was now jaded.  Well, ‘jaded’ is a bit harsh, but…  I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m glutted.  I’ve filled myself with live culture.  I don’t think I could really see any more culture than I am at the moment – not feasibly, anyway.  And I realised a couple of months ago that this wasn’t making me particularly happy, and yet I persisted.  But the problem now is, that I’m not getting any writing done, and it’s, to use some famous words, tearing me apart.  I can feel myself being pulled in two directions.  Something has to change, and something will change.  It’s an addiction I’m going to have to wean myself off of.  Life’s too complicated sometimes.

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And a word in Parade’s End that I have no idea of the meaning of – ‘constation’.  Can’t find it on the interwebs anywhere.  I think it probably means ‘find’ or ‘certify’, from the Latin and French roots, but I’ll never be sure…

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