Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Don’t Take Your Love to Town

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Saw Don’t Take Your Love to Town tonight.  A brilliant example of precisely the type of theatre it is, but I cannot get interested in many monologues (it was a monologue).  There’s something so inert about them.  And you never get the pleasure – the prime theatrical pleasure – of observing people.  Who ever, while watching a narrative monologue (because there are other monologues like Happy Days (close enough to being a monologue)), felt that they were observing someone?  Or rather, that they were a fly on the wall?  (This as opposed to merely being in the same room and listening.)

And no subplot either.  But it got a standing ovation, so clearly I’m a misanthrope.

31 lines on the play today.  I was only going to write one or two, just to be able to square it with my conscience that I’d written something today, but I got on a roll, as I tend to do.

Up to Letter 76 in Clarissa, though I’ll probably get some more of it done before I go to bed.


Written by epistemysics

December 18, 2012 at 12:46 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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