Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

The Secret River

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Saw The Secret River at the STC tonight.  Opening night, what.  ‘Twas about as good as a play can get without entirely convincing that it’s a great play.  (As in, one that deserves to be remembered forevermore.)

My tummy hurts.  Possibly a combination of wind, possibly having too much to eat at the afterparty.  Three mini-hamburgers.  One battered thing on a skewer with God knows what inside (but tasty).  Two dumplings on a Chinese-esque spoon.  One dim-sim type thing, except with flaked almonds on the top (though it was definitely savoury).  One glass of white wine.  One glass of champagne.  Not an alcoholic.  Even if I did skull half the champagne (okay, a third) to catch a waiter coming the other way with a refill of white wine.  (My excuse being that I originally wanted white, but got tricked into taking a surprisingly froth-less champagne.)

Plenty of famous actors/etc.  Bob Hawke, too.  And David Williamson.  ‘Twas in a position, walking up a flight of stairs, to spit on him from on high.  Not that I did.  But the thought crossed my mind.  (Not that I ever would, though.)  Rather, the thought that it was a possibility crossed my mind, as opposed to the thought of actually performing the act.

(I feel like the above could be used against me in court someday.  Oh well.)

I had dinner at 5.20 tonight, so I was understandably hungry.

Read Pinball,1973 today.  Better than Hear the Wind Sing.  And not missing any chapters.

Up to page 2/whatever in A Wild Sheep Chase.

Written by epistemysics

January 12, 2013 at 2:26 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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