Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Northern Lights

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Yesterday, in my discussion of hair, the line should’ve been: “Hair is base, hare is animal.”  Not because I made a mistake, but because I thought of the pun on the train today.  But it serves only to confuse, though.

Saw Northern Lights with the Sydney Symphony tonight.  Thomas Ades conducting.  What a brilliant concert!  Ah, how great life is.

There was a schoolboy sitting next to me.  Indeed, there were many school children all around, for the concert is part of the “Meet the Music” series, which is on at 6.30pm, and lots of schools send students to it.  But throughout most of the first half, this schoolboy next to me – must’ve been 15 or 16, I reckon – spent the entire time sniffing derisively.  Or rather, he seemed to find something privately funny every thirty seconds or so, sometimes even more, and instead of laughing out loud – which would have been rude, of course – he did an inward laugh, which leads to expulsion of air through the nose.  Try it now, dear reader.  Try to laugh with your mouth closed.  Your diaphragm jerks up when you try to laugh, and the air in your lungs, not being able to exit the mouth, goes out through the nose instead.  He occasionally conferred with the classmate next to him as well.  After the interval, his classmate wasn’t there for some reason, and I noticed (well, noticed now, thinking back on it), that there wasn’t much sniffing going on.

O, dear reader, how us humans like to show our superiority, our worth of taste, over others!  Why, I find this symphony and its conductor filled with humour – don’t you get the joke?  I’m so much cooler than you.  Look at me brood and seem as if I have access to another plane of interpretation of reality.

Something like that, anyway.  Having no one he knew to impress after the interval, he ceased trying to be cool.

But then again, look at anything closely enough and it’ll become absurd.

How sad, though, that none of those schoolkids realise that those are such happy days.  We’re always told that, aren’t we?  That school will be the best time of our life, and university will be too.  And no one believes it.  Not really.  Or they don’t feel it.  Talking to my tennis coach yesterday, he was saying, “I reckon you’re going to look back on this time in your life” (me going to heaps of cultural events) “and think it pretty damn good”.  I concurred.  How soon will age weary these my atoms and render me incapable of seeing as much as I’d like.  Or I lose my critical privileges.  Or I get someone pregnant.  Or any other reason.  (Well, not any other – I’m sure if Venus aligns with Mars I’ll still be able to do all this.)

At the ballet last night, with mum waiting with her walking stick in a queue to get into the stalls (there was a bit of a holdup), the usher was apologising to everyone and thanking them for their patience.  There was an elderly woman having a bit of trouble getting to her seat; or taking a bit of time, at least.  I overheard (as did my mother) the usher saying to someone, “I’ve seen her come here over the years, and just get slower and slower…”


(I haven’t had a muffin in ages.)

Did I ever mention I lost my favourite black pen that I use for flicking?  It landed under my bed, but I couldn’t retrieve it.  Well, it was peeking out today when I dropped my other pen down there.  Maybe the cat knocked it out or something.  Anyway – jubilations!

130/whatever in Shakespeare’s.


Written by epistemysics

May 2, 2013 at 3:36 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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