Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Stories I Want To Tell You In Person

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Saw Stories I Want to Tell You In Person at Belvoir tonight.  Quite enjoyable, surprisingly, for a one-person show.  For a monologue.  Simon Stone was in the audience, too, and was also being talked about by the actress/playwright Lally Katz (the show being a autobiographical one), which made for an extremely interesting dynamic at times, a dynamic of real life intersecting with art and whatnot (no space).  I don’t think I’ve ever seen that dynamic before.  (Let me get my pin and stick another butterfly up on the wall.)

It must be said, though, Belvoir Downstairs is probably one of the worst places to read pre-show in the entire Sydney theatre/music scene.  Part of the problem is the general admission – because, getting two tickets, if I end up going by myself, it’s hard to get a spare seat next to you (and to be honest, it’s sometimes hard, during a show, to keep a spare seat next to you even when you’ve been given specific seats, what with people moving up to get a better view and so on), and if I have a spare seat I can cross my legs, and stick the book on top of that – but the lack of good leg room, and the…  Well, I’m not sure  there’s another reason, but it feels like there should be.  I was wondering on the way home, too, if there was anywhere that one could place a wheelchair in that theatre.  I can’t think of any – it’s impossible to take just one seat out, considering they’re large benches, but maybe they have a way.

But speaking of reading in the theatre and public and the like, I’ve discovered that I’m displaying signs of eccentricity, and that it’s creeped up on me like moss in a camouflage suit.  (I realise, just now, that it should be ‘crept’, but oh what’s this that I’m shoving in your face, it’s a poetic licence.)  Watching this Da Vinci’s Demons series that I recently have been dipping into, when Da Vinci is doing his polymath ponderings and what have you, the actor has him move his fingers about, crooking them while keeping the wrist still, as if he’s calculating things.  I’ve realised I do this now, too.  It has to do with iambic pentameter, you see, because the way I do it in my head is that I physicalise it on my fingers of one hand.  (I go twice through the fingers for each line.)  da DUM da DUM, etc.  So this involves tapping of the fingers, or merely moving them against a block of air.  Usually I do it in the comfort of my own home, because that’s where I write, but lately I’ve been testing out lines that I read in books, for instance, and in my latest book – Shakespeare’s Use of the Arts of Language – what with there being quite a bit of Shakespeare in it, I’ve been testing out many of his lines, too.  And I was testing out some of the lines in the play tonight.  Just because.

But I’m starting to move my fingers and not caring who might see.  (Not that I’m exactly bursting out into powerful renditions of interpretive dance in the middle of a funeral, though.)  It’s either that or I bob my head up and down to mark the meter, so probably best that I’ve chosen my fingers.


Written by epistemysics

May 7, 2013 at 2:32 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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