Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…


with 2 comments

Saw Schubert with the Australian String Quartet tonight.  Quite good.  Two of the movements of the quintet were great (it’s a favourite of mine, so I know what to expect), though the other two weren’t as good.

Someone in the first half had extremely strong perfume on.  It wasn’t the most pungent I’ve ever smelt, but it was certainly quite overpowering.  Sometimes I wonder whether a girl will put lots of perfume on just in case her boyfriend gets blinded – so he knows where to point his dick.  (That’s a joke.)  And speaking of dicks: one felt incredibly virile today, as if I could fertilise a womb at thirty paces.  Could do with some sex, methinks.  But let me not get too salacious, dear reader.  One wouldn’t want to besmirch your innocence.

288/whatever in the biographique.  I’ll write this thought down now, as I doubt it’ll change, but with this biography I feel like I’m getting a feeling for da Vinci the man, yet not da Vinci’s life.  There’s a lack of narrative or something.  But I’m still enjoying it.  (My guess is that, as, from what I can gather, a lot of it is guesswork, there really can’t be all that much of a detailed narrative.  Not packed with anecdotes like the Ellmann’s Joyce, for instance.)

Saw someone at the concert tonight, who’s a pre-concert speaker for the Sydney Symphony.  (I could look up his name, but I can’t be bothered, and it doesn’t matter for what I want to discuss anyway.)  He’d brought along the sheet music for all three pieces.  And not just sheet music printed off the internet (like I’d no doubt do, if I wanted to), but sheet music in separate books.  Possibly they were books made to take to concerts – do they have those?  (I should probably know that, shouldn’t I?)  What I’m trying to say is that he followed the music on the paper as it was being played.

I think it’d ruin it somewhat, for me.  But to each his own.  (I have listened to quite a few pieces with the music in front of me, but that was at home (or at my piano teacher’s), and with a recording.  I’ve never done it for a live performance.

Actually, it’d be quite interesting to do it, and it might even make non-great performances more entertaining.  (Gives you something to do and all.)  But I can’t imagine doing it for, say, the Walton symphony I loved, and being able to be as absorbed in it as I was.

I feel I should point out, at one point in this blog, that conflict is easier to write about than anything else – conflict within myself, conflict with the world, conflict with others, and so on.  And so, if anything, this blog would have a bias towards me being a grumpy person, perhaps.  Let that be kept in mind, dear reader.  (I think this now as I read the da Vinci biography, and see the biographer extract moods and preoccupations from his manuscripts and art works.)

(And yes, I realise the similarity between us; the urge for ceaseless documentation of things.  Do I have any thoughts on that?  Not yet.  I’ll let you know if I do – you know where to find me.)


Written by epistemysics

June 4, 2013 at 3:55 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

2 Responses

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  1. Why do you assume the over-perfumed woman has a boyfriend to point his dick at her?

    Your humour goes awry when it comes to women. Otherwise it’s right on target. Why is this?

    Queen Mab

    June 5, 2013 at 12:17 am

  2. Well, I made the deduction when I saw a man with his arm around the waist of the woman, who was dressed up to the nines. I assume he must mean something to her.

    I agree the joke is tasteless (though, if it wasn’t crude, it wouldn’t have the same punch), but I did have plenty of time, while my olfactories were being constantly assaulted, to percolate on it – hence the intensity, I assume. If it had been a man with too much deodorant, I’d like to think that I might have written something like, “so in case his face gets disfigured, his girlfriend can know where he is without having to look at him”.

    You wouldn’t happen to have any other recent examples of unconscious misogyny on my part, would you? (I ask not as a challenge, but out of curiosity to discover a blind spot.)


    June 5, 2013 at 1:40 am

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