Epistemysics

Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Machinal

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Saw Machinal at the STC tonight.  Rather pleasant surprise, what.  Rather pleasant surprise indeed.  Indeed, I don’t think I’ve seen many works in the Wharf 2 Theatre that have failed to be, at the very least, interesting, if not good works of art.  (Many other plays that are not good works of art are also not interesting either, and that is when I become incredibly bored.)  (But, Adam, if something is ‘interesting’, then surely it must be somewhat good?  —No, because you can fail in an interesting way.)

Had a dream this morning, and quite the weird one.  (Well, they’re probably all quite weird, but I rarely remember them.)  In it I was having to spend the night at a disused takeaway food shop (just your locally owned and operated one – not a chain store or anything), but the inside was rather cramped and filled to the brim, and so I had to spend the night (or was it early morning?) on the front porch, upon which there was a couch/sofa that I availed myself of.  Except that on this sofa, which was quite small, but big enough for me, was a quite large antique vending machine that was empty – the door of it was open – that I had to contend with.  And the vending machine was larger than the sofa, I think, but of course, dreams being what they are, we all fit on the sofa comfortably enough, blanket and all.  But then I was at one point manouevering the vending machine so that I could cuddle up next to it, but suddenly felt ashamed that someone might see me cuddling up to a vending machine, and so I positioned it back where it was.  (Mind you, it was a very heavy vending machine, but it only required the twist of a wrist to pick it up and turn it and so on.)

And then I think I woke up.

My guess is that I’m lonely and on a diet.  That’d be my interpretation.  Ha!  (Although one couldn’t really call it a diet, as opposed to just ‘eating healthier’.  And I did have a bag of chips and half an apple turnover (with – with – cream) for lunch today.  Then again, two more abs are starting to make themselves known, I think it may be safe to say, so I must be doing something right.)

Or maybe I just have a hitherto unknown fetish for sticking coins in a lover’s orifice and having them spit out candy in return.  (Sweet dreams, dear reader, sweet dreams.)

Finished Sense and Sensibility today, and thought it one of her best books.  Only Emma left now.  And then the last Proust, or so I promised myself, if I recall correctly.

Reading Diamonds are Forever, I come across the term, “Adam fireplace”.  On further investigation (ie, Wikipedia), it turns out that there is such a thing as “Adam style”.  Tickled pink, I am.  How nice of them to name a style after me, and what with me not even having a fireplace!

42/309.

(In Diamonds are Forever by Ian Fleming, for those of you not quick on the uptake.)

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Written by epistemysics

December 4, 2013 at 1:42 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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