webcowgirl: (E-love)
I'm sitting around at home being quiet. I've decided against going out tomorrow even though there are bunches of things I'd like to see. I'm just too worn out, darn it. It's cooling down rapidly, though, so I should sleep well tonight.

[livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy was nice and made me dinner tonight. It was good to catch up about his trip to Gay Paree. I think he missed me.

In other exciting news, today my theater blog had the most visits EVER. Shockingly, this is because of the writeup I did on the Mikhailovsky Ballet's Giselle, which has been linked to by some Japanese website. (I Babelfished it and saw it had a reference to "Jizeru," which is apparently the Japanese phonetic spelling of Giselle - so cute! Also "ブログ", pronounced burogu, is the Japanese world for blog.) I also discovered another theater blogger who seemed to be following me around last week. She also likes ballet a lot and I think I want to ask her to see some shows with me.

I'm tickled as hell about getting a promotion finally after ten months at this job. Betfair, eat my shorts! I am being taken out to lunch tomorrow at a lovely Italian restaurant nearby to celebrate. I still miss [livejournal.com profile] spikeylady and [livejournal.com profile] bathtubgin though - I kind of wish I had gone out tonight but the word on the streets is that I probably ought to be taking it easy while my center of balance tries to find its way back to my actual center.
webcowgirl: (YellowLeaves)
I'm excited, tonight we're going to see the first third of the Peony Pavillion tonight at Sadler's Wells with [livejournal.com profile] robot_mel! Beforehand I think we'll be trying New Culture Revolution to kind of get in the moodn (and the menu _does_ look good). It won't be as pleasant as actually being served dim sum and tea while we're watching the show like we had at Slippery Mountain but I think the artistry will be much higher ... and we'll have good seats since I managed to rebook us for the £15 floor seats that I saw on offer.

I was good and went to the gym today and even almost made it to 25 minutes. I did 3 minutes of rowing, 14 minutes of biking (while reading the very first Stephen Dobyns Saratoga mystery, though I didn't get very far in), and then ... well, it was going to be 8 minutes on the ski machine, but I got really worn out around five and just barely made it to seven. Gah, so tired. Then it was test test test this afternoon and be a good little monkey. I've been exercising enough that I've needed to buy a few new clothes, so when [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy returns from his trip to America I'll have some new gear well suited to all of the rather unladylike sweating I've been doing.
webcowgirl: (Theater)
Tonight [livejournal.com profile] wechsler and [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy and I went to the Royal Opera House to see a Magic Lantern Show. This reminded J of a Sargeant Rigby's Silhouettes back in Seattle, only the pictures were gorgeous little paintings projected on a screen (many of which moved!) and with professional narration and piano playing and singing. In fact, the whole thing was mostly a highly skilled retelling of the entire Ring cycle using 19th (or even 18th!) century technology. It really appealed to my inner Luddite. It was a blast for all three of us. One more show tomorrow, if you're interested!

It also appealed to my inner Proust fan, as Proust described watching scenes projected from a lantern in his room in the first book of Remembrance - which is why I wanted to see this show. (Plus I'm just really an amazing geek.) And I got started on Sodom and Gomorrah today! I only made it to page six, but hey, I'll be reading this until January (at my usual rate), so it's not like there's any rush.

Also: furniture I might like, if there website weren't so damned unnavigable.

Oops, sorry, it was the last night of the Magic Lantern show. Here's the info as they will doubtlessly remove it from the ROH site quite soon. )
webcowgirl: (Default)
Jesus, I just woke up. I slept ten hours straight. I weigh 172 pounds.

Screw shopping, screw Polyday, screw doing anything responsible, I'm going to dick off all day and RELAX RELAX RELAX. I am worn out. WORN OUT. Hanging with friends and chilling out, that's going to be my day, and NO dealing with people I don't know. There's enough morons on the streets to keep THAT taken care of for me in spades.

By the way, my West Wing loving friends, Stockard Channing is in Awake and Sing, which I saw last night at the Almeida in Islington with [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy, [livejournal.com profile] scarlettina, and [livejournal.com profile] wechsler. It's a well-acted and brilliantly written play about a family in America in the 1930s with a GREAT atheist Marxist grandpa and ... well, even though W and I were completely exhausted, we were utterly engaged with the show. Check it out. (PS: Can you believe I saw five shows in less than two weeks? No wonder I'm tired!)


PPS: Am also going to pet Boo, who seems very lonely and cute.
webcowgirl: (Ballet)
(Apologies if this shows up twice.)
Last night was the Wheeldon Company's Metamorphoses program at Sadlers' Wells, and a better night for ballet aficionados could hardly be imagined. Well, okay, it wasn't all perfect, but the highs were the sort that have kept us going to see this stuff for years, rolling the dice and hoping to get lucky. (And with music by Part and Bryars and Prokofiev, even the down time was great.) The two best pieces in this program of mostly short bits were the first and the last, both by Wheeldon. "Morphoses" had four dancers doing a variety of athletic, innovative partnering to music of Ligeti. I felt like I could never anticipate what they would do next.
The last piece was practically two pasted together; first a pas de six, then a m/f duet. For this, the woman came back on stage with her feet bare and her hair down. To me, it felt like she was naked - utterly vulnerable. The man was barefoot and bare chested. Their dancing was so intimate I felt like I was intruding to watch them. Every lift was perfect and strong; I felt like the dancers were revealing their true selves to each other while they danced, and we were the fortunate eavesdroppers on a very private moment. It was a fantastic end to the program and left me thrilled about the entire evening and looking forward to seeing them again.
Footnote: earlier in the day I did a walking tour of The City and went to Buckingham Palace with my visiting friend; these things were also fun but I'm just not going to have time to write about them properly.
webcowgirl: (Ballet)
What most of you care about: I went to the ballet tonight, hoping to be right distracted, but during the Arvo Part music/Hamlet themed ballet I was thinking about costumes, and the job sitch. Okay, let's be honest, I was thinking about the job sitch all day and was completely NOT focused on doing any sort of work at all. I wanted to run around and go, "I'm out of here! I'm leaving! You can take your rude assed CTO and moron baby managers and KISS MY GRITS!" But instead I was waiting for confirmation from TJG that they did really and truly want to offer me the job, and I got that around 3 PM today.

And I thought about the other companies that are on my short list, and, well, no one had anything nice to say about them, and I haven't even progressed to the interview stage. And I talked to a guy that used to work for me and is now a miserable lead on another team, and he said, "Wow, that sounds like a great job." And apparently he and I are basically interviewing for the same jobs, which is a giggle for me, only he actually got the interview at MySpace and I didn't (not that I care too much). And [livejournal.com profile] m_vermilion is right, what matters is do I have room to grow, and [livejournal.com profile] koaloha (whom I see as a touchpoint of sanity and kindness and focusing on what really matters in life) said the money will all come out in the wash in the next year or so, and she's right, too.

So I decided that I'm going to take this job. I'll take the semi-offer tomorrow and let them get the paperwork through for the extra money I requested and then give me my official contract to sign. I'm aiming for a September 24 start date, and September 19th quit date, which will let me take three days of vacation while my brother and SIL are here, then two days of "between job time" while [livejournal.com profile] scarlettina is here. I want to have my vacation officially approved, though, so I'm going to try to hold off on the notice thing until it's actually 30 days until, but making it past Monday is going to be difficult for me.

I also decided 1) I'm dressing as Sally Bowles for the costume ball on Saturday and 2) [livejournal.com profile] rosamicula and I are going to go to Italy for part of the time [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy is in Las Vegas, because we can and because she was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea. And I must say, Missy Micula was great company for the show tonight (the Bolshoi mixed rep at ENO). Capsule review: piece one, "Class Concert," to music of various Russian masters (in the order, Composer, his student, his student, his student) was GREAT, extremely energetic, building to a frenzied head as the dancers worked through harder and harder dance moves. It just felt SO much like members of the corps showing that they were ready for being promoted to bigger roles, and the energy was incredible. The section where the danseurs were THROWING the ballerinas through the air was crazy! (PNB needs to add this to their rep.) Section two, Chris Wheeldon's "Elsinore," didn't really do it for me - the partnering was nice but actually having a story would have been more engaging than just being "atmospheric." The third bit, Twyla Tharp's "Upper Room," benefitted from some Phillip Glass music (recorded, though I think it didn't matter), but watching these poor Russian ballerinas attempt to get some urban dance grooves going was painful. They'd absolutely hit these ballet moves (made so much clearer in my mind by watching the first piece), then struggle to shrug their shoulders in any kind of rythmn. One girl was actually "on," and once [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy'd pointed her out to me, I kept my eyes glued on her and enjoyed the rest of it more. But, well, of course, there were always the lovely macaroons Ms. Micula had picked up from Paul, and great visits over the intervals ... so it was a good night out, and I am reminded that she and I must see each other more (monthly museum trips seem to be in order), and that I must get my dance tickets purchased for the Sadler's Wells events and the City Ballet trip to London in the spring.

I'm rambling, sorry. Night, all!

(Later: PS: The website says, "Completing the Triple Bill is Class Concert, the iconic ballet by Asaf Messerer not seen here since 1965. Using all the Company‘s principal dancers, the ballet reaches an exciting climax which only the Bolshoi Ballet’s legendary bravura can produce." Um. Just what are they selling here again?)
webcowgirl: (Theater)
First, the ticketing gods have smiled on me, and I now have tickets for Darcey Bussel's farewell performance at Sadler's Wells on Thursday of next week! They had a bunch of seats open up today, thank goodness. I also bought some tickets for Paco Peña in August, because I loves Flamenco, and hey, why not, it got me a big discount on the other tickets. If anyone else wants to join me, I've got seats M20 - M21 on Wednesday 08 August.

So ... Glass Menagerie is decidedly a great play, different from anything I've ever seen. That said, this production was quite flawed, in spite of having one of the best sets and lighting design of any show I'd seen on the West End. A show with only four actors should have, in fact, four brilliant performances, and I got the feeling they blew their budget on getting a big name in what was, in my mind, not the most critical role to have right (the mother, played by Jessica Lange). Sadly, the performance of the "mentally fragile" sister was extremely weak, almost a caricature. The brother also had the worst fake drawl I'd ever heard. I think he was trying for Atlanta but just got Forrest Gump. So while our seats were fantastic (£10 from Last Minute, and we were upgraded to the Dress Circle) and I did enjoy the show, I would not recommmend it highly - it wasn't a bad night out but you could still find better.
webcowgirl: (Default)
We had a darned good time with our £10 tickets but getting home at nearly 11:30 was no, no good. Lesson learned: take the tube home if it's after 10:30 as the trains from Waterloo evaporate. (On the other hand, three hours in the theater and I enjoyed it all? That was great.)

I'll hear about the heart monitor results tomorrow. I was feeling dizzy rather a lot this afternoon and I can't help but think I do have high blood pressure. That's what I get for trying to change my life too much.
webcowgirl: (Roxie)
Briefly: tonight, going to see the puppet show at Little Angel Theater at 8, then maybe going to Bmovie (depending on exhaustion levels).

Last night: I'm on an Ibsen/Pinter/Tennessee Williams kick, "collecting" their shows like one would Beanie Babies or BPAL imps, and last night was Ibsen's John Gabriel Borkman. The language was thick, but the plot was crystal clear and the characters fantastic. I didn't know a thing about it (other than "financier's ruin causes long-lasting rifts within his family"), but as the various relationships of the characters - estranged twin sisters, one the wife of Borkman (who has not seen her husband in eight years, despite the fact he lives upstairs); the son; and the sexy widow next door. (An unseen other character is "the lawyer" next door who's having a party "the son" is invited to; he's the man who revealed JGB's malfeasance and, in essence, ruined him and his family.)

Kurt Vonnegut (RIP) once said (and [livejournal.com profile] scarlettina reminded me) that "every character should want something," and, by God, these people did. Whether it was power, love, money, revenge, happiness, or freedom, they wanted it like fish want water and humans want air, with great, gasping breaths to suck it in. Their stiff, nineteenth century language (Victorian formality) was delivered as a package to the same, burning desires that animate people today - and I loved it all. It reminded me of the very unhappy version of The Voysey Inheritance, which is a look at the same kind of financial finaglings gone "right." In this play, you see exactly the kind of ruin Voysey Junior expects, and you understand why he is so very afraid of the consequences of his father's actions.

Ibsen (thinking of Vonnegut again) rushed us straight to the non-stop action as the years of built-up frustration spilled out. What a great night of theater! I wasn't bored for a minute, and at the end, I wanted to thank each actor personally for delivering, at last, on the contract we made when I bought my ticket: that I would willingly suspend disbelief, and they would become, not actors on a stage, but people who had stories (and pasts) I cared about. Thanks for a great night, guys!
webcowgirl: (Default)
Dinner last night at Buka was not as good as forgettable because it was actively bad. This came down to three things: tough/burnt meat, overly spiced food (with no actual flavor), and the nauseating smell of fish paste. I ate half of it and felt the rest of it burning a hole in my stomach through the rest of the evening. It was actually at the second level of really hot, the one where my ears ring, and while I can make it through to the third level, I will only do this for food that actually tastes good. Perhaps I will try Nigerian food again, but, frankly, I'd rather pick Somali/Ethiopian/Eritrean after this horrifying experience. And it was overpriced to boot. Bah.

Pinter's The Caretaker was mis-described as "comic." Me, well, I think watching a messed up homeless old man try to find a safe place to live isn't intrinsically humorous, nor is listening to someone try to process the horror of being incarcerated in a mental hospital (though that soliloquy was the highlight of the play). We both found it ... overdesigned, or something - careful spotlights, overly polished music cues, a set that was 100% realistic and all built out. Where was the room for the imagination? That said, the character of the caretaker was utterly believable, and I found myself trying to figure out just what his childhood would have been like to have got him to this point ... fantastically acted and obviously written to perfection. That said, I wasn't compelled by the show, and figured I'd get just as much out of the second act if I'd bought the script and read it at home - I was emotionally checked out. And I didn't get home until 11:45 to boot, which has, in respect, made me resentful. Give this one a pass.

John Gabriel Borkman tonight at the Donmar: here's hoping it will be time better spent.
webcowgirl: (ActionFigure)
Ah, London at 1 AM on a Sunday morning. Puke on the bus, puke on the streets, the smell of ketchup on french fries in the air. I think people really just do drink a whole lot more here but there's something about packing this many people in such a small amount of space that seems to contribute to the whole grossness of it all.

Um, but lovely party with friends down south - got visits in with more people that I care to LJ check, but mostly just very pleasant, felt the "cared for" thing going on, felt connected and part of the community - and then at 11:15 or so I turned into a pumpkin and all I wanted to do was lie on the bed in a cuddle pile and fall asleep. The party rages on, but the last train back home beckoned me. Bit of a pisser to leave at 11:45 and not get home until now - well, I guess it's only an hour later so not too bad but it was only eight miles!

Oh, but I'm soooo tired. Stupid work week. I hate being so worn out.

Um, Wayreap's Battle at the Barbican was great - the Ramayana done with gamelan accompaniment and Thai temple dancers - the flavors that add up to Cambodian dance. The costuming was great and I loved the exact hand and foot movements of the dancers. Plus - monkey warriors - what more could you want? One more day, see it if you can, tickets available for only £7.

PS: Hey, look, I'm wearing the same clothes now as I am in this user icon. Maybe I should see about shopping some more some day.
webcowgirl: (Default)
I find it very amusing that we're both sitting here on the couch with a drink - lemon ginger tea for me, Johnny Walker black label for J.

J and I and W did all make it to see Attempts on Her Life, which I think I should try to describe except that I'm not the least bit enthusiastic about it - it was all technology and no heart - so I can't really recommend it, and I am thus uninspired to write. We did just waltz right on a train to Putney at Waterloo, though, and that was great, and we were home by ten as it was a short show.

The day at work was frustrating - emergencies galore, and painful proof of the lack of evolution of development procedures and communication as the company has grown - and I was grateful to be able to cut out early because of a doctor's appointment. Sadly, I didn't really feel like coming in at all today, but did anyway because of an interview I had scheduled at 10. Upon arrival, I read my email and discover a hiring freeze has been put into place, but unfortunately it wasn't announced soon enough for the candidate to be saved the trip. And, as it turned out, he wasn't good enough for me to make an offer to, anyway. And when I got to the doctor's office, well, it turned out they close an hour earlier today than I had my appointment written down for, so it must have actually been set for yesterday, only I misunderstood (must have misunderstood) the day I was being given an appointment for. Gah. Now I have to go back first thing tomorrow and hope to get a walk-in, as this prescription needs must be ready to go Sunday PM.

And I managed to turn the handle on the toliet in a way that stripped the threads that attached it to the inner workings of the tank. Go me! At least I got to Inn Noodle in plenty of time this afternoon, and the beef noodles in spicy soup were most enjoyable. And the violets I bought are blooming beautifully, and my pepper plant looks like it's going to be putting out flowers soon. And it's going to be a four day week, then a four day weekend, then a four day week, and I am so, so in need of a break, even if I'm not going to make it out of town.
webcowgirl: (Default)
J and I went to the Barbican tonight and saw William Christie's Les Arts Florissantes tonight, which was basically the K-tel "Top Hits of the 17th Century." Except unlike K-tel, this was beautiful and made me cry. Take this, "Pur Ti Miro," the big love aria duet (of course!) from The Coronation of Poppea:

I behold you,
      I delight in you,
I press you
      I tie you to me in a knot;
No longer do I suffer, do I die,
O my life
      O my treasure.

I am yours
      You are mine,
My hope: say it, say it!
      Yes, yes, yes, yes!
You are, O my idol,
my beloved, my heart, my life, truly!

Why do people not sing THIS at weddings? It was really incredible. They even had a counter-tenor singing Nero. And it wasn't sappy like it looks here - it was beautiful, and it really did have me dabbing at my eyes.

If life were perfect I'd be eating chocolate chip cookie dough right now. Well, I guess it has nothing really to say about whether or not life is perfect, but the cookie dough is really good, I think in part because I get better butter and eggs here.
webcowgirl: (Default)
Today I was A Woman Who Did Her Budget and Came Up Smiling, and I did a bad thing. I called Trafalgar Studios (after looking every day for a week on the TKTS site in a vain hope for availability), found out they had two tickets for tonight's (extremely sold out) show, and ... bought them. According to a snark in some newspaper, this show clocked in at an entertainment cost of approximately 50 pence per minute ...

but it was great, like eating "Death by Chocolate" cake - every bite counted. And it was short, which was good, as we are doing a day trip and need to, er, be in bed by now. The tension between the characters about had ME sweating by the end of the show, and, for once, all of the dialogue worked, the physical interaction/movement was great, and the characters seemed three-dimensional despite being in a rather absurd/ist situation (I was reminded of Albee).

Pinter is a very difficult playwright, and I'm on a mission to see all of his plays (along with those of Tennesee Williams and Ibsen), in part because I feel he does not talk down to his audience - he talks up to them, expecting them to be experienced, thoughtful theater-goers who can handle a little mystery. I also think for some reason his plays work better in England, that the language seems more natural - that there's some kind of sensibility American actors just haven't internalized that really aid in the interpretation of his works. This one was, I think, the best of his plays I've seen yet (the others being The Birthday Party, Old Times, and Betrayal). I look forward to seeing more!

At the end of the play, the actors bounced out and put on red noses and made a pitch for Comic Relief, a fundraiser for the poor (or something, I'm apparently not getting the right advertising markets). They ended their little spiel by saying, "And as a sign of how much we support this, we're each donating a week's wages to the cause." They then each reached into their pockets and pulled out a bill ... but different bills.

"Hey!" said the young and scruffy actor. "How come you get a tenner and I just get five?"
"That's because I'm an actor," retorted the slick looking one.
"But I get most of the lines!" huffed the young one back.
"Yes, but this is Pinter, and I get the pauses."
webcowgirl: (Darger)
I was mocked tonight at the theater. I'd had a brief conversation with a woman in the bathroom at the Almeida, and I happened to pass by her talking to her knot of friends shortly thereafter. I heard this:
"Oh! Are you having a good time?"
"Wonderful, really, Actress X is so good tonight."
"I just was talking to this girl in the bathroom and she said, 'Ahr the aeccents off, oar is it jest me?'"
"Oh! How funny. I take it she was American?"

Anyway, tonight I went with [livejournal.com profile] spikeylady (and was most happily joined by [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy, who managed to get off call in time AND get a spare £6 ticket) to see There Came a Gypsy Riding. My actual conversation (in the ladies' bathroom) went:
Me (to total stranger who sounded Irish): Ahr theyurr aiccents off?
Total stranger 1: I'm not Irish.
Total stranger #2: My seatmates are Irish and say there are.
Total stranger #3: They're awfully, "Well, rahther."

After, er, finishing up, #2 provided me with much more explicit detail: Imelda Staunton was UTTERLY failing her Donegal accent! (As if I could tell.) And Eileen Atkins, in the role of "the old nutter with the filthy mouth," was apparently all over the place but since she was brilliant it was hard to care (I concurred).

The play itself was a good night at the theater but had a rough script lacking the, well, perfection of Night, Mother. Too many details were handled in an overly-heavy way; Bridget (the nutter)'s clunky description of finding the suicide, which reminded me of the occasional "explain the technology that enables interstellar travel" aspect of SF and denied the audience the pleasure of their own discovery of the story of the play; the dad's quieter breakdown, which seemed to come at the moment in the play when the playwright needed it to happen rather than as a natural occurance that flowed up from the character; the sister's brittle anger, which didn't have any emotional depth to it. Sure, everyone was struggling, but none of them seemed to have had pasts in the way, say, Hedda Gabler does.

But still. The way the husband comforted and cared for his wife seemed to show the decades they'd spent together; the daughter's panicked plea for her mother to "come back to us" did seem to come from the right place; and nutty Bridget's scene talking about her marriage to Old Nick (and, much earlier, singing and dancing with dad) were very good. My hope is that the playwright will revisit and revamp this work and give the characters what they need to be real, or just focus on the mother altogether and let it be a completely brilliant role for "a woman of a certain age." (And, ooh, I saw the actress who played Vera Drake tonight, woo!)

I leave you with pure beauty, as spoken from the play, an anticipation of a life cut short:

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
webcowgirl: (Clematis)
Dang. Uh, update:
Work: spent most of the day trying to preserve my headcount. Had three last week; two people were hired by EOD Friday; discovered start of day today that two of my "heads" had been given away - only we've already offered those people jobs. God. Still need third person. Argued about this and horsetraded for hours. Got all places restored and then had the CTO just "take" one away at the end of the day. Also was told that being able to fake it was the key to success, especially since no one at $howboat will bother telling you how to do what you need to do, and only occasionally will you even be told WHAT it is you need to do.

It was nice out so even though I ate my lunch while waiting to talk to my boss's boss I decided to go for a walk, and used the excuse of hitting the Tesco as my motivation to enjoy the sunshine and rather brisk wind. It really feels like spring!

Evening: [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy met me at work and we went to Angel together to see Estrella Morente at Sadler's Wells. She's fantastic and her voice really blew me away, but I loved just as much that the show had fantastic guitar and (flamenco) dancing, and all three elements (and the guys doing the clapping!) would play off of each other, singers inspiring dancers feeding guitarists and so forth, all jazzy and improvisational. My only wish is that I could have understood what she was singing better than I did - something about that style and the way they string out the vowels makes it really impossible for me to pick out more than about one word in ten. Make me think I really ought to see the Seville or even the Malaga Flamenco bienniale. So many things to do here, so little time!
webcowgirl: (Ballet)
WELL! It is about time I saw a show in London where I felt it was worth paying full price! And Coram Boy, with its huge cast, orchestra, and GORGEOUS 18th century music (aaaah!) is SO it. All that, and it still wasn't overdesigned. I'm not saying every single actor was perfect (just one a bit silly, but far outweighed by the Evilest Villain Ever), but with teen lust, baby killing, and orphans being ... well, I just can't say it, but ... I was caught up EVERY MINUTE of this show. Oooooh scary!

And then there was the singing. Aaaaaah!

Um, yeah, so it's sold out but EVERY day around 11 PM they post the tickets that have been returned, and every morning of a show, at around 10 AM, they sell the £10 seats they have, which are what we got, in the front row. (Alas, you must go in person to get these, but [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy was kind enough to do that for us - and there's a limit of 2.) So go if you can. [livejournal.com profile] rosamicula, I SO owe you for your enthusiastic review, as it is what pushed me to go!
webcowgirl: (Ballet)
Er, man, home late again, and tired. Last night we went to see The Ramayana at the Hammersmith Lyric. J thought it was much more "on" as a high-fairy-tale show than His Dark Materials and hit the notes right. I liked its imaginative set and use of theatrical devices to convey literal impossibilities (i.e. someone jumping across an ocean). It seemed a bit dry, though; the costumes seemed a bit on the cheap or something. And, to tell the truth, in this age in which religious intolerance is running so high, I found the constant slamming of "them dirty godless (Buddhist) materialists down south" grating, and was pretty well mortified when Sita immolated herself at the end to prove to her heartless husband her love for him stayed true no matter what had happened to her body. Thinking of all the women burned on pyres in the practice of "suttee" just depressed me. That said, overall a very good show, and since first week's tickets were £9, also a great deal if you like watching these kind of stylized stories on stages.

Tonight was what was supposed to be our Valentine's day date, a trip to see American Ballet Theater at Sadler's Wells. (I got the dates wrong so I wound up seeing two shows instead - naughty me, huh?) It was a three-part show, with La Bayadere (guy goes to the land of the shades to dance with his girlfriend - very 1870, pretty with white tutus), a Mark Morris piece (lighter with better movement) and Jerome Robbin's classic Fancy Free, a typical end-the-show-hoot with boys in sailor suits flirting with saucy 40s girls, complete with high kicks and purse fights. We enjoyed the evening but someone's still got some jet lag and, er, someone else can feel the long day at work and previous late night slowing her down. Oh well, tomorrow's Friday (V&A's Chinese New Year with The Oriental Canteen for dinner aforehand), and I'll catch up on my sleep soon enough.
webcowgirl: (Default)
It's gorgeous outsdie, the prettiest it's looked in days. Of course I walking to work today. Isn't that what higher transportation costs are all about?

Spamalot last night was fun, despite the fact our seats were so far up I felt like I was in another building. However, neither [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy nor I were too terribly amused by having jokes we'd heard a million times (both on film and by American Python fans) quoted on stage (except for maybe the French scene with all of the insults), the songs were generally not that witty, and most of the stuff they added was mediocre. Sure, yeah, disco Lancelot funny, Camelot as Casino with showgirls funny. I spent the entire "You've Got to Have a Jew" scene cringing, though. Is there some kind of trend for being ethnically/racially rude making you hipper or something? I mean, at least "If You Could See Her Through My Eyes" wasn't hiding what it's real attitude toward Jewish people was. At any rate, I was amused enough for what we'd paid, and [livejournal.com profile] wechsler was about falling out of his chair (doubtless in part due to suffering terribly from a lack of sleep the night before). I was thinking he was getting a lot more out of London since I moved here; he does ten times as much stuff now.

God, I'm tired, too, still drained from the weekend and not getting enough sleep. Tonight we're off to see the Pervert's Guide to Cinema at the ICA - anyone want to join us?
webcowgirl: (Food!)
Art goes down better on a full stomach, I think. With that in mind, a snacky [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy and I hit the 4.50 all you can eat buffet at the Paper Tiger in South Kensington (between the tube station and the Victoria and Albert Museum). In short, you get what you pay for. ) Next time, I'll eat at the Oriental Canteen, which charges just maybe a pound more for a meal but delivers much, much better food. Oh well, live and learn - and at least this was a cheap lesson, and extraordinarily quick.

We headed to the V&A afterwards for their "Daily Life in Renaissance Italy" exhibit, which is kindly available to Oyster card holders at a two for one price. Summary: thin overall and too many people blocking pretty much everything they did have. )

Then it was off to Covent Garden for some pre-show shopping. Ultimately, we bought food. )

*looks at the time* My, it's late. But I have no self control. Review of ROH's Carmen. )

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