May. 3rd, 2016

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Aww, Baby's first opera.

I want to mention the things that have happened, but also - yesterday a guy somehow chose to delete his computer. His computer. Today there are preposterous server problems & my spam filter decided to just go sideways and piss off everyone everywhere - so I'm working hard - which is a state of affairs I shall always and forever resent.

Meantime! We had our weekend & it was nice - Independent Bookstore Day - which the independent bookstore was exceedingly avid about pointing out. My traded in books were not credited towards the purchase of magazines (Adbusters & High Fructose for me) or new books (this hilarious (to me) series-book that she embarassedly consumes one-per day about warrior cats). Actually - about Warrior Cats - I feel like people's early exposure to this kind of thing - formulaic series books about something nonsensical but eminently enjoyable - I feel like this is the reason that genre fiction is ghettoized - maybe just me. You probably only sort of ever grow out of loving a series of formula YA novels about warrior cats. Anyhow, I try hard to not be just a make-fun-jackass about it when I quiz her about the matter of the book, but also, it's sort of impossible to ask questions that aren't read as mockery. "So when they don't like a cat for not being feral enough their mean name is Kittypet?" "Come on dad, don't tease." "I'm really not trying!"

She was proud to read a book in a sitting and I was encouraging - we went to the Masonic Auditorium - where I've never been actually - to see the new local opera company (man I hope they make it, I hope they succeed even a little, enough for one show a year at least, how I've missed this...) do La Boheme - I explain that it's not especially to my taste- my taste running a bit more baroque - but that it counts, and that also, it's kind of inexpensive to stage - being very domestic - so, La Boheme. Feelings, is what I explain - it's about a garish rendering of feelings meant to help you have catharsis. "Like when General Iroh sings about his dead son." That's my explanation - it's meant to trouble your heart but in a way that is useful. She didn't quite get it, but I think my enthusiasm was sufficient to enthuse her a little. It was a charming little production, good enough, I say, after the drought.

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