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The ballet last night was fantastic. The night was done as three fairly long one-acts (Balanchine's "Apollo" and a new work, "Pucinella," rounded out the production), and bathtubgin and I were drooping long before we got to the main course (due to ongoing sleep shortages and the, er, warm dark room phenomena). But what a spectacular performance it was! I was on the edge of my seat with the first sub-sonic thrumming of the drums from the orchestra pit. It felt more like a classic fairy tale than any ballet I've ever seen, and the scenes with the monsters in the garden had the coolest costumes and movement - it looked like one of those paintings of the Ballet Russes you see around as wall art. And at last the music and the dance were perfectly wedded, unlike any other version of this ballet I've seen. Every change in the score was matched by what I can only describe as a logical movement on state. Urf. I had goosebumps after it was done over and over again.

The journey home was, however, a pain in the ass. The ballet got out half an hour later than the program said it would, and 10:40 is just damned late to just be starting your way home on a work night. I was going to have to do three tube hops to get home, but when I saw the first train on my hop wasn't due for 13 minutes, I decided to redo it as two hops, one which was apparently more of a long jump than a hop. Man, the District line from Bank to Earl's Court, what a freaking journey! When I finally got to my "changing to the train to Putney" stop, there was a train sitting on the tracks ... which sat there for about ten MORE minutes "due to staff shortages." Blow me. Anyway, it could have been worse, because it was supposed to go to Wimbledon and its last stop was actually MY stop, not the one before, to the chagrin of the other passengers. I hopped off and ran down the stairs and off on my little route home, which takes me by a newspaper stand that throws away its fading flowers and ... yes, a bunch of roses for me today! They're sitting in the French Press (as in this new life I have no vases) on the table in front of the window. Midnight a few minutes later, and I was in bed.

Sleep was a bit restless toward the end because I realized that when shadowdaddy wakes up tomorrow, all he's got on his plate is getting his bags packed and getting on the plane. He's got to be nervous. I wonder how his "not my going away party" is going?

PS: My new pillows said on the package they would have some "residual odor" and I might want to air them out. I didn't believe it, but it's true, they smell like scared duck. And they have little feathers that stick me. I want my old pillows back. And I want my old tea balls. I only have one here and it's too big. Bother.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
ms_vermilion
Oct. 26th, 2006 07:07 pm (UTC)
I'm having arts envy . . . again. I love The Firebird, above any of the other Stravinsky ballets and I love all of them.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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