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Our ruined and dishonoured and beloved world
This has really been a good weekend. I hung out with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gaudior and rushthatspeaks on Friday for the first time in a ridiculous while, watched three more episodes of Princess Tutu, which continues to make me happy, and witnessed a photo shoot with weirdquark and Thrud as Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd, with the occasional quick pussycat. Saturday, ericmvan and I saw a matinée of the ART's Copenhagen, which I had wanted to see in a general fashion for years and specifically since this summer when I read the play for the first time: and which I found brilliant, fiercely intelligent and far more textured in voice than on the page—John Kuntz as Werner Heisenberg particularly caught at me, tightly mannered and fractured in glimpses between rapid-fire confidence and awkward concession, not innocent; even in the shadowy afterworld in which the play takes place, still passionate and still in pain. I had an unexpected bonus in the form of a comp ticket to the Lydian String Quartet at Brandeis, where I had my mind blown by Reza Vali's "Quartet #3." And tonight I watched the Super Bowl, which was a rather less jubilant occasion than the World Series.* Fortunately, I am even more indifferent to football than to baseball. I still care about archery, though.
Tomorrow, sorting books. Joy.
*The ad with the giant carrier pigeons was like something out of Narbonic, however, and therefore entirely worth seeing.
gaudior and rushthatspeaks on Friday for the first time in a ridiculous while, watched three more episodes of Princess Tutu, which continues to make me happy, and witnessed a photo shoot with weirdquark and Thrud as Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd, with the occasional quick pussycat. Saturday, ericmvan and I saw a matinée of the ART's Copenhagen, which I had wanted to see in a general fashion for years and specifically since this summer when I read the play for the first time: and which I found brilliant, fiercely intelligent and far more textured in voice than on the page—John Kuntz as Werner Heisenberg particularly caught at me, tightly mannered and fractured in glimpses between rapid-fire confidence and awkward concession, not innocent; even in the shadowy afterworld in which the play takes place, still passionate and still in pain. I had an unexpected bonus in the form of a comp ticket to the Lydian String Quartet at Brandeis, where I had my mind blown by Reza Vali's "Quartet #3." And tonight I watched the Super Bowl, which was a rather less jubilant occasion than the World Series.* Fortunately, I am even more indifferent to football than to baseball. I still care about archery, though.Tomorrow, sorting books. Joy.
*The ad with the giant carrier pigeons was like something out of Narbonic, however, and therefore entirely worth seeing.
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This is not filing or alphabetizing. I would be fine with that. There turned out to be a leak in the living room that caused water damage in many of the books on the shelves to either side of the fireplace, which is where we always kept the rare books, the first editions, the out-of-print oddities. I'm doing triage and then calling the Northeast Documents Conservation Center. (This was the recent development that wasn't really good.)
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Insured, I hope?
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Pffft. Who insures?
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That was a tone of morbid sarcasm. These are the books of my parents' collection, many of them handed down from my grandparents or great-grandparents. They are not in my ownership and I am very annoyed.
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