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Dance the ghost with me
The short version, because I left my brain in bed somewhere last night.
Play: not my Platonic Dybbuk, mostly because of some of its translation choices, but absolutely worth the trip, especially for its final scene, Khonnon in his bridegroom's white lifting Leye in his arms, into the golden ghost-light, as dark-haired and slender in one embrace as twins or a trick with mirrors and their mouths annealing to one another as the rabbi cries out in despair—Too late!—and her grandmother rocks and mourns the black shawl that is the bride's discarded body, shadows of the world of illusion. The rest of the production could have been mediocre and I would still have been glad of that last image. Now I want to see the play in Yiddish.
Company: lovely. I should not let another five-odd years elapse before I see![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shirei_shibolim and terriqat. They took us for dinner at Zen Palate, where I ordered the Tapestry Embrace, which turned out not to be a Harlequin romance, but a delicious thing with seitan and mushrooms and zucchini and a teriyak-ish sauce. I got to watch two people from different friend groups bond over scribal traditions and Jen Taylor Friedman. I'm just kind of sorry we didn't have the time to sing.
Bus: the way down, unremarkable. I free-associated atfleurdelis28 and did not manage to nap, but I didn't expect to. The way back, oh, holy God. The engine was noisier than an MRI and jackhammered through the seats and the driver was self-evidently mental, because at one point we passed the Fung Wah Bus. At least we didn't catch on fire. But next time, maybe we should turn into millionaires and take the train.
But there should be a next time. Because this was pretty cool.
(New York City: I miss it.)
Play: not my Platonic Dybbuk, mostly because of some of its translation choices, but absolutely worth the trip, especially for its final scene, Khonnon in his bridegroom's white lifting Leye in his arms, into the golden ghost-light, as dark-haired and slender in one embrace as twins or a trick with mirrors and their mouths annealing to one another as the rabbi cries out in despair—Too late!—and her grandmother rocks and mourns the black shawl that is the bride's discarded body, shadows of the world of illusion. The rest of the production could have been mediocre and I would still have been glad of that last image. Now I want to see the play in Yiddish.
Company: lovely. I should not let another five-odd years elapse before I see
shirei_shibolim and terriqat. They took us for dinner at Zen Palate, where I ordered the Tapestry Embrace, which turned out not to be a Harlequin romance, but a delicious thing with seitan and mushrooms and zucchini and a teriyak-ish sauce. I got to watch two people from different friend groups bond over scribal traditions and Jen Taylor Friedman. I'm just kind of sorry we didn't have the time to sing.Bus: the way down, unremarkable. I free-associated at
fleurdelis28 and did not manage to nap, but I didn't expect to. The way back, oh, holy God. The engine was noisier than an MRI and jackhammered through the seats and the driver was self-evidently mental, because at one point we passed the Fung Wah Bus. At least we didn't catch on fire. But next time, maybe we should turn into millionaires and take the train.But there should be a next time. Because this was pretty cool.
(New York City: I miss it.)
no subject
Sorry to hear of the scary bus trip; I'm delighted that you safely got home again.
(New York City: I miss it.)
It's a place worthy of missing. I was in this afternoon--I usually wish I could stay longer.
no subject
It wasn't scary; it was agonizingly loud and probably unsafe.
I was in this afternoon--I usually wish I could stay longer.
I still have people there, which is good. I can take advantage of that.
no subject
Ah. The part about passing the Fung Wah bus sounded scary to me. I suppose I'm glad it was only probably unsafe.
I still have people there, which is good. I can take advantage of that.
That's good. I've an uncle in Brooklyn, and I'm sure I could kip on his couch or floor if I were stuck in the city, but I'd not wish to impose on him unless I had no other choice. It's only an hour and change by the train, and maybe forty-five minutes' drive to the station, so I usually just go in and return home when whatever I'm doing there is over.