I had a dream last night in which I kissed a girl who was surprised by how agreeable that was and so whose boyfriend I found myself. But it was a little more subtle than this, and I confess I'm a little proud of my dreaming self's psychological acuity. When I kissed her, she didn't just reciprocate; I felt with my lips that hers clenched in
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Though what it does remind me of is the general truth that the gay/straight dichotomy only exists in certain cultures such as ours. It's anachronistic, for instance, to call Michelangelo gay. I'd love to know more about this actually.
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As a side note, Melville's poem "After the Pleasure Party" (the Symposium) always reminds me of the Siegmund/Sieglinde meet-up, where the theme of renunciation comes back again as reaffirmation, recognition.
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Incidentally, I saw Das Rheingold under Barenboim in a concert performance in the Albert Hall as a prom. I queued for hours in sweltering heat in order to get a £5 standing ticket. For three and a half hours I stood, and I felt pretty hardcore till I looked around and saw men in their sixties standing alongside me, and men who I strongly suspect were going to be at the rest of the Ring concerts the subsequent nights. I was duly humbled.
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