Dikete pedose, dikete tromera, somata, Maenades!
This evening there was a farewell party for a classmate who’s moving out to SF. All that delicious sourdough couldn’t happen to a nicer person. :)
Yawn. Rachel posted about the past week, so I should get my butt in gear and do my own, much chattier version. (She has mastered the art of brevity. I, as you may observe, have not.)
Ahem. Right. Before I start on my own Adventures Recap, though, I want to note that I should really not watch Orthros no Inu right before bed, because it gives me really weird dreams. The kind where I body-switch five times and infiltrate three-story secret junior ninja training facilities via the back stairs bathrooms (both men’s and women’s, in case you were wondering. Because of the body-switching). Yeah, I don’t get it either.
In other drama news, Buzzer Beat is apparently having an inter-episode kiss battle. No, seriously. Episode 7 pretty much pwns THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE of jdrama makeouts. O_O (It's a very small universe, but still.)
I think I’m at the point in my drama-watching career when I need to start paying attention to screenwriters. I’ve been thinking for a while that what Buzzer Beat does really well is depict people at very specific points in their lives, and have those life places underlie all the relationship dynamics. Screenwriter Omori Mika also wrote Kimi wa Petto, another drama with fascinating interpersonal relationships specifically influenced by where the characters are in their lives and careers. (I also happen to think it’s a cracktastic commentary on relationship patterns and societal discomfort with evolving gender roles.)
She also wrote the screenplay for My Boss, My Hero, which I can’t really comment on in a logical fashion except to note that its entire premise is that Makio can’t be allowed to progress to one stage of life without going back and completing another stage.
...
Today I watched about half of Love Shuffle and I don’t even know why. Oh wait, that would be because of Matsuda Shota, the no-nonsense heroine, and flagrant misuse of Freud’s ideas about eros and thanatos. XD Also, Tamaki Hiroshi really, really needs to eat a sandwich. Or two. Or fifty. He’s much prettier when he doesn’t look like a SKELETON. Dude, I get that he’s got great bone structure. I just don’t need to see the ACTUAL BONES, THANK YOU. D:
...
Oh right, this was going to be about Adventures in New York.
Last week I took the bus in to the city for an astonishing $1.50, which was great. On the minus side, the passengers were forced to listen to (and watch) Happy Feet for the entire ride.
The excellent a4yroldfaerie met me uptown and we had awesome pizza and black cherry sodas before heading further up to her place, where everyone was absolutely lovely to me. Her cat promptly decided I was fascinating and new. I happily petted the cat and sat limply in front of the beautiful, beautiful air conditioning. And then we made quiche. Nothing burst into flames this time, but I was most happy with the experience nonetheless. (I was allowed to beat the eggs and wield the pointy cheese-cutting knife. Yeah, my joy in cooking is kind of predictable.)
We awoke in the predawn hours, hauled our stuff over to 81st Street, collected people, and proceeded to camp out for hours and hours to get free tickets for Shakespeare in the Park’s production of The Bacchae. Some of you will probably remember that I was actually in The Bacchae a few years ago. The experience was memorable not only for my lingering affection for the play and tendency to suddenly intone bits of it in Greek, but also for my then-nascent addiction to chai.
Tickets obtained, we crashed for a few hours, ordered Thai, and headed back to the park. The production was really, really good. The music helped a lot-- originally it was musical, of course, and I think that went a long way toward making it accessible. I would personally have cut some of the long choral passages about the beauties of such-and-such fields, but in general having the chorus be an actual chorus worked really well. Dionysus was insolent and hilarious and a little crazy, as he should be, and had perfect Dionysus hair. Well, obviously I don’t know if the flowing curls were perfumed and dripping with oil, but they flowed very nicely.
The production notes were very clear on what an uncomfortable play The Bacchae is. And it IS uncomfortable. It has comic bits that work toward and culminate in tragedy. It has dancing and songs about idyllic fields and innuendo and cross-dressing and hideous, hideous gore. It has a king who is trying to keep his damn city-state functioning, versus a god who is in the right because he is a god, and for whom functioning city-states are completely beside the point.
I kept trying to remember what Nietzsche said about it, and could only remember that it was the only Euripides play he liked, and he didn’t just like it, he loved it.
I was delighted to discover that the translation they used was the same one I’m familiar with. I honestly got chills when the chorus started in on “From the mountains I have come.” And “It is finished” is much more elegant than “Thus have these things turned out” (my own version) for toiond’ apebe tode pragma. (Please pardon the accent fail; I’m functionally font illiterate and moreover working from memory here).
We finished up the evening, as one does, with very elegant desserts and very loud Beatles music. Delicious. ♥
I’ll leave the rest of the week for another time because I am sleepy and have packing to do. My bed, such as it is, is becoming more comfortable by the minute. *snuggles* Sweet dreams to me. (I do hope there is no body-switching tonight...)
Yawn. Rachel posted about the past week, so I should get my butt in gear and do my own, much chattier version. (She has mastered the art of brevity. I, as you may observe, have not.)
Ahem. Right. Before I start on my own Adventures Recap, though, I want to note that I should really not watch Orthros no Inu right before bed, because it gives me really weird dreams. The kind where I body-switch five times and infiltrate three-story secret junior ninja training facilities via the back stairs bathrooms (both men’s and women’s, in case you were wondering. Because of the body-switching). Yeah, I don’t get it either.
In other drama news, Buzzer Beat is apparently having an inter-episode kiss battle. No, seriously. Episode 7 pretty much pwns THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE of jdrama makeouts. O_O (It's a very small universe, but still.)
I think I’m at the point in my drama-watching career when I need to start paying attention to screenwriters. I’ve been thinking for a while that what Buzzer Beat does really well is depict people at very specific points in their lives, and have those life places underlie all the relationship dynamics. Screenwriter Omori Mika also wrote Kimi wa Petto, another drama with fascinating interpersonal relationships specifically influenced by where the characters are in their lives and careers. (I also happen to think it’s a cracktastic commentary on relationship patterns and societal discomfort with evolving gender roles.)
She also wrote the screenplay for My Boss, My Hero, which I can’t really comment on in a logical fashion except to note that its entire premise is that Makio can’t be allowed to progress to one stage of life without going back and completing another stage.
...
Today I watched about half of Love Shuffle and I don’t even know why. Oh wait, that would be because of Matsuda Shota, the no-nonsense heroine, and flagrant misuse of Freud’s ideas about eros and thanatos. XD Also, Tamaki Hiroshi really, really needs to eat a sandwich. Or two. Or fifty. He’s much prettier when he doesn’t look like a SKELETON. Dude, I get that he’s got great bone structure. I just don’t need to see the ACTUAL BONES, THANK YOU. D:
...
Oh right, this was going to be about Adventures in New York.
Last week I took the bus in to the city for an astonishing $1.50, which was great. On the minus side, the passengers were forced to listen to (and watch) Happy Feet for the entire ride.
The excellent a4yroldfaerie met me uptown and we had awesome pizza and black cherry sodas before heading further up to her place, where everyone was absolutely lovely to me. Her cat promptly decided I was fascinating and new. I happily petted the cat and sat limply in front of the beautiful, beautiful air conditioning. And then we made quiche. Nothing burst into flames this time, but I was most happy with the experience nonetheless. (I was allowed to beat the eggs and wield the pointy cheese-cutting knife. Yeah, my joy in cooking is kind of predictable.)
We awoke in the predawn hours, hauled our stuff over to 81st Street, collected people, and proceeded to camp out for hours and hours to get free tickets for Shakespeare in the Park’s production of The Bacchae. Some of you will probably remember that I was actually in The Bacchae a few years ago. The experience was memorable not only for my lingering affection for the play and tendency to suddenly intone bits of it in Greek, but also for my then-nascent addiction to chai.
Tickets obtained, we crashed for a few hours, ordered Thai, and headed back to the park. The production was really, really good. The music helped a lot-- originally it was musical, of course, and I think that went a long way toward making it accessible. I would personally have cut some of the long choral passages about the beauties of such-and-such fields, but in general having the chorus be an actual chorus worked really well. Dionysus was insolent and hilarious and a little crazy, as he should be, and had perfect Dionysus hair. Well, obviously I don’t know if the flowing curls were perfumed and dripping with oil, but they flowed very nicely.
The production notes were very clear on what an uncomfortable play The Bacchae is. And it IS uncomfortable. It has comic bits that work toward and culminate in tragedy. It has dancing and songs about idyllic fields and innuendo and cross-dressing and hideous, hideous gore. It has a king who is trying to keep his damn city-state functioning, versus a god who is in the right because he is a god, and for whom functioning city-states are completely beside the point.
I kept trying to remember what Nietzsche said about it, and could only remember that it was the only Euripides play he liked, and he didn’t just like it, he loved it.
I was delighted to discover that the translation they used was the same one I’m familiar with. I honestly got chills when the chorus started in on “From the mountains I have come.” And “It is finished” is much more elegant than “Thus have these things turned out” (my own version) for toiond’ apebe tode pragma. (Please pardon the accent fail; I’m functionally font illiterate and moreover working from memory here).
We finished up the evening, as one does, with very elegant desserts and very loud Beatles music. Delicious. ♥
I’ll leave the rest of the week for another time because I am sleepy and have packing to do. My bed, such as it is, is becoming more comfortable by the minute. *snuggles* Sweet dreams to me. (I do hope there is no body-switching tonight...)