Grass, memory and tragedy
10:30 p.m.
On the other hand, I tend to suffer at this time of year with a sort of depression. I’ve never really figured out why until just a moment ago as I was typing those words. The earth is renewed as the days get longer, snow melts, grass grows, snowdrops appear magically, followed by crocuses and daffodils and various other pretty flowers. Trees blossom, bees buzz, et cetera, et cetera, and I am not renewed. In fact, I keep getting older, which sucks.
In the parking lot I was suddenly overcome with emotion and had to wait a moment before I could get out of the car and go about my shopping. I envy people who can compartmentalize their feelings, shelve those memories which bring on strong reactions and get on with their daily lives without being constantly reminded of those things that cause them pain or longing or joy. There are just too many memories fraught with emotion for me that spring up and attack my composure. Sort of like these goddamned hot flashes.
Anyway, I saw the student production of Julius Caesar tonight. Some of it was excellent. The student who played Brutus was one of those, as were others in the cast. But I was struck with how many of them seemed to have speech impediments. The fellow in the title role was almost unintelligible. Several of the male parts were played by women, as Shakespeare only really had two female characters in the play, Brutus’ and Caesar’s wives. Marc Antony was female in this case, as were several of the conspirators. She was good, but often I couldn’t hear or understand her. It didn’t help that the audience faced three sides of the stage, which meant the actors often had their backs to it. Still, for a student production, and for a Shakespearean tragedy, it was pretty good.
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