Sooooo...bad mood...isn't over, but I've noticed it has a certain sinus tendency. For a week it's there and I want to kick someone hard, for another it's not there and I can laugh at the world and how bloody silly it is...perhaps I've reached the middle-age crisis? Out of this we can deduce a simple equation:
=
In any case, I went to see Terry Pratchett's and Stephen Briggs' play Maskerade. Despite having to sit further to the back, not in the front rows as I would have liked ( I mean, A MONTH ahead the place was practically sold out, my dad got us five from the nine remaining tickets!), it was still something so incredible... I mean, imagine this scene:
In the reeds, a swan was dying. Or was due to die.
There was, however, an unforeseen snag.
Death sat down on the bank.
NOW LOOK, he said, I KNOW HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO GO. SWANS SING JUST ONCE, BEAUTIFULLY, BEFORE THEY DIE. THAT'S WHERE THE WORD 'SWANSONG' ORIGINATES. IT IS VERY MOVING. NOW, LET US TRY THIS AGAIN...
He produced a tuning fork from the shadowy recesses of his robe and twanged it on the side of his scythe.
THERE'S YOUR NOTE...
'Uh-uh,' said the swan, shaking its head.
WHY MAKE IT DIFFICULT?
'I like it here,' said the swan.
THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
'Did you know I can break a man's arm with a blow of my wing?'
HOW ABOUT IF I GET YOU STARTED? DO YOU KNOW 'MOONLIGHT BAY'?
'That's no more than a barbershop ditty! I happen to be a swan!'
'LITTLE BROWN JUG'? Death cleared his throat. HA HA HA, HEE HEE HEE, LITTLE-
'That's a song?' The swan hissed angrily and swayed from one crabbed foot to the other. 'I don't know who you are, sirrah, but where
I come from we've got better taste in music.'
REALLY? WOULD YOU CARE TO SHOW ME AN EXAMPLE?
'Uh-uh!'
DAMN.
'Thought you'd got me there, didn't you,' said the swan. 'Thought you'd tricked me, eh? Though I might unthinkingly give you a couple of bars of the Pedlar's Song from
Lohenshaak, eh?'
I DON'T KNOW THAT ONE.
The swan took a deep, laboured breath.
'That's the one that goes "
Schneide meinen eigenen Hals-" '
THANK
YOU, said Death. The scythe moved.
'Bugger!'
A moment later the swan stepped out of its body and ruffled its fresh but slightly transparent wings.
'Now what?' it said.
THAT'S UP TO YOU. IT'S ALWAYS UP TO YOU.
I mean, even this little almost insignificant scene was included. Granted, the play was three and a half hours long, but it was three and a half hours full of absolute bliss and
moments. The actors were PERFECT. So was the translation, by the way. Usually I'm not a big fan of Czech translations, but the person who translates Pratchett for the Czech Rep. is a genius. I love his translations as much as the original, which is something to say, considering I hate the Czech language...okay, dislike is a better word
The stage was set excellently as well. I mean, it wasn't anything fancy, like changing scenery for every scene, it was one set fro the whole play, and slightly different decorations and stuff to help it, but the actors made up for it so well, it was almost unnoticeable. One thing from the décor was very memorable though: because it was a play that took place in an opera-house, they had some light-projections that mimicked a bog ole chandelier (it even SWUNG
) and the frilly baroque decorations of the stalls and gods and boxes and all those fancy places...and oh my goodness...there were about ten curtain-calls for the actors (if that's what you call it when the audience refuses to stop applauding and you have to go back and bow again like an idiot) and they even performed one of their 'opera' songs again, which was spectacular...again
What ruined my mood right on the next day was the Billy Talent concert I attended. If I take it strictly musically, it was great. It disappointed me, however, how short it was. I mean, two support bands and then in come Billy Talent and they play as if they were simply a support band too...oh well, otherwise, they were great. What really pissed me off were the 'fans', though. Take advice from me. Never EVER go to a concert in the Czech rep. The people start acting like Neanderthals...and all the tall people will stand in front to you, so you see nuffin'....and they 'sing' along, so you hear almost nuffin' as well... not to mention, those blaggards hopped around and pushed one another in a very primal imitation of a dance at every faster song, resulting in me and a lot of other people having crushed feet and other things. Idiots...
As for the perfection...it happened just an hour ago. I was waitin for my bus, when i saw an absolutely PERFECT man on the stop. Tall, long brown hair, beautiful neck, handsome face...I mean, I see cute/handsome guys almost anywhere I go (because I'm crazy like that), but this, ladies and gentlemen, this was even more perfect than Eikka Toppinen, which, coming from me, is saying a LOT. He even got out at the same stop as me
Oh, I do hope I see him again! That would be such a horrible waste!
Allright, since I have this opportunity, I'll show ye some of the artwork I really like..
Of concerts, plays and perfection + features 
Not Impressed
Hopeless
Sentimental
. It's about a gay teenager's life through his sixteenth year, and lit's not some sort of cliche where the poor boy is all confused and stuff. He's exactly like every other teengae guy, except that what gets him hot and bothered aren't girls, but guys 
. One of the nice parts is that there's really no censure in the book, as in even sexual scenes are there allright, but it's nothing disgustingly explicit or naturalistic or anything, it's just what Jaz's fellings on it all are. I really recommend it, even if for the fact that after this you can say " Yeah, compared to this, my family's absolutely perfect".
Sarcastic
Artistic
