*cough* If this were a movie made before 1956, you’d know at this point in the story that I was going to die before the end. You know, that slight little cough that nobody notices, except you in the audience, and then makes perfect sense as I collapse in your arms and whisper “But darling, loving you from afar has been enough…” before dying of pneumonia, consumption, cacexia, or accute melancholia together with a guilt complex. *cough*
Thursday night I saw a magical version of Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen at the SF Opera, with Big Chris, Little Dave, and my big sister, Sue–sexy and very cleverly staged, and then woke early to join Mystery Bear for breakfast and my former teacher Larry Sultan’s The Valley series at SFMoMA. I’ve written about the images before, when a few were shown at Stephen Wirtz, but seeing them all together was quite exciting.
I went with Alex last night to the Giant’s game, not so much downing as felating three hot dogs, and Barry hit his 680th! The fireworks afterwards actually made me cry. Phenomenal. (Doo DOOOO do do do.)
Again, I run to Big Chrissy for solace and support. (And his dsl connection, since mine is down for the next few weeks.) I love him.