I saw the Gertrude Stein/Virgil Thompson opera The Mother of Us All last night, with Bob, Kathleen, and Carla. It was a great follow up to Carla’s play, Stein truly the mother of Carla’s sensibility, at least her step-mother. The opera is about the suffrage movement, with Susan B. Anthony as the central figure. The SF Opera put on a humdinger of a production, with much whimsy and humor, delightful word play, a great deal of homoeroticism thrown in here and there, and hilarious anti-male language, and everybody gets drunk at the end! Today I and Su-Chen went to see Mark Morris at Zellerbach, and were mildly entertained. His first dance was structured around the music of Bob Wills, and whimsically illustrated the songs, but we weren’t so thrilled with the other dances, which seemed to again just illustrate the beat of the music rather than extend it in any way. It was fun to see him dance one solo piece, set to Lou Harrison’s music, and comprised of movements taken from spanish dances, castanets and everything, his rotund body whirling dynamically around the stage.
The waiter with the kilt, the “nudist” belt, and pierced septum at Orphan Andy’s, in some Victorian twist of Castro restaurant etiquette, this morning addressed all questions and innuendo to Big Chrissy–“Would you like more water, sir?” “Too much meat for you, sir?”–while I sat there with my empty glass of water, quip-ready, just the Little Chrissy. Big Chris should ask for the menu without the prices next time.
So I’ve been sick for the past few days. A really yucky cold that has progressively become more and more uncomfortable. I don’t take to pain very well, or even slight discomfort. You can’t even pinch my nipples without getting a slap on the wrist.