Grey clouds scudding across the top of the sky, with white ones streaming east below, and the occasional patch of blue. Suddenly there's a burst of white sunlight from the south. The daytime skies out here are constantly in motion; at night, they tend to calm down, and either be overcast, or still and full of bright bright stars and planets.
Sunday, I got up, reset the clocks that needed resetting, saw Soren off to his niece's volleyball game (her team got creamed, I gather), and then took two buses down to Burien. A different bus from downtown this time, as an experiment, so a different route: I now know where several bars and stores I've read about are... well, at least one bus that passes them.
The Who's Tommy was better than I expected. The plot is still somewhat thin and full of holes (though fewer than the movie), but the company (Burien Little Theatre) was quite competent, and did really well with minimal props. One effect I particularly liked in the first act was having three doors in frames on wheels: when Tommy was being examined by doctors, they would push him through a door, then close it in his parents' faces, and spin the doors around them. For anyone who's dealt with a loved one in hospitals in that sort of way, it's really evocative.
One minor quibble: the young man playing the adult Tommy had a weird physical affectation, one that I've seen before in actors: not quite jazz hands, but very evocative of them. How to describe? Upper arms never more than four inches away from waist, so all motion conveyed with forearms and hands splayed. (Think of the white gloves in "Magic to Do," but with a body attached.) Why do directors do/allow that?
After the show, I wandered over to CC's Lounge, where I stood at the piano and sang with the player at times, and danced with several women; from there, I headed back north to Changes, where I did karaoke until I started falling asleep.
Yesterday was more or less recovery for Soren and me, while Jane went out. Writing, job-hunting, puttering, and contemplating the inability of most Lord of the Rings fanfic writers to get the tone right. Today threatens to be a bad weather day (though right now it's light), so domesticity might be in order.
Sunday, I got up, reset the clocks that needed resetting, saw Soren off to his niece's volleyball game (her team got creamed, I gather), and then took two buses down to Burien. A different bus from downtown this time, as an experiment, so a different route: I now know where several bars and stores I've read about are... well, at least one bus that passes them.
The Who's Tommy was better than I expected. The plot is still somewhat thin and full of holes (though fewer than the movie), but the company (Burien Little Theatre) was quite competent, and did really well with minimal props. One effect I particularly liked in the first act was having three doors in frames on wheels: when Tommy was being examined by doctors, they would push him through a door, then close it in his parents' faces, and spin the doors around them. For anyone who's dealt with a loved one in hospitals in that sort of way, it's really evocative.
One minor quibble: the young man playing the adult Tommy had a weird physical affectation, one that I've seen before in actors: not quite jazz hands, but very evocative of them. How to describe? Upper arms never more than four inches away from waist, so all motion conveyed with forearms and hands splayed. (Think of the white gloves in "Magic to Do," but with a body attached.) Why do directors do/allow that?
After the show, I wandered over to CC's Lounge, where I stood at the piano and sang with the player at times, and danced with several women; from there, I headed back north to Changes, where I did karaoke until I started falling asleep.
Yesterday was more or less recovery for Soren and me, while Jane went out. Writing, job-hunting, puttering, and contemplating the inability of most Lord of the Rings fanfic writers to get the tone right. Today threatens to be a bad weather day (though right now it's light), so domesticity might be in order.