Opening Night

 May 28, 2024

Slept ten hours. Woke with most of the edema drained out of my legs. A new day.

Wandered to the opera house to get a ticket for tomorrow night’s La Traviata.  Sold out. Friday sold out too. I charmed the ticket lady into putting me at the head of the waiting list, and I was having tea in the art museum next door when she phoned and had a cancellation for me, Orchestra F, for sight-line reasons the first row of seating. Sometimes you see the hand of God moving. The tomato basil soup in the museum was memorable, subtle, delicious. Took full lunch at a health food store terrace, and, again, it was terrible, 3 selected salads with each ingredient tasting exactly the same, except for varying densities of curry powder. Ireland is not a gourmet’s destination.

It is said that Irish men are the homeliest in Europe, and that is true. They’re raw-boned and goofy. That is part of their charm. 

J messages to say that M has died. He figured large in my life in Syracuse, and once said in the hall of the Hall of Languages, “I love you, David.,” one of few such declarations that I did not flavor with irony. He had success written on every feature. I lost track of him and thought he was living the stylish life in LA, where he was the last I heard from him. His health failed, and after a long illness he died in New Jersey. I’d have written it differently had I been in charge of the story. 

Foot substantially improved.

Almost midnight: Opening night at the Cork Art Theater a colossal success, personal and institutional. The ten short plays had only one clunker among them, and most of them were nourishing or (and) hilarious. Alfie and Greta was a smash, people roaring with laughter. I was very, very happy. In terms of efficiency and elegance of expression, the best of the lot. Met the sweet young cast afterwards. Compared to Irish actors, even amateur ones, most American actors seem to beg just a little for forgiveness or indulgence: “remember, I’m a volunteer!” I never saw an evening of one acts in the US that didn’t have some cringe-worthy performances, some (or mostly) cringe-worthy plays. Not here, not tonight. Lovely.

Noticed that I glide with assurance and confidence through the night streets of Cork. Most of my adventures in the past must have been nocturnal.

Noticed that I went fast on the way home from the theater, my wind solid, almost all the pain gone from my foot, like old bold times. During the last few blocks of my journey, I had the streets entirely to myself. A little creepy. If I drop down to the river there would be more people, though a longer way.