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My, what a busy week I've been having.

This is the set for the last, and best, of the three operas that make up il Trittico, Gianni Schicchi. The sets for the first two operas were simple, spare, and realistic, so when the curtain went up on the third, you can imagine how shocked I was. This is supposed to be a rich old man's bedroom. Note to designer: rich old men, especially sick rich old men, do not decorate with an eye on inducing seizures. I experienced real pain just from looking at this monstrosity. I had to down a honkful of aspirin just to get the headache to subside enough to let me drive home.
Apparently some people liked this ugly Goodwill sweater of a set. Those people are fools, and should be forced to raise my offspring as their own, completely unaware of the substitution until it's too late. Far, far too late.
- Monday night, the semi-staged reading of the Tempest with this humble one as Stephano, with
bigjohnsf in attendance;
- Tuesday night, il Trittico, Puccini's nifty Variety Pak of one-act operas at San Francisco Opera, sadly with no date but happily with a gets-Puccini conductor and a great cast, Racette, Podles, and a crowd of sexy, beefy bearded men (who through some odd confluence could all sing good);
- and Wednesday at Pac Bell Park (which I will be DAMNED if I ever call AT&T Park) with former housemat (typo but it stays in) Andrew, watching the home team dawdle lazily for 8 innings, raise the crowd's hopes and desires to a fever, and then dash all those emotions to the ground in one awkward second. Baseball is such a c**k-tease of a game.
This is the set for the last, and best, of the three operas that make up il Trittico, Gianni Schicchi. The sets for the first two operas were simple, spare, and realistic, so when the curtain went up on the third, you can imagine how shocked I was. This is supposed to be a rich old man's bedroom. Note to designer: rich old men, especially sick rich old men, do not decorate with an eye on inducing seizures. I experienced real pain just from looking at this monstrosity. I had to down a honkful of aspirin just to get the headache to subside enough to let me drive home.
Apparently some people liked this ugly Goodwill sweater of a set. Those people are fools, and should be forced to raise my offspring as their own, completely unaware of the substitution until it's too late. Far, far too late.