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muckefuckI sort of lost my weekend due to some hideous bug or other I seemed to have picked up on Friday night. By Saturday morning, I was feeling all oogie, but I put it down to a combination of the previous night's dinner not sitting well and that morning's breakfast being interrupted twenty times in order to keep the workmen on task. But by Saturday afternoon, it was clear something else was up and by that evening I apparently looked and sounded worse than death warmed over.
Fortunately, I recovered in time to make it to Les pêcheurs de perles (which gets rather a bad rap due to a decidely third-rate libretto) tonight. Actually, I was probably over the stomach bug (or whatever it is--I had enough raw food on Thursday and Friday that I'm ruling that out) by Sunday evening, but I needed another day to recover from the after effects of fasting and sleeping poorly. I ended up spending most of it in bed reading Lovecraft, which was just the ticket for a sticky overcast day when enough pale yellow ash leaves had accumulated on the roads to sound like puddles of water under the tyres of passing autos.
Bizarrely, it was even more oppressive after we left the opera house than when we went in, at least in the Loop. I don't know if the temperature dropped appreciably in an hour or if it's just that much cooler up here on the northern border, but I had a comfortable breeze for my stroll back home along Arthur avenue. A full moon and a huge piece of plastic flapping against the wall of a rising residential tower set the mood which was augmented by the ghostly brilliance of locust trees at the height of their colour. I can't tell if they're really richer in hue this year than others or if that's just the regret of not being at my old place to see them ringing my windows speaking.
Fortunately, I recovered in time to make it to Les pêcheurs de perles (which gets rather a bad rap due to a decidely third-rate libretto) tonight. Actually, I was probably over the stomach bug (or whatever it is--I had enough raw food on Thursday and Friday that I'm ruling that out) by Sunday evening, but I needed another day to recover from the after effects of fasting and sleeping poorly. I ended up spending most of it in bed reading Lovecraft, which was just the ticket for a sticky overcast day when enough pale yellow ash leaves had accumulated on the roads to sound like puddles of water under the tyres of passing autos.
Bizarrely, it was even more oppressive after we left the opera house than when we went in, at least in the Loop. I don't know if the temperature dropped appreciably in an hour or if it's just that much cooler up here on the northern border, but I had a comfortable breeze for my stroll back home along Arthur avenue. A full moon and a huge piece of plastic flapping against the wall of a rising residential tower set the mood which was augmented by the ghostly brilliance of locust trees at the height of their colour. I can't tell if they're really richer in hue this year than others or if that's just the regret of not being at my old place to see them ringing my windows speaking.
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