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Friday September 8, 2000 "Je suis un galérien de plume et d'encre" "I am a galley slave to pen and ink." Honoré de Balzac, Lettres
for sale on ebay
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butterfly Work is a swirl of meetings. From the very high level to the very low level. And back. Things are going in a direction that I generally approve of on all fronts. I'm not sure I had any influence at any level. But I will surely take credit and am, therefore, delighted. ¸¸¸ I continue flitting in the social part of my day. We are invited to a reception before Ballet Austin's performance of 'Butterfly.' The reception is a gathering of the usual suspects. Some great hors d'oeuvres and wine. Not your usual wine for the usual suspects before a performance. ¸¸¸
In spite of the wine, the week and my propensity for snoozing during performances, even those I'm engaged with, I am alert and awake to the telling of a story I know well. The costumes, the sets, the dance, the acting. All seem compelling. The (inevitable) end is bizarre. At first I have issues with the use of the dance. ("Too much," I'm thinking, "Just do it and end it.") But after seeing it I decide it works. ¸¸¸
The Four Seasons bar is crowded. But not as crowded as I normally expect on UT game weekend. Somehow the back tables are an oasis of peace. But home and bed feels good. Ah.... ¸¸¸ |
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