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Monday, 16 February 2004

Attack of the Fifty Foot Mindflab

I just experienced a Vanessa Mindflab. Like a Vulcan Mindmeld, but crap.
I walked out of my flat, intending to walk across the drive to the car, and go to the Internet Palace at Crystal Cafe, when Derby rang up. She's visiting London later in the week, and we wanted to plan some shows - I'm despereate to see the Balanchine triple bill at the Royal Opera House on Thursday, but am more in the market for the #4 tickets than the #70 ones, so I figure that one matinee is my only chance.

I want to see Balanchine's work because I've been brooding on greatness lately. Not in a Caesar way, I mean other people's greatness.
There's that thing of when you describe an artist's work as 'great' and usually you mean for this decade, or if you're lucky, great in the context of the century.
There's very few people you'd call great in the classical sense of the word - great like Da Vinci, great like Newton, great like Michelangelo or Shakespeare - certainly in the last century.
(I was surprised to find that some people don't consider Picasso to be great on the Michelangelo scale, actually, but there you go, these things are subjective for a few hundred years at least, aren't they?)
So anyway, Balanchine died in the eighties and was fabled to be one of the greatest choreographers that lived ... so a triple bill of his work, at the ROH as an added plus, is irresistible - much in the same way as when you attend university, you're culturally obligated to go to at least one lecture by whomever that instition's world beatingly great mind of the moment is - whether you understand quantum physics or not. Culcha, innit? How could I have lived in the twentieth century and not see Balanchine's choreography?
I digress.

Given that the Thursday matinee is on at the same time I'd agreed to spend with Derby, some pussyfooting about was necessary to secure agreement. I mean, you never know if people actually like ballet, do you? I don't, so why should they?
Attack of the Vanessa Mindflab occurred at 6 pm, when the phone rang as I left the flat. I was midway through walking three feet to my car. At 6.20 I rang off, and the Mindflab ceased. I look around and find I'm on a British Rail train to Charing Cross.
How did that happen? Train tickets cost #4.70, my savings only pay the rent till April, and that's my Balanchine money gone. I'm not very good at living within reduced means, and if I'm going to start lapsing into fugue states where I wake up halfway to Wales, things can only get worse.

This page graced by sarsparilla at 1:58 PM GMT
Updated: Monday, 16 February 2004 2:05 PM GMT
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Monday, 16 February 2004 - 9:10 PM GMT

Name: Lettis

That's why mobile phones in cars are a danger. People say "eeh, what's wrong if it's handsfree? They may as well ban talking to your passengers, tchuh" but that ain't the case. I've found myself in phone-induced misdirections where I'm suddenly somewhere where I wasn't intending to be. It simply wouldn't happen if you were walking down the street with someone talking to them, I tells ya.

Monday, 16 February 2004 - 9:50 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Mmm, I was driving slowly down a residential street with enough room for three lanes and texting at the same time once, when a jeep hit me and smashed the wing mirror into smithereens in my face. That taught me that it takes away your peripheral vision fairly effectively.
Hey, have you bought your new house yet?
Dunno if you know my hotmail email address, but it's the only place I can get email at the moment - fancy coming out for a drink in covent Garden on Tuesday? My working email addy is along the lines of initials_surname@hotmail (but with my real stuff, of course... ehm, that doesn't really make so much sense, does it?)

Tuesday, 17 February 2004 - 12:05 AM GMT

Name: Lettis

It's all down to the solicitors now. The waiting's getting to me a bit. Tuesday - deffo, if you don't mean tomorrow cos I can't do tomorrow (looks at clock) - er, today. I'll mail you once I work out your address. Pip pip!

Tuesday, 17 February 2004 - 4:50 AM GMT

Name: Pauly D
Home Page:

I just have to say, it cracks me up when anyone uses Pounds instead of Dollars in posts. Hell, I know you're in England and that's the money you use, but it's just sorta funny. I mean, I don't even have the pounds symbol on my computer! Sucks for me, I know.

Say hey to Derby.

Tuesday, 17 February 2004 - 6:36 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

It gets worse - do you even know what the Euro symbol looks like?

Tuesday, 17 February 2004 - 6:37 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

If you know a decent solicitor, do let me know. Yes, I did mean today, but you already demurred by text. Ah well!

Tuesday, 17 February 2004 - 9:52 PM GMT

Name: Lettis

Oh - wait, wait, I know this one - you're going to be telling us how much you love our "cute" Briddish accents next, right?

Wednesday, 18 February 2004 - 6:07 AM GMT

Name: charlene
Home Page:

Love the word 'mindflab', which so perfectly describes large areas of my day. Agree Picasso is up there, so much, so many directions - brilliant. Willy the Shake? - hey I have had more fun in the vicar's pants - I thought Stoppards Shakespeare in Love was better written - blubbed and cheered like a schoolgirl. Cheers

Wednesday, 18 February 2004 - 2:39 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo - calumny! Stoppard! NoooooooooOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOooooo

Wednesday, 18 February 2004 - 2:40 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Whenever I talk to an American my accent goes about as Helena Bonham Carter as it could be, which is a little odd for a Lancastrian.

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