Butter is where it all converges

Poor little cupcake, sweet little cupcake...
Poor little Buttercup, sweet little Buttercup!! or do I perhaps mean, Butterfly, silly little butterfly? And a little aside here - no more flutterbyes, but still much fluttering of the by the byes...

Oh, I can tell, there's going to be good nonsense tonight. It's a potent mix of butter ingested, codeine taken, sugar drunk by the caseload, and a double dose of sleep deprivation. 




Little butterfly, little butterfly sip the ambrosia not the lagrima
So there I was, torturing myself with the last act of Butterfly where she sings and sings about the portents of American Robins what only come every four years which means that America only has Spring every four years much like people who're born on the 29th of February. Then with a little kiss to the dagger, (unlike Tosca who stabs Scarpia with her dagger, then sings about this being kiss of Tosca (Take that Scarpia!)) whispers something about "Death with honour is better than life with dishonour" before well, to put it bluntly, and I'll leave it to your imagination except to guide it a little bit - just a little - with the words "sharp blade and John Hurt in the Alien".

Of the onion family if not exactly onions...
It was very traumatic and sad-making. Poor, silly little butterfly, but then again I suppose that she was doing only what she knew. Anyway, I had to brush away the tears - oh damn those onions - and put on the Barber of Seville and indulge in some sublime silliness when a bunch of adults who should know better sneak around trying things on, and getting into high jinks. Oh goodness, the misunderstandings that abound, and the fake drunken lurching and wordplay, set to such beautifully effervescent music. The quartets and quintets are gorgeous. Been a while since I've listened to this and it brings back the words of Dr. PP, who used to likened the overture to getting up on a sunny morning with nothing to do, and a hot, good cup of coffee on the stove. I wonder what's happened to Dr. PP these days.

Cobalt is as cobalt is, and blue is not always blue
Friday night was dark as in Cobalt Blue Dark and I must remember what happened because there was a special feeling of rightness and inevitability about what transpired. Walking out thinking that it was time to go home, and then I did what CP says I'm good at - which is to make a decision (if he only knew the analysis paralysis I sometimes go through), commit to it, and e.x.e.c.u.t.e on it - and turned left (okay so we turned right first but quickly realised our mistake) and entered the pub and ticked one thing off someone's list of things to do, and then we stayed till 2am or thereabouts being silly and generally letting loose as only people who know each other well can let loose - i.e., in full confidence that nothing would be held against you. 


Imagine the heart where the back is,
and you get the idea.
Saturday started out as a bit of a blur when I woke up and realised that I couldn't get out of bed because of the pain in my back that was triggered the night before by some stupid movement. It's an annual occurrence and i suppose this will remind me, once again, to be careful with my posture and movements. But I'm still not doing ballet, Dr. C. But copious amounts of advil (or tylenol, I'm not too fussy), and heat packs and I sallied forth to an evening at J's (then N's, then the tunnel bar on Davie). Basically, it was another late night and I got back home late again, but I think the two evenings out were much needed after a week of ups and downs, flip-flops, toing and froing, hereing and thereing, heat and cooling, and tempers almost lost and idiots almost decapitated. 





But one must remember the good that happens mustn't one? Yes, one must. 

The freshness of Nature's lagrima
So even though the week started with lagrima on the yoga mats - honestly I couldn't help it, it was a dark, bitter and dispiriting day, and proceeded through more than a few bouts of suppressed anger that I thankfully managed to conquer by mentally saying 'brush' to put a smile on my face, and then a few wallows in the doldrums of depression that life wasn't simple (well, if life was simple, I'd be bored, RP says, but I'm not so sure. I could do with a bit of boredom) and ended up with a knackered back that is now hooked up to a heating pad, there were also good things that happened. The Cobalt was one. The other was my personal e-stock market which although filled with as many valleys as hills, does show that the hills are becoming higher and higher. Last of all, I'm glad I bore (different kind of bore) witness to what I saw after knowing what I know. And that's good. So the executive summary - Progress is made one way or another, and things evolve, and the overall direction is into positive territory. Now, I must write an e-mail to RP, get that LOI out, eat my freshly made pasta sauce, and then go to sleep with more advil to prepare for the freezing of those damn muscles what pinch the nerve what makes it spasm (poor thing) and ultimately what makes me not able to stand up after a lovely brunch at Havana's.