My friend Lola works for the Met and got us tickets to see Norma on Friday night. It was a completely surreal experience, I had never been to the Opera before. Let alone been backstage. Let alone been in the 10th row of orchestra seats. Hasmik Papian was gorgeous in the title role, and despite the mixed reviews, I was completely enthralled (the pharmaceuticals we ate beforehand to help with out respective headaches certainly helped). Thinking a lot about Norma, the idea of cultural piety and how we use it to justify our broken hearts. Like, take our own very private grieving and transpose it into warfare. What gods am I summoning these days? When we're heartbroken, do we think about mercy? Or do we think about blood being spilled? I generally think first about blood, then about mercy. Now I'm trying to think of neither. Just: not think about it. Piety can, I guess, pay off, but it takes a long time. Lola and I had fancy margaritas after the show, and I went home to watch television and lounge around with my room mate Jennifer.
Saturday, Bobo and I went to the open studios in Long Island City. I saw some interesting work but want to talk about it later. I feel very strange today.
Think I'm getting a cold.