We went to the Gaiety Theatre to see "Just a Kiss". A rotten musical play, with a terrible chorus, and not enough music. Ranalow, the chief singer and a fine singer, had only one song to sing. happily he is also a fine actor (though untutored).It all seemed to me to be a bit sad. Generations of actors and actresses (in that same theatre, or at one on the same site) always talking and singing of love and fornication and kisses and drink, and always in a piffling childish way.
Later - I wrote the above about two hours ago,and as I read it now it comes home to me how dissatisfied I am and how old I feel. There is nothing really amiss with "Just a Kiss". The audience seemed to love it. The problem is in myself. The world seems a flat, grey, uninteresting place and I wonder why I bother to get out of bed every morning. Well, in fact I know why - because I need to make more money to sustain my existence of constant conspicuous consumption! I look back to my time in London thirty years ago. Life seemed to be a great adventure, and joyful, though I had only a small circle of friends, and very little money. And again in Paris, though I was better known, I had time for myself and a genuine pleasure in work. Even just a few years ago, after Marguerite and I separated, I felt alive and vigorous. Enough of the moaning! The only person to blame is me, and the only person who can change things is me! What do I declare in my self-help books? Each new day life begins afresh - carpe diem.
No comments:
Post a Comment