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Now as I look around, it’s mighty plain to see / This world is such a great and a funny place to be; Oh, the gamblin’ man is rich an’ the workin’ man is poor / And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
Woody Guthrie

Marisa came to visit and this morning I was up early to take her to the train station after a weekend of revelry. As we stood in Zeitgeist waiting for our tea and coffee she pointed up, and I listened; the cafe speakers were playing an almost inaudible version of I Ain’t Got No Home, a song we used to perform back in Chorus days.

Do you want to sing? I asked.

She laughed and shook her head. I’m too tired!

We’re probably the most reticent of all the Chorus members, but if a few others (Stevie, Mina, or Erin, for instance) had been around it is likely the cafe would have been regaled with an impromptu performance they might not have appreciated on what looked like a hungover Sunday morning.

The two of us were exhausted and running on perhaps three hours of sleep because last night we went to the opera to see Jeffrey singing in The Flying Dutchman – an excellent show. Our seats were great, center front row dress circle, a special treat to celebrate her birthday and seven years of friendship.

Marisa loved the music, and I tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that I was allergic to something or someone nearby, sneezing as discretely as possible. At the second intermission we met Byron for drinks then tracked down the smokers outside.

I asked Jody what he thought about the work, other than the anti-semitism of the composer, and he quite sensibly replied that he didn’t like the love story because She spurned the human person who loved her in favor of the creepy ghost pirate.

This pretty much sums up what I thought while watching. It is easy to fall in love with a concept, portrait, ballad, story – an abstract representation of another. It is far more difficult to take care of the people right in front of you, and of course more rewarding in the long run. Love may be ephemeral or it might last, but it is an emotion, not an action. Relationships are complicated and messy and if they are sustainable require commitment, attention, and work.

Give me Erik the Hunter over the Flying Dutchman any day.

Standing around on the sidewalk with friends old and new, I was thankful once again for the honor and privilege of knowing these people. Walking back toward the theatre Jody playfully smacked me in the head with his program. I blinked in astonishment and then said brightly Oh look – I didn’t even have a flashback!

Not that anyone should feel invited to repeat the experiment. Later we went to the Whiskey Bar for a Himsa record preview party, where I said goodbye to BP probably for the last time this summer, abandoning Byron to the vicissitudes of the metal kids and running away to the Bus Stop with Marisa.

We talked and laughed for hours until closing, when it was time for the (probably last ever) nacho party at Jeffrey’s bachelor pad. Sophie moves in this week – times are changing – and it was genius to stay up too late with dear people I will miss when I leave:

Shopping for beer in opera clothes: