Wherefore the Fuck Art Thou, Globe Theatre?

I kinda/sorta/quasi/pseudo got around by myself today! Well, okay, it was with somebody else's directions, but I made it there without screwing up. If not screwing up other people's work must be my legacy in life, I'm okay with it-- many others have done worse (I'm looking at you, Lars Ulrich).

Anyways, today we were to see the Globe Theatre. I was running late and unable to leave with the group, for reasons I'll mention later (it involves one ball point pen, two appendicectomies, and three pumas). I needed a shower for the general betterment of humanity, so I just grabbed directions and told the group I'd meet them there. Then, naturally, I realized I forgot something the second I reached the lobby, and had to climb up and down five flights of stairs again, and the shower was rendered moot. I really like saying, thinking, and typing the word "moot."

The Globe Theatre was amazing-- it's really not all that historical anymore, because the God damn Puritans closed all theatres in the 1600s and it was leveled for tenement housing or some such nonsense. But it's still damn cool. Though I obviously respect his brilliance, I have never been the biggest Shakespeare fan in my life (if you haven't read him, here's a brief synopsis-- "gobbledygook, gobbledygook, everybody dies"), but I really discovered a new respect for him today. The way they prepared for plays back then would probably bore most of you, so I'll wait until we're drunk together and you can't get away. But it was grueling, and the way his writing sublty helps his actors really made me respect the work he put into his plays.

Later in the evening we returned to the Globe, standing room tickets in hand, to see "Comedy of Errors." The way it was performed was downright hilarious-- the performers were all outstanding, and they delivered their lines so that complete morons (such as me, who almost misspelled "morons' just now) could follow the hot and sweaty toga action. I just enjoyed how slapsticky it was. It was as if Shakespeare decided to write the most critically acclaimed Bugs Bunny cartoon or Three Stooges episode ever.

Betwixt the two appearances at the Globe, we were supposed to go to the Tate Museum and see some modern art. This may have been the most asinine activity of my entire life. While there was some very impressive art in there, and I understand the majority of this takes more talent than my forefathers' shallow gene pool allows me, the absolute pretention of some artists continues baffle me. One asshole just signed a urinal. And he's in a museum. Another one was from an artist who, apparently, "explores the connection between sound and the visual," or something to that effect. Not only does this discriminate against my blind friend Rago, who I just made up, but it discriminates (in it's sucktitude) against people who aren't tools, like my kick ass class professor who always has his chest hair hanging out. Essentially, and by "essentially" I mean "entirely,"this exploration consisted of a little girl reading a book on camera. I wish I could make money off bullshit home videos. My favorite exhibit was just an orderly stack of bricks, which of course had a sign telling us not to get to close. What the hell was I going to do? They're bricks. I can probably find you a couple more if anything happens to them.

But the reason I was late to the Globe was because I booked another voyage to Stonehenge and Bath. To do this, I used one ballpoint pen and my refund money from the failed trip. This new one doesn't sound like it will be imaginary, so that's a plus. Oh, and after leaving the travel agency I saw two appendicectomies and three pumas.

Here's what my kind of friend Jon has to say about my upcoming trip:

His plan for me to touch Stonehenge: 'Skip past the single rope made form old Wonder Bread sacks and B-line it for Stonehenge. You might get arrested, I don't know. Play the retard card and see if that will get you off (not like that)."

On what to do in Bath: "Do dip your hands in the Baths at Bath. It is kind of cool to think the same water festooning there is the same water short little Romans used to have homosexual intercourse in thousands of years ago."