Saturday, February 09, 2019

Saturday Night Out With The Guys

David booked a show which was a part of Midsummer. Surrender to desire, cathartic release, joyous and rebellious, this is a queer punk cabaret of the divine kind. Sounded good.
Well, that is something like how David described it. He sent me a link, which I didn't read fully. I started to read it, but I decided not to spoil it. I got the general gist as above.

David was bringing his new boyfriend, Malcolm, which usually never goes that well. Oh, what do I mean? David acts like he's been married for years with some guy he could barely know, usually somebody that I just can't take to. (Usually, first impressions are right) He plays happy couples to the nth degree. Donna reed eat your heart out. It always seems a little forced, pathetic, even desperate, as I always know how they are going to end. Oh, badly, yes.

A couple of the other guys were going too. Tommy V, Fat Beau. David would pick us up, we'd meet the others there, at the place.

I liked Malcolm immediately. He seemed genuinely lovely, which I was pleased about. Surprised, a little.

It wasn't far from home. I was very pleased to see the Spiegeltent when we got there. I love the Spiegeltent.

We got drinks and waited enthusiastically.

The show started half an hour late, which always gripes me a little. You can at least start a show on time. Seriously. I know there can be reasons for a late start on occasions, but really you should be able to start a show on time generally.

Then we got the angry lesbian show. The audience was mostly women, I could see. David had picked badly. The girls were really into it. I like seeing lots of different stuff on stage, edgy is good, I reckon, but I found the high pitched whooping and squealing after everything the girls in the audience thought was a great point, shall we say, unfamiliar to me. Read grating. There was a lot of clapping, but not really from us. 

Then it was interval. We got more drinks. The boys weren’t being quiet about their disdain for the show. I wanted to say shhhh to them. Only David – he booked it what could he say – and I were willing to give the second half a go.

Beau looked pale and wide-eyed and wasn’t going back in for anyone. Beau the Bear, not really one for girl’s issues.

Tommy V wasn’t keen either. “Yeah, no,” said Tom.

Sam didn’t want to go back in either. “It’s rubbish,” said Sam in his usual blunt style.

David said he’d never left a show halfway through. The new boyfriend, Malcolm, was sweet with his comments, he was easy, willing to go with the flow

And me? You know, if someone is getting up on the stage to do something, I’m willing to keep my bum in the seat to repay that bravery, at the very least. There is always something you can get from a performance. No, really.
Be generous, that’s what I think. The lights, the action, the hot breath of a live show always has to be good in some way, surely.

However, we left. Fled before the end of interval. And. That was that. David chose badly.

There was nothing really wrong with the show, the rest of the audience were clearly (drunkenly) loving it. But, you know, was it really edgy? I’ve seen chicks with strap-ons before who were more interesting. I’ve heard better rage before, that was more powerful. If you want to staple a love heart to your arse go right a head, but it really needs to say more. I’ve seen sexier dancers. I’ve been captivated much more by songs of longing and a performance strip.

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