Blind Oedipus

Once more my monthly opera was a success. There are many aspects about the atmosphere in a theatre that I truly enjoy.
Some half an hour before the performance began, I thought I rather stay in the basement with its comfy seat and gloomy light.
The open space of London’s Coliseum is a revelation for everyone interested in the Roman empire.

But let me start nearer the beginning…the piece I saw last night was more – or less – a cut through the history of Thebes, on the trace of Oedipus.
You can be certain that I watched and analysed carefully.

I watched the stage during the play; and during the interval I watched everyone around me.
Thanks to the early performance attracting only very few people (the majority was rather young…mid thirties and surprisingly single, too) I got upgraded from my five pound ticket to a seat nearer the stage in the dress circle where I was rather displeased at first – as I found myself suddenly visible to others.
At least until I released that only when the lights go out the audience focuses on what’s happening in front of them.
As a modern piece everything clashed with my so traditional tastes for music and script. Often it felt like a big dissonance.
Even when I discovered the third exit, I walked out before it ended. In fact there are lots more…you can get lost in side streets and alleys and after walking round the block pointlessly for five minutes…passing a dozen pubs with young people staring at my legs wrapped in fine black net tights…my ego was pushed to hurry to catch the train.

But the main issue here is not blind attraction. It doesn’t let me go, in fact: If the Roman empire had still existed up to today, would we be showing a play of a major Greek city.
Perhaps as solitary example how to piss on your father’s grave and dis-virgin your mother…and end up as a blind cripple.
Yes, what has his blindness to do with his own past.
That’s an easy one? Punishment – ignoring his lessons – yet playing the oracle for his own sons.

And you ask me again about tragedy.

The only thing I learned tonight though is ironically something more spiritual.
There were no overpowering gods to take care of the figures misfortunes. There was only a chorus…and yes only then it clicked. Greek gods stand for social conventions.
You’d think I would have thought of this earlier, like in the first half of the Metamorphosis.

I move to the front coach on the train leaving all the foreign families with push chairs behind (unbelievable what creatures come out on the first warm night in the year) and start solving cross words right after midnight.

What a mind…

Twelve hours later I lie on the gravel, on the beach with a breeze and warm sun.
A sudden starfish wave has rolled out across the length of the horizon. Dying or saved by little boys in shorts. I wonder where they come from…for half a minute, then I lick my salty lips, lean back on my handbag and carry on watching the sailing regatta not far off the coast.
Looks like my summer begins today. Thanks to the blind Oedipus.

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