Cameras and Yo-YoMa

I realize I have not written in some time. There is a lot to share; little things, mostly.

I finally have a digital camera, thanks to some generous re-gifting on the part of our landlady and family friend.
(It turns out that the one she sent is the exact one I was looking at buying.)

You can expect more work, more often, very soon.

Two Tuesdays ago, I went to see Yo-Yo Ma and the New York Philharmonic, play an all Dvorak concert, for free. My friends Mike, Steve and I got up at 5 AM, arrived at ten till 6 AM, and stood in line for the 8:30 AM ticket handout and the 9:45 AM concert. The concert itself was beautiful. Ma was phenomenal, as always, and entertained the crowd, joking and laughing with the principal violinist, while playing (beautifully, I might add.) I now count the last movement of Dvorak's Cello Concerto as one of my favorites.

As beautiful as the concert was, even more entertaining, was the wait. Let me remind you that this was a Tuesday morning, and a free concert. That means, it attracted all of the crazies, and privileged folk who could afford to take off from work, and decided to forego the gala opening later in the evening. The line was enormous. (The Times reported that they had to turn several hundred ticket-bearing people away.) Never have I seen so many people try to cut the line, feign ignorance or confusion, go to the front of the line (which was right before a gigantic table with a red cloth over it) and ask if it was the end, and other such tomfoolery to get a better spot in line. It was ridiculous. There was this one lady who hid behind a pillar, and then cut in front of the first person in line (who had gotten there at midnight) at precisely the right time, to get the very first ticket. My friends and I were watching her, and as she laughed and talked to herself, and continually pulled her coat collar over her face, we knew she was up to something. It turns out she was.

When we got inside, adults who seemed respectable otherwise were pushing, shoving, running, and resorting to kindergarten tactics to get the best seats. (Did I mention that this was not well organized?) I was appalled, really, and a bit angry. Adults in suits and nice dresses were acting as juvenile, or worse, than preschoolers. That craziness, punctuated by an outburst from several members of the audience during the opening speech about how the microphone was too soft, and mass clapping between movements, made for an unforgettable experience.

In other news, I'm getting a roommate on Monday. If it is who I think it is, there might be trouble on the horizon. I really hope not. Invisible roommates are the best ever; they're so quiet.

That is all for now. I may write more later.