Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Radiohead 2

First of all, allow me to say that I am really not pleased with myself. In the way that I always seem to need people to really dig into me to actually get me to talk about something that's bugging me. And then when people don't have the time or effort to put into me, I start to feel super disappointed, and also mad at myself, because I know it's mostly my fault. Things would be so much easier if I could just start talking as soon as somebody says 'what's wrong?'. But instead, I always shrug, and they give me a look, but don't say anything else. And I'm left pleading inside my head for them to ask me one more time, and whatever is bugging me is left alone, still bugging.

Anyway. Now that that's out, I shall move on.

I went to a Radiohead movement piece with Graham today. Basically it's a theater piece that is mostly just movement, set to music from a Radiohead album.

I really went into it having no idea what to expect. Graham said it was really good, and not only do I trust his judgment, but there are also very few theater pieces I do not enjoy.

This definitely blew me away.

I'm not even sure how I'm going to say what I thought about it. And I'm not sure how much I'm going to even mention the piece itself, because I really don't know how to. It's a movement piece. How do you write about movement? It's like dancing about architecture.

However, I'm not going to rule out the possibility of me mentioning it, so just to cover myself, there is a potential spoiler alert coming up.

Not that there was much plot in this. It was very, very much up to personal interpretation, and what you took out of it. I'm going to say right now that my thoughts on it aren't really in an organized state right now, and I'm not sure if they ever will be. So what follows are my thoughts right now, as of about an hour and a half after the show. Keep up if you can.

I got a huge sense of society. Today's society, and how it doesn't make sense. How it often feels like everybody else is doing their own thing, and yet they all seem to be in on something that you don't know.

Common sense vs. the ridiculousness of the things people do. How sometimes there are people who stand up to what goes on. People trying to pull others out of the cycle of society, that spins away, and drags them down into nonsense. And then giving up, and just joining that majority. Because there's no use anyways, and because it's easier than trying to pull out of it.

Personal thoughts and feelings. Everybody is thinking something, and hoping for something, and at the same time, trying not to hope, because how could it ever possibly happen? Letting go, and allowing it to happen, and what is acceptable now, when 100, even 50 years ago, it wouldn't be tolerated.

Solitude, and feeling alone. At one point, he was in center stage, with people in chairs all around him. And he kept asking where everybody was, and even when one person answered, and said they're all in front of him, he couldn't see them. Don't you ever have that on the train? On the streets? You look around, and people have this's almost more than just neutral. It's empty. And even though you are surrounded by people you want to ask where everybody is. I ask where everybody is. Why they feel like they have to go away when they step onto the street.

Videos. Videos of people who are gone. People who are on their deathbed, and don't want to face the world. When they're gone, all you have are pictures, and videos. And in the videos, there is no sound. But you can see them. They're talking, smiling, laughing. You know they're gone, and this is all you have left. On one hand, you know this is only a shadow, only one part of this person who used to live, breathe, and feel. On the other hand, it's all you have left, and you never want to let go.

At first, I wanted to know what they were talking about. What story they were telling, what day they were reliving for the camera. I wanted to know what they were telling us. And I finally realized I didn't want to know. I just wanted to look at their faces, and see the emotion. See all the happiness and life there, and just know that each of them was a real person.

At the end, they all went silent. And one by one, they said the most sincere thank you that could be said without any noise. I wondered what they were thanking us for. For being there? For that perfect day? For everything?

Then it was over. And I'm left wanting time to stand still, so I can take a few moments to relive those moments of pure emotion. Wanting to go back, and watch that girl's fact on the screen, the one who was so full of life, and joy, and everything.

But time doesn't stand still. And soon enough I'll be pushed back out into it. I'll leave that dark theater, where the only thing real is what's happening in front of you.

But while I've learned that time doesn't stand still, I've also learned that people don't stay the same. I've learned that understanding the world is a constant process of comparing what we don't comprehend to our own experiences, and reassessing what we think we understand.

I may not come out of this a completely different person, and I may not begin changing everything I understand and believe because of this night. But I will take something away from it. I have taken something away from it.

And I know I won't have this constantly on my mind. But I will keep it away. Wrap it up in a box in my mind, and label it with a sharpie, or a post it note. To remind myself, when I'm feeling particularly hopeless, emotionless, like a walking, empty shell, to pull this out. Though it may not make me feel better, it will remind me there are still reasons to feel. That there are still people trying to make sense of this world.

And as long as there are still beautiful works of art worth thinking about, I think I'll make it through.



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