Today's high temperature in Minneapolis was
negative 2 degrees. That was the high, people!
Ben and I did leave the house tonight, though, to
see a long-awaited production of Ibsen's Peer Gynt.
We drank coffee in the Guthrie's cafe before the
show, behaving as though we actually belonged
there. In actuality, we bought these season tickets before realizing how little money we would be living on this year, and in truth I think we both feel a little funny about enjoying such a nice night out every six weeks or so. Still, it was neat to see a dramatic work that is so rarely performed in English; Ibsen wrote the play in verse, and there was no English-language version that actually retained the rhymes--until recently when the job was tackled by the Unstoppable Translation Machine that is Robert Bly. (He's the fellow who, with Coleman Barks, is largely responsible for bringing the poetry of Rumi to an English-reading audience. He's also intimately associated, for better or worse, with the Mythopoetic Men's Movement.)
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