mickey mouse has grown up a cow

Went to see another play last night. It's like telly, only with going out. Very cold going out as it happened, though the freezing cold blasts (well, freezing cold for here, balmy spring weather for you, no doubt) made the lights of Luna Park glitter arcoss the black waters as I walked around the forecourt of the Opera House. Wish I could have taken a photo, but alas I only had my shitty phone camera with me, and it always autocorrects. No, camera, I want the Caravaggio blacks, you hideous beast.

The play was Faustus, and I know it's playing at The Globe, so I figured I'd try and content myself with the local version and it was okay, up to a point. The middle bit dragged and I know, thanks to reading the programme, why the writer included the subplot where Faustus pretty much churns through an entire family for kicks, and I suppose it's to demonstrate that he really is a self absorbed amoral and yes, evil bastard, and deserves his damnation. Clearly the writer was concerned that in Sydney, the sin of endless bunga bunga parties just wouldn't be considered quite sin enough. Or something like that.
( more: what a wonderful world )