Indiāņi un teātris /// Native American Indians and theater

Vakar liku bildes, par iespējamo tekstu nekas prātīgs galvā neviesojās, un tad pēc nakts, agri no rīta, vai varbūt tomēr vēl naktī - tagad tik gaišs, kad nevar rīta sākumu saprast - pēkšņi sapratu, par ko rakstīt, no ūdens uzplunkšķēja kaut kas, kas saslēdzās ar bildēm. Es biju visai apmierināta; man vienmēr patīk, kad lietas saslēdzas, un priecīgi nodomāju no rīta uzrakstīt. No rīta bija patīkami apmācies, gribētu, lai tā būtu vairākas dienas pēc kārtas, un es domāju par matu mazgāšanu un Bodlēriem, kas jāatdod franču bibliotēkā. Par izcili piemēroto tekstu ierakstam aizmirsu, un pavēlu pēcpusdienā atcerējos, ka bija kaut kas tāds agri no rīta. Tā arī pa visu vakaru neatcerējos, un tāda neforša, nepabeigta sajūta. Kur gan palika mana mazā atskārsme. Diezgan mokoši.

Tad, kad lietas saslēdzas, tā ir tik pareiza un nomierinoša sajūta. Notiek viena lieta, un tad otra, un tad viņas abas ir vairāk kopā, nekā katra atsevišķi, no tā visa kaut kas ļoti dzīvīgs un īsts strāvo, un tad var saprast lietas. Un ir patiešām sāpīgi kaut ko tādu tā vienkārši aizmirst un pazaudēt.

Pirms dažām dienām es biju uz teātri, es ļoti sen nebiju bijusi uz teātri. Tā ir mana mīļākā zāle, uz kuru iet, neskaitot Operu, un izrāde sākās ar skaņām, kuras bija pazīstamas, bet es nevarēju atpazīt. Tieši tas pats pazīstamības un pazaudētības savienojums. Likās, ka varētu būt no kādas filmas, bet no kuras tad. Sajūtas bija katrā ziņā patīkamas, un man "Osedžas zeme" JAU patika (lai gan arī pēc beigām patika, un es visu vakaru biju neiedomājami priecīgā noskaņojumā). Liela izrāde, kurā visu laiku kaut kas notiek un ir interesanti, un par Ameriku, un drusciņ indiāņi. Es labprāt gribētu vienu brūnu indiāņu kleitu ar bārkstīm un spalvām, tas būtu tik jauki. Ak jā, man sākumā likās mazliet grūti saģērbties uz teātri, jo tā bija dienas izrāde, bet tik gara, ka beigtos jau pēc sešiem (lai gan tas jau neko nenozīmē, es zinu). Palasīju internetā, ka nevajadzētu valkāt dimantus, nolēmu nevilkt dimantus - tas tiešām nebija grūti -, un ka iesaka vilkt ofisa bikses (tiešām nezinu, kāpēc gan) vai melnu kokteiļkleitu garumā ap ceļiem. Džinsos un šortos gan nevajadzētu teātrī parādīties. Tad es sapratu, ka tie padomi nav diez ko gudrāki par mani.

Nu jā, un tā izrādes sākuma mūzika. Nevarēju atcerēties, no kurienes, bet man pateica, ka no "Gaišo atmiņu mūžigā starojuma". Šitāda.

Ričardam ir tik jauki kolēģi. Zane uzdāvināja programmiņu, kura bija patīkami sakarīga, un Zane ļoti labi izskatījās, kas ir pietiekami svarīgi. Vienmēr, kad redzu teātrī, ka meitenēm jāvalkā tādas pašas formas kā zēniem, tas mani skumdina. Tā taču nevar, meitenes taču ir citādākas. Vīriešiem neviens neliek valkāt meiteņu drēbītes. Un, ja teātrī telpas glītas, nevar taču cilvēkiem briesmīgās drēbēs savas miesīgas drēbes glabāšanā uzticēt. Un Kalvis zināja, no kuras filmas, mana saņemšanās vainagojās grandiozos sasniegumos.

Un ar "Gaišo atmiņu mūžīgo starojumu" bija tā saslēgšanās. Es ļoti sen neesmu skatījusies filmas, un, kad es domāju, kura būtu tā, kuru es tagad gribu skatīties, es iedomājos par šo. Es gan divas reizes esmu redzējusi, un es ļoti reti filmu skatos vairāk par divām reizēm, bet šo laikam tomēr. Kad pirmo reizi skatījos, arī bija apmācies maijs, mums ar klasi bija ekskursija uz kino. Lielākā daļa klases devās lūkot "Troju", un mēs ar Lāsmu netraucēti baudījām savu 14gadīgo autsaideru, kases gabalu nenovērtētāju gaumes filmu. Tā filma ļoti ilgi bija mana mīļākā filma.

Es gribēju skatīties "Gaišo atmiņu mūžīgo starojumu", vai vismaz tādas sajūtas, un es aizeju uz teātri, un mūzika, kas atskan, ir no tās filmas, un es to vispār uzzinu - tur lietas visnotaļ saslēdzas. Es nezinu, vai man sanāk labi izstāstīt, cik tas ir svarīgi.

Es, protams, neatceros, kas bija tas brīnumaini atbilstošais, ko rakstīt, un tā tas kaut kur pazudis.

^^^^^

Yesterday I chose pictures for a blog post, yet the eventual text did not pay any visit. Then, when the night had passed, early in the morning, or maybe still lately in the night - now it gets light so early I cannot event catch the proper beginning of the morning - I suddenly understood clearly what to write about. Out of the waters came something that fit the pictures perfectly. I was quite satisfied; I always like when the things connect, and I joyfully decided to write it down in the forthcoming day. The morning it was pleasantly cloudy, I wish there were several days like this in succesion, and I thought about getting my hair washed and those Baudelaires I was supposed to return to the French library. I forgot about the perfectly matching text, and only in late afternoon I finally realised, there was something early in the morning. The whole evening did not help to recall it, there was just an unpleasant, unfinished feeling. Where did my little insight go. Quite painfully.

When the things do connect, it is a right and sedative feeling. One thing happens, and then another one afterwards, until finally they are more together than they are on their own. Something vivid and true comes from it, and then you just get to know things. It really does hurt to simply forget and loose something like that.

A few days ago I went to the theater, I had not been to theater for such a long time. It is my favorite hall to visit, apart from Opera, and the spectacle opened with familiar sound that I was unable to recognize. The very same mix of familiarity and being lost. It seemed to come likely from a movie, no idea which one, though. It felt nicely though, and I liked "Osage County" already (although I liked it also afterwards, I was in such an elevated mood the whole night). A large play where all the time something is happening, and it is interesting, and about America, and there are a wee bit of Native American Indians. I wish I had one brown Indian dress with fringes and feathers, it would be so nice. Oh, and at first I had difficulties to dress for the theater as it was a day play, however the play was expected to be that long, so that it would end well after 6 p.m. (although it does not mean anything, I know). I surfed the net I little bit, it said I rather should not wear diamonds. I decided to not wear diamonds - it was not a hard thing to do at all.  It also advised to sport slacks (no clue, why is that) or a black knee-length cocktail dress. One should not be spotted wearing jeans or shorts at the theater. Then I realized those advices were not much clever than I was.

Well, and then the music of the scene's opening. I couldn't recall where did it come where until I was told it was from "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" it was. Like this.

Ricards has got so nice colleagues. Zane gave me playbill, which was agreeably pithy, and Zane looked lovely, that is important enough. It makes me sad at theaters to see girls wearing the same uniforms that boys wear too. It is not fair, girls are different. Nobody makes men wear girls clothes. And if the theater owns beautiful interior, one cannot trust to keep his very own kindred clothes to ugly dressed staff. And Kalvis knew which movie, so plucking up my spirit resulted in grand attainments.

And with "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" there was this connection. I hadn't seen any movie for a long time, and when I reflected on what would I want to watch at that moment, this one came into my mind. I have seen it twice though, and I rarely watch a movie more than twice, but maybe this one I will. When I saw for the first time, it was cloudy May as well. We had a class excursion to cinema. The great majority of classmates went to see "Troy", leaving me and Lasma peacefully watching our 14 years old outsiders, box office disregarders taste movie. This was my favorite movie for quite a long time.

I wanted to watch "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", or at least I wanted to get such feelings, and I go to the theater where the music that I hear is from the very same movie, and I get to know it all - undoubtedly the things do connect there. I am not sure I can explain well enough how major it is.

Of course I don't remember what was that magically corresponding thing to write about, and now it is somehow lost.