These days, everything is topsy-turvy. Texting is the new talking, not smoking is the new smoking, bitch is the new black, and 25 is the new grown-up. This means that I, myself, am about to officially become a grown-up.
When you are a grown-up, you automatically know how to do the following things: online banking, soothe a crying infant, comparison shop for skilled auto mechanics, get divorces, and tell when someone has a fever by placing the back of your hand on their forehead. On friday I will possess all of these skills. I will also no longer laugh when people fart in public because buddy, that's just not very funny.
Wipe that smirk off your face right this moment, Mister!
The younger and more childish me would have found the following photograph hilarious.
Now I view it as an opportunity to celebrate the rich diversity and beauty of all the world's cultures. This means that I have become a man.
To celebrate this new phase of my life, I will start by attending the theater. I am going to see a very refined and very adult play (when I say "adult play", I don't mean X-rated or anything. If you thought I did, it's because you are child-like and clearly aren't a grown-up yet). It is called The Canterville Ghost, and apparently is so scary that many audience members have wet themselves out of fright. The former version of me would have giggled at this. The grown-up version of me sympathizes with these individuals because, on a serious note, incontinence is a problem that many adults have to live with.
The very official Shakespeare & Company website summarizes the play thusly:
"Internationally celebrated director Irina Brook and her company of talented Shakespeare & Company artists have freely adapted Oscar Wilde's story about a very American family that blusters its way into a haunted English manor, thoroughly annoying the stuffy old ghost who can't seem to scare them a whit. In this roaringly original adaptation, Sir Simon the Canterville Ghost is re-imagined as an over-the-hill illusionist reliving his glory days in the 1940's. Beneath the outrageous veneer of Wilde's achingly funny story is a depth of emotion, as the old ghost's long-delayed salvation rests upon a family's ability to trust, and a young girl's desire to believe. "
"Stuffy old ghost"? "Blusters its way"? "a whit"? This will certainly be the perfect occasion to practice wearing a monocle and passing out my business card.
Later that evening, after a full day of eating high-fiber meals and saying "Hmmmmm" in a knowing manner while reading the New Yorker, I may venture to Pittsfield's Copperworks for a civilized musical performance. If I'm feeling particularly saucy, perhaps I shall treat myself to a lime rickey.
The band is called Bella's Bartok, and they play "X-treme Klezmer". I do not know what that means.
To wind down the weekend, Sunday will conclude with a relaxed evening of soft food and quiet music at the Dreamaway Lodge in Becket. The very serious band Vetiver is going to be playing there. They are from San Francisco where I used to live, and they are widely renowned for their maturity and their beards. Here's what my friend Katie looks like when she's on their album cover. I think that she's a grown-up, but I'm not sure. She does have a very serious look on her face.
Would you like to join me during this weekend of subdued celebration? I'm going to need to see some ID first because, like the back room in the video store, this party is not for children. Come ride the geriatric train with me. Next stop: middle aged mediocrity. Toot toot!