(no subject)
Oct. 9th, 2005 12:00 amI had a choice between pain tomorrow and enjoying today so I chose to enjoy today: carbs do wonders for a grumpy Gillian. And I can just see the disapproving look on my doctor's face... but little things continued to niggle well after I posted my LJ whinge and by 5 pm I just couldn't take it any longer.
Carbohydrates, you will be pleased to know, almost righted the world, and I was able to enjoy the Romance Gauntlet. I asked the Security Guard if he enjoyed it too, and he admitted he did, but it wasn't the usual sort of function hosted at the National Museum. In fact, the walls blushed red at some of the readings, and the carpet turned from grey to a pale pink. The audience was still as still. None of the usual twitches you get even with good readings. The most pure attention I have ever seen.
What was most interesting is the nature of the audience's attention. Early on, a couple of the men present were surveying the women, and the women were clustered with friends. Within a half hour, though, the eyes stopped wandering and the clusters became fixed. For the best of the readings (Maxine McArthur's, for instance) even faces became still. Hands lay at people's sides, or arms were akimbo, or a person had one hand to her face: no other postures. The only movement was in reaction to the text being read and that was, oddly enough, individuals reaching for their hair and grooming it gently and quickly. Some people leaned forward; some people leaned back: every single one of them echoed their neighbours' stillness. Only one member of the audience consistently broke this trend and that was
capnoblivious. Oh, and me, since I was watching everyone. So two people.
Erotica appears to be a very internal listening experience. Curious. I wonder how much of it was this group. Still, one of the most *interesting* audiences I have watched.
Carbohydrates, you will be pleased to know, almost righted the world, and I was able to enjoy the Romance Gauntlet. I asked the Security Guard if he enjoyed it too, and he admitted he did, but it wasn't the usual sort of function hosted at the National Museum. In fact, the walls blushed red at some of the readings, and the carpet turned from grey to a pale pink. The audience was still as still. None of the usual twitches you get even with good readings. The most pure attention I have ever seen.
What was most interesting is the nature of the audience's attention. Early on, a couple of the men present were surveying the women, and the women were clustered with friends. Within a half hour, though, the eyes stopped wandering and the clusters became fixed. For the best of the readings (Maxine McArthur's, for instance) even faces became still. Hands lay at people's sides, or arms were akimbo, or a person had one hand to her face: no other postures. The only movement was in reaction to the text being read and that was, oddly enough, individuals reaching for their hair and grooming it gently and quickly. Some people leaned forward; some people leaned back: every single one of them echoed their neighbours' stillness. Only one member of the audience consistently broke this trend and that was
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Erotica appears to be a very internal listening experience. Curious. I wonder how much of it was this group. Still, one of the most *interesting* audiences I have watched.