VWoolfBoothEvery high has its own hangover. Even after art.
When I walk away from a work of art (play/movie/novel), there is a slight limbo as I adjust from the high of contact with something eternal, to the banality of real life. In New York, the effect is particularly pronounced- walking out of the storied Barrymore theatre, having just seen the brilliantly staged The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, the theatre where the original production of A Streetcar Named Desire with Marlon Brando played. High on art, I emerge and meet the mundane, depressing quotidian of life: urine in the underground, the crazies talking to themselves, or selling most likely stolen wares ,from perfume to chocolate bars, right in the subway car.
I feel the same effect even after watching TV awards shows (Oscars, Tony’s). I’m absorbed not in the fashion parade, but the heights to which art can scale, only to be brought down in minutes by commercials barking a second hand deal on second hand cars that will probably cause the highway fatalities soon to be reported on the late night news… well you can see how it might bring you down…..

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