Well, I just finished teaching that class I was worried about. It went as you, dear reader, no doubt assumed it would: fine. Now I know what that feeling was on the back of my head. It was all of my friends smacking me, telling me to stop whining and relax. Message received! Isn't often the case, though, that those things we most fear turn out to be mere 1HD creatures? And is it too dramatically ironic to also ask if it isn't the case that the real boss level monsters lurk in broad daylight, and wear no disguise, but are ignored just the same for being insignificant, or irrelevant?

[Look, I'm almost finished with Moby Dick, so I won't be writing like this much longer, I promise. Just be glad I'm not reading Cummings or... some computer manual."]

Anyhoo. Here's some CULTURAL INFORMATION: Went to bunraku yesterday. Bunraku being a play, acted out by puppet-dolls, signifying not much that I could figure out. But the presentation was astounding, and there was lots of cool stuff to look at. (aside: I always liked that Shakespeare says "signifying", which is really different than "meaning", right? Like the play makes perfect sense in and of itself, but it points to nothing.) Here's the blow by blow, in brief. In brief because what we thought was going to be a two hour performance was actually a five hour marathon of puppeteering:

A clapper is rung with ear-splitting precision to announce the start of the play, and a man, in inverse ku-klux klan attire (minus the eye-holes so that no part of his face is visible), announces the players and musicians. Matt and I read quickly through our notes to find this play begins with a ceremony at the imperial palace, and the presentation of a magic drum to our hero. To the right of the stage, lit by spotlight, a small wooden square suddenly revolves, secret-door-like, and reveals a shamisen player and a narrator. On the stage, an outdoor scene is represented in beautiful detail and 1/2 scale, to match that of the puppet-dolls.

The players enter. Each puppet-doll is crafted in life-like detail, the clothes being especially resplendent and bright. Each is accompanied by three puppeteer/manipulators, two of whom wear the black of the anti-klansman, so that no feature of them can be perceived, and one who wears a simple black hakama and kimono. In a sense these players crowd the puppet dolls, but so skillful are their manipulations, and so stoic the lead puppeteer, that they soon fade from view, or at least from thought, altogether, until you find yourself shocked from time to time with the realization that there are people on stage.

A great range of actions is available to the performers. They can walk, point, grasp objects, blink, scream. At one point in the play, a sword battle occurs, and one unlucky puppet gets his face cut off. Another makes a spear from bamboo and stabs it into his victim, who cuts it off at the haft and pulls it from his body. All these actions are done by puppets. Wicked cool. More than puppets, though, they are also doll-like, for the operators are on stage with the puppets at all times, and sometimes change the clothes of the puppet-doll, or give it items to hold, just like I used to do with Han and Chewie. Well, kinda.

As the puppeteers move the characters on stage, the shamisen is played and a narrator reveals the arc of the story, playing all parts, and moving with such precise timing that he seems sometimes to be a kind of master puppeteer, and sometimes a puppet himself.

The players all arrived, the grand story begins. Immediately I am lost. This is a strange palace, why is it outdoors? Where's the drum? Who is that drunk guy? A whole act unfolds before Matt and I figure out that this 5 hour play is actually just the second half (at most) of a much larger, elephantine production. Touching merely the tail of the beast, we assumed it to be a snake, when in fact most of the thing had passed already. After a while we caught up, but really, it helped not much at all. I didn't feel too bad, though, because many of the Japanese audience were reading along in a book. Those that weren't sleeping. After about two and a half hours, (the sword fight having long ended) my own eyes darkened and I wandered past reason, and saw and heard no more.

***
Matt and I made good our escape during intermission, when we feigned death until some janitors came and hauled us out of the theater. Arising fully permeated with culture, brimming with appreciation for the new and traditional alike, our hearts enlivened through the deep and thoughtful contemplation of aesthetic experience, we went to a bar.