Friday, February 07, 2014

Cthulu, Going out, and Winter

The EpicTonic Freeze festival had a magical lineup and was going on for two days. I’d picked up on it but was trying to talk myself both in and out of going. However, the thousand feet of snow we had in Chicago was starting to really hit all my cabin fever buttons and I NEEDED to get out of the house, so I bought two tickets and asked a boy I’d met in the dungeon if he had plans and might want to join me.

My meeting with him had been amusing, as I was at the dungeon after having seen a lovely little play by HP Lovecraft, with the intention being to potential play a scene out with the person who had invited me to the play. I haven’t been to a stage show in so long, even though I had tried and tried. I think the last was ages ago with a friend in Daegu who was putting on a show, which I think was called…dammit something Dark. I’ll have to ask. It was a good show and they had worked hard on it, the Daegu theater troupe. Later I tried on three separate occasions to see the troupe and always, to my irritation, managed to fail. Once when the friend was acting in it again, and twice when different friends were taking part. Eventually I gave up, realizing that if my schedule was not consistent enough for me to get tickets I was out of luck.

The play in Chicago was put on by a small troupe called the WildClaw theater, doing a recreation of a short Lovecraft story called "The Shadow over Innsmouth." Being me, I read the story in basically one day before the show. The story was interesting, with all the essential Lovecraft elements including Chthulu. The show as an adaptation was brilliantly done and managed to by engaging enough that one failed to recall that it was essentially a supernatural terror. It become something a bit more, a discussion of value, society, and how we engage. It was good. My dates for the play were also my ticket into the dungeon, where I met the most mysterious Mr. Snowflake.

Talking with Snowflake we shared our stories. We bonded almost instantly, as our storytelling took place always in more than one language and for some reason, that was a soft spot in my heart. He listened to my ramblings in Korean, Spanish, and German (all badly), and I listened to his in Russian, just as fun and surely just as weird as mine. Since I was not strong in Russian, and he wasn't strong on my languages, all things worked out really well and we exchanged numbers.

Having tickets with no plan for a partner in crime, I offered to him a no-strings, show-up-if-you-want ticket. Either way, I was going to a show.

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