Goblin wanted to take me up on my offer to write something (and in fact, questions have been pouring in), but I wanted to tell you about my Friday night. After I returned from the gym, Rob took me to a delightful dinner at the Zen Palate, and then we went to a special performance of Puccini's La Bohème, which was directed by Baz Luhrmann of Moulin Rouge fame. I have never in all of my days seen a performance that was so visually stunning. It was so gorgeously staged; the only tragedy of the evening was that all of the gorgeous staging seemed to occur precisely on the other side of the massively headed woman who sat in front of me. Very frustrating. In the second act, Rob and I traded seats and I was able to finally relax.

After the show, Baz Luhrmann and his wife, the designer Catherine Martin, came out to answer some questions, and it became clear exactly the efforts they had gone through to make the show—which is over a hundred years old, set in Paris, and performed in operatic Italian—accessible to an American audience in 2002. And it is accessible, quite unlike the dismal Movin' Out, which is set in this country and based upon Billy Joel songs. Rob thinks this is because one has to be a fan of modern dance to enjoy Movin' Out, but this does not ring true for me: I would typically enjoy dance a good bit more than opera, which puts me to sleep unless performed by Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. Rather, it is a testament to conception and intent: for Luhrmann and Martin, the experience of the audience is paramount; for Twyla Tharp, perpetrator of the Billy Joel disaster, the experience of Twyla Tharp is paramount.

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about last night's performance was not last night's performance but that Rob and I noticed that someone had eaten an apple and discarded the rotten remains on the floor.

During an opera.

Someone ate.

An apple.

Sometimes I wish everyone else would just stay home.

(All right, Goblin can write tomorrow.)