Happy Endings

Goodbye, iWeb

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 13:51:51 -0500

You’ve pissed me off for the last time. I wash my hands of you! You’re finicky and slow, and nothing works as seamlessly as you like to pretend. You’ve crashed my computer, and I bet you thought I wouldn’t find out, but I happen to know you’ve crashed my friends’ computers too.

So we’re breaking up. I’ve already found someone new. A brand new blog, and hopefully this one will be less treacherous and easier to deal with.

Goodbye.

Brand New Look

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 08:48:38 -0400

In honor of the phenomenal opera experience I had two nights ago, where Chicago-based avant-garde theater director Mary Zimmerman gave Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor a complete makeover, I’ve changed the look of my blog. (Ok, also I changed it because I updated my software and suddenly nothing fit the old template, but that’s a much less interesting story. Although it does explain why, if you go to the archived entries, some of them will look weird. Because I’m too lazy busy to go back through every damned one and reformat.)

ANYhow, back to Lucia. That’s Natalie Dessay, in the photo up there, the French powerhouse actress/soprano in the title role of the Met’s new production. I’d heard and read a lot about her before Saturday, but I hadn’t actually heard her sing. She makes it all sound easy, effortless. Lucia is a fiendishly difficult role, full of coloratura trills, ranging from the tippy top to the very base of the soprano register. Not to mention that she goes from giddy girl in love to completely bug-shagging crazy murderess by the final act.

The story is pure gothic; there’s a ghost tale involving tragic, jealous lovers that is inevitably re-enacted in Lucia’s life; there’s a big Scottish castle in a thunderstorm; there’s an overbearing older brother thwarting the star-crossed lovers. And, oh yeah, there’s a mad scene. The mad scene is probably the most famous bit of the opera, even though it’s too long to make it onto most compilation CD’s. Plus, it doesn’t work nearly as well out of the context of the whole opera--what’s brilliant about it, musically, is the way it riffs on and breaks down the melodies and themes that have been building since the first aria. For an acting soprano (and Dessay considers herself an actress first and foremost; the singing is just a sideline for her, apparently), it’s the ideal role. Lots of emotional highs and lows to play with. Dessay takes full advantage, and rocks the mad scene like it was written just for her.

Met productions are nearly always excellent; this one featured an uncommonly even cast--no duds at all. Usually there’s at least one soloist who makes you think, “You, sir, would be better suited to a career in insurance. Or perhaps the food services.” The set was gorgeous and atmospheric, modern enough to engage the eye, not distractingly wacky. But Dessay is the reason to see this production. Slight little wisp of a French thing that she is, she owns the stage. You can’t take your eyes off her for a second, even when she’s not singing. But when she opens her mouth...mercy. Let’s just say I was prepared to give the little old guy on my right mouth to mouth if he keeled over from excitement, and it seemed all too likely to happen at some point. Clearly an opera lover, this guy nearly vibrated in his seat when Dessay soared up to those high notes. His hands actually lifted out of his lap, just barely, like he was thinking about taking flight.

I love everything about going to the opera. I love the music, the productions, the singers, the other audience members, and the champagne at intermission. Love love love it. Can’t get enough! Luckily, we bought the operatic version of a season pass this year, so we’ll be back at least three more times...I’m already looking forward to the next trip!

70 Days of Sweat

Tue, 9 Oct 2007 11:46:30 -0400

Sounds dirty, right? Plus, I’ve got my sweat-worthy picture working up there. But actually, this is a writing thing. Brought to my attention by the lovely Miss Nephele Tempest (is that not the best name you ever heard someone have in real life?) on her blog, this is for those of us who need a little more structure and/or competition in our writing lives. Just to get the butt in the chair. But who are perhaps not gung ho enough to deal with the Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) thing. Which I just heard about. Has anyone ever actually done that? It seems up there with those mythical challenges like climbing Everest or finishing a triathlon or trying on every pair of shoes at Saks, to me. You know, those things you’d like to imagine yourself doing, but which you know are never going to happen.

70 Days of Sweat, on the other hand, sounds doable. Challenging, but possible. And motivating! Well-timed, for me, also, since I’m finishing my revisions on my book TODAY! Go me. Champagne all around! And I’ll take a side-order of Mr. Hot and Sweaty up there. Yum!

Pop Quiz

Sat, 6 Oct 2007 09:51:50 -0400

Some of you may remember taking the Entrance Exam in order to be admitted to my life as a friend. Well, what I didn’t tell you at the time was that it’s not a lifetime membership! There will be pop quizzes, to test your continuing compatibility! They will be delivered randomly, based largely on how long it takes me to think up new questions. Here’s the first one. Good luck!

(For those unfamiliar with the test, it takes the form of either/or questions. Choose the answer that most exemplifies you. Imagine that you’re about to be stranded on an island, and you can only take one of the answers to each question with you. See how nice I am, giving you hints and tips? It’s like an SAT course! God, I hated that analogy section.)

1.) Warner Brothers or Disney cartoons?

2.) Cake or pie?

3.) The Marx Brothers or the Three Stooges?

4.) Do you watch TV shows as the episodes air, or on DVD?

5.) The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

I Heart Manhattan III

Thu, 4 Oct 2007 20:54:32 -0400

On our last night in New York, we went to Nobu. We had theater tickets, to see a play produced by Meg’s younger brother, Jeremy, so we went to Nobu 57, in midtown, rather than the one waaaay the hell downtown. And maybe it’s because I first experienced Nobu in the original location, and in sort of special circumstances (my wonderful boss used to take me there for our annual holiday lunch together), but Nobu 57 never seems quite as good to me. It’s a huge space, sort of dark and cavernous--completely unlike the light, spare elegance of the original.

The food is basically the same, which is to say, marvelous. If you like Japanese, obviously, which I do. Nick also loves it, and we were there with our friends Ari and Kate, who are sushi fiends, so it was a very appreciative group that dug into seafood ceviche, miso glazed cod and eggplant, rock shrimp tempura in spicy sauce, squid pasta in garlic sauce, and three trays of sushi. Ari, Kate and Nick had sake, which I’ve never developed a taste for (it’s like warmed-up nail polish remover!) and I had a couple different silly cocktails with things like mango puree in them. So a very good time was had by all--in fact, such a good time that we missed the play entirely, and ended up going back to Ari and Kate’s apartment to have a glass of wine and wind down from all the fish. I walked twenty blocks in heels, like a champ, and didn’t even have blisters later. (They’re really good shoes!) Once I’d repressed the guilt I felt over missing Jeremy’s play (probably much easier than it should’ve been), it was a flawless evening.

Is there any place on earth more wonderful than New York? I miss it already. Good thing I’ll be back there in just a couple weeks...