The Met had their season opener, with "Tosca":http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/21/the-night-at-the-opera-white-tie-and-jewels-and-giant-screens-for-the-masses/. Apparently, lots of people didn't like it. I don't know--I've never made it through an opera fully alert at what's transpiring. This weekend, I'm attending a gala type thing put on by the Women's Symphony League. Apparently, we've been members of the league for some time now, though I've never been to a league game or even know which division of the league we're in. Are there two leagues? Is there some type of final match up between the leagues--a World Series of Symphony Leagues? Don't know. Having attended these events on numerous occasions, the chief advantage of the galas is the delicious open bar along with the always wondrous display of female decoupage--augmentation is alive and well here in my fair city.
Back to opera: Mrs. Bulba had an uncle who sang opera for the Met, along with operas across Europe. I only knew him for a few years before he died, but he was a fairly interesting fellow. He had a wife who was a German model who used to terrify my with those Euro air kisses--that shit really creeps me out. Anyway, her uncle enjoyed hunting with us down at the ranch. He'd spend hours whipping up various Euro specialties for us purely American knuckledraggers, cold and hungry from hours outside. He'd go on and on about the origin and ingredients of some dish before someone would interrupt by stating, "Tio--shut the fuck up--let's eat." Artists are so unappreciated.
1 comment:
Puccini's librettos are always soul stirring. Am guessing that d'Albret softly hummed some of the notable melodies while donning his haubergeon in preparation for Agincourt.
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