Introspective Nonsense
How does One move to a different place? Yes, I understand the concept of moving vans, airplanes, and time multiplied by velocity. I'm speaking of how One moves. As a musician, hell, a person, how does one transfer to a new place? Does one transfer all of those particular traits one has built up over the years? Why not leave a few in the old place? This is why people act differently when they go to their hometowns.
After nine years, I'm fairly sure that Boston isn't my hometown. It is is nearly a decade, however. I didn't spend that long in High School, oh so many years ago. I'm positive that it's time I leave this town (Or as I'm apt to say, "Get the hell out of this God-forsaken town."), but I can only imagine what a pain in the ass it's going to be to set up shop somewhere else.
And we all know how lazy I am.
Oh yeah, I saw that Scorcese-produced movie of Madame Butterfly. I watched the first half one night and the second the next. It was lovely. Cio-cio-san had a lovely voice and produced a fantastic recording. For the record, this was also my first experience with Butterfly. Holy crap.
I'm pretty sure I've never experience rage at the opera before beholding Pinkerton in his completely self-centered depravity. (Okay, yes...I have experienced rage at the opera. That old lady had it coming to her. She was taking forever with the damned cough drop wrapper. Damned plastic wrappers...) For me, the most wrenching moments came when Suzuki realized and accepted what she would have to explain to Butterfly. Suzuki decides to enter herself as a buffer between Cio-cio and the storm that has arrived. Before she can really carry out her self-imposed duty, however, Cio-cio discovers the situation. Ack.
Yes, I said "Ack" rather than something more florid. It's apt, right?
Oh, and I like the general popularity of suicide in opera. A little suicide never hurt anyone...Er...Wait a minute. That's not quite true. It hurts homicide detectives...Those guys don't have jobs if everyone kills only themselves.
Remember folks...Think of the homicide detectives before you do something rash.
After nine years, I'm fairly sure that Boston isn't my hometown. It is is nearly a decade, however. I didn't spend that long in High School, oh so many years ago. I'm positive that it's time I leave this town (Or as I'm apt to say, "Get the hell out of this God-forsaken town."), but I can only imagine what a pain in the ass it's going to be to set up shop somewhere else.
And we all know how lazy I am.
Oh yeah, I saw that Scorcese-produced movie of Madame Butterfly. I watched the first half one night and the second the next. It was lovely. Cio-cio-san had a lovely voice and produced a fantastic recording. For the record, this was also my first experience with Butterfly. Holy crap.
I'm pretty sure I've never experience rage at the opera before beholding Pinkerton in his completely self-centered depravity. (Okay, yes...I have experienced rage at the opera. That old lady had it coming to her. She was taking forever with the damned cough drop wrapper. Damned plastic wrappers...) For me, the most wrenching moments came when Suzuki realized and accepted what she would have to explain to Butterfly. Suzuki decides to enter herself as a buffer between Cio-cio and the storm that has arrived. Before she can really carry out her self-imposed duty, however, Cio-cio discovers the situation. Ack.
Yes, I said "Ack" rather than something more florid. It's apt, right?
Oh, and I like the general popularity of suicide in opera. A little suicide never hurt anyone...Er...Wait a minute. That's not quite true. It hurts homicide detectives...Those guys don't have jobs if everyone kills only themselves.
Remember folks...Think of the homicide detectives before you do something rash.
posted by Christopher at 11:17 PM
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