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Time does indeed fly
Oct. 5th, 2011 10:58 amIt's been a week since last I posted anything, and I'm horrifically behind on reading exchange fics. On the other hand, this working week consists of only two days, i.e. yesterday and today, and then I'm freeeeeeeee!!! from tomorrow till next Tuesday.
Janine's visit was a bit of a mixed thing, though mostly positive -- I just forget sometimes how astonishingly bitchy she can be, and if that coincides with a not-so-good day, the outcome isn't too pleasant. Not that we fought, mind you, because... well, her stay was a short one after all, and I really didn't want the rest of it to be spoiled by a fight. A completely useless fight, to boot, since she obviously felt that my rational approach to something she was whining about was hurtful enough to warrant total bitchiness from her. Oh well -- being my best friend doesn't mean she's perfect, and I'm less than perfect myself.
Both wine tastings were vastly successful, though, with perfect weather and good company, and she was suitably impressed by what has so far been accomplished of project "Skopje 2014" -- impressed in theOMG-I-can't-believe-anybody-would-do-THAT!!!! sense.
Yesterday Irene, Ursula (so good to have her back after the holidays!) and I went to see the opening night of Gluck's Orpheus and Eurydike at the opera. They really did outdo themselves this time, and I don't mean that in a positive sense.
Where to begin?
It's not as if I constantly compared the orchestra with the Vienna Philharmonic, honestly. And it's obvious that they can't afford a really decent conductor. But to slaughter this stunningly beautiful music the way they did is unforgivable -- the occasional wrong note or rhythmic error wouldn't weigh so heavily if there was at least the tiniest bit of passion to be felt in the execution. No trace of that, though. So boring, so dull, so utterly and completely uninspired. Argh.
And then, there were of course the singers.
Personally I don't give a monkey's whether they cast a countertenor or contralto as Orpheus, provided the person can sing. It was a countertenor, who couldn't really sing, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst, which led to near-suffocation in both Ursula and myself, was that he looked and, alas, sang *exactly* (and I crap you not) like the gay knight's son in Monty Python's Holy Grail, including but not limited to the wig. It was so absolutely effing hilarious, I don't know how exactly I managed to muffle my desperate snorts, especially since I could feel, and see out of the corner of my eye, Ursula almost dying next to me.
Eurydike was very, very average, the kind of voice that should never sing anything written before the late 1800's due to excessive vibrato -- you can get awy with that singing Wagner or Verdi, but never, ever when singing Mozart, Gluck, Haydn and the like.
Amor had a voice like Mickey Mouse and was otherwise unremarkable.
This truly fascinating mix of gems was framed by a supremely uninspired stage setting -- obviously someone had their heart set on being postmodern, wihtout understanding that 1) postmodern is getting a bit old, and 2) if you do it, it ought to be sleek and clear (which means it ought not to look like someone very poor is trying to imitate luxury).
There's one positive thing I've got to say about it, though: it only lasts 70 minutes. Praise the lord.
What else?
Oh, yes -- my brother broke up with his girlfriend of ten years, which was only to be expected. And, as far as I'm concerned, something to be hoped for, because those two weren't making each other happy or each other's lives any better, which IMO is a reason not to spend the rest of it together. We talked on Sunday evening, when he was still a bit shell-shocked but not unhappy with his decision.
Sunday was obviously High Drama Day -- my father fell down the stairs and broke his arm, no idea which one, but very close to the shoulder joint. While I don't care much for my father, the consequences for my mother are rather daunting: they can neither operate (he's too old at 86) nor put on a plaster cast (which wouldn't improve the situation anyway), so the shoulder has been fixed by means of elastic bandages, and fixed also means that the upper arm has been fixed to the upper body, which means mobility nightmare. Given her rather poor state of health -- one artificial knee joint kinda broken and resulting pain, anaemia, bad back and rheumatism -- I honestly can't see how she'd be up to looking after him. Needless to say, however, that my offer of finding a place (something between a hotel and a nursing home) were they could stay for the next two or three weeks, and organizing transport etc., was not accepted. *cue eyeroll* Maybe a call from the family doctor will have more of an effect, at least I hope so.
I'm SO looking forward to the next six days!!
*dances happy dance*
Janine's visit was a bit of a mixed thing, though mostly positive -- I just forget sometimes how astonishingly bitchy she can be, and if that coincides with a not-so-good day, the outcome isn't too pleasant. Not that we fought, mind you, because... well, her stay was a short one after all, and I really didn't want the rest of it to be spoiled by a fight. A completely useless fight, to boot, since she obviously felt that my rational approach to something she was whining about was hurtful enough to warrant total bitchiness from her. Oh well -- being my best friend doesn't mean she's perfect, and I'm less than perfect myself.
Both wine tastings were vastly successful, though, with perfect weather and good company, and she was suitably impressed by what has so far been accomplished of project "Skopje 2014" -- impressed in theOMG-I-can't-believe-anybody-would-do-THAT!!!! sense.
Yesterday Irene, Ursula (so good to have her back after the holidays!) and I went to see the opening night of Gluck's Orpheus and Eurydike at the opera. They really did outdo themselves this time, and I don't mean that in a positive sense.
Where to begin?
It's not as if I constantly compared the orchestra with the Vienna Philharmonic, honestly. And it's obvious that they can't afford a really decent conductor. But to slaughter this stunningly beautiful music the way they did is unforgivable -- the occasional wrong note or rhythmic error wouldn't weigh so heavily if there was at least the tiniest bit of passion to be felt in the execution. No trace of that, though. So boring, so dull, so utterly and completely uninspired. Argh.
And then, there were of course the singers.
Personally I don't give a monkey's whether they cast a countertenor or contralto as Orpheus, provided the person can sing. It was a countertenor, who couldn't really sing, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst, which led to near-suffocation in both Ursula and myself, was that he looked and, alas, sang *exactly* (and I crap you not) like the gay knight's son in Monty Python's Holy Grail, including but not limited to the wig. It was so absolutely effing hilarious, I don't know how exactly I managed to muffle my desperate snorts, especially since I could feel, and see out of the corner of my eye, Ursula almost dying next to me.
Eurydike was very, very average, the kind of voice that should never sing anything written before the late 1800's due to excessive vibrato -- you can get awy with that singing Wagner or Verdi, but never, ever when singing Mozart, Gluck, Haydn and the like.
Amor had a voice like Mickey Mouse and was otherwise unremarkable.
This truly fascinating mix of gems was framed by a supremely uninspired stage setting -- obviously someone had their heart set on being postmodern, wihtout understanding that 1) postmodern is getting a bit old, and 2) if you do it, it ought to be sleek and clear (which means it ought not to look like someone very poor is trying to imitate luxury).
There's one positive thing I've got to say about it, though: it only lasts 70 minutes. Praise the lord.
What else?
Oh, yes -- my brother broke up with his girlfriend of ten years, which was only to be expected. And, as far as I'm concerned, something to be hoped for, because those two weren't making each other happy or each other's lives any better, which IMO is a reason not to spend the rest of it together. We talked on Sunday evening, when he was still a bit shell-shocked but not unhappy with his decision.
Sunday was obviously High Drama Day -- my father fell down the stairs and broke his arm, no idea which one, but very close to the shoulder joint. While I don't care much for my father, the consequences for my mother are rather daunting: they can neither operate (he's too old at 86) nor put on a plaster cast (which wouldn't improve the situation anyway), so the shoulder has been fixed by means of elastic bandages, and fixed also means that the upper arm has been fixed to the upper body, which means mobility nightmare. Given her rather poor state of health -- one artificial knee joint kinda broken and resulting pain, anaemia, bad back and rheumatism -- I honestly can't see how she'd be up to looking after him. Needless to say, however, that my offer of finding a place (something between a hotel and a nursing home) were they could stay for the next two or three weeks, and organizing transport etc., was not accepted. *cue eyeroll* Maybe a call from the family doctor will have more of an effect, at least I hope so.
I'm SO looking forward to the next six days!!
*dances happy dance*
