Surprise Ending Revealed
Well, it's cold and rainy NOW -- it's supposed to drop 40 degrees today, and it's doing its best at this very moment.
Poor Sam. No leaf-raking for him. I think he's upstairs with the cat on his lap, reading. Gee, darn.
Various things to be addressed today --
For one thing, Ryan, the surprise ending of The Flying Dutchman turned out to concern the manner in which Senta met her death. You could see it coming -- for one thing, it was obvious that the staging didn't allow for Senta's traditional leap off the set into the ocean, and for another, Erik, the distraught Former Boyfriend, started walking around with a double-barreled shotgun, pointing it at various people on stage, but mostly at The Portrait of the Flying Dutchman (not the Dutchman himself, even though he was actually on the stage; just as well, he's not really Amongst the Living), and so when Senta grabbed the portrait SO THAT she would get shot, thereby freeing the Flying Dutchman from his Heretofore Endless Hell, it was not really a surprise when she DID get shot. No mess, though -- should have been LOT of mess, with that double barreled shotgun. The Surprise Ending solved a couple of problems -- easier staging, and easier on the poor soprano (sopranos must get awfully tired of flinging themselves off balconies) but added a new one: Now what? Does Erik get hauled off to jail? Does he escape the death sentence, on account of his clearly Diminished Responsibility? One wonders.
It was a fantastic production, though. One does not usually expect QUITE so much excitement in a Wagnerian production -- this one was full of stuff. The very chairs were Fraught with Meaning. Fraught, I say. I still haven't figured out why the townspeople dressed up for a St. Pat's day party in the last scene -- I understand why they weren't wearing their traditional bunads (here's what mine would look like, if I had one), since they were being Early 20th Century Victims of Capitalism and Fascism, but all those green sashes and scarves I don't get.
Who cares. It was a hoot. I adored it. I've never laughed so much at a Wagnerian opera. Well, I've never laughed at a Wagnerian opera ever, now that I think about it. I'd see it again. I hope I DO see it again. I wish I owned a video of it.
If the company decides to do "Parsifal" I only hope they can make it half so entertaining.
Other news: I did indeed arrive at Pittsburgh Knit and Bead, over where Gwen works, and I spent a lot of money -- the fruits of which I'll show tomorrow; no pictures today. It's such a treat to have an excellent LYS -- we've been missing such a one for a while now. And Gwen is Just Darling and knows a bunch of dead languages, which is always a plus in my book. So I'm happy. Always good to have Knitting Blogger Cohorts, especially when they're so charming.
Saturday I'll be elsewhere, and am scheduled to have breakfast with another Knitting Blogger Cohort -- darling thing, she suggested Mama's Royal Cafe. Part of my enjoyment of her blog -- besides the writing, which you could eat with a spoon -- is that she's broadcasting from the Bay Area, and I love it when she mentions my old haunts. The Royal Cafe was one of them -- if we're really lucky we'll get snarled at; she tells me the staff is just as touchy as it ever was. Oh, be still, my heart. Old home week.
And finally, I must address the Knitting Tarot, which is marching on without me on account of I got stuck on the Princes because, having an Issue With Knights, I couldn't remember what the hell they were. I think I gave Amber quite a turn when I finally broke down and asked. It's a sort of basic thing. But I really do have an issue with knights -- they make me nuts. And I have to deal with them a lot. All that starting things up and running off here and there -- way too much adrenaline.
However.
In the Knitting Tarot, they've become princes, which is a bit calmer, but still embody that beginning energy.
The Prince of Skeins -- lovely. A focus on knitting for the ages, and having too many expectations. So the lesson, then, is about letting go. We can't MAKE things be heirlooms. We can't MAKE our gifts be adored. Sometimes this happens, and we can do our best and most loving work, to help the process along. But we have to give the gift, walk away, and not look back. Hanging over the gift will poison it.
And The Prince of Spindles -- attention to details. And, often, way too much attention to details. So, for those of us who are too exacting, the card tells us to calm down and ease up. And for those of use who get too harum-scarum, it tells us to shape up.
Then, on the other hand, if we're working on our Master's Certification, it's just exactly who we need to be.
And freebie gift: another major, and an easy one at that: The Magician needs no translation. Some pointy sticks, some thread, and step back! Matter, transformed. That's why we do it, that's why we love it. Magic.
That's why the fairies love it too -- now where the hell did they put that shiny stuff I bought yesterday...
Poor Sam. No leaf-raking for him. I think he's upstairs with the cat on his lap, reading. Gee, darn.
Various things to be addressed today --
For one thing, Ryan, the surprise ending of The Flying Dutchman turned out to concern the manner in which Senta met her death. You could see it coming -- for one thing, it was obvious that the staging didn't allow for Senta's traditional leap off the set into the ocean, and for another, Erik, the distraught Former Boyfriend, started walking around with a double-barreled shotgun, pointing it at various people on stage, but mostly at The Portrait of the Flying Dutchman (not the Dutchman himself, even though he was actually on the stage; just as well, he's not really Amongst the Living), and so when Senta grabbed the portrait SO THAT she would get shot, thereby freeing the Flying Dutchman from his Heretofore Endless Hell, it was not really a surprise when she DID get shot. No mess, though -- should have been LOT of mess, with that double barreled shotgun. The Surprise Ending solved a couple of problems -- easier staging, and easier on the poor soprano (sopranos must get awfully tired of flinging themselves off balconies) but added a new one: Now what? Does Erik get hauled off to jail? Does he escape the death sentence, on account of his clearly Diminished Responsibility? One wonders.
It was a fantastic production, though. One does not usually expect QUITE so much excitement in a Wagnerian production -- this one was full of stuff. The very chairs were Fraught with Meaning. Fraught, I say. I still haven't figured out why the townspeople dressed up for a St. Pat's day party in the last scene -- I understand why they weren't wearing their traditional bunads (here's what mine would look like, if I had one), since they were being Early 20th Century Victims of Capitalism and Fascism, but all those green sashes and scarves I don't get.
Who cares. It was a hoot. I adored it. I've never laughed so much at a Wagnerian opera. Well, I've never laughed at a Wagnerian opera ever, now that I think about it. I'd see it again. I hope I DO see it again. I wish I owned a video of it.
If the company decides to do "Parsifal" I only hope they can make it half so entertaining.
Other news: I did indeed arrive at Pittsburgh Knit and Bead, over where Gwen works, and I spent a lot of money -- the fruits of which I'll show tomorrow; no pictures today. It's such a treat to have an excellent LYS -- we've been missing such a one for a while now. And Gwen is Just Darling and knows a bunch of dead languages, which is always a plus in my book. So I'm happy. Always good to have Knitting Blogger Cohorts, especially when they're so charming.
Saturday I'll be elsewhere, and am scheduled to have breakfast with another Knitting Blogger Cohort -- darling thing, she suggested Mama's Royal Cafe. Part of my enjoyment of her blog -- besides the writing, which you could eat with a spoon -- is that she's broadcasting from the Bay Area, and I love it when she mentions my old haunts. The Royal Cafe was one of them -- if we're really lucky we'll get snarled at; she tells me the staff is just as touchy as it ever was. Oh, be still, my heart. Old home week.
And finally, I must address the Knitting Tarot, which is marching on without me on account of I got stuck on the Princes because, having an Issue With Knights, I couldn't remember what the hell they were. I think I gave Amber quite a turn when I finally broke down and asked. It's a sort of basic thing. But I really do have an issue with knights -- they make me nuts. And I have to deal with them a lot. All that starting things up and running off here and there -- way too much adrenaline.
However.
In the Knitting Tarot, they've become princes, which is a bit calmer, but still embody that beginning energy.
The Prince of Skeins -- lovely. A focus on knitting for the ages, and having too many expectations. So the lesson, then, is about letting go. We can't MAKE things be heirlooms. We can't MAKE our gifts be adored. Sometimes this happens, and we can do our best and most loving work, to help the process along. But we have to give the gift, walk away, and not look back. Hanging over the gift will poison it.
And The Prince of Spindles -- attention to details. And, often, way too much attention to details. So, for those of us who are too exacting, the card tells us to calm down and ease up. And for those of use who get too harum-scarum, it tells us to shape up.
Then, on the other hand, if we're working on our Master's Certification, it's just exactly who we need to be.
And freebie gift: another major, and an easy one at that: The Magician needs no translation. Some pointy sticks, some thread, and step back! Matter, transformed. That's why we do it, that's why we love it. Magic.
That's why the fairies love it too -- now where the hell did they put that shiny stuff I bought yesterday...
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