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Monday, July 1 and I watch The One Dollar Diary, a documentary on the making of Wim Wenders’ “The Million Dollar Hotel” on the Independent Film Channel, with narration by the director. Most fascinating. But as one reviewer wrote, “Its depiction of Wenders’ unassumingly low-key approach actually makes for a much more interesting portrait than the film itself ends up being.” Ouch!
This digital diary is a romantic view, from the seedy neighbourhoods of Los Angeles to the musicians’ sound studio in Dublin, the whole process of creation from the first day to the last. As the chapters slowly unfold, Wenders shows and recounts the magic of a shoot and his sources of inspiration. It features Mel Gibson, Milla Jovovich, Jimmy Smits, Amanda Plummer, Bud Cort, Gloria Stuart, Tim Roth, Wim Wenders, Bono, Brian Eno, and Daniel Lanois. It is followed by one of my brother’s favorite movies, “Wings of Desire” about which Wenders says:
The
sky over war-scarred Berlin is full of gentle, trench-coated angels who
listen to the tortured thoughts of mortals and try to comfort them.
One, Damiel (Bruno Ganz), wishes to become mortal after falling
in love with a beautiful trapeze artist, Marion. Peter Falk, as himself,
assists in the transformation by explaining the simple joys of a human
experience, such as the sublime combination of coffee and cigarettes.
Told from the angel’s point of view, the film is shot in black and white,
blossoming into color only when the angels perceive the realities of humankind.
Strictly Film School says “Wim Wender’s deliberately paced, hauntingly realized contemporary masterpiece is a political allegory for the reunification of Germany and an existential parable on a soul’s search for connection. In essence, Damiel is the Apollinian intellect: pensive, logical, and spiritual. Marion is the Dionysian passion: sensual, risk-taker, dreamer.”
Tuesday,
July 2 and Jane Hudson sends a link for her new video piece
CYCLE
and says,
Cycle is the third in a series of pieces originating in England, where human mind seeks to impose an order, a sense of purpose over the indiscriminate profusion of the plants and a predatory impulse, revealed upon the destruction of that order. But it is replaced by the urge of the “natural” to replenish the earth. My apologies to those of you with 56k modems but I had to get better video quality. No clip exceeds 1MB.
Wednesday, July 3 and I join Bryan for lunch at the diner; later we walk to dinner at It’s Greek to Me. But the extreme heat mitigates against doing anything else. For the summer semester, on Monday, I attend Publishing on the Internet, and on Wednesday, I attend Publishing Law at New York University for my Master of Science in Publishing.
After class I have drinks with some of my fellow students. That was rather interesting, particularly since one works in copyrights for Simon & Schuster, and her boyfriend (rather cute in an East Village kind of way) works as a soundman for the HBO series, “Oz.”
Independence
Day, Thursday, July 4 and drinks and dinner at Pangea.
Friday, July 5 and Thom Lane sends me this post by Robin Vaughan in the Boston Herald about a dear friend:
The Lyons Group nightclub/restaurant empire, which took over the Paradise Rock Club last winter, has installed a new management team. Jeff Marshall, whose cred as a longtime champion of the local music scene is to be taken seriously, says changes are in step with the back-to-basics rock renaissance. In his role as managing director of both Bill’s and the Paradise, Marshall is effectively the Lyons Group’s live-music czar. He’s being given free rein to “do what I feel is right for (the Paradise), turning the clock back, basically,” to the club’s heyday as a cherished rock institution.
Marshall’s agenda, as a veteran supporter of the local music scene, involves being “more receptive to local openers.” This is a guy who has been working hard on the Boston rock scene for two decades, still loves it like a kid and doesn’t attempt to play it cool about what a thrill it is.
“I loved going to the Paradise,” says Marshall, recalling the first shows he saw there, including U2. “When I was at Boston University, I lived right behind the place for four years,” he says, suggesting that even physical proximity to the club was exciting. “I couldn’t have imagined I’d get to run the place one day.”
Saturday, July 6 and we meet Vanessa at the Music Box Theatre (built by Irving Berlin in 1921) to see Ivan Turgenev’s melancholy comedy about surviving whatever comes, Fortune’s Fool. [And may I please suggest that you check out the link; it is one of the more comprehensive sites I have seen.] This is a rarely performed, almost justifiably unknown classic. But Frank Langella has made his role different from what was written. He’s an over-the-top, LA interior decorator! Aaron Leichter writes:
Fortune’s
Fool offers its audience exemplary performances by Alan Bates
and Frank Langella
as the “infamous, fatuous fop.” Langella obviously relishes playing
Flegont; his entrance is astounding. He welcomes Olga and her husband
with a verbal avalanche that lasts several minutes, parading around the
dining room inspecting every glass and candle. He’s like a 19th-century
Russian Looney Tune, dripping egotism.
Director Arthur Penn seems to have let Bates and Langella work on their own. Moreover, none of the other actors reach Bates and Langella’s heights. As a whole, Fortune’s Fool is directed, designed, and performed with competence but lacks the passion and magic to engage its audience’s attention. Nevertheless, two great performances can make up for a lot, and ultimately Bates and Langella manage to do so.
Considering that both actors took home Tony awards for their work, I guess that confirms the great performances! The website for the play contains quotes not only from them, but also Arthur Penn and others associated with the play as well as a history of Ivan Turgenev.
Sunday, July 7 and dinner with my parents, who have come all the way into town just to eat with us. We had always thought of eating at Osso Buco, but their menu declares “family style, double portions” and Bryan and I barely eat enough for one! For the four of us, however, the food, the service, and the atmosphere are just perfect.
For appetizers, we have fried zucchini ($9), fried calamari and a seafood salad (both $16). For main courses, we have the rigatoni country style, with broccoli, peas, sausage and vegetables ($18) and chicken paesana ($18), breast of chicken with sausage and vegetables. We’ll remember Osso Buco the next time we’re out with hearty eaters.
Monday,
July 8 and we get mail: Brother Cleve wrote to say
he’d returned from Moscow; it was
“wild as usual; first time there in good weather – what a magnificent city. Hard to tell under feet of snow and dark skies, but gorgeous in sunlight. Wish I could have stayed longer; no time for sight seeing, as I slept during the day after working all night (clubs are open from around 10 pm until noon the next day). I did get to go to the black market, a place the size of a few shopping malls chock full of illicit goods, stolen property, and bootlegged cd’s and software. The mob rules. Vasha zadrovie!”
Tuesday, July 9 and dinner was at the new noodle shop on Twelfth Street near First Avenue, UN (it stands for “United Noodles”). Later, Bryan wrote this review for Chowhound.com:
We
finally went to UN and were very impressed. As anybody who’s been
by will tell you, it’s a little, well, pretentious. Very white, 2001:
Space Odyssey style, with dark veneer around the ‘bar’ (they don’t
serve wine/liquor yet), but tastefully done. The menus are done in
cd cases.
For starters, I had UN sashimi, thinly sliced tuna and mango in some sort of tomato sauce; very good at $8. My bf had charred shrimp with cherry tomatoes over papaya; a miss at $7. For main courses, I had shrimp tempura with oyster mushrooms and spinach (over-breaded shrimp over ramen with a very interesting lemongrass broth). Other than the shrimp, which were heavy, I loved this dish ($11). He had UN style chicken over linguini ($9), which he loved but I found, again, heavy. I will definitely go back.
In addition, a review in New York magazine said,
The Asian noodle joint gets a twenty-first-century makeover at United Noodles, where a chef is deconstructing dumplings, tweaking linguine, and taking soba to new heights in a high-design space with thrown-open glass doors and a dining room that feels like a futuristic train car. Thai-American chef Paul Chantharavirooj strives to liberate the noodle from its Asian confines. “I’m more Americanized than the owners. They wanted curry. I didn’t.”
Wednesday,
July 10 and at night, we watch “Ninth
Gate” with
Frank
Langella and Johnny
Depp, and directed by Roman
Polanski [this is the website of his production company, in French].
Unfortunately, this is just a bad
movie all around. Langella is typically over-the-top, Depp looks
interesting, and a woman bares her breasts. But it’s no “Rosemary’s
Baby” and certainly no “Chinatown”! I was tempted to include more
links to more bad reviews, but there just was not enough room!
Thursday, July 11 and ten months since the attack on the World Trade Center. To remind us, I reprint an article that appeared in the Riverton Ranger, the local Wyoming paper from Bryan’s hometown:
Lee and Pamela Martinez planned to tour the World Trade Center Tuesday afternoon. The terrorist attack changed their vacation plans. The Riverton couple was in New York visiting Pamela’s son, Bryan Johnson, who lives in Manhattan. “You don’t realize how tragic it is until you see it up close,” Lee Martinez said.
“We could see the towers. We could see the smoke and dust,” Mrs. Martinez said by telephone from her son’s apartment, 20 blocks from the Trade Center. “We could see them and then we couldn't see them. They just collapsed. Sirens are constant, and the air is full of smoke. We just figured the safest place for us to be is right here (in the apartment).”
Martinez spent much of the morning on the roof of his stepson’s apartment building, watching the disaster unfold. “We (Bryan and Lee) went downtown a few blocks,” he said. “You could see the smoke. You could see the people rushing north. It was shoulder to shoulder on Broadway with people coming from the twin towers (area).”
The couple is scheduled to return to Riverton Saturday but their departure might be delayed. “There’s absolutely no way to get off Manhattan right now. Everything is closed down toward New Jersey,” he said.
Friday,
July 12 and dinner with my parents and Uncle Emil and Rose at
Appetito’s.
And what a lovely time we have, enjoying the opera singers and some very
fine food. Can’t say the evening’s cheap, however, as the bill for
the six of us is $375 ($450 with the tip).
I’d specifically like to mention Peter Buchi, the lyric tenor. I ask him if he’ll sing “Nessum Dorma” from Turandot, the opera by Giacomo Puccini. He does this just two feet away from me and with stunning enunciation and breath control. It’s a unique experience to be so close and to hear such technique. Indeed, Corriere della Sera proclaims his “beautiful, even tone, and elegance of phrasing is very communicative.”
Saturday, July 13 and we’re up around noon. But where to eat now that the Lunch Box is gone? Bryan suggests that we try the brunch at the Bendix Diner; I’m really not that impressed with their mixed menu of Thai and cowboy American.
Our real destination is the Fay Da pastry shop in Chinatown, where all sorts of pastry are beautifully displayed. Interestingly, there’s not only Chinese pastries, but French and Italian as well. Bryan and I realize that the cultural interchange of having Chinatown right next door to Little Italy has made this happen. Sociology and anthropology in action! On the way back we visit Art & Industrial Design, the props store.
Sunday, July 14, Bastille Day and we watch Robin Williams on HBO (who declares himself an “Episcopal”). If we were in the Diocese of Ottawa, we might be attending a gay pride Eucharist at Saint John the Evangelist in Ottawa. The Anglican Communion News Service reports that
Ottawa is expected to be the next diocese of the Anglican Church of Canada to consider allowing parishes to bless same-sex relationships, after the diocese of New Westminster in June approved such blessings.
The Rev. Garth Bulmer, rector of Saint John the Evangelist church in downtown Ottawa, said he intends to introduce a motion at the diocesan synod in October. “This resolution does not ask the synod to approve of the blessing of same-sex unions or even to approve of the relationships themselves.”
“I know this parish is ready to do it. I am asked to do this on a regular basis,” said Canon Bulmer in an interview. The parish, which includes the Parliament Hill and counts many civil servants among its parishioners, is known for taking an active stand on social issues.
Just
the week before, Bishop Michael Ingham of New
Westminster (in British Columbia, see picture) apologized to gay and
lesbian Anglicans for how slowly the church is moving on deciding how to
minister to them.
“At the request of the diocese of New Westminster, and on my own behalf, I would like to apologize to gay and lesbian members of our church for the slowness of the process of your full inclusion in the Body of Christ,” said Bishop Ingham. “We apologize to you for your treatment, and sometimes mistreatment, in the life of the church, for our slowness in recognizing you as sexual beings, created in the image of God, desiring a deeper communion with God and the freedom and responsibility of life-long permanent and committed unions in body, mind and spirit with those you love.”
Monday, July 15 and I stop at New York Sports Club, our new gym. It’s a little white and too many mirrors for my taste but not too crowded in the mid-afternoon. I get a very nice phone call from Dana Wharton, my friend from college, before meeting Bryan in order to walk home together. It’s hot out but not humid and a perfect evening for it.
We walk straight to Pangea, where Bryan has the calamari and penne special with tuna, while I have mussels followed by a light curried chicken and raisin salad. I also have a pina colada while Bryan has two martinis. The total bill is $67 plus tip. Jeff Berlin wrote to say that,
“Robyne and I just moved; we bought a huge Victorian house near the woods, closer to Boston on the Melrose/Stoneham line. Closed on Friday, so we’re still living out of boxes. But there’s a big guest room that will always ready for visitors.”
Tuesday, July 16 and I see Craig and Judith Wylie, in the city having dinner with their daughter Miranda; he has been rector of Trinity, Cranford for the last seven years. I find that he’s accepted a call to Abingdon, Virginia (southwest corner near Tennessee). I wrote to a cleric friend and said,
“Craig
Wylie+ accepted a call to be rector of Saint
Thomas Episcopal in Abingdon VA. Trinity always wanted him
to be the custodian who does a mass on Sunday mornings, and that was never
going to work out. Now, the building requires major, major work;
it’s not a matter of fixing the roof but deciding what to do with the building.
I still say, turn it into an IHOP; they need one in Cranford and the congregation
could strike a deal to use part of it on Sunday for mass and make a fortune
the rest of the week!”
He replies that Craig’s “greatest hour was the sermon he preached to Vinny Pettit’s children at his funeral. That will always stay with me. I would argue with Tom Cornell that the flagpole out front made it look like a post office. I have to go to California in early August but I do want to get together – in an air-conditioned restaurant. Caffé on the Green, Rudolf Valentino’s summer home in Whitestone [see picture], is a nice one.”
Wednesday, July 17 and a hot day in the city. My publishing law class is as exciting as usual. Peggy Garry, our professor, hands out the assignment for the final paper, which is posited as a book proposal in 2028. The mayor of New York, Tony Fettucini, is discovered to be illegitimate; born “Puppy Dogg,” he is the son of Courtney Love and Snoop Doggy Dogg. Yes, it continues from there!
Thursday,
July 18 and Steve Pelle sent a picture of himself with his son
Cameron and grandson Gavin. He also wrote to tell us:
I have just spent two weeks in hell. First, while 35 miles offshore on a fishing trip, I was hit with pain from a kidney stone that brought me to my knees. By time we got back to the dock around 4:30 am, I was really hurting. I went to the doctor for the first time in 25 years and after tests and X-rays, an outpatient procedure was scheduled. Thank goodness, they gave me some powerful painkillers. During surgery, my blood pressure spiked up to 250/150 and they thought I was having a stroke. Fortunately, I did not. However, I ended up in intensive care for two days. Now, I am on the mend at home, but have to take it easy. They have me on blood pressure medications and are trying to get it under control before Vicki & I leave for Europe on Saturday.
Friday, July 19 and the humid weather continues. Bryan is at work early while I work on the computer; I have lunch with him at the diner before returning to the apartment. I spend a few hours reading before going to Yummy House around 9 pm for dinner. I know, I’ve said before that this place isn’t so yummy, but I just wanted someplace close to sit for an hour. My college friend, Ben Lynch, writes from Boston:
I am so sorry to hear of Bryan’s stepmother’s death. It’s sobering to have people younger than oneself die – presentiments of one’s own mortality. We’re all doing okay – not much to report. My older son, James, is off in Ireland and England this summer for 6 weeks. We just heard from him (with much laughter, cavorting and din in the background) from a phone booth while attending the Galway Arts Festival. Pete, the younger of the two (10 years old) is off to overnight camp for the first time next week and is as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. When he goes, Josie and I will be alone for the first time in 16 years. It will be fun, but a little strange and lonesome, too.
Bob
Molloy came through last fall with Christine – we had a nice visit.
Made a visit on a crystal clear, warm fall day to one of our old haunts
– Halibut
Point in Rockport. Your name was invoked frequently. He
is pressing on with his vodka business (such a dear, he left several bottles
of Maggy, the last of which was drained by me in a spectacularly dry vodka
martini recently) and otherwise seems fine.
I have totally, totally lost touch with Roman. It’s been several years since I have spoken with him. Joe Courtney is running for congress this year. I think that the long time Democratic rep was defeated in the last election by a Bush Republican, so Joe has jumped in.
Saturday,
July 20 and I listen to Philip
Glass’ Fifth Symphony. While listening to it,
I decide to send a post to Kurt
Munkacsi, telling him that
I first saw the ensemble in the early 70s, while a student at Tufts in Boston. As I recall it was a free show at Harvard University, and is still spoken of fondly by those of us who attended. So when I say that it’s a damned shame that we can’t get that stodgy old Metropolitan Opera to stage Akhnaten ... let’s just say it aggravates me. So where is that Stuttgart production of Akhnaten? Is there any hope for me ... live or on dvd?
Surprisingly, especially since it’s Saturday night and he should be out, he responds almost immediately:
Hello
Tony, to my knowledge the Stuttgart production of AKHNATEN was never videotaped.
Only a few pictures remain :-(
Well, now that’s a damned shame! Just a reminder that, according to Mr. Glass,
The third in Glass’ trilogy of operas about men who changed the world in which they lived through the power of their ideas, Akhnaten’s subject is religion. The Pharaoh Akhnaten was the first monotheist in recorded history, and his substitution of a one-god religion for the multi-god worship in use when he came to power was responsible for his violent overthrow. The opera describes the rise, reign, and fall of Akhnaten in a series of tableaux.
Sunday,
July 21 and we take a very long walk around St Mark’s Place; the
boys sure are cute around there! I have been walking this street
for almost 30 years; the picture on the left is of the former psychedelic
Electric
Circus. In the old days, it was home to Jimi Hendrix, Andy
Warhol’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable with the Velvet Underground, and
more.
Bryan and I go to Pangea for lunch. I have a pina colada with a salad, followed by a glass of champagne with spaghetti Bolognese; Bryan has an iced tea with fried calamari.
Monday, July 22 and we receive a post from Matty and Paul, our English friends to ask if a friend can stay with us for a night next week; Paul also writes that
Matty and I are both racing head down to a months holiday in the Pyrenees in August. Things have been hectic as usual. I’ve split a disc getting stoned and running up a cliff in Cornwall so am spending a lot of time off my head off my face on codeine and/or valium.
Tuesday, July 23 and in preparation for the evening, I listen to live music of Laurie Anderson, as well as Hiawatha from Strange Angels. Bryan and I walk to the theater, stopping to eat at the Moonrock Diner on 57th Street. This is decent diner food; the unique aspect was the presence of a small piece of meteorite. As the waiter told us, “because of our name, we wanted a piece of rock from the moon. But they wanted $40,000 for it so we settled on a small fallen rock!”
Then
it’s off to see Laurie
Anderson, in her new solo piece Happiness
at Alice Tully Hall. This
is a very intimate evening; she performs alone, surrounded by various keyboards
and electronic mixers. Wired
magazine calls her “America’s multi-mediatrix.” Far more coherent
than Moby Dick, I still wish that she had done some singing since
I believe she has a feel for melody and a pleasant voice.
A storytelling montage of moments from her life, there were many references to the World Trade Center bombing (she lives nearby, on the West Side Highway). Otherwise the most emotional moment was the memory of being in the children’s ward of a hospital; years later, a suppressed memory of it rose to the surface. It was, she said, “the sounds at night, the sounds of children crying and screaming, the sounds of children dying.”
Finally, there was the appearance of her lover, Lou Reed, who arrived for his seats (yes, tenth row, center) smiling and waving to friends. The Los Angeles Times said that she
has dazzled and challenged audiences for over 20 years with her revolutionary stage works and recordings. A postmodernist voyeur’s paradise, Anderson says what needs now to be said in exactly the way it can be best heard. “Happiness is my way of looking at some of the things that both interest and trouble me,” says Anderson. “In uncertain times, we find ourselves living more intensely in the present and asking the questions that have been lurking uncomfortably in the background, like what do we really believe in after all?”
After the show, Bryan and I stopped for martinis at Café Fiorello (1900 Broadway, between 63rd and 64th Streets) across the street; we’ve never eaten there but it looks nice and the “antipasto bar” has bowls of what we might call tapas. Once picks groups of threes for appetizers. Something for the future I think!
Wednesday, July 24 and I read from an article redacted from an article by Jon ben Asher:
The British government announced on Tuesday the appointment of the first gay-positive leader of a major faith. Dr. Rowan Williams will be the next archbishop of Canterbury, the leader of the world's Anglicans. Williams, who is now archbishop of Wales, will take over from Dr. George Carey later this year in what is seen as the biggest shake-up in the church in a century.
That
his appointment has the seal of approval from the queen and from the church
is seen as a sign that the Anglican hierarchy wants to move the faith into
the 21st century and avoid being mired in the past. Williams supports
gay and lesbian clergy, is outspoken on the rights of children, and is
considered one of the leading theologians of our time.
At a late morning news conference, Williams said: "If there is one thing I long for above all else, it is that the years to come may see Christianity in this country able again to capture the imagination of our culture, to draw the strongest energies of our thinking and feeling."
Thursday, July 25 and I see a real “strange angel” in Union Square. Yes, a bedraggled young blond wearing nothing but angel feathers. Lots of them, but looking like he climbed out of a sewer. Indeed, the shorts he had on underneath were half off his very pretty butt! Hmmm.
At
6, I go back uptown to meet Bryan and begin our walk up to Lincoln Center
again, this time to the New York State Theater to see the 50th
Anniversary performance by the Merce
Cunningham Dance Company. To see pictures of the building,
designed by Philip Johnson, click
here. Merce says:
I read Einstein by pure coincidence, where he said there are no fixed points in space and I thought, well, that’s perfect, that, as far as I was concerned, about stage space. There aren’t any fixed points. Wherever you are ... could be a center. Well that's a Buddhist thought, of course – wherever you are is the center, as well as where everybody else is. But that seemed to me quite marvelous, and enlarging.
The
evening was broken down into three parts. Following a short introductory
video narrated by Merce was “Suite
for Five” (from 1956, with a John Cage piano score and costumes by
Robert
Rauschenberg). The middle section was the most interesting for
me, including “Fabrications”
with a mix of incredible dancing and intellectually stimulating music.
Finally, the New York premiere of “Loose
Time,” created in 2002 with sets and costumes by Terry Winters and
music by Christian
Wolff. Unfortunately, I found Mr. Wolff’s score to be quite derivative
of John Cage’s. This might have been acceptable fifty years ago,
but not now. Mikhail Baryshnikov said:
The elegance, simplicity, and force of the work are unique and undeniable. He has taught us something new and powerful about how to dance and how to live.
After the performance, we took a cab back home, going immediately to Pangea. Bryan had a martini with fried calamari and the penne with chicken and Portobello mushrooms while I had a caipirinha with a mozzarella and tomato salad followed by their Moroccan chicken. We were in bed and asleep before 1 am.
Friday, July 26 and Bryan and I are at the Neil Simon Theatre. And Hairspray turns out to be the next Tony winner! At least that’s what we believe will happen, definitely for the play, probably for the actress, and possibly for Harvey Fierstein. What fun! The Associated Press gave this review on MSNBC:
Mel
Brooks + Anne Bancroft, Danny DeVito, Yoko Ono, and Nathan Lane have seen
it. So has Bette Midler, but then she’s an investor. Hairspray
is the next Producers, Broadway’s hottest show. “It’s wild.
I can’t believe what’s happening,” said producer Margo Lion, who came up
with the idea for a stage version of John
Waters’ campy movie about a pudgy teen’s obsession with a TV dance
show in 1960s Baltimore. “And most of it has been word of mouth.”
At Friday’s sold-out performance, you could hear a contented hum. Not bad for a musical with no stars — except perhaps Harvey Fierstein, who has inherited the role of full-figured Edna Turnblad, played in the film by Divine. To portray Edna’s daughter, perky Tracy Turnblad, Lion chose Marissa Jaret Winokur, who achieved minor cult status by uttering one of the biggest laugh lines in the Academy Award-winning film American Beauty — “You are so busted.”
After
the play, we go to restaurant row (46th Street) and have dinner at Becco.
Owned by Lidia, it offers a $21 prix fixe, with a superb assortment of
antipasti,
including baby octopus, sea bass, salmon, and a tray of mixed vegetables.
Then there’s a pasta course of three daily pastas, as much as you want.
This evening it was farfalle with basil and garlic, risotto
with oysters, and perciatelle in tomato and basil. Finally,
a huge wine list of twenty dollar bottles (along with a more expensive
list). The meal was so fine, we returned the favor by having a piece
of cheesecake with berries and espresso. This brings the total bill
to $83, which when one factors in the tip, brings it to an even hundred
dollar bill. Not like they didn’t think about that in advance!
Saturday,
July 27 and I stop at Virgin Records to do my normal check for
the dvd of Turandot,
by Giacomo Puccini. And it’s there! Yes, the David
Hockney production at the San
Francisco Opera in 1994. Love’s triumph over barbaric cruelty,
combined with the opulent beauty of Puccini’s music. Eva Marton takes
the central and highly demanding title role, with the sensational American
tenor Michael Sylvester as Calaf (I prefer him to Franco Corelli).
The sets and costumes make this a visual spectacle. Truly an incredible
performance.
At 3 pm, I go to the gym and at 6 pm, I take the bus to Cranford for the evening. My parents have been at a picnic all day but still take me to eat at an Italian restaurant in Kenilworth. No, not Umberto’s, as the last two times, but Taormina, Ristorante Italiano, on the Boulevard. Blue point oysters baked with pancetta followed by perfect filet mignons (with walnuts and gorgonzola cheese in a red wine reduction) made me very happy.
Sunday, July 28 and I’m at the IHOP with my parents at 9 am. We drive into the city at 11, with new propane for the grill, fresh figs and watermelon, and lettuce from the garden. Since we now have gas, Bryan grills up Omaha steaks along with grilled potatoes with onions and sauce.
Sin, shame and sacrifice ... three words no American can hear anymore. Carlos Mercado, a friend of Bishop Joe Doss wrote, regarding the collapse of the stock market:
I have long thought that it would be personal unsecured debt, primarily from credit cards, that would collapse the banking system and bring on the next major depression. I find it so ironic that now it may be brought on by nothing more than SIN. A bunch of lying, fat cat executives (apologies to all cats) deliberately misstate their earnings and expenses to falsely inflate the already over-inflated stock market and – voila! Our latest crisis. I am surprised that, if there is still an effective organized Al-Qaeda group, they don’t strike again to push us over the economic cliff. If we are indeed headed into a serious financial collapse, starting with Wall Street, how ironic that the cause was violating the Ten Commandments. God still reigns! Carlos M.
Monday, July 29 and Joanne Vaccaro-Vallis writes to say “Bob and I are getting a divorce. He did not see that this was worth working on so … we’re putting together a sell sheet to market the house to our neighbors before giving it to a realtor. I’m moving to Boston in October; Bob will buy something in Gloucester, close to his ‘real’ life. It’s all about priority and choices. This life was not his priority.”
Bryan and I pass each other at 5:30, on my way to class. These last few classes are open lab, but I’m still only getting halfway to understanding the work. So Graham Norton has Patrick Duffy and Sheena Easton. Boy, was Duffy funny, and Sheena salacious!
Tuesday, July 30 and have breakfast at Veselka; it is open twenty-four hours a day, something I’ll have to remember. Plus they make their own buttermilk pancakes on the premises. We had had dinner there a few years ago and didn’t find it very good, but breakfast seems to work out.
I call Joanne Vallis, uh, Vaccaro, at 4:30 and get all the details of their collapsing marriage. We must talk for about 45 minutes and her story mimics mine in so many ways that I worry where I’ll be in twenty years. I worry about where I’ll be in twenty days!
Wednesday, July 31 and call Verizon wireless and get two LG VX-1 clamshell phones. Bryan’s new number will be (646) 831.3309 which isn’t too hard to remember.
I really feel the need for a martini and so I go to Pangea. I must make mention first of the peppercorn steak salad with mandarin oranges and cilantro which is just superb; accompanying it is an apple cosmo … wow. Of course, I sit at the bar with Pat and have a few more drinks beyond that.
Apropos of nothing, I love Richard Thompson; Entertainment Weekly suggests “the curious and the devoted will want to make the pilgrimage” to his website, so check it out.
And so ends July.
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Adelante!
Hombres. Sailors. Comrades. I know your mind. I know your heart. I know your answer. |
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| june 2002 | august 2002 |
Nessun dorma, Calaf’s aria from Turandot
Nessun dorma, Nessun dorma! Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza, guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore e di speranza. Ma il mio mistero e chiuso in me, il nome mio nessun sapra! No, no, sulla tua bocca lo diro quando la luce splendera! Ed il mio bacio sciogliera il silenzio che ti fa mia!
[ Chorus: Il nome suo nessun sapra! E noi dovrem, ahime, morir! ]
Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincero'!
No one sleeps! No one sleeps! You too, O Princess, in your chaste room are watching the stars which tremble with love and hope! But my secret lies hidden within me, no one shall discover my name! Oh no, I will reveal it only on your lips, when daylight shines forth and my kiss shall break the silence which makes you mine.
[ Chorus: No one shall discover his name! And we will have to die! ]
Depart, oh night! Fade away, you stars! At dawn I shall win!
An
Ontario court ruled on Friday, July 12, that Canada's policy of refusing
legal recognition of gay and lesbian marriages was unconstitutional.
The ruling by a three-judge panel of the Ontario Superior Court is a major
step toward the formal recognition of homosexual marriages in Canada.
Under existing laws, marriage certificates are issued only to heterosexual
couples, though gay and lesbian couples can get similar rights and privileges
as licensed marriages.
Justice Heather Smith suspended Friday's ruling
for two years to give the federal Parliament time to redefine the term
"marriage" in Canadian law. The case decided Friday involved two
couples one gay and one lesbian married in 2001 using a Christian tradition
of reading banns, or asking in church on
three Sundays if anyone objects to a couple's
marriage.
After the ceremony at the Metropolitan Community Church in downtown Toronto, the couples were given marriage certificates from Rev. Brent Hawke. When they tried to have the marriages registered, provincial officials refused.
On Friday, the gay couple shared a celebratory kiss and wept at news of the ruling. "We're no longer second-class citizens in this country and the time has come for change," said Joe Varnell, who sued the provincial government for the right to marry another man. "My relationship is validated and nobody can say we're not a real family anymore."
Government lawyer Roslyn Levine called the ruling "historic" and "unprecedented." "It means marriage is no longer limited to one man and one woman to the exclusion of all others," she said. In the decision, the judges ruled that denying legal recognition to gay and lesbian marriages violated Canada's Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Douglas Elliott, the lawyer for the gay couple, said he expected the government to appeal Friday's ruling, with the case eventually reaching Canada's Supreme Court.
The only country that legally recognizes same-sex marriages is The Netherlands. In the United States, Vermont enacted a domestic partnership law in 2000 that allows gay couples to enter into civil unions that resemble marriage. No other state has such a law.