Ego and Super Ego

It is funny how we can change so much in such a short period of time. Small things can really have a great impact on our own self perception. Over the last few months, I have begun to notice the many disparities between who I am, who other perceive me to be and who I would like to be. A woman I worked with once and who I credit a great deal of my courage to once said "if only you could see yourself as other do." I think this is sage advice, think about what those who love you see in you, pretty astonishing how different our own perception can be.

I would like to have some closure with my sister. It is a numb hole that I need to name. The detective is not hopeful, he has assured us that he will do whatever he can to find out what happened. This of course, brings some comfort in that someone else cares about her. Right now, I am in this place where I need to grieve but can't. I haven't really talked to very many people about this and when I have, it is so surreal, like I am out of body. The thought that I will never be able to tell her that I love her is not real, it doesn't fit. I fear that those who know about this think me callous because I have no real emotion. This being said, there are times when it takes me by surprise, the phrase "The Lord shall preserve me from all evil. Yea, it is even He that shall keep my soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and forever more" from psalm 121 is the one that did it for me last but even then it was a moment of tearful indiscretion. I fear the wave that I know is coming, the one that will knock me on my ass. What to do then? What if it doesn't happen? I know that this is a bizarre stream of conscience missive but well, that is who I am.

Emillie, you were my first playmate. We endured the grandmother moments, the Herb moments, the crazy "other" moments. Indiana, St. Joe, Leavenworth summers in the museum, OCTA conventions with Mom, fighting, playing dress up and creating plays. Turning an antique lace table cloth and a really ugly old dress into what was really a remarkable Elizabethan costume. You know many of my secrets and have kept them well. The injuries and heartaches, bad music lessons and shitty teachers. The almost irreparable damage of First Baptist Church, sharing cigarettes and being generally awful to each other. Here is what I see in you my dear, a beautiful, self-sacrificing person who was more sensitive than what was acceptable in our realm. I don't blame you for the shit in high school, I know that you did not feel included in the rest of the family (don't worry, that is a genetic trait, I never did/do either), you dealt with a fowl situation in the only way that you knew how. I am sorry that I wasn't more supportive of your positive attributes and am making efforts to rectify that behavior with my own daughters.

Really, the other stuff just starts to fall away. It is really about who you were in essence. There is a line that I am horribly going to mis-quote in the movie American Beauty something to the effect that there are things that are so beautiful in the world that you can hardly comprehend them (so badly mis-quoted that I couldn't even put quotes around it), you were one of those people who seemed to always look for that, I think the issue was with the rest of us, you saw us for who we really were at essence. One thing that I remember from your childhood was your ability to empathize with anyone, that is not a quality that is easily managed in our families world of sarcasm. The rest of the shit is in consequential really, who cares about the bs.

Two times someone pointed out how much you wanted to have a connection to us, once at the mission trip to Anadarko, OK when you broke down and cried and the other was by Father Brendan at my wedding. I get it now, Emillie, I am sorry that I didn't know what to say at the time. I am sorry that our last experiences were so inconsequential. In the movie of my life, this is not how it goes. You know how it ends in my head... You know me too well, the pretty house, the smiling family all together, for me it is the fabled fake picture perfect existence (funny how my professional life has become a way to fashion those moments perfect liturgy, perfect, house, prefect singing, perfectly artificial.) For once I should ask you, how would you have it end?

We're at places people...

The review for a recent performance is in: http://wweek.com/editorial/3351/9881, not so good. Here is the deal, the performance is good very talented people putting themselves out there I am disturbed by this review in that it doesn't properly capture what went on that evening (I know, the bad ones never do!) Here is the deal, the reviewer was 10 minutes late for a 1.5 hour show, the audience loved it, there was some great singing namely by my colleagues Natasha, Michael, Deb and Richard. I was not at my vocal best (something the reviewer could and should have mentioned instead of the vague insinuation that the cast was not up to the music.) He miss-represents the story (Adina doesn't like Belcore that is the crux of the opera), he uses uselessly vulgar language "Adina, who harbors a wet spot for hunky Steve Belcore" and is rather creepily coming on to the guy who plays Belcore. Are you kidding me?

Call a spade a spade, a company whose mission is to produce easily assessable opera using local talent did just that. Yes, there are things that could be improved, why not mention those things? How about mentioning how a few thousand dollars from a donor would help production value e.g. wheezy upright piano? I know, I am too personally involved to be objective but, well, shut the fuck up, it is my blog! If you want objectivity read somewhere else. Is it opera? Not in the strict sense, it does however present the music and themes of one of the most beloved bel canto operas to a new audience.

Here are several things that I hate that somehow found their way into this review:

Ax Grinding, don't be manipulative, its ugly the world doesn't need any more liquored up, self important queens. Try counseling, don't spew your issues all over the cultural scene. If ther is an issue, put it out there!

Dick Jokes, we get it, you are a horny gay man and there was an attractive straight guy on the stage, get over it. BTW, who talks about wet spots in pants? Gross...

Patronizing comments: "has talent" WTF! You must be kidding me? Of course she has talent you idiot! She wrote a great show, produced a great show directed a great show. To boot she has won the Met Auditions, Lieber awards and toured with the Merola Program to mention just a few minor accomplishments. If you don't like the show say why (don't give me some bull shit about depth of character! Have you ever read the libretto of the original? Terrible character development!)

Are you reviewing or commenting?

Be clear! This is utterly confusing. Point out what is really wrong, there is more to writing than sarcasm (reader, shut up, that is why I am not a writer.) A critic/reviewer has several purposes, first endorse what is good using their education and personal experience, second educate giving your readers evidence of why something is good or bad, third entertain by writing in an engaging manner. You have failed at two of the three. Perhaps the show was bad, why? Be specific! What would make it better? What actually happened? Oh, and who actually uses the words "de rigeur"? No more pretension, this is Portland, there is already enough of that shit in the black hair dye wearing, emo listening, TBA watching kids that are allowed to aimlesly roam the streets of the Pearl!

Veljo Tormis

Two years ago I did a recording of the works of Estonian composer Veljo Tormis. It finally is released: http://www.clarionrecords.com/clarion/3_clr_921.html

Take him earth for cherishing...

From a 4th-century poem by Aurelius Clemens Prudentius translated by Helen Waddell

Take him, earth, for cherishing,
to thy tender breast receive him.
Body of a man I bring thee,
noble even in its ruin.

Once was this a spirit's dwelling,
by the breath of God created.
High the heart that here was beating,
Christ the prince of all its living.

Guard him well, the dead I give thee,
not unmindful of his creature
shall he ask it: he who made it
symbol of his mystery.

Comes the hour God hath appointed
to fulfil the hope of men,
then must thou, in very fashion,
what I give, return again.

Not though ancient time decaying
wear away these bones to sand,
ashes that a man might measure
in the hollow of his hand:

Not though wandering winds and idle,
drifting through the empty sky,
scatter dust was nerve and sinew,
is it given to man to die.

Once again the shining road
leads to ample Paradise;
open are the woods again,
that the serpent lost for men

Take, O take him, mighty leader,
take again thy servant's soul.
Grave his name, and pour the fragrant
balm upon the icy stone.

"Issac, Issac, blessed must thou be...)

Ok, so I believe in being honest. The last post, not so nice... I am having some issues (obviously.) No insight for today, let's just listen to some music. Hows about Britten's Canticle II. Abraham and Issac. I think it might actually be one of the most powerful things he wrote. Two singers: a tenor who plays "Abraham" a Mezzo as "Issac" when they sing together they form the voice of God. Just a ravishing piece of music. Britten uses it in his War Requiem, another amazing work and statement on humanity, it really should be performed more often. Thinking about fathers today, this piece seemed fitting. At any rate, excuse the rantings of a crazy, sometimes you just got to let it out.

Another composer to look up: Luke Mayernik, he composed a work entitled A Requiem for Mr. Rodgers, lovely http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=1742804.

I know all of the Requiem talk, it is almost November. Time to think of these things. Peace...

New hatred for unresolved issues

I hate you. I don't have proof that you did it but have a pretty good feeling that you have destroyed a part of my family. I hope that you pay you mother fucking douche bag.

In addition, I hate myself. I hate that I have to sit here and think day and night about things that I hove no control over. I hate that at any moment a strain of music can reduce me to silent blubbering. I hate that I am so strong and can't actually become the quivering mass of emotion that I feel, ever "normal" in my day to day life.

In an ever dwindling population of family I hate that my desire is to cease being, period.

So... at any rate,fuck you. You horrible horrible person, I refuse to allow you to have this control over me. You will not break who I am, and she will not be in vain.

"I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me write..."

A very interesting odd time, you know how you have those pesky things called emotions? You may not be able to put a finger on what you are feeling, you just know that it is a feeling and that you will have to deal with it. Yeah, that's me... Sometimes life forces you to deal with very unpleasant things despite the fact that you are pretty sure that you are not ready for them. It is kind of like a big game of hide and seek, all of a sudden, something jumps out at you that you may not have anticipated, you shit your pants and then deal with it. That is all the further I want to go with that feeling right now, not a good time. (I know vague, I am not trying to be arty, just needed to write down some thoughts.)

A new favorite Hymn for this week. The text is Robert Bridges, the tune is Herbert Howells

My eyes for beauty pineMy soul for Goddes grace
No other care nor hope is mine
To heaven I turn my face
One splendour thence is shed from all the stars above
Tis named when God's name is said
Tis love, 'tis heavenly love
And every gentle heart that burns with true desire
Is lit from eyes that mirror part of that celestial fire

Howells is an interesting character, I am going to sing the tenor solo in his Requiem next month, it is one of the most meaningful pieces of music written in the 20th century in my estimation. Those 20th Century English composers knew how to portray emotion. At any rate here is a little blurb taken from http://www.cantate-choir.info/ProgrammeNotes/Howells-Requiem.php:

Howell's Requiem of 1936 was set for divided mixed chorus with soprano, tenor and baritone soloists. This unaccompanied work was the first of two which arose from the tragic death in 1935 of the composer's only son Michael Kendrick Howells, aged nine, from either miningitis or polio. (He had also found Elgar's death in 1934 difficult to bear). The writing of this work and Hymnus Paradisi (1938) achieved for Howells some 'release and consolation' from a 'loss essentially profound'. Both works have strong comparisons and contrasts but, although Hymnus Paradisi was released for publication in 1950 (with some persuasion from Vaughan Williams), it was not until 1980 that the Requiem was re-assembled from manuscript and released for publication and performance.

The six movements of the Requiem open with Salvator Mundi where the smooth melancholic opening is soon followed by a splitting of the choir to achieve answering phrases to the entreaty help us and save us. Psalm 23 is a simple, stark chanting style that reflects speech values. The Requiem aeternam (1) moves from desolation to hope and Psalm 121 reflects the syllabic style achieved earlier. Requiem aeternum (2) opens and ends with a calm stillness, the mid section having built up to an enlightening climax with et lux perpetua luceat. The final movement: I heard a voice from heaven achieves an air of blissful peace and is the summation of the release from torment that Howells must have wished for his child.

Listen to Herbert Howells, amazing...