People are getting pretty worked up about the unusual production of La Traviata currently playing at Seattle Opera. But really, the production isn’t very important. What really matters about La Traviata is the music, that exquisite, heavenly music. Continue reading
This one time I was in Reykjavik and Sin Fang was playing an unadvertised show in an art gallery to promote a friend’s artwork. The performance was good but the sound was shit and that night I stepped outside of my own life and got to be a cool insider, leaning on an art gallery wall with my wine in a plastic cup and criticizing the mix. It’s the sort of thing that only happens (to me, at least) when you travel.
I don’t know where to start. During the pre-performance lecture and during the performance itself, there were so many things I wanted to sayBut now it’s the next day and I only have a couple of hours before I have to move on to the next thing, and I don’t know where to start.
Well, if I have to provide a TLDR for Count Ory, I guess I would just use this video, below the fold. Continue reading
People like to pretend that seasons and weather have no impact on our modern, urban lives. Despite climate-controlled offices where America indulges its addiction to workaholism and despite the encroachment of year-round schooling, that attitude is completely false. Continue reading
Fifteen years ago, I spent three months in India. Before I left, my husband gave me two gifts – a really nice pocket knife, and a Petzl headlamp. Both proved invaluable. Although the knife was later stolen, I still have the headlamp, and I still use it. It has accompanied me to multiple continents. I’ve used it on night hikes, to find the bathroom at state campgrounds, and harvesting vegetables from my back yard late in the season. It’s one of the best gifts my husband ever bought me. He ended up buying one for himself, too.
But when we were packing for our recent trip to Eistnaflug, the heavy metal festival in a remote fjord in Eastern Iceland, I pulled both headlamps from the pile on our bed of things to be packed.
“You don’t think we’ll need them?” he asked in the voice of careful doubt men reserve for moments when they suspect a woman has lost her mind.
“We’re not going to need them,” I answered.
When I left the room, he put them back in.
“They don’t take much space,” he said, tucking his headlamp into his backpack as I pulled mine back out and put it in a drawer.
Spring is ticket season. Season ticket season, that is. I’ve already talked about the temptations of season tickets to Seattle Opera, Pacific Northwest Ballet, and Seattle Children’s Theatre. The truth is, I will try to attend as many performances by each of these worthy organizations as I can, but I did not buy season tickets to any of them. What did I ultimately spend my own money on? Continue reading