On Friday, I'll be venturing outside of my hidey-hole in south Eugene to the opera at the Hult Center. It's "The Pirates of Penzance," an opera which I haven't seen yet but, heck, it's Gilbert and Sullivan. How bad can it be?
In May of 2005 I had the good luck of dating an adorable Jewish guy from Philadelphia, and I trepidatiously made the journey out there, planning on making a solo foray to Boston, and maybe checking out the Dali exhibit at the art museum. What I found awaited me was a ton of lox, a megaton of U.S. history, and an opera for the love of all operas. "Die Fledermaus" or the Bat, is an incredible German opera written in the 19th century. "Pirates," was written at about the same time, but it's in English which means that not as much work has to be invested in reading the subtitles projected above the stage. However, I must admit, there is a sexy allure to subtitles. I have watched many movies that had English subtitles and I must admit that I was much more aroused at the end than I would have been had the movie been done entirely in spoken English. Probably just because I'm a cheap date.
The opera inspires something in me that isn't ordinarily present. I leave the opera and my body feels light, I feel like skipping in my stilettos. I'm completely moved by the sound of an aria sung by a soprano and hearing the variations in volume, intonation, and that a great opera singer is likely to be an older one. I mean, wow...talk about respecting our elders. I looooooooooove the opera, so this anticipation is about to kill me.
I never did make it to Boston or to Dali. Damn.