status

- back from the opera (which I wound up at without tie or cufflinks by total accident, and is notable to no one but bodlon and marchek for the sheer stupid hilarity of it).
- day was super weird (the above being only a fraction of it)
- getting a cold (not fair)
- mobile may have died once and for all (what the fuck?)
- going to sleep so I can rest and pick up Patty at the airport tomorrow. (YAY!)

I'll see you when I see you.

*thud*

How to wind up at the Zurich Airport in Hell without really trying & other operatic misadventures

When someone said to me that I'd likely enjoy the Zurich Opera staging of Die Zauberflote because I enjoyed the modern stagings of the recent Fairy Queene I saw at BAM as well as Luhrmann's Boheme so much, I had wanted to say "but those stagings weren't modern!" Sure, they were new visions that relied heavily on contemporary ideas of theatricality and were set anachronistically to the original material, but they were both incredibly traditional stagings in terms of their frothiness and detail. If things were transliterated so that the emotions were historically accurate for a modern audience as opposed to the staging or setting, that was largely besides the point. Those productions felt, alive, but they didn't scream Modern!!!!, not even a little. Even if the faeries in the Purcell were never supposed to wear pin-striped suits.

This Die Zauberflote was far, FAR more modern than either of those. It was set as if the temple of Isis and Osiris was some alternate Zurich Airport, located on the highest mountain in hell. Which isn't to say the staging wasn't brilliant (it was) or the emotional translation wasn't remarkably clever (it was, although there was one choice that made that was so culturally specific to here and involved the auto culture that it made something fall entirely flat at a critical moment, and I additionally question the wisdom of the choice, even for viewers within the culture), and I would very much like to shake that set designer's hand.

But, wow, does Die Zauberflote have issues or what? You all were like "there's some Masonic oddness" -- THERE IS ONLY MASONIC ODDNESS. Also, wow, rapey show is rapey. But that's opera for you. And there's part that's super racist, and that feels even worse being here.

I don't feel qualified to comment on the voices, but the mother was PHENOMENAL as was Sarastro. Papageno was a FANTASTIC actor, and although Tamino didn't wow me (but I think that was more opera than him), man, did he have to do a lot of heavy lifting there or what? The whole opera is on him. I'm in awe of anyone who can show up and get it done.

ANYWAY. Let me tell you about my day, because this all goes together as a story.

I went into work in my suit, but with the jacket off, tie off, and cufflinks off because I'd rolled up my sleeves. Then a coworker conned a ride for me down to Zurich with my boss, so when he showed up I had to run because he had a meeting down in the cityWhich meant I left the bag with my and cufflinks on my desk.

There were ten minutes in the car as we drove through the fog-strewn mountains where I had to not laugh because I can now tell you there's an option other than "I like formal wear but hate being confined" or "We were fucking in the limo and I lost my cufflinks" to how you show up at important events with French cuffs and no cufflinks.

We get to Zurich around 4:30 and boss invites me to two meetings at grand hotels we might be hosting our conference at. Did you know there are star systems for hotels that go past 5? I did not. Now I do. So there I was, dressed like a man with my cuffs undone, being shown the finest suites in Zurich's finest hotels, one a fairy tale confection on the top of a hill. Rooms had balconies and perfume, secret passages, and marble tubs.

"You see," said the events managers when they remembered to speak in English, "we use black marble around the edge of the tub for drama."

"This ballroom is very famous. It was built in 1845. The tsartiza held parties here. Franz Liszt played piano here - do you know him? - in this spot. A part of Die Walküre was first performed here, in this room, at a dinner."

I had to turn away, lest I cry, feeling evil for my first days here thinking no creative person I admire could possibly tolerate this middle of nowhere I feel like I've been exiled to.

Eventually, these odd meetings over, my boss left me off on a corner near the opera house and suggested I eat at a nice canteen for the newspaper offices that are right there that's open to the public. But I was in a city! Amongst people! And I needed to walk. It was raining, and I ducked into a Migros to buy some salami to eat as I walked. I found the student quarter I want to take Patty to later today, a few restaurants, and stumbled into a big local department chain here who's theme for this holiday season is, apparently, "An American Christmas"

Eventually, I found a group of teens who seemed to be headed to the Opera House and followed them. The Opera House is impressive on the outside within the hall itself, but the in-between areas have mostly fallen to modern conveniences (sometimes I wonder if there's anything in this country that's less than 50 years old and doesn't look like the Zurich Airport).

I truly had the best seat in the house, and the Opera House itself is small and delightfully frothy and it seemed like so much scrutiny, all those people in the boxes staring down at you. I will have to sit in a box sometime. But it was so delightful an experience of place. I can't take Patty to her first opera in NYC, because it won't be like this. So I am thinking our not entirely planned or scheduled trip to France. In Paris. She shall see the opera in Paris, because I can't go to Paris without seeing the opera.

So as I was sitting there surrounded by the school children who were all around me, a young Anglophone man (I am not sure if he was US or Canadian) with massive dreadlocks came and sad down in front of me. He was in jeans and a t-shirt and was probably about 27, and kept looking around the space with a bewildered sort of joy.

At the intermission, when there was a brief, partial curtain call in front of the read curtain, he turned to me, still bewildered and asked, "Is it over?"

"No, no, now we have drinks and look at what other people are wearing!"

"Ah! I've never been to the opera before."

"Do you like it?"

"It is another world. I'm a filmmaker. I have something in the festival in Winterthur so they flew me out here. A friend of mine who works at the Met said I should be sure to come see the opera here."

I grinned, but did not tell him my story. I thought May this change your life.

After, I said, "Will you go to more opera?"

"Yes, but I don't think I know how."

I wanted to tell him all my stories or to say something witty. Instead, I simply told him with all the kindness and force I could find to enjoy his festival and went to find my train.

It is easy, as a rule, for me to remember that we are all stars in our own story. But it is less easy for me, as a rule, to remember that many of us have vastly similar stories, even when those stories are quite peculiar and individual. But this, surrounded by loud teens and a filmmaker stranded in Winterthur as I watched a stage full of haunted school-children pet the ravens they would later transform into, wasn't just one of those stories of my achingly symmetrical and narratively-focused life; it was a story that had happened before and will happen again.

For someone who is often alone, who feels isolated and often unhealthy because of my ability to recognize patterns and put them into practice and tales, last night at the Zurich Opera, even with a cold and especially without cufflinks, was like breathing again for the first time in weeks.

Also, Papagena was a total hottie.

.

I HAS A PATTY.
WE ARE IN ZURICH.
RAR.

Dear Yuletide Santa

Dear Yuletide Santa,

You are already awesome. In fact, unless you're really mean and kick puppies or something, you became awesome long before you ever signed up for Yuletide. But hey, you did, and now you're writing me a story, which means YOU ARE EVEN MORE AWESOME, and I hope you don't kick puppies.

I was sort of doing my Yuletide signup in a rush, so this is my attempt to be more specific, but first, let me start by being more general!

First, you can be as smutty or not as you want to be when writing for me. You can also be as gen as you want to be, since each thing I requested has both lots of pairings I find totally hot and worlds that fascinate me, so porn, no porn, all good. Whatever serves the story best!

Non-sex related things I love in stories: a feeling of reality -- I like specifics, awkwardness, imperfections, people who try and sometimes succeed (even often, but not always). I like heroism in the hard-choices + dumb bravery = one hell of an effort sort of way. I like tragedy when it honors the characters, when even loss feels like love.

Things I really don't like: OOC schmoop -- this includes nicknames no one in canon would ever use (yeah, hi, I come from Torchwood fandom, if you know it, you know what I mean); also not a huge fan of PWP that doesn't include either plot or character analysis.

Now, if you want to write porn my kinks on paper include: ( more than you may wish to know about me )

Dub-con where everyone is okay with what happened at the end, AOK; but non-con, not my thing. It's also worth noting I'm happy to read M/M or F/F, but tend to un-prefer explicit M/F unless it's kinky or part of a threesome/moresome or poly arrangement.

Finally, before we get on to my specific requests, it seems this is the year to address -isms in fic. Since several of my requests have significant historical components, involve characters of color, and at least one of the requests involves a character with a disability, I should probably cover this stuff. ( ugliness both modern and historical makes shit complicated )

And now, onto my specific requests:

Moulin Rouge -- this is one of those fandoms I'm in, but not. Long story. ANYWAY, I think I was pretty clear in terms of ALL THE OPTIONS EVER in my original request. Like I said, I'm really interested in all the various things this film almost was, so anything using minor characters or is about the various things known to have been excised from earlier drafts of the script, I'm totally onboard for.

Flyboys -- OMG, are you writing me this? I am so so so desperate for some good fic out of this. Slash slash slash please. Filthy and tragic. I'd particularly dig on a Cassidy/Rawlings story, In all fairness, you should probably know I know a lot about the era and planes and uniforms and crap like that. Major accuracy is not necessary, but I really love the period, and the more research and reality of the time you can put into this, the happier I'll be.

Covert Affairs -- I love this show even if the fandom and I don't seem to get along because I am not all ANNIE AND AUGGIE FOREVER OMG. Btw, if my original request doesn't work for you (Annie/Aggie/Jai) I will HAPPILY take Annie/Joan or Auggie/Joan.

Marie Antoinette -- I put this here SO RANDOMLY. I've no idea what I want, but I'm all about the tone of this film. Surprise me.