"The Case Against Wagner"

Everything is completely fine. In fact, things are starting to feel GOOD... but I still want to scream. I still want something I can't have. I still can't stand it... can't breath.

Why can't I just accept what is?

I had a good weekend. Friday night's talent show was a lot of fun. Cherubino and I were a smash and it was fun to sing in front of people who had no idea I am a singer. Everyone was sort of bowled over.

Earlier in the day on Friday I went to a new meeting down near NYU and afterwards I had lunch with Pixie. We talked and talked for an hour or two... it was one of those rare but awesome "new friend" conversations in which you get to know another person, talk philosophy and feel the energy of the world around you. We ate at Dojo. When lunch was through I was off to therapy where I complained about needing an "unconversion" experience* to get rid of my Wagnerian obsession with liebestod (and thereby ceasing to exist post-Narc.)

*(I know that term "unconversion" experience probably doesn't mean anything to anyone, but it's an inside joke to myself... something to do with John Ruskin in Turin).

After the talent show, Cherubino came back to my place and we watched "Dangerous Liaisons" with StarGazer until nearly 3:00 AM. Cherubino fell asleep before it was through. It made me think of Liu. I first saw that movie with her when she was living in Colorado. And I have to say-- that movie is just plain hot.

On Saturday something really good happened. I woke up thinking again for the first time in years. I mean it... I didn't realize it had been missing until Saturday. I woke up wanting to work on one of my incompletes. I had some thoughts racing through my head about Fascism. I wanted to read. The alcoholic fog is still lifting and sometimes, like on Saturday, I can feel a major shift in my brain. I remember it happened to me before once back in the fall... I was listening to some baroque music and found that my brain could once again pick apart the orchestration in a way I hadn't been able to do since before I drank. It's really, really scary how much alcohol took away from me... how much I hadn't even realized was missing.

I went to meet Hammer down at the Tea Spot (and drank Butter Truffle tea) and I read a little about opera and fascism and chatted with Hammer. Afterwards I went back to her apartment and painted a watercolor of a really creepy dream I had about ChoirMan. I left the painting there, as not to carry its bad energy with me. Hammer was working on a delightful series of paintings about a carrot and a soybean. It was awesome. (Who's awesome? Why, she and the Alaskan are awesome!)

From there I headed over to AA. I took Slope's commitment for her, cleaning up the coffee tables, as she hasn't been around as much lately. After the meeting I went out for a bite with Civyl, LashGirl and some others. It was raining hard outside and I walked without an umbrella. I liked it. The rain splashed around on my chest and in my hair and it felt cold and I felt really alive-- again, in a way I haven't felt in a long time... maybe years.

Today I went over to school to do some paperwork and to copy syllabi's. I'm teaching a new class that starts tomorrow. On my way home, I stopped at the art store and bought my own sketch book and a set of watercolor pencils, since I had so much fun with Hammer and the Alaskan. Then I came home and painted... or drew... I guess I drew, since I was using pencils. At 6:00 I headed back out... I sang at Carnegie Hall tonight!

I met the rest of my choir in one of the orchestra rehearsal rooms where we polished off a few last parts of the "Zanetto" chorus. There's something about the sound love in a-minor. From there, it was up to the balcony. For some reason, they had us singing from the balcony and not on stage. I was glad though, as I got to wear my jeans and sneakers. And then I came home... and I ate dinner and watched some TV... and I felt anxious.

And I feel anxious.

I saw a commercial on TV yesterday for the Stephen King movie "1408." Narc told me about it a while back-- said that it's supposed to be genuinely scary. I can't stop thinking of him. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't want to be thinking of him anymore. But, he's still in my every thought. I don't want it anymore. Is this ever going to get any better? I hate it. I don't want to be in love. I don't want to be in love anymore. I've started re-reading Nietzsche's "The Case Against Wagner." I'm hoping it'll help.

During the first half of tonight's concert, the mezzo sang "Acerba volutta" from Adriana Lecouvreur.

Waiting brings back intense pleasure, sweet torment, enduring pain, quick offense, fire, ice, trembling, rage and fear to my loving breast!

Every echo, every shadow in the incandescent night conspires against my impatient soul: completely suspended between doubt and desire, it measures eternity in the moment.

Will he come? Has he forgotten me? Is he hurrying? Or perhaps he's changing his mind?

There, he's coming! No, it's the sound of the stream mingled with the sigh of a sleeping tree.

Oh vagrant star of the Orient, do not wane. Smile at the universe and, if he is not lying, guide my love!

Wait a minute... Isn't Adriana Lecouvreur a "verismo" opera? Maybe Nietzsche's "Case Against Wagner" can't save me after all. Oh well... I think it's to bed with knots in my stomach... again.

Again... again...

Maybe this is the way of the world. If these are the terms, I'll have to accept. But I'm tired of being hungry... of always craving something else. Will I ever feel whole? Really whole? I don't know.

To bed, though. As I like to tell NDN, "tomorrow is another day."

love,
h