Frank Apisa's Open Salon Blog

Rigoletto on PBS!

Sat, 18 May 2013 11:05:11 -0400

Allow me to start by acknowledging that Verdi's Rigoletto is my favorite opera.

A production of this intense, beautiful opera was shown on PBS last night...a production set in Las Vegas!

I would say it sucked...

...but I want to be fair to off-beat productions that manage to suck.

This didn't get quite that good.

The only thing even average about it was the staging...

...and the staging was completely inappropriate.

I wish great venues like the Met would get the message: Don't mess with great operas!

OPEN SALON…You Make The Headlines!

Tue, 14 May 2013 07:05:27 -0400

Can you imagine what a visitor just looking into this site thinks when he/she reads the “headlines” generated?

Can you imagine what that visitor thinks after reading the “headlines” in the “Recent Comments” listings?

Can you imagine what that visitor thinks after visiting a few threads and reading comment after comment deploring America…government…and the world in general?

Most visitors, after even a cursory stay, would deem this place The Sad And Dreary World…a place where only someone who wants misery, anger, frustration, and self-pity to dominate.

What a sad, depressing, forlorn place this has become.

HEY VISITOR…if you are looking in and reading this: Stick around. There are people here who are not stuck in the mire that seems to dominate. And, if I may, allow me to suggest that listening to some of these people show what a miserable existence they must endure each waking moment…

…can actually work to improve your vision of your own life. You can actually come away from the moaning, groaning, and self-pity feeling better about your own existence.

When I am finished writing here, for instance, I will leave for the golf course and enjoy a round of golf even more because I realize the world is not the sewer some of these unfortunate people paint it to be.

And, dear visitor, you can almost get a belly laugh out of thinking that most of them actually think they are doing this because of concern for their fellow human beings…than because they are simply stuck in lives they’ve allowed to become “not worth living.”

The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe

Fri, 10 May 2013 09:05:38 -0400

Not sure when you read this last, but it is worth reading again. Enjoy!

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Yet More About What a Cesspool is America!

Wed, 8 May 2013 05:05:14 -0400

I see Libby has another of her long, rambling tirades against America and its government--another of her “America has become a fascist state” pieces of nonsense--in the New Feed.

She does this regularly…and the usual band of suspects immediately comes to tell her how brave and wise she is to stand up to the dictators who run our country and to compliment her for having the courage to let the world know that America is now a place where freedom of expression is dead…and speaking one’s mind can land you in prison.

I am sure she, and the cadre of people who actually buy into this National Enquirer of the Internet mentality, would be every bit as wise and brave had they lived in Hitler’s Germany; Amin’s Uganda; Stalin’s USSR…or any of the other places where freedom of expression actually was curtailed and real dictators actually ruled.

Because surely they are a wise and courageous group!

The new thread, like so many of the ones that preceded it, is a hoot. I don’t even mind giving it a boost by linking to it here.

Think of the mental gymnastics these people must go through to constantly assail a government they see as repressive, savage, and dictatorial... with such impunity.

If you cannot get a bell laugh out of that…your sense of humor is broken.

Nancy said to me...

Mon, 6 May 2013 13:05:51 -0400

Nancy said to me…

…”Why don’t you stop acting like a spoiled brat.

Why don’t you stop acting like an ass.”

I replied…

…”What makes you think I’m acting?”

Nancy said to me…

…if you can’t play well with others,

…perhaps you ought to take a time-out.

…perhaps go to your room ‘til you feel better.

I replied…

…”I guess that means no television for me tonight, huh?”