Le Bien et Le Mal

July 19, 2007

Lesson #2 with the new teacher tomorrow. I’m not sure, but I think I like her. I might even really love her. She has fabulous energy, sparky and light and warm all at once. And I feel all good vibes from her. I listen to her every day as I go over our taped lesson once again, trying to perfect every detail she threw at me. And she threw a lot. And that is a-fuckin-okay with me, ‘specially if it gets me out of the chorus and onto the stage. Hoo-wha!

I can hardly believe this going down the way it is. I’m going to ask her to repeat what she said to me about getting small roles and whatnot. I’m beginning to think I dreamed it. I listen to myself on the tape of our lesson and I hate what I hear. And then, by the time I’m done working on what she was trying to get me to to, I’m starting to love what I hear. There are some phrases of the music that I believe… I think… it’s hard to say, it’s so hard to know what you really sound like… but I think they’re good. I think someone would like to hear them, I think they would speak to someone’s heart.

This is what I want so much, although I can’t explain why: I want someone to feel what I’m trying to say when I sing. I want them to feel what I feel in the music. And if they do, then I’ve done what I need to do. And I need to do that. I am realizing that I’ve needed to do this so very badly, for so very long, and I’ve held off. And I will not wait waste one more second with the ‘shit, why did I wait so long…‘, I will just plunge forth with the time I have left and that’s all that matters.

Some people, many people, I would wager, really shouldn’t be singing. Blackbeard, in one of his moments of sincerity — when he wasn’t preening himself or getting off on his effect on me, or whatever else he was doing when he wasn’t concentrating on teaching me — pointed this out. The reason why so many people don’t like opera [or classical music, for that matter], is that so many, many people are singing it all wrong.

Opera is about some of the biggest, darkest, deepest feelings people can ever have. That is why people want to see these same damn shows over and over and over again. Because the sweet little love story played by the pretty people in their lovely costumes that they saw when they’re grandmother dragged them to the Met at 15 has become something that speaks to them, shatters them, rips them apart inside as they struggle to hide embarassing tears that stream down their cheeks when the notes of the final aria begin. The aria they’ve listened to in that lonely little apartment, over and over again.

Except lots of people aren’t crying at the opera any more. Or else, they’re crying for the wrong reason.

Opera singers are funny because some of them are lying. They are singing dishonestly and it’s comical, pathetic and awful all at once.

Blackbeard’s theory is that it’s because the bel canto technique has virtually disappeared from the conservatories. I’m not sure. I was 100% sold on what he was teaching me… and now I like what I’m hearing with the new teacher.

At the very least, he was definitely speaking truth at that moment. I will make sure that I am always singing honestly, if nothing else.

– – –

What to do about Blackbeard? I have turned this over and over in my mind. I was ready to completely blow him off, not even respond to his email, should I get one. It should come in sometime on Friday afternoon, if I’ve calculated correctly. I think it’s very possible I will *not* get one. Like I said about men and how the equation of ‘talking’ vs. ‘pussy’ normally weight out. And pussy is definitely not an option for him at this point, and something tells me he knows it. So… bets, anyone?

There’s more about him that I don’t have time to write about now. Further googling last night revealed more information. Information is always good, when it comes to people, don’t you think?

I’ll fill you in later, peeps.

Manana for now…




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