Ho Michael,
With philosophy at the heart of its darkness, it's hard to imagine how your opera will end in song.
I might be mistaken, but all the operas I know, even the tragic ones end on a triumphal note--necessarily so, because by its very sound, the note is left standing at the end, followed by applause, leaving
one the sense that the creative act, made permanent in this way, endures.
Call it sour grapes, but the word itself produces no such ending, and so meets tragedy head-on,
alone.
The fortunes of my book have taken some dark turns recently--turns which indicate its end will not be
what I had hoped--what I had hoped for it, and so perhaps for myself. No feeling of triumph here,
even in my sense of the inevitably encroaching end of us both. At some level it was known from the beginning, but was not forsworn. And perhaps still isn't.
Write on, Michael dear. At least one of the melodies might catch on. And even if it doesn't, I want to hear it.
Best of regards,
Allen
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With philosophy at the heart of its darkness, it's hard to imagine how your opera will end in song.
I might be mistaken, but all the operas I know, even the tragic ones end on a triumphal note--necessarily so, because by its very sound, the note is left standing at the end, followed by applause, leaving
one the sense that the creative act, made permanent in this way, endures.
Call it sour grapes, but the word itself produces no such ending, and so meets tragedy head-on,
alone.
The fortunes of my book have taken some dark turns recently--turns which indicate its end will not be
what I had hoped--what I had hoped for it, and so perhaps for myself. No feeling of triumph here,
even in my sense of the inevitably encroaching end of us both. At some level it was known from the beginning, but was not forsworn. And perhaps still isn't.
Write on, Michael dear. At least one of the melodies might catch on. And even if it doesn't, I want to hear it.
Best of regards,
Allen
Allen on the philosopher kings recently (welcome back):
I know it's not that simple. In the first place (I think it's the
first place) is tragedy. But not this
afternoon.
Allen, how does the second place blossom from (out of?) the first place?
That is, how does philosophy grow out of tragedy? This I find interesting
because my opera will be (yes, it will be) a tragic affair but with
philosophy at its dark (he)art, i.e., it will be poetic in the poesis sense
embracing both...
I have never really understood why a second place arises from a first place
in any arena ('cause' befuddles me). 'Be-cause' is a problem...
regards
michaelP
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