wait until the fat lady sings on a horse

I just got back from my first opera of the season. Oh yeah, I am that geek. I have a subscription to the Met.

None the less, I just got back from my first opera of the season. I love the opera. I've been staring at this ticket attached to my fridge via an American Express magnet giddy for the evening my subscription started. I will admit that I was a little disappointed that my first show was going to be Aida (I love, love, love Verdi, but really not a fan of Aida for some reason, and last year I started off with Lucia de Laramoor which blew my mind, it was amazing)...and sad to say this one actually let me down.

It's been a long time since I saw an opera where the singers actually just stood there and sang (I figured out at some point during a lull in the show that I've seen around 30 operas so far). Even the choir most of the time just stood there and sang. It was like watching a slide show with a sound track.

That is until they brought the horses out. Oh my Lord, I have never heard such amazing singing! I had no idea there was such equine talent in the city! Their range! Their pitch! They moved me from tears to jubilation all in a single breathe. Not to mention their poise and costuming!

OK, so the horses didn't sing, but they were still awesome. Not every day you get to see a bunch of horses on stage, some of which upstaged some of the actual performers cause you couldn't hear them if anyone else was singing anyway.

Although, I will give props where props are due, and the tenor that played Ramades was the best tenor I have ever heard in my life. He was absolutely astounding. I'll admit I do have a ticket to see Placido Domingo in a couple of months and we'll see how this portly young man stacks up against the fifty year opera veteran, but to date he wins. Just to hear him sing his couple of solos was worth the hours of almost boredom and the soniferous accompaniment of the old woman sitting next to me (which started within seconds of the prelude of act 1...she did wake up for the horses though).

Get yo'self a piece o' Commodore art!

So just in case you're sitting around this afternoon, checking your bank account and realize that you have all this extra money lying around and just can't think of what to spend it on, I have a suggestion!

The Emerging Artists auction sponsored by Daniel Cooney Fine Arts Gallery on www.igavel.com ends in just a few days (October 15th). And yes, yours truly has a very nice print in the auction, not to mention the other fabulous artists keeping me company on the list.

And if somehow that's just too steep for ya, well, the show at Baby Grand (in SOHO) is about half sold out. Those of you that missed the opening (shame on you!) might have missed me actually singing (oh yeah, now you feel left out), but you still have a chance to go see the show and pick up a bunch of art for mere pennies! Well, bunches of pennies...ok, dollars...fifty of them to be precise.

And for people that don't actually live anywhere near New York, I'll put pictures up soon, promise. I forgot my camera, so I'm just waiting for Jacob to get me his picts of the evening and then I'll really let you know what kind of party you missed. Cause the best thing about having an opening at a karaoke bar is that there is singing and drinks until 4 am, and the worst part of having an opening at a karaoke bar is that there is singing and drinks until 4 am. Everyone wins!

Opening!

Come one, come all to my fabulous showing of the most amazing pieces of scrimshaw the eyes can see! Or at least the most amazing pieces of scrimshaw with small dirty pictures on them that you can see in a karaoke bar...

Tomorrow night, being Wednesday, me and everyone that cares to will be at Baby Grand (on the corner of Lafayette and Grand in SOHO), reveling in beautiful things, imbibing cocktails, and hopefully singing Indie classics (albeit not me). Festivities start at 6:00ish and end when everyone goes home. It is a work night, so I only expect the hardest of hardcore folks to stay out too late...or at least the unemployed, such as myself.

And the these tiny pieces of ivory will be for sale! Just think, for the cost of an evening out you could take away (well in November you can take it away) a pocket sized dirty picture of someone you may even know!

So come on out and play! And sing! And look at pretty things!

oh, I am so talented

Today is Sunday. So naturally when I woke up this morning, I had a longing for a real Sunday breakfast...mmmm...bacon, eggs, toast, grilled tomato. Yeah, Sundays!

Imagine me, standing there frying up the bacon first, since cold eggs are gross, and the tomatoes don't take long, things going just like any other "yeah-whatever-day-of-the-week!" breakfast...That is until I put the second batch of bacon in the pan, at which point the fat exploded and attacked me, completely unprovoked! Not just attached me, but assaulted my eyeball. Bacon fat burned my eyeball. My actual eyeball. There is a burn on my eyeball.

It ruined my morning.

But not enough to stop cooking and ruin breakfast. And in retaliation I ate all the bacon.

And then instead of going to the hospital or anything (have you even been to the emergency room on a Sunday? I don't think so! I'd have to loose a limb or something before I did that and even then, maybe I'd wait until Tuesday) I went to the artists book fair at P.S.1 instead, which was awesome, and I spent all my money. I spent the rest of the afternoon drooling after amazing, amazing artist books that I can only dream of owning someday. All the while my eyeball gently throbs as though someone stuck their thumb in it. Nothing like looking at books and pretty things to calm you after after a ferocious breakfast meat attack.

Maybe tomorrow it'll be all better and the brown spot will be magically healed and I won't really have a burned my eyeball 'cause that's just gross.

Gross, but it does prove how talented and graceful I can be.