Henri Matisse’s GPOY is better than your GPOY.  Although The Steins Collect exhibit at the Met was 6 train commute level crowded, I ended up spending 20 minutes with this yesterday, standing, sitting, peering, sighing. It’s on loan from Denmark and the chance to see it is more than worth braving whatever level of crowd.

Henri Matisse’s GPOY is better than your GPOY. 

Although The Steins Collect exhibit at the Met was 6 train commute level crowded, I ended up spending 20 minutes with this yesterday, standing, sitting, peering, sighing. It’s on loan from Denmark and the chance to see it is more than worth braving whatever level of crowd.

I bought a calendar at the Met on Sunday just to get a print of this. Fittingly, it’s the picture for February.

I bought a calendar at the Met on Sunday just to get a print of this. Fittingly, it’s the picture for February.

Please note (and this can factor into your score), I also really liked the ladles.

Please note (and this can factor into your score), I also really liked the ladles.

On a scale of 1-10, how gay is it that my favorite part of today’s visit to the Met was the glass dishes??

On a scale of 1-10, how gay is it that my favorite part of today’s visit to the Met was the glass dishes??

This is prophetic! I foreseeA time will come when luxuryDissolves into the atmosphereLike a perfume, and everywhereThe simple virtues root and branchAnd leaf and flower. On that benchThere we’ll relax and taste the fruitOf all our actions. Why regretLife which is so much like a dream?

This is prophetic! I foresee
A time will come when luxury
Dissolves into the atmosphere
Like a perfume, and everywhere
The simple virtues root and branch
And leaf and flower. On that bench
There we’ll relax and taste the fruit
Of all our actions. Why regret
Life which is so much like a dream?

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

James Levine conducted Wozzeck at the Met on Saturday night. Backlit from the pit, his crazy Jew fro turned into this blinding halo, as if he had floated down from heaven just for the occasion, just for us. All of Wozzeck was divine, but during this short interlude towards the end of the piece… I couldn’t breathe. It was physically impossible. I kept leaning forward in my seat, mouth agape, in awe. Turned out he truly was heaven sent and through his conducting had opened the roof of the Met and summoned God to descend and warn us that we could be Wozzeck, that we are all Wozzecks now. Beware. 

I listened to this section on repeat on the train ride home tonight, continually rewinding to relish in the horn climax specifically. As I jaywalked across Third Avenue, the horns blaring, timpani drum accenting the judgment, I thought: This is how I want to die, to sounds this glorious and epic. I looked up and saw the M103 barreling towards me, jostled back to reality and sprinted away from the red moon, to the safety of the curb. 

You know that stretch of time on Tuesday when I wavered over whether or not to purchase my St. Varis rush tickets for Saturday’s Wozzeck at the Met? I sooo made the right decision. Now, instead of Juan Diego Flórez Oogling Part II at the Le Comte Ory matinee, like I had hoped, it will be Nico Muhly Safari Hunt Part II! Which is funny, because I didn’t even know I had done a NMSH Part I, until a week or so after the fact when I learned he was at Nixon in China the same night as me, cosmically coincidentally also the last time I won and purchased St. Varis tickets. (Who knew St. Varis was also the Saint of Stalkers Kismet?) I have my work cut out for me though: Man, oh man, Team Opera’s a lot of fun!!!

You know that stretch of time on Tuesday when I wavered over whether or not to purchase my St. Varis rush tickets for Saturday’s Wozzeck at the Met? I sooo made the right decision. Now, instead of Juan Diego Flórez Oogling Part II at the Le Comte Ory matinee, like I had hoped, it will be Nico Muhly Safari Hunt Part II! Which is funny, because I didn’t even know I had done a NMSH Part I, until a week or so after the fact when I learned he was at Nixon in China the same night as me, cosmically coincidentally also the last time I won and purchased St. Varis tickets. (Who knew St. Varis was also the Saint of Stalkers Kismet?) I have my work cut out for me though:

Man, oh man, Team Opera’s a lot of fun!!!

Do you see what I mean? It was MAJOR sexy time at the Met last night! And keep in mind: Joyce DiDonato is playing Isolier… a dude. Also, I highly suggest clicking to enlarge. Trust: it’s worth it. (via) Part repost because I apparently don’t know how to use “Tumblr via Email!”. Whoops.

Do you see what I mean? It was MAJOR sexy time at the Met last night! And keep in mind: Joyce DiDonato is playing Isolier… a dude. Also, I highly suggest clicking to enlarge. Trust: it’s worth it. (via)

Part repost because I apparently don’t know how to use “Tumblr via Email!”. Whoops.

I went to the opera tonight. Why, you ask? You want to be a better man? You visit a place like this. Throw on your tux, go out to a nice dinner and make your way to the opera. Who cares if the average age in the joint would qualify for a 25-year AARP membership award? Liven up the place with your youth and your hipness. The opera, though, makes you work for it. You fight to stay awake in the dark theatre midway through a three-hour performance. The legroom is so bad that even the airlines feel sorry for you. The air conditioning – at least in this building – blows hard enough only to prevent the sweat rolling down your back from becoming a flash flood warning. But none of that matters. In order to be a gentlemen, you need to attend an opera, whether it’s a six-hour German marathon or a love story in which the main characters unbelievably fall for each other five minutes after meeting or a comedy that features enough mistaken mix-ups that you could swear Jack Tripper is in the cast. Nah, that’s all hogwash. I just find Juan Diego Flórez incredibly attractive. And in the charming and delightful Le Comte Ory at the Met, you get to see him partake in a ménage à trois in an elevating bed. !!! (image via)

I went to the opera tonight. Why, you ask?

You want to be a better man? You visit a place like this. Throw on your tux, go out to a nice dinner and make your way to the opera. Who cares if the average age in the joint would qualify for a 25-year AARP membership award? Liven up the place with your youth and your hipness.

The opera, though, makes you work for it. You fight to stay awake in the dark theatre midway through a three-hour performance. The legroom is so bad that even the airlines feel sorry for you. The air conditioning – at least in this building – blows hard enough only to prevent the sweat rolling down your back from becoming a flash flood warning.

But none of that matters. In order to be a gentlemen, you need to attend an opera, whether it’s a six-hour German marathon or a love story in which the main characters unbelievably fall for each other five minutes after meeting or a comedy that features enough mistaken mix-ups that you could swear Jack Tripper is in the cast.

Nah, that’s all hogwash. I just find Juan Diego Flórez incredibly attractive. And in the charming and delightful Le Comte Ory at the Met, you get to see him partake in a ménage à trois in an elevating bed. !!! (image via)