So I'm finally going to find my damn way to Lincoln Center tonight to reawaken the musician within.
I haven't been to a good concert or recital in a gabillion years. It's bad and irresponsible and I know, ok? I'm a classically-trained music librarian, but I'm not comfortable calling myself a musician anymore. Weird.
I'm going to hear Adriana Songs, a piece by Kaija Saariaho. It's part of a whole program they're doing tomorrow through Saturday, but I don't care about the other pieces on it, so I'm going tonight instead where Saariaho is going to be talking with Steven Stucky, who has the cutest name ever. Should be neat. My last experience with her is from my senior-year opera class where I wrote a paper on L'amour de loin. (I also wrote a paragraph on her in my first-year German class when, for some reason, we were discussing women composers.)
Right, so I have this new campaign, and the goal of it is to spend all my extra money on good music. It won't last, but I'm gonna get tickets to The Magic Flute because the staging shots look awesome and this Ute Lemper performance in February. This is to prove to myself and the world that I do have refined taste in something and that my life is more than work and gay bars and Harry Potter podcasts.
Really, it is. Or it will be.
No comments:
Post a Comment