L'Esprit d'escalier

L'esprit d'escalier, the elegant French idiom attributed to Diderot that translates roughly as "I shoulda said," doesn't exactly apply to those little jokes I make to myself when there's no one around to hear (or sneer at) them, but it's a similar situation. The "wit of the staircase" refers to the realization of a wonderful retort that you've thought of after you leave the party or whatever and are descending the stairs, presumably to go home. It doesn't actually apply to the marvelous witticism that occurred to me one day, when a bus driver announced what seemed to sound like, "Next stop Lexginton Avenue." Regrettably, there was no one with me to whom I could say, "I think he means dysLexington Avenue." What a loss. Today wasn't quite as good. The driver just sang out, "Lex is nex'." Better than nothing.

Rosaline, or, When I'm Right, I'm Right!

Perhaps one of the hallmarks of maturity is to realize that the person who is wrong needn't always be told he's wrong. Experience as a copy editor has made it a habit with me to insure correctness, but the other person in an unwritten discussion doesn't always have to know that he was wrong, wrong, dead wrong! 

Yesterday, shortly before my ballet class, a fellow student and I were discussing the ill-advised—at least I think so—New York City Ballet production of yet another Romeo and Juliet. To make matters worse, they insist on calling it Romeo+Juliet, perhaps to distinguish it from other (better) versions. Among other infelicities of the production, the hideous scenery displays a house that an astute New York Times critic likened to Fred Flintstone's cave. Anyway, the subject of Romeo's infatuation with the usually unseen Rosaline came up. My classmate, who claims to have a PhD in theater, mentioned that Romeo has been having sex with Rosaline, and that she appears onstage and has some lines. As a former English teacher, I did not recall either the appearance of Rosaline or any lines attributed to her. I checked my copy of the play when I got home, and saw that I was right. A little googling also revealed that the only dramatic version in which she makes a physical appearance is the Zeffirelli film, although some directors of the staged play or the ballet may put her in as an aloof walk-on or walk-by.

Romeo specifically comments that the unseen Rosaline is guarding her chastity as if she were a disciple of the goddess Diana.  At most, he has been stalking her. And, as we all know, he immediately forgets about her when he catches sight of you-know-who at the Capulets' ball, which he, masked, has crashed. I was reverting to type, ready to correct my classmate today, but he didn't show up, and I thought better of it anyway. He seemed so positive that he was right. Better to leave him with his illusions and not make yet another enemy.

Rosaline is mentioned by name as "fair niece Rosaline" in the invitation to the Capulet ball (I, ii, 81) and shortly thereafter by Benvolio, who, urging Romeo to go to the ball, states: "At this same ancient feast of Capulet's / Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, /

With all the admired beauties of Verona. / Go thither and with unattainted eye / Compare her face with some that I shall show / And I will make thee think thy swan a crow." (I, ii, 86-92) She is mentioned in the Act II scene with Friar Laurence. When the Friar questions Romeo about her, he says, "I have forgot that name and that name's woe." At the beginning of Scene iv of Act II, Mercutio, not knowing of Romeo's change of affections, refers to: "...that same pale, hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, / Torments him so that he will sure run mad." And that's the last we hear of this lady.

There, I got it off my chest without humiliating anyone. Doubt that Mr. Wrong (or anyone else) will even read this, or even care. Trivia is my middle name.   

The Miraculous Mac

Like most Apple aficionados, I'm just crazy about my Macintosh. I kept my past two Macs for about five years apiece before they gave any trouble. Four to five years seems to be the life of most computers if you want to keep up with the moment-to-moment changing world of technology. My present Mac is now five; thus, I tremble with every little quirk that it might show—very few though they are. I'm at the ready to buy a new one, but so far so good.

When updates automatically arrive, I dutifully install them. Sometimes, when they take a longish time, I start to worry if this is the end of my Mac's life as I know it. But the computer (not to mention all of those brilliant geeks out in Cupertino) is much smarter than I am. Everything always comes out all right in the end. At least it has so far.

This morning I was notified that my "Time Machine" backup hadn't backed up in a week! Disaster! I clicked on the TM icon to back up and received info that (a) it wasn't backing up and (b) I needed to install new items including the latest OS X update. I dutifully installed all updates. Having been warned that it would take some time, I waited patiently. When it took a really long time, I began to wonder. I know that the Blue Screen of Death is primarily the prerogative of P.C. users, but when my screen turned an unusual shade of bright blue I began to tremble. Not to worry, the "regular" blue finally appeared and then—sigh of relief—the comforting old Aurora Borealis screen saver appeared with all of my friendly old icons. Whew! At this moment, Time Machine is still backing up, not that there was anything really important to back up. My great unwritten American novel takes up no space at all.

As far as Time Machine not backing up for a week, I tried the commonest, and least practiced, DIY routine. I unplugged it and plugged it in again. Success! Its little blue light went on, and all is serene once again. At least for a while. 

Siegfried by the River (Not the Rhine)

It would have been criminal not to have gone down to one of my neighborhood's little parks near the East River on this gorgeous Saturday, particularly since the river is only a block away from my apartment. Thus, I combined listening to the Met's Siegfried broadcast—Act II anyway—on my handy Grundig portable (with Apple headphones), taking a photo or two, and following the libretto from a riverside bench. A sort of multitasking. The traffic noises from the FDR Drive did impede the sound slightly, but the balmy day compensated. Had enjoyed Das Rheingold and Die Walküre in the opera house, but was unable to secure tickets for the final two Ring operas. The Metropolitan Opera is retiring the romantic, traditional Otto Schenk production after this season to replace it in a couple of years with an avant-garde Robert Lepage concept. People come from all over the world to hear and see a traditional Ring, and they'll miss it. However, the great Wotan, James Morris, hinted during an intermission interview that the current production will be stored, and not scrapped. Hedging their bets, I guess. No Rhine Maidens in the East River today. Maybe some other day.

Yes, We Have Spring in Manhattan Too!

Since neither daffodils nor magnolias last very long, it's important to preserve them digitally! Manhattan dafs and magnolias sprout up in unlikely places, especially since I always associate the latter with an Old South that probably never existed, Gone With the Wind notwithstanding. And "Curb Your Dog" signs do serve to urbanize the ubiquitous daffodil.

As for the Citi Tower in Queens, I think it may be that borough's only true skyscraper. I remember that my niece, who worked there briefly, said that you could feel the building sway on windy days. Think I'll stay on this side of the East River. We also get a good view over here of the Pepsi-Cola sign, practically an antique. People are sentimental about it. I think that at one time there was some attempt to dismantle it, but a public protest saved it.

This was a day to enjoy because it's predicted that we'll be back to wintry-type spring tomorrow. I'm always wary of weather in April: As a kid, I was brought to New York for Easter for various treats that included a Broadway show. In those long-ago days we wore rather elegant little camel's-hair coats that weren't, however, very warm. I recall freezing at Easter in NYC, so I'm always careful not to store my warm coats and jackets too early. 

April Foolishness

National Public Radio and, this year, American Public Media, have taken a cue from the BBC and presented "news stories" on April 1st that turn out to be April Fool's jokes. Years ago, the BBC did a deadpan "news report" about the spaghetti tree harvests in northern Italy. And a few years back, one of NPR's April Fool stories dealt with an underground pipeline, being constructed between Seattle and New York, through which people could receive lattes and cappuccinos through spigots in their homes. I always look forward to these diversions, and last Wednesday awaited the annual presentations with great anticipation.

I was not disappointed. This year's April 1 story, on NPR's All Things Considered,  reported a burgeoning whale-farming industry, with a sidebar telling us how groups of whales were being taught to sing in barbershop harmony. One of the "whale farmers" had even managed to construct an entire back porch out of whalebone! There also followed a reference, with no further explanation, to a lawsuit that some people were planning against the makers of the Kindle reader, claiming eye injuries from pop-up 3-D books. Maybe this was for real? No follow-up.

The program following ATC, American Public Media's Marketplace, also did itself proud with a piece about the current real estate market. They claimed that some realtors, attempting to sell houses in neighborhoods that had been largely vacated owing to foreclosures or various other misfortunes, hired actors to play fake neighbors and dog walkers, bake cookies, and hold barbecues to make the area look occupied. They also staged church services and Little League baseball games, hiring teams from other towns to pretend that they were local players. They did a pretty good job of making it sound like a real news item at first, but my suspicions were finally aroused by the church and baseball references. 

The photo accompanying this is totally irrelevant. April Fool!  

Music Under the Stairs

Most kinds of music are terrific, and the joint was jumping in the subway station under Union Square just now as a brass jazz combo brought a lot of smiles and cellphone cameras out on this pleasant second-day-of-spring Saturday. It presented a particular contrast for me, as a friend and I were just coming home from one of the terrific Metropolitan Opera HD live telecasts at the Regal Union Square movie theater. This time it was the controversial Mary Zimmerman production of Bellini's La sonnambula. One may disagree with her concept—a Pirandellian story of a production of the opera overlaid with an intra-cast love story—but today's playing and singing would rival, I daresay, the great interpreters of the past. The incredibly gifted Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Flórez can stand comparison with anyone. Memorable performances from this attractive duo, who have major stage chemistry together. But hearing the enthusiastic jazz musicians afterward, amid the roar of the trains and the travelers, had its own rewards.