1) The silliest things can make you so happy. Yesterday afternoon I went marketing at the food co-op. I bring my own bags, and on this very hot afternoon for the first time I brought a thermal picnic tote with a couple ice packs inside, to keep my chicken and eggs and ice cream from cooking on the walk home. I don't know why I'd never thought to do this before.
2) Two eggs scrambled with thyme, salad, and blueberries.
3) Jefferson Bible and Common Courtesy.
I spent the weekend visiting a Friend in Plymouth from Friday night to Sunday afternoon, on a visit that included:
1) A ferocious headache (mine), but only until Saturday afternoon.
2) Magnificent omelettes and pancakes.
3) Engaged conversation on a wide range of topics, from family stories to healthcare policy.
4) Tarot readings.
5) A seafood paella both delicate and savory. I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant now.
6) Rear Window, the first time I'd seen it in many years.
7) All Through the Night, a Humphrey Bogart gangster comedy including Jane Darwell as his mother and Conrad Veidt and Judith Anderson as Nazi fifth columnists using an auction house as a cover to blow up the Navy. Amusing, but about half an hour too long. One understands why it's been forgotten . . .
8) The overpowering, spicy smell of heated kelp.
9) Sunday morning coffee talk on the deck.
10) Sleeping on the commuter rail.
1) After-work potluck barbecue in the well-kept garden of a dormitory. Shandy, potato and macaroni salad, shandy, and cupcakes. And good talk. And a sudden rainshower, followed by the tail of a rainbow.
2) Lying around reading the Times and news posted on ye Fycebykke.
3) Odd inspiration for a Bastille Day video.
1) QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Our moments of destiny steal upon us so quietly, generally so unperceived, that we are hardly aware of them until they have passed by. Only in after years can we look back on them and see them from their true perspective, know that they made or marred our whole lives." - Elizabeth Drexel Lehr, from her memoir about her husband King Lehr and the Gilded Age
1a) I just read this tonight, only a couple hours ago. With the latest wrinkle of the Trump/Russian scandal unfolding before us, I have to wonder if the players are reflecting on their quiet moments of destiny that led them to this place. And if all of us as Americans are reflecting about where in our lives was that moment that led us to today, supporting or opposing a particular party or person. Where was that time in my life, in yours? I don't think I know yet, for myself.
2) Today is the first day this summer that I've turned on the air conditioning. It's July 11.
3) It's so necessary to eliminate distractions, but Fear is a big distraction. Also Sloth. Fear and Sloth.
1) A really poor night's sleep. Boo.
2) Dining room breakfast: two eggs scrambled and a smalll dish of blueberries and raspberries. And coffee. Always coffee.
3) Friday, Bastille Day, is always the halfway point of summer for me. To me it's worth celebrating for both reasons, Bastille Day and the halfway point of summer.
With only prosecco in the house, it's unwittingly turned out to be a Diana Wynyard Film Festival today:
Island in the Sun, based on the novel by Alec Waugh, is now laughably dated story of interracial relationships on a fictional island in the West Indies. La Wynyard plays a British matron of the islands with a scandalous secret - which is that Joan Collins is her daughter. Also starring James Mason and the remarkable Dorothy Dandridge.
Alexander Korda's An Ideal Husband came to my attention by reading Cecil Beaton's diaries; he designed the costumes, and had some very interesting commentary about the production and the personalities involved, especially Korda, Paulette Goddard, and my beloved Constance Collier.
Noel Coward's Cavalcade was introduced to me by a dear friend who is a true fan of Diana Wynyard's, including her slightly crossed eyes. Coward's story of the Marryot family and their servants, and the effect of the early 20th century from Mafeking to jazz on them is sweeping, poignant - and in the 21st century, rather scented with the lavender of nostalgia. Notice also Margaret Lindsay's performance as Edith.
Enjoy!
1) Haricut, Haymarket, and wedding rehearsal done.
2) I spent a lot of the afternoon in bed - not really napping, but just too blessed tired to think. My feet and calves killing me.
3) Back porch cocktails (see above), with red Solo cup goblet given to me by my sister's family. The smell of ozone during a short, sharp shower.
1) Soft, sweet-scented morning in the neighborhood.
2) Dry cleaning, haircut (with another new barber), Haymarket (blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, asparagus, and a huge bag of salad), and now the Athenaeum.
3) Don't know why my body rhythm is so oriented to very early bedtime and early waking - I finally got up at 5:30 AM today - but I'm just going to have to roll with it.
1) "Back in the saddle again," the cowpoke used to sing.
2) Up ridiculously early, and ridiculously sleepy all day. I had to have a NAP before dinner!
3) Really too fuzzy with fatigue to focus on anything - which I will take as a good sign for clarity tomorrow.
1) Up early again - 6:15 AM - a good sign as I return to the World of Work tomorrow.
2) A mood of transition permeated the morning right from the beginning. Coffee (see above) and an early farewell to Hochmina, who was driving away to work. Reading and writing.
3) And an early breakfast at the former Tippy-Toppy. Comparatively empty, I was pleased to greet a couple friends, and also thank the owner for comping our bill a couple weeks ago. Turns out we know each other from a function on the Cape last summer.
4) Sat at the bar reading my new copy of Robert Finch's book of essays about the Outer Beach of Cape Cod. It's a book for people who enjoy words. Some day I'm going to have to look up "spurge," "bight," and "windrow."
5) Packed in order to be out of the way of the maid. Read tarot cards for someone (prognosis: triumphant). And then I said to myself, "Self, you oughta ankle down Comical Street to pass the time, and maybe have lunch.
6) This led to a prolonged browse through that new bookstore near Tim's Used Books. Several interesting books I already own. Eventually came away with Pretty Jane and the Viper of Kidbrooke Lane, a Victorian true crime history.
7) Rather gruesome to lead off my lunch at Ross's Grill with a description of head wounds inflicted with a plastering hammer. Ross's, a dark room full of cool breezes, perfect for today.
8) The mood of transition persists as I sit here comfortably on the terrace, in the essential shade of the gigantic umbrella, knowing that I'll need to leave in 40 minutes to ensure a decent place in the ferry line. I can hear pigeons cooing in the hedge, and see five of them perched on the gable of the house next door. Thank goodness I'm not wearing Nile green and smoking a cigarette . . .
9) IN CONCLUSION, these five days have been just what I needed, and have certainly reminded me how blessed I am, how many wonderful people there are in my life, and (I hope) provided some clarity for the rest of the year. Now, it's back to town!
1) Up quite early, well before 7 AM. Able to enjoy the terrace while it was still shady and cool, and record my annual reading of the Declaration of Independence.
2) I was going to linger slowly through the morning, but nearly the whole house lured me out to breakfast at the former Tippy-Toppy. As luck would have it, we got the last table for four, and it was also the reviewing stand: a table right in the window, perfect for viewing the passing throng.
2a) And how nice, since most of them were on their way to or from the gym. This is a town of pronounced curvature.
3) I left for the beach around 1:30 PM, expecting to stay quite late. Alas, dark clouds began gathering about 6ish, and I packed up shortly after 6:30.
4) This year I didn't bring anything with me to read at the beach. I said it was to lighten my pack, but it was really more of a chance to clear my head.
5) Very surprised to run into an acquaintance.
6) Back at home, I fully intended to head to Comical Street to be part of all the jostling excitement of the fireworks, but instead remained to dine with Hochmina and enjoy a good view of the fireworks from the little Juliet balcony facing the bay. And the fireworks were lovely! We even glimpsed tiny bits of fireworks further down the Cape. In short, I was perfectly happy not to have gone out.
7) Tomorrow, packing and preparation for my return to Reality. These few days of perfect weather and good friends have been wonderful.
My annual tradition of reading aloud the Declaration of Independence on Independence Day. You should, too! You'll find the text here. Sorry about the two long pauses while scrolling text. See, too, if you can spot the one incorrect pronoun.
I wish you a safe, beautiful, and free Independence Day!
1) When the store that has always sold pre-made sandwiches has no sandwiches and you settle for a large bag of potato chips and a banana.
2) I cut the trek into Herring Cove a little shorter by continuing along the back of the dunes longer than usual. Far fewer men than Sunday, but they all seemed engaged with each other.
3) Once I flung out my beach spread and ground my umbrella into the sand, I recognized an acquaintance nearby and went over to talk. He said, "I saw your boater and thought 'Well, that's Robert, or someone with his sensibility."
4) The realization that every poem Walt Whitman ever wrote is about every group of young men at this beach.
5) I wrote, I napped, I kept replaying the theme song of Island in the Sun even though I don't know all the words.
6) The light on Cape beaches - at least on this one - lights good and evil with an intensity beyond Time. Today especially the clarity of the light, the glittering, glassy sea - a torrent of light almost impossible to bear.
7) I hiked back home a bit earlier than anticipated. The sun was intense, and I needed to make myself beautiful for dinner.
8) Hostly dialogue:
Hochmina (looking at my white pants): “Could you make those pants any tighter?”
Me: “Actually I did! I put them away in the closet last fall, and when I took them out a month ago they were a lot tighter."
9) After a couple vodka tonics the dinner guests arrived: a brother and a sister, each with a husband. Steak, asparagus, potatoes - a delicious, and deliciously simple, dinner.
10) Red wine and brownies.
11) Almost got caught up in The Paradine Case, but was persuaded to go into town. The usual crazy of a holiday week. Much conversation about how long the lines were in front of some of the bars, and how none of us wanted to deal with that. #agingactressyesterdaysglamourqueen
12) Ice cream is the wrong habit to acquire, but such a tasty habit.
13) And for a Little Night Music, Mary Ellis sings "Glamorous Night" from Ivor Novello's musical of the same name. "Can't we regain that delight? Let us kiss and RECAPTURE THAT RAPTUROUS, GLAMOROUS NIGHT!"
1) Lingered in bed, awake, until about 8 AM. I know it's vacation, but I really have to stop this. It will make the transition back to Drudgery that much more difficult.
2) Two hours of coffee and writing and morning chat. The dining table had been transformed into an office with the presence of three laptops; two of the housemates are actively working today, while I'm just writing.
3) The time came to stumble off for some breakfast. At 10:30 AM I thought surely there would be one free barstool at the Former Tippy-Toppy - no such luck! Jammed, and with large clots of parties of four hovering around the entrance. I aimed my steps toward Comical Street and discovered no free seats at anything open.
4) Remembering I needed stamps, I headed to a favorite, overlooked public space in P'town: the large, cool, and dim lobby of the post office. This photo doesn't show it in its true darkness. I miss dignity in public spaces. Those damn Brutalist architects have a lot to answer for!
5) With an absence of imagination borne of hunger, I waited ten minutes in line in the sun for the opening of Tubular at 11 AM. (Yes, Tubular doesn't open until 11 AM. It hasn't opened until 11 AM for years now. Don't act so surprised. Yes, they are missing a lot of business not opening at 10 AM.)
6) Tubular accommodates diners with dogs at specific tables on their terrace, featuring dog bowls filled with ice water. A straight couple with a beautiful Alaskan husky were seated at the table next to me in the front row, so I knew we'd have lots of Doggie Drama to entertain us. This included a gigantic black-and-white dog (I have to wonder if it was a mastiff) sporting a rainbow collar, a dachshund being toted along in a doggie rickshaw behind a bicycle, and one dog who just didn't want to make friends, and kept jumping back every time the husky tried to sniff his backside. I could just hear that dog saying "Daddy, I don't want to make friends! Take me home!"
7) Back at Hochmina-sur-mer, I joined the boys lounging on the (hot) terrace under the (less hot) shade of the table umbrella. General chat, a tarot reading for Hochmina, and admiration of the abundant lavender.
8) Off to the beach in about an hour.
1) Could there have been a lazier day? After getting to bed somewhere after 1:30 AM, up at 7ish, coffee, writing, conversation - and then a NAP before lunch. Before lunch.
2) Didn't feel like "rushing off in the heat of the day" for anything, even the beach. So I didn't shuffle down the road until about 2:30 in the afternoon. This being July Fourth weekend, bicycles were locked further down Route 6 than I've ever seen them before.
3) The erosion at the entry has accelerated in the last three years. This year the grade is easier to manage, but I wonder how long it will be until the CCNS has to put in a platform or something.
Erosion, year three.
4) Your fashion correspondent noticed the rising popularity of "beach-to-bar" swim trunks, briefer and crisper-looking than those abominable board shorts. But speedos are still de rigueur here, and white speedos were spotted exactly five times.
5) I get into the zone while plodding down the beach to find a spot, so I completely missed seeing and hearing a couple friends calling out to me. I ended up taking over their spot as they left.
6) I hadn't brought anything to read - shocking! - but with a view like this of the incoming tide, who needs to read? Just five lines - sand, surf, sea, smog, sky - and yet they hold all the world's magic.
7) Departures began about an hour after I arrived - off to get ready for Tea, no doubt - and by 5ish there were only about a dozen beachgoers scattered in wide spaces on either side of me.
8) I lingered until about 6:30, during the golden hour when the beach light is at its very best. As usual, the trek back during high tide meant I was sometimes in water up to my waist going through the dunes.
9) On returning home, surprise! Housemates were treating the household to a grilled swordfish dinner. Om nom nom.
10) Hostly dialogue —
Hochimina: “Don’t you ever look at your texts?”
Me: “My phone was in my backpack.”
Hochmina (to housemates): “Robert is technology challenged.”
Me (smiling nevertheless): “MY PHONE WAS IN MY BACKPACK COURTEOUSLY SET TO VIBRATE!"
11) Since I'd arrived so close to dinnertime, there was nothing left for me to do but wash the dishes afterward, which I was very happy to do after such a good dinner. Did I mention the braised figs?
12) The house settled down to watch Walk the Line, but I headed off to Comical Street to see what was doing. The answer? Not much for me.
13) Inexplicably, I ended up watching Island in the Sun, which I'd never seen. I think it must have been because I'd seen Olivia de Haviland's The Dark Mirror yesterday, and Joan Fontaine is in this. Along with James Mason, Joan Collins (oomph!), Dorothy Dandridge (I'd never seen one of her films before), Harry Belafonte (mmphgh!), and my beloved Diana Wynyard as a British matron with a shocking secret.
14) As Mae West famously said in Myra Breckinridge, "Ah, the end of another busy day!" Now on to Monday.
The 19th century created no greater monument to itself than the famous Sextette from Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor. To me it has always seemed like a Grand Machine, each voice, each instrument serves as a component moving part, ticking and winding its way to not one, but two Grand Climaxes (with cymbals). Indoor plumbing and the telephone are essential to me, and I'm awfully grateful for things like quinine and rail travel, but when I think of the grandeur of a century, the Sextette wins every time - even over my beloved Aida.
The plot is really Romeo and Juliet in kilts with a bit of Advise and Consent and The Manchurian Candidate. (Here's the official synopsis. Here's the libretto for the whole blessed thing, too.) Lucia Ashton and Sir Edgardo di Ravenswood, coming from rival Scottish clans, of course fall in love and get secretly married. Lucia's politically ambitious brother Lord Enrico Ashton unknowingly tosses a monkey wrench into this novel plan by betrothing Lucia to his political patron Lord Arturo Bucklaw. (I adore these Italo-Scottish name mashups.) Whoopsie-doo! Lucia, in fear and trembling, has just signed the marriage license ("La mia condanna ho scritta!" which means "I have just signed my own death warrant!") when there is a bit of a commotion at the door, and who do you think flings himself into the great hall wearing a big badass cape but (you guessed it!) Edgardo. And Lucia sings "Edgardo, o fulmine!" which essentially means "Edgardo! Oh sh*t!" The chorus mumbles his name a couple times, and then with the plucking of strings we wind up the Grand Machine that is the Sextette and get down to business.
The six singers - Edgardo, Enrico, Arturo, Lucia, Alisa (her maid), and Raimondo (her chaplain [every debutante needs one]) - sing their thoughts to themselves without interacting with each other. I have often wondered if Eugene O'Neill was inspired by this to create his (interminable) play Strange Interlude. "Chi mi frena in tal momento?" leads off Edgardo ("Who restrains me in this moment?), with Enrico countering him. Then Lucia and Raimondo contribute their layers of emotion, and at last Arturo and Alisa (who, it turns out, are just glorified chorus members for this - who knew?) and the chorus get going, and they all just Bring It Home.
After Lucia sings "M'abbandona il pianto ancor," everybody piles on*, but the most, the very most important thing is keeping the tempo slow and measured and not rush it. I see all the wheels turning, all the springs tightening, each sonorous of layer of controlled anxiety, of escaping hysteria, moving us inexorably closer to that first climactic crash of cymbals, and then the second. And then that last, magnificent pinnacle of Lucia's despair that brings it to a close. And may I say, who the hell knows what they're singing at this point, and does it matter? "Sometimes," as William Hurt famously said in The Big Chill, "you just have to let Art wash over you."
I've always especially identified two singers with the Sextette: Enrico Caruso and Maria Callas. Edgardo was one of the Great Caruso's greatest roles, and he made a famous recording of it with other great artists that was the Most Expensive Recording of Its Day; it became known as the "Seven-Dollar Sextet." Just listen to them all honking away; methinks the style was a bit more nasal back then.
Callas was my first Lucia. In college I got a double cassette recording (remember cassettes?) of the entire opera, and I'm sure I nearly broke it repeatedly rewinding to the start of the Sextette. To me she remains unparalleled in the role. (Nothing personal, Anna Netrebko, I promise.) What pathos, what drama, what perfection! In this recording she's singing it live in Berlin in 1955 under the baton of von Karajan, and he made them all encore it because the audience was so excited. Can you imagine being in the theatre on a night like that?
There's little opportunity for humor in Lucia, but Hollywood found a way. In The Great Caruso, Caruso (played by Mario Lanza) is singing the role of Edgardo while waiting anxiously to hear about the birth of his first child. As soon as he knows, the whispered news is conveyed through the entire Metropolitan Opera, and the Sextette ends with a stupendous ovation from audience and cast alike for the new father.
In a concert program, I would so very much love to see the Sextette begin with "La mia condanna ho scritta" rather than "Chi mi frena in tal momento," so that the drama of Edgardo's entrance can be captured.
*"And the free for all at the end," as Anna Russell might say, except that the Sextette proceeds at too stately a pace to be called a free for all.
Town Hall at night.
1) My hoary old maxim "For maximum fun potential, arrive early" served me in good stead as I appeared at Tea shortly after it opened at 4 PM to pay my cover, get stamped, and head home to change. That way I could waltz in with my friends who all have townie passes. Returning at 5:30, the line for admittance stretched to infinity. Someone later told me they only had to wait ten minutes. I only had to wait 45 seconds. Schadenfreude, party of one!
2) As might be expected on the Saturday before a High Holy Day like July Fourth, Tea was packed. With the lines at the bar already too long, I stopped at the front table for one of the Boatslip's famous Planter's Punches. And ended up choosing the slow bartender. Still, those things are lethal.
3) One never knows who one will meet at Tea, but I ran into my luncheon companions, old friends from the beach, and even a rarely-seen professional colleague. All that said, Tea, as it is so often, is a lot of standing around, and I really didn't mind peeling off five minutes before closing time.
4) After a light dinner at home, Hochmina and I strolled down Comical Street, in part so I could get some ice cream. It appears that B** & J****'* has rejiggered my beloved Urban Bourbon into Bourbon Brown Butter, which makes an excellent hot fudge sundae. Om nom nom.
5) We observed the passing throng from benches by Town Hall, and I reflected that it's only been in the last ten years that so many street musicians have infested P'town. Before Ellie the P'town Showgirl (now enchanting the angels lo these many years), I felt like there was nothing. Now, we get almost no rest: children squeaking away on violins, folk singers, a country (?) trio in front of Town Hall, and even a handsome young accordionist. (I didn't imagine anyone so young played the accordion.)
6) "The passing throng" tonight was made up of more than just thirtysomethings with impressive arms and shoulders. Tourists of all types and conditions . . . mercy, it was as though the entire Cape had collected here.
7) Snugly ensconced at home since 10:30, engrossed in various recordings of the Sextette from Lucia di Lammermoor (of which more later), and completely happy.
2a) In the words of the late Gloria Swanson, "Wonderful shoulders! I love that line."
1) Breakfast with Hochmina at What Used to Be Tippy-Toppy. Miraculously two seats opened up at the bar almost as soon as we arrived. I found the smoked salmon benedict and the curvature of the waiter equally appetizing.
2) Dropped in on some other friends and we lunched at Bubala's on the terrace, an ideal reviewing stand to see the passing throng.
3) Afterward I strolled Comical Street to commit a few Acts of Retail. In the East End I was distracted - perhaps I was admiring some curvature - when I tripped over a parking barrier and stumbled badly. Of course this would happen in front of a few total strangers. After a quick second I threw my arms wide and said "Ta-daaaaaa! For my next act: walking away gracefully."
4) On the recommendation of a friend I stopped into East End Books, which just opened this winter. Charming layout, and the proprietor is both knowledgeable and cordial. I ended up buying a few greeting cards and an autographed copy of a new book about Cape Cod by Robert Finch. As the scion of a small business family, I know it's important to support small business in America!
5) Ducked into a card store I've frequented for years to observe that the product mix had changed dramatically. Turns out there's a new owner. I don't think I'll be back.
6) After some serious lounging at home, a quick run into town for a coffee led to a surprise meeting with a professional contact. It's so disorienting to see people out of context!
7) Shortly off to the thé dansant.
"How beautifully the day begins
In sunny Provincetown . . ."
1) Took the 6:30 ferry last evening from town. As a rarity, I slept almost all the way.
2) As another rarity, took a cab from the pier to Hochmina-sur-Mer. Just didn't feel like toting all my anvils to the end of town. Just like the Caribbean, P'town cabbies pack their cabs with as many passengers as possible. I sat in front next to the driver. Eventually I was joined by two women - one older, one younger. A lesbian couple? Oh no! A heterosexual mother-daughter team from Michigan who just "love the gays," laughed at everything I said, and were clearly ready to enjoy every moment of their first trip to Provincetown.
2a) Oh dear.
3) Nice, quiet dinner at Hochmina-sur-Mer, during which I was surprised by the news that Olivia de Haviland was suing FX and Ryan Murphy over Feud. This of course led me to start watching The Dark Mirror again:
4) Slept like a LOG. Gawd, I needed that!
5) It is delicious to feel no pressure to see or do anything. Today is the most scheduled I'm going to be all these days: lunch at noon, and then tea dance in the evening.
6) I intend to spend my time writing, reading, contemplating, and seeing friends - at the beach, and at home. Bliss.
1) " . . . and these kind friends have taken me in . . . " as the Countess Olenska writes in The Age of Innocence. Arrived in Provincetown last evening to celebrate Independence Day here until Wednesday.
1a) I brought my tarot cards, so if you're here and want a reading, let me know.
2) Up late, gray humid day, white cotton clothes.
3) Getting mighty tired of melodramatic, manipulative news coverage. As whatshisname used to say on Dragnet, "Just the facts, ma'am."