THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN

"He [the coroner] opened him up and found nothing"--Madame Bovary

Friday I saw the documentary about Tab Hunter at the Bloor.  They were showing John Waters' Polyester afterward (with an appearance by Hunter), and I won a ticket to that screening by being the first to answer a trivia question. (The 1982 musical flop with him and Michelle Pfeiffer was Grease II.)

I finished Madame Bovary Thursday, and discussed it with John Snow's group on Sunday.  I've now started reading Thomas Mann's symbolic novel The Magic Mountain for my own book club.  I need to read almost twenty pages a day to finish it in time, but so far I'm struggling to do ten a day.

We now have the choir program for the Christmas concert.  And at the opera they've decided on the pieces to do at the fundraiser.  Beatrice wants us to be off-book, which will be easier for me than for the new people.

The weather is getting cooler, and I've started bringing in the potatoes from the back yard.  It looks like another good year. (I also have some patio tiles to move out of the way to allow a bigger garden next year.)

Last night I dreamed about General Patton.  Today I was reading about him on Wikipedia.  I want to see that George C. Scott movie again!

A dream

Sometimes I have complex dreams.  Last night was a doozie. (They sometimes happen when I miss my Cipralex, but I don't think that was the case here.)

I dreamed I had a baby ape for a new pet.  I think the reason for that is that I saw a trailer for the promising-looking Frederick Wiseman documentary Jackson Heights, about a district in Queens, N.Y. said to be the most racially diverse in America.  And that reminded me of Wiseman's documentary set in a Florida zoo, where they showed a baby ape being nursed.

Then I was back in Sackville, N.B.  I was enrolled in a course that was already half over and I hadn't been to any of the classes, so I wanted to withdraw from it officially. (Some people dream of sitting examinations, but that doesn't happen with me.) I promised to learn to sew so I could make costumes for my opera group.  We don't even make costumes, we rent them from Malabar!

Then I went downtown from our old home on West Avenue, and saw Bridge Street all torn up, like I see Toronto streets torn up for improvements.  I joined a tour group outside the town and went on a walking tour of the lowlands around the ridge where the remains of Fort Beausejour stand. (It's a National Historic Park.)

Remember that movie Dying Young where Julia Roberts was a caregiver for a doomed young man?  In the version I dreamed of it was Julia who was dying!  Then she got kidnapped by an eastern potentate except that it was all arranged by one of her elders so she'd never be seen again and he'd get her inheritance or something.  And suddenly the movie ended!

What do you dream about?

I'm depressed

"I'm evil because I'm a man"--Iago

It looks like Canada has regressed to the Chretien era. (He's my least favourite Prime Minister.) I could see from the first that Thomas Mulcair had erred in promising to keep the budget balanced:  people just don't care much about that.  In the case of defending the right to wear a niqab, that worked against the N.D.P. but at least they were in the right!  I just hope that American voters don't chicken out like we did.

I voted on Monday morning and beat the rush.  Our local district's voting is now at the Wychwood Barns.

At Monday night's choir practice I sat with the tenors for the first time.  A few people have left and I hope we get enough replacements.  A lot of people seemed more interested in the baseball playoff game with the Blue Jays than with the election!

Saturday morning I saw the Met production of Otello at the Yonge & Dundas.  Zeljko Lui is a great Iago!

Last night at opera rehearsal we had an acting session, which is always fun.  My group put on a scene where a lover arrives late in port just in time to see his sweetheart sailing away on a ship.  I played the captain, and imagined myself as Popeye the Sailor Man!

In one of those Facebook discussions I wrote: "Suppose that the pundits had unanimously declared Bernie Sanders the winner of last week's debate, and that the MSM had systematically ignored the consistent impression from the online polls and focus groups that Hillary Clinton had won by a large margin?  Does anyone doubt that many Clinton supporters would be screaming 'Conspiracy!'?" I just wish I'd thought quick enough to say it last week! (Call it esprit de l'escalier.)

Now that I think of it, what bothers me about that Facebook group is that the organizer blamed me for writing a political comment but not the one who posted a link to a book review involving Reagan!  (I'd been warned before, so like a bad schoolteacher she couldn't see anything else but blaming me.) I'm not saying the other guy should have got all the blame, but I would have been happier if he'd been blamed too.

One less Facebook group

"And he would quickly reach for Emma's boots on the shelf over the fire, all crusted with mud--the mud of her assignations--that crumbled to dust in his fingers, and he watched it rising slowly in a ray of sunlight"--Madame Bovary

I'm in quite a few Facebook groups.  I got into trouble in a book-related one for breaking the organizer's strict rule against talking politics. (I'd got in trouble before, over an incident whose specifics I've already forgotten!) She didn't kick me out, but I've decided to leave anyway.  When I'm dead and gone, I'd rather have people saying that I talked politics too much than that I avoided the subject.

My Facebook page brings up the latest posts from all my groups and friends in the order of posting, and the bone of contention was a comment made on a post that I carelessly didn't notice was in the no-politics group. (No, I wasn't flouting the rule on purpose.) The post was an article on a Ronald Reagan biography with a headline that started, "Killing Reagan." I couldn't resist writing, "'Killing Reagan.' If only!" When another poster complained, I wrote, "Spare a thought for the people Reagan killed." I'll spare you his next post, except to give my response: "The first one who cusses loses." When the organizer got angry, I ended up writing: "Don't worry, from now on I'll just talk religion!"

You know those people who say they would have killed Hitler ahead of time to prevent him from doing all those very bad things? Well, if I'd had foresight I would have been tempted to kill Reagan to prevent his crimes.  But unlike John Hinkley, I probably would have pussied out in the end.

I'm still following the controversy over who "won" the Democratic debate.  Clinton supporters are accusing Sanders supporters of "conspiracy theory," yet they dismiss the pro-Sanders focus groups by invoking The Big Republican Conspiracy Against Hillary!  And it's disingenuous to proclaim that later polls are more reliable when they're full of respondents who didn't see the debate but heard that Mrs. Clinton won. (I'd be more impressed if they did a poll solely of people who'd watched it.)

I'm also puzzled by those who assert that the earlier polls were distorted by the Sanders camp's "enthusiasm." Isn't generating enthusiasm one measure of a successful debate performance?  I suppose that the Silent Majority is supporting HRC. (Nixon lives!)

Three movies

"...she was not in the least kind-hearted, nor readily aware of the feelings of others, typical of the offspring of most country people, whose souls, like the callused hands of their fathers, have grown a hard skin"--Madame Bovary

On Thanksgiving weekend I saw three movies.  Friday night I saw a documentary about the Black Panthers at the Bloor.  It's a shame that the F.B.I. targeted them just when they were moving away from armed confrontation to social services.  Saturday night I saw A Walk in the Woods at the Revue.  I loved Bill Bryson's book but the movie was pretty mild.  Sunday night I saw another documentary at the Bloor, this one about the Faberge jewellers.  I liked the eclectic music.

I'm on a schedule of reading fifteen pages a day of Madame Bovary so I can finish it in time for John Snow's book club.  I feel like I'm back in college! (Though I didn't take any literature courses.)

Yesterday was the first debate for the Democratic presidential candidates.  I couldn't see it because I was at opera rehearsal.  Beatrice warned everyone it was important to memorize and said, "James doesn't need to look at his book!" Well, I've done the opera before, and also did it with the choir, so it was pretty easy for me to relearn.

Actually, I wouldn't have watched the debate even if I could have.  I don't watch these political debates because I already know whom I support.  It's very interesting that the pundits all said that Hillary Clinton won, even though all the post-election polls showed Bernie Sanders winning by a wide margin! (You can argue that the internet polls were skewed by Sanders' big online following, but he even dominated the offline focus groups.) Should have known it would happen this way:  the Washington insiders naturally leaning toward the insider candidate.

At my choir, Paolo got me to change from baritone-bass to tenor!  We'll see how that works out. (I can't hit that high B flat.) I was going to go on Betty-Anne's art walk tomorrow night, but there's a special choir rehearsal to make up for us being unable to get together on Thanksgiving Day.  I could play hooky, but Paolo specifically wants the people who can read music.

Busy Thursday

On Thursday I saw The Intern with Bev.  It was enjoyable in a rather predictable way.  Robert De Niro was in fine form, playing a character who half the time is just observing. (Someone said that's the acid test for an actor.) In one scene he sat at his desk on his first day on the job waiting for something to do, and Bev said she knew that feeling.

Afterward we had dinner at an Italian restaurant called Serra.  I had spaghetti bolognese. (Maybe I should have tried something more imaginative.)

Then I went to the Victory Cafe for the History Discussion Group.  We discussed Roland Wright's A History of Progress, and seven people showed up!  Unfortunately, the place was a bit too loud, and  Margo suggested the Schnitzel Hub for the next event.  She noticed that I wasn't talking much, but to me it's a good sign when a Meetup group gets less dependent on its organizer:  it's getting a life of its own!

Sunday was the Classic Book Club, where we discussed the works of Poe.  It turned out that there were two Central American women there! (One was from Costa Rica, the other from Honduras.)

Monday night choir practice was a non-starter because the room with the piano was undergoing sprinkler renovation. (It was supposed to happen about ten days ago.) But we sang "Angels We Have Heard on High" a capella and ate pizza, which I didn't stay for.

At opera rehearsal tonight we did the line "Uno scudo veramente?  Piu brav'uom non si up dar!" It reminded me of the bit in Sesame Street where thirty squares got rolled out and there was always something irregular.  Adolfo said we had to do it with urgency, and I thought of the skit where the shifty salesman in the trench coat tried to sell something to Ernie.  He's whisper, "It'll only cost you a nickel," and Ernie would shout "A nickel?!" before being shushed.  That's the spirit we need.

TRUE DETECTIVE

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?" "Not exactly..."--True Detective

I've just been watching the HBO series True Detective, which Moira got from the library.  I don't usually care for these procedural mysteries, and the plot here is even more complicated than usual, but this one is remarkably well made.  Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey are at their best, and the direction is atmospheric and creepy. (Remind me not to move to Louisiana.)

Saturday night I went to the Karaoke Meetup at BarPlus.  There were about fifteen people in our group, so I only stayed for two songs.

Monday afternoon I went to John Snow's book club to talk about Dostoevsky's The Devils.  I hadn't read it, of course. (Not only didn't I have the time, I couldn't find the book!) John couldn't make it, unfortunately, but we had a pretty good discussion anyway.

Tuesday night at opera rehearsal the men and women rehearsed separately.  There were only half a dozen boys, including a solitary tenor.  The Elixir of Love music is coming back to me really fast:  I did it at the opera ten years and also at the choir some years back.

That night John and his family came and we had Indian food, except that I had to leave early because of the opera.  I asked Kathrine for her child recipe and she's promised to show it to me. (I want to make it with meat!)

The cool weather is here.  I should get out another duvet for my bed.