ADHD+Opera
In our modern age, everything is available in snack form. The internet has drained our attention spans. Any wall of text longer than a couple of paragraphs is a challenge that needs to be planned, and packed, and mapped out well in advance. We’ve moved from writing letters, to phonecalls, to emails, to instant messenging. The quicker and less the investment of time, the better. The most recent methods of communicating don’t even leave the briefness up to us, text messaging and Twitter both have abbreviation built in, and we love it. The lack of freedom is a feature.
Not that that’s a bad thing. When I was a kid we’d sometimes get to go into work with our parents. In the morning, before we all packed into the little VW Polo (that’s one size down from the Golf, for the US readers) my sister and I would raid the big box of Legos that lived under the bed. We’d each put together a 10 or 20 piece model and take it in with us. Then we’d spend the whole day taking apart and rebuilding them, trying to make as many different things out of those handful of pieces as possible. In a way it was more exciting to be limited to just those pieces, than to have the run of the huge box at home. That’s when I first understood the adage “necessity is the mother of invention”.
Now here’s your chance to be a mother…. of invention… of Opera… on Twitter. The idea is to describe the entire plot of an opera in 160 characters. The outcome is you can win fabulous prizes. Examples from last year:
- @leboyfriend – There was a young lady called Fricka Who . . . who . . . *snore* ‘Wake up — it’s over.’ It’s good, I just wish it were quicka. [The Ring]
- @wordsmusic – Here’s my castle. Are you afraid? No, I’m going to open all those damn doors! Are you afraid? No, let me in! Who’s that? Oh shit. [Bluebeard]
- @musicbizkid – Let me get this straight: unfathomable treasure if I betroth my loopy daughter to a ghost? Deal. She’ll meet you by the fjord. [The Flying Dutchman]
- @DrGeoduck – Who wants to live forever? Me! No, wait, i changed my mind. *dies* [The Makropolus Case]
- @voxdixit – Monk: Repent, courtesan! (Meditation) Courtesan: Okay! Monk: Wait, there is no God after all! Courtesan: Too late, I’m dead! [Thais]
Interest piqued? Full details on Miss. M’s site, here.
Temper Tantrum
Does arguing the finer points of tuning systems get you in a bit of a bother? Do perfect fifths make you need to loosen up your collar? If so, I recommend a cold shower, and a trip to Slate to read this article on temperament, though possibly not in that order.
Symbolism
I can see these guys in three locations without moving my head more than a half turn:
They’re ubiquitous on any media player: CD players, MP3 players, remote controls, PC software, Mac software, DVD players, stereos, and tape decks. But no-one seems to know exactly where they came from. There’s a thread on reddit right now trying to identify the origin of these iconic, err, icons. The summary so far:
No definitive origins. Probably started with reel-to-reel tape decks (60s/70s?). Possibly made popular by Sony Walkman or Phillips cassette recorders. Arrows probably originally were to indicate the direction the tape would move. Pause may have come about later with VCRs and appears to look like a caesura (musical pause) or an open connection symbol or just a stop symbol with a missing chunk. And the eject symbol is probably an Illuminati pyramid, symbolizing either the eye of Horus or the long forgotten hieroglyph for a kitty litter tray with a giant cat turd in it which ancient Egyptians would use to represent Lady Gaga.
I find it’s a bit hard to think objectively about the icons after having been exposed to them so many times. They’ve become so embedded in your consciousness that it’s like reading roadsigns. You do it automatically. It’s not a triangle or two parallel lines, it’s play and stop. It’s a miniature language of modern runes.
PS. I went to Atlantic City this weekend. Please don’t ever make this mistake. It is one of the most depressing, disgusting places I have ever visited, filled with obese chain-smokers pumping their welfare checks into slot machines. Eugh.
