No, I'm not talking about Sal and me, although some might think so, but it's just because they don't really know us like YOU do!
If you don't love opera, and for some it's an acquired taste to be sure...get over it and go out and rent an opera CD of just the most famous arias (that's songs for you opera haters). Now, I will confess that the only operas I really like at all are the REALLY tragic, highly dramatic ITALIAN operas...the ones where the heroine dies an eternally slow death while singing and flinging herself in her nighty all across the stage and back before she finally succumbs to death in the arms of her hero (who is really just a slob who can't commit!).
Sal and I had the opportunity to go to our newly built concert hall, The Long Center to see and hear perhaps the best soprano opera singer alive today...Kathleen Battle. Her CD would be a great one to start listening to. Talk about divas!!
This woman started out singing at the Metropolitan Opera in NY when she was in her twenties...and after a few years of her tantrums and divaness, they kicked her out for GOOD. You have to do something pretty outrageous to get kicked out of the Met because ALL of the opera singers there are divas and divos (maybe not a word...but). So, she's made her living recording CDs and doing live concerts.
Our original seats were in the mezzanine so she looked like a moving, gesticulating bug with a taffeta shawl draped around her. I could tell that even though these seats were the only ones we could afford, that they just wouldn't do. I spent more time looking around down on the main floor with my binoculars at the very few empty seats to which we would flee at intermission than I did focusing on Ms. Battle herself. Then, as she walked off the stage to people screaming, BRAVA, I grabbed Sal by the hand and said, "Come on...we're moving." You have to do this quickly because there are other devious people doing the same thing.
Well, if we didn't end up in the third row center, my name isn't KK...I mean, we were close enough to see her nose hairs, but I didn't look! We were mesmerized, gobsmacked at the voice that came from her mouth AND at the number of times that she took little mini-intermissions! She would sing about three songs and then take her piano player and dramatically stride off the set blowing kisses to the crowd. What a DIVA!
The funniest parts of the evening would come when, after finishing a beautiful song, she had to "take a moment" before she sang the next one...so she would just stand there looking out at the audience, then down at her feet, then at the flower arrangement on the piano. Now, knowing opera divas, I knew that she was emotionally preparing herself for the next change in tempo. Sal was like, "What the fuck? What is she DOING? Do you think she forgot what she was doing or where she IS?" I had to explain to Sal that this is just what Divas DO.
Anyway, we had a blast. Life really IS a song, isn't it...and I'm just as happy listening to opera as I am to George Strait, who were he 7 inches taller, I would MARRY! Just go hear someone sing! Or walk around your own house singing at the top of your lungs and see what happens. If someone tries to stop you, put on your best DIVA!
Well, really. She was a diva of the first order. I wouldn't know how to be a diva. I stand up for very few things and generally just go with the flow and feel gratitude for the abundance in my life; my cat, The Ancient One and KK. It's very nice that they all are aware that I hate it when the toilet paper is put on the roll so that it falls from the back instead of draping from the front. They are so sweet about knowing that I must have the remote and watch my shows each night, that they must be silent during these shows and that my bourbon must have three ice cubes...not two, not four - three. KK has finally learned how to serve it properly.
I'm not high maintenance at all. I only spend about 45 minutes on my make-up, two hours on my hair and half the day dressing appropriately. I am usually out the door by noon. Discipline counts you know. I will not eat at cheap, small or 'homey' restaurants as I prefer French pate, duck confit on my salads and white truffles on my fillet Mignon steaks. Once a waiter actually served caviar with no lemon. I had to inform the management and I believe he was fired for such ignorance.
Most of the time I am agreeable and open to the wants and needs of the little people - unless they don't treat me with the proper dignity that I so brilliantly deserve. As long as they know their place I will say thank you to them, tip the requisite %10 and compliment them on their dungarees.
Ta ta for now and do write when you are gainfully employed,