Good Friday

From a bus on West 23rd Street, Good Friday afternoon.

Sunday before the Iowa caucus

Gaudi made a cross out of a quarry.

(Ok, a lot of crosses)

Religious ecstasy has inspired great art, profound ideas, innumerable acts of kindness.  Religion has also been a mask for brutal acts of terror, and churches (or Churches) have bolstered entire repressive governments [talkin' Barcelona blues; the Fascists were backed by the Church from the get-go].

Vote your conscience.  Put some thought into it.  Pray about it if that's your thing.  Don't forget your history.

Westminster Thistle

From the garden where the monks used to grow the veg.

money never changed a thing

We heard the Sermon on the Mount and I knew it was too complex
It didn't amount to anything more than the broken glass reflects

When you bite off more than you can chew you pay the penalty
Somebody's got to tell the tale, I guess it must be up to me

Thoreau is Weeping

You may have seen some things about this on Jon Stewart or FOX News, but you want to take a look at this article, from the Times.

I know, it's from that East Coast Elitist rag, but no one is claiming they are misquoting Freedom-Loving Rancher and purported champion of Civil Disobedience Cliven Bundy when he held forth on “The Negro”:

“They abort their young children, they put their young men in jail, because they never learned how to pick cotton. And I’ve often wondered, are they better off as slaves, picking cotton and having a family life and doing things, or are they better off under government subsidy? They didn’t get no more freedom. They got less freedom.”

You know Cliven, when y’all keep saying things like that while you’re waving guns around, people are going to start to think you’re downright unreasonable.

Of course, according to him, Bundy is just a Patriot doing the Lord's work. A confusing kind of patriot, in that he Really Really Loves America while simultaneously denying the authority of the Federal government over Federal land.  Go into the comment thread and banner ads of that article at your own risk.  Personal fave from my first glance: "What would you rather eat... Beef or Solar Panels?"  Yup.  Just keep raising the bar of discourse, guys.

Speaking of beef, lest you think I’m only unhappy with the right wing racist nutjobs out there, I've also got a beef with a quote in that Times article from Rob Mrowka from the Center of Biological Diversity:

“This should not be confused with civil disobedience. This is outright anarchy going on here.”

Well, sheesh Rob!  That’s just flat-out unfair to anarchists.

A Modest Proposal

Because that would, you know, totally work.

Courtesy of Michael Stipe's Tumblr.

There Goes the Neighborhood

Ok, I might not agree with every single one of these "reasons," but check out an interesting list of infobits about one Mr. Fred Rogers, courtesy the good people at Project Argus.

15 Reasons Mister Rogers Was the Best Neighbor Ever

1. Even Koko the Gorilla Loved Him
Most people have heard of Koko, the Stanford-educated gorilla who could speak about 1000 words in American Sign Language, and understand about 2000 in English. What most people don’t know, however, is that Koko was an avid Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood fan. As Esquire reported, when Fred Rogers took a trip out to meet Koko for his show, not only did she immediately wrap her arms around him and embrace him, she did what she’d always seen him do onscreen: she proceeded to take his shoes off!

2. He Made Thieves Think Twice
According to a TV Guide profile, Fred Rogers drove a plain old Impala for years. One day, however, the car was stolen from the street near the TV station. When Rogers filed a police report, the story was picked up by every newspaper, radio and media outlet around town. Amazingly, within 48 hours the car was left in the exact spot where it was taken from, with an apology on the dashboard. It read, “If we’d known it was yours, we never would have taken it.”

3. He Watched His Figure to the Pound
In covering Rogers’ daily routine (waking up at 5; praying for a few hours for all of his friends and family; studying; writing, making calls and reaching out to every fan who took the time to write him; going for a morning swim; getting on a scale; then really starting his day), writer Tom Junod explained that Mr. Rogers weighed in at exactly 143 pounds every day for the last 30 years of his life. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t eat the flesh of any animals, and was extremely disciplined in his daily routine. And while I’m not sure if any of that was because he’d mostly grown up a chubby, single child, Junod points out that Rogers found beauty in the number 143. According to the piece, Rogers came “to see that number as a gift… because, as he says, “the number 143 means ‘I love you.’ It takes one letter to say ‘I’ and four letters to say ‘love’ and three letters to say ‘you.’ One hundred and forty-three.”

4. He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR
Strange but true. When the government wanted to cut Public Television funds in 1969, the relatively unknown Mister Rogers went to Washington. Almost straight out of a Capra film, his 5-6 minute testimony on how TV had the potential to give kids hope and create more productive citizens was so simple but passionate that even the most gruff politicians were charmed. While the budget should have been cut, the funding instead jumped from $9 to $22 million. Rogers also spoke to Congress, and swayed senators into voting to allow VCR’s to record television shows from the home. It was a cantankerous debate at the time, but his argument was that recording a program like his allowed working parents to sit down with their children and watch shows as a family.

5. He Might Have Been the Most Tolerant American Ever
Mister Rogers seems to have been almost exactly the same off-screen as he was onscreen. As an ordained Presbyterian minister, and a man of tremendous faith, Mister Rogers preached tolerance first. Whenever he was asked to castigate non-Christians or gays for their differing beliefs, he would instead face them and say, with sincerity, “God loves you just the way you are.” Often this provoked ire from fundamentalists.

6. He Was Genuinely Curious About Others
Mister Rogers was known as one of the toughest interviews because he’d often befriend reporters, asking them tons of questions, taking pictures of them, compiling an album for them at the end of their time together, and calling them after to check in on them and hear about their families. He wasn’t concerned with himself, and genuinely loved hearing the life stories of others. Amazingly, it wasn’t just with reporters. Once, on a fancy trip up to a PBS exec’s house, he heard the limo driver was going to wait outside for 2 hours, so he insisted the driver come in and join them (which flustered the host). On the way back, Rogers sat up front, and when he learned that they were passing the driver’s home on the way, he asked if they could stop in to meet his family. According to the driver, it was one of the best nights of his life—the house supposedly lit up when Rogers arrived, and he played jazz piano and bantered with them late into the night. Further, like with the reporters, Rogers sent him notes and kept in touch with the driver for the rest of his life.

7. He Was Color-blind
Literally. He couldn’t see the color blue. Of course, he was also figuratively color-blind, as you probably guessed. As were his parents who took in a black foster child when Rogers was growing up.

8. He Could Make a Subway Car full of Strangers Sing
Once while rushing to a New York meeting, there were no cabs available, so Rogers and one of his colleagues hopped on the subway. Esquire reported that the car was filled with people, and they assumed they wouldn’t be noticed. But when the crowd spotted Rogers, they all simultaneously burst into song, chanting “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” The result made Rogers smile wide.

9. He Got into TV Because He Hated TV.
The first time he turned one on, he saw people angrily throwing pies in each other’s faces. He immediately vowed to use the medium for better than that. Over the years he covered topics as varied as why kids shouldn’t be scared of a haircut, or the bathroom drain (because you won’t fit!), to divorce and war.

10. He Was an Ivy League Dropout.
Rogers moved from Dartmouth to Rollins College to pursue his studies in music.

11. He Composed all the Songs on the Show.
And over 200 tunes.

12. He Was a perfectionist, and Disliked Ad Libbing.
He felt he owed it to children to make sure every word on his show was thought out.

13. Michael Keaton Got His Start on the Show
As an assistant — helping puppeteer and operate the trolley.

14. Several Characters on the Show are Named for His Family.
Queen Sara is named after Rogers’ wife, and the postman Mr. McFeely is named for his maternal grandfather who always talked to him like an adult, and reminded young Fred that he made every day special just by being himself. Sound familiar? It was the same way Mister Rogers closed every show.

15. The Sweaters.
Every one of the cardigans he wore on the show had been hand-knit by his mother.



Seriously.

More Heaven, More Details

Getting tired of Paris? Hope not. Remember what Samuel Johnson said of London: "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life..." I figure that can be said about Paris too. (Not to belabor the Paris/London connection, but it's been bouncing around for centuries, after all.)

Still, we're on the home stretch as far as blogification of our visit. Today, we'll touch on a couple more churches.

On Sunday morning, we went to Mass at Saint-Sulpice. The second largest church in Paris (after you-know-what) it was built in the 17th and 18th centuries, damaged during the Revolution, and restored by a team that included Eugene Delacroix. It also has some renown as the spot where Charles Baudelaire and the Marquis de Sade (that famously observant Catholic) were baptised, and where Victor Hugo was married (hmm... I'd have thought it'd have been you-know-what for him). And a couple scenes of The Da Vinci Codetake place there, if that's your thing.

But we went there for the organ.

I'm not a total organ geek, but I'm getting there. And St. Sulpice is a pretty good place to get started on that track. The instrument itself was built by Aristide Cavaille-Coll and is considered one of the greatest masterpieces in the world (well, the world of pipe organs, anyway). The St. Sulpice organ is singular not just for its immensity but also for its versatility: the variety and scope of the sounds and timbres that can be produced by its 5 keyboards and 100+ stops allows the organ to be equally at home with the music of its native Romantic era and with Classical or Baroque music, and more than capable of handling Modern compositions as well.

Since Cavaille-Coll completed construction on the organ in 1862, there have been only 6 principal organists (including an entire century from 1870-1971 during which only 2, Charles-Marie Widor and Marcel Dupré, held the post). Equally amazing is the fact that since the earliest organ was used at a church on this site, going back to some time in the 1500s, there have been only 16 principal organists.

These days, the title is held by Daniel Roth, who plays for two Masses each Sunday, and gives a 20-30 minute concert in the time between them. We went to the early service (but missed most of the prelude music because we were across the street having coffee) and stayed for the concert, natch. If you're really hardcore, you can go up to the organ loft for the second Mass and watch Daniel in action; we chose not to go that route, but it was a phenomenal experience, both musically and religious/theatrically.

I didn't take photos that day, so I'll let you hunt down images of l'eglise on your own if you like.

The next day (among other things) we paid a visit to Sainte-Chappelle. I've already mentioned that we caught a piano concert there on Friday evening; but this visit took some persistence to get past an overeager security guy. (But that's another box of wine.) It was also during the day, so we got to see the stained glass in all its glory.


The Rose Window

Here's the thing with Sainte-Chappelle: it's unbelievable. As in, it nearly defies belief. The facts about this church fall into the "truth is way stranger than fiction" category.


The Holy Family going to Nazareth

It's not that large. It really is 'just' a stone chapel (compared to, say, the Cathedral across the Île) though a very royal one, and an architectural and artistic wonder. The sanctuary walls are completely covered with stained glass: panels telling virtually every story from the bible, and a few "Go France!" type messages tucked in along the way.

This is some of the best of this kind of glass in the world; it's under restoration (which takes a long time, as you can imagine) and it's kind of tough to shoot, so have mercy on your humble photographer.


Knights and Pilgrims, doing their thing

Remember how long it took them to build Notre Dame? Couple hundred years. Know how many years it took to build this place? Fewer than 10. Thousands of panels of stained glass and all, and before the dawn of the 14th Century.


Priests and Sages discussing the design of the Girl Scout logo

The king in question was (Saint) Louis IX, who was one-of-a-kind: a peculiar mix of devout and suggestible. He loved the Church, loved the Pope, loved Jesus. LOVED them. Kind of went to crazytown in his enthusiasm, and spent vast fortunes on things like the "true" Crown of Thorns that Jesus wore at the Crucifixion, according to the account. Vast. Fortunes. Louis spent 135,000 livres (French currency of the era) in 1239 on that crown, convinced of its authenticity by Emporer Balwin II of Byzantium, who not coincidentally was also the guy who sold it to him. The king also bought a bunch of other relics, including a "Piece of the True Cross" (I know, I know) and over the next few years started construction on this church to house them all, dedicated to the glory of God, the Church, and France.



One of Herod's servants beheading John the Baptist, and wishing it was Louis IX

By the middle of 1248, the church was finished at a total cost of 40,000 livres. That's less than a third of the cost of the True Crown of Thorns to you and me, but still a princely sum. Well, kingly, in this case.

A bizarre initiation ritual for a Holy Roman Fraternity

All snarkiness aside, Sainte-Chappelle is a stunning place. And after all, Louis IX is far from the only head of state in history with a gullible streak. [I'll pause to let you reflect on that a moment...] And if you're going to misuse the public coffer, there are worse things you could do than build an incredibly gorgeous structure devoted to a supremely artistic account of religious texts and local history.

I'll leave you with a shot I took of the ceiling of the upper chapel. Placed the camera on the floor and set the remote timer so it could be perfectly still for a long exposure.



Wasn't counting on the surprise guest, but I'll call it a happy accident.

Backtracking

Going back in time a bit...

After the Rodin Museum, we went to Musee d'Orsay, which was fantastic and incredible. Cory and I relied on some podcasts on this trip, and this was one of the places they came in handy. We didn't really have time to cover the whole place, so we let an online guide help us out. Some cheesy Rick Steves humor aside, it was useful to have some direction to streamline our visit, and the background information was rather good. Some of the info was outdated (floorplans/layouts evidently change with some frequency in Parisian museums) but that just gave us some small mysteries to solve. We communed with Degas and Renoir, Courbet and Cezanne, Daumier and Delacroix, Millet and Gaugin in this architectural wonder of a reclaimed railroad station. We got there too late in the day to get into what looked to be a pretty bitchin Van Gogh exhibition. But what the hell - you can't do everything.

Then we made our way to St. Chapelle where we were meeting friends for a piano concert. We had to wait on line outside for a bit longer than we'd thought, but that gave us the time to grab a quick cup of espresso from one of the friendly local establishments. (The Parisian's reputation for rudeness is not deserved, on the whole. Certainly no more so than in most of the places I've been.) St. Chapelle is gorgeous, with a fascinating history that I'll have more to say about later. Its beauty was very much muted by the evening darkness, but that helped to place a focus on the music. It was a concert of Chopin and Schumann solo piano works, in honor of this year being the 200th birthday for both composers. The pianist was Hugues Chabert, with whose work I must admit I was unfamiliar. It was a fine, intimate performance in a space that was sublime on a number of levels: accoustic, architectural. historical, aesthetic. And since I'm closer to worshipping music than any religious doctrine, let's go ahead and say it was a spiritual experience too.

As if that weren't enough, we then took a walk over to the Right Bank, where we sought a place to eat without the benefit of personal (or guidebook) recommendations, and settled on a no-frills but thoroughly delicious spot. I don't remember what Cory had*, but my duck confit was fab, and so was the Bordeaux that Johnathan picked out.

It was a pretty good day.

*Cory just reminded me that she had Quiche Lorraine. She enjoyed it. It felt very French.

Musee Rodin (or, Hell is in the Details)

After a most delectable lunch of galettes and cider with Christina and Johnathan at a creperie called Josselin, we went over to the Rodin museum to get our sculpture on.




The weather turned before long.



So we just took that opportunity to go to the indoor part of the museum (converted from the residence where Rodin lived for several years toward the end of his life).

For this next one, I pretended to be shooting a sculpture but got a nice shot of Cory peeking around it

It was a fantastic museum, of course. I wasn't too shutter-happy inside, but when we went back outside, I got drawn into the Gates of Hell pretty deep.

Like Milton and Marlow, Bosch and Goethe and (especially) Dante, Rodin had a special fascination with the infernal, and and it was the subject of some of his best work.

I'm the first to admit that it can damage the experience (and be just plain annoying) to spend one's travels totally focused on taking photographs or shooting video. But by the same token, if you maintain a balance, the camera can help you pay attention to visual elements in a number of ways. I spent a lot of time on this trip engaging with details in some fairly grand works of art and architecture.

You can see the raindrops on the bronze in some of these - it rained pretty hard while we were inside, and it sprinkled on and off when we went back out too.

Rodin worked directly from Dante's Inferno to make this masterpiece, and he incorporated elements of some of his other major sculptures.

It was a pretty wonderful museum experience. This was mid-afternoon on our second day there.

I'll leave you for now with a reminder that the Eiffel Tower should never be interpreted to have any phallic significance whatsoever.

Perspective

Speaking of things you don't have control over...



While it's tempting to use this image of a bank in Haiti as an illustration of the financial system in general, it's too palpable an illustration of too immediate a disaster.

Please send thoughts, prayers, wishes, dances and songs of goodwill, whatever you can muster. And maybe click here for some ideas of more concrete things you can do.

Crazy Christians

Not to be confused with 'regular' Christians, or any of the vast majority of Christians who hold beliefs that contain a striking amount of diversity but that don't fall into a category I'd call Totally F*cking Whacked Out.

Nope. Not them. I'm talking about Crazy Christians. The ones who are apparently out there praying for Obama's death. (and, it seems plausible to construe, praying for all kinds of other nutty things too.)

There's an article in Salon that pursues this notion further, and looks into the actions of a few choice zealots of hate (or intolerance, or fear, or whatever they are), but this Frank Schaeffer quote from the first piece I linked to seems worth repeating:

"And what surprises me is that responsible, if you can put it that way, Republican leadership and the editors of some of these Christian magazines, etc. etc., do not stand up in holy horror and denounce this. You know, they're always asking 'Where is the Islamic leadership denouncing terrorism? Why aren't the moderates speaking out?' Well, I challenge the folks who I used to work with... I would just say to them: 'Where the hell are you? This is not funny anymore. And be it on your head if something happens to our President..."

Carter on Christianity

Crazy what can happen while you're away on business.

Walter Cronkite passed to the Great Newsroom in the Sky on Friday. He was not a ground-breaker the way that Murrow was, and he perpetuated the myth of media objectivity, but he was about as good as his school of journalism gets, and I don't think we'll see his like again any time soon (if for no other reason than that TV news has suffered a severe butterslide of credibility from which it will be tough to recover.)

Not sure why, but I especially like this item from the Times obit:

When he was 16, Mr. Cronkite went with friends to Chicago for the 1933 World’s Fair. He volunteered to help demonstrate an experimental version of television.

“I could honestly say to all of my colleagues, ‘I was in television long before you were,’ ” he said in an interview with CBS News in 1996.

It was poignant to me how close Cronkite's death was to yesterday's 40th anniversary of the moon landing. It still makes me kind of giddy to think of him getting overwhelmed by the immensity of that achievement: this most articulate journalist blown away by the event to the point where he was "Oh jeez! Oh boy!" about it.



But I just found out about something that happened earlier last week that didn't get nearly as much attention. Jimmy Carter (remember him? President of the U.S. for a while?) separated himself from the Southern Baptist Convention because of its reaffirmation that women must be treated like second-class citizens.

A few excerpts from his statement:

I have been a practising Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world.

So my decision to sever my ties with the Southern Baptist Convention, after six decades, was painful and difficult. It was, however, an unavoidable decision when the convention's leaders, quoting a few carefully selected Bible verses and claiming that Eve was created second to Adam and was responsible for original sin, ordained that women must be "subservient" to their husbands and prohibited from serving as deacons, pastors or chaplains in the military service. This was in conflict with my belief - confirmed in the holy scriptures - that we are all equal in the eyes of God.

This view that women are somehow inferior to men is not restricted to one religion or belief. It is widespread. Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths...

We are calling on all leaders to challenge and change the harmful teachings and practices, no matter how ingrained, which justify discrimination against women. We ask, in particular, that leaders of all religions have the courage to acknowledge and emphasise the positive messages of dignity and equality that all the world's major faiths share...

The truth is that male religious leaders have had - and still have - an option to interpret holy teachings either to exalt or subjugate women. They have, for their own selfish ends, overwhelmingly chosen the latter...

I don't often praise politicians (although I suppose that Carter could more fairly be described as a former politician) but I gotta give credit where it's due: thanks, President Carter. Hope people listen.

The Tour Guide

When we first decided to go Rome, Cory went into research overdrive. I had come to realize that this is rather typical for her, but as a relative newbie I still found it impressive. Within minutes, I was presented with a list of hotels in various price ranges, websites for consideration, restaurants to look into, and sightseeing options. I did some of this homework too, and together we assembled a very good dossier to refer to while were planning (and while we were there - it turned out to be a great reference for food choices) but in truth there's really no comparison between my work and hers - when it comes to this stuff, Cory is a machine, and a high-performance one at that.

Another thing she found was a tour guide for a couple of our events: Jason Spiehler, whose advertising flavor claims he's the Best Tour Guide in Rome, and based on our experience, I wouldn't put up an argument over the title.



We first reached out to him via email, which allowed us to plan visits to the Vatican and to the Forum well ahead of time (the email connection also got us a discount on what was already a pretty darned good deal.) I'm the first to admit that guided tours can be thoroughly deflating, but under the right circumstances and with the right guide, they can add immeasurably to an experience. And, for us at least, Jason was definitely the right guide: originally from Louisiana, he's brilliantly spoken and charismatic; he has a background (and an advanced degree) in Historical Theology, and knows his art history inside and out. He's funny, too - those subjects may sound dry, but Jason has a really good sense of humor and brought things to vibrant life.

We met him on the edge of St. Peter's Square, where we joined a large-ish group (30 or so of us.) He used a little microphone/transmitter set up to talk to that many people without being loud or obnoxious, so if you see little black things coming out of our ears in any of the Vatican photos, that would be why. He talked us through the architecture of the Holy See, the history of the Papacy and its relationship with Rome, Italy and Europe, including the creation of the nation-state of Vatican City (complete with anecdotes about the efficiency - or lack thereof - of the Italian postal service relative to that of the Vatican's, which is run by the Swiss. We don't want to engage in cultural stereotyping too much, but organization really does not seem to be Italy's strongest suit.) His discussion of the buildings, land and infrastructure took us through the layers of history which are evident in the Vatican, as virtually everywhere in Rome - the walls, the monuments, the fortifications, the military actions, the artistic commissions.

We stopped at a caffe for a pit stop, and for Jason to collect our fees (which, again, Cory had negotiated well ahead of time) I had another of the fantastic espressos which I now seem destined to seek futilely until I return to Italy, and then we trekked over to the entrance to the interior and the museum and were greeted by one of our only undeniably negative experiences while we were there: it was unbelievably crowded, because of the huge number of visitors (Italian and foreign.) And it was raining. Oy. But here again, our tour guide came to the rescue: because we were in a group, we got to use the preferential (i.e. shorter) line to get into the museum. And because we were in his group, it was shorter still, as he haggled our way to a prime spot on that line. Still, it was a half an hour of standing in the rain, and the 3-Euro umbrellas that were all over the place when the sun was shining were suddenly nowhere to be seen. By the time they finally did appear, they cost 5 Euro, and we were wet enough that they wouldn't have done us much good.

Listen, the Vatican is incredible no matter how you slice it. Bernini, Michelangelo, Rafael - you can't really go wrong. But when there's someone there to tell you about Pomodoro's Sfera con Sfera, and joke about how it looks like the Death Star, it helps.

And it enhances your experience of something like, oh, the Sistine Chapel if you know something about the historical context; about Michelangelo's career, his professional relationships and rivalries and how they fit into his work there; about the physical process of creating frescoes, and the challenges of learning this process, on a ceiling, under a Papal order, when you've spent your life training to be a sculptor. Jason was able to give us this and then some, in a way that was entertaining and alive. And he talked us through the imagery on the Ceiling and in the Last Judgement fresco behind the altar that Michelangelo painted 25 years later.

And he talked us through the statuary, the tapestries, the trompe l'oeil, the architecture, the Pieta... Of course he didn't cover the whole Vatican, nor the entire Forum: no one could in a day. But let me tell you, people - finding this guy was more than worthwhile.

Archetypes and Icons

You all know that image, right? What? You don't? Well, it's all over Rome.

For those of you in need of a refresher, this sculpture depicts Romulus and Remus, who according to legend were the twin sons of Mars and the Vestal Virgin Rhea Silvia (gods didn't have the same respect for the Vestals that people did) and were floated down the river in a basket to save them from being killed by their mother's uncle (remind anybody of anything?) They were protected by a river god and nursed by a she-wolf, then discovered and raised by a kindly shepherd and his wife. We found out in Rome that lupa means not only she-wolf but was also slang for "prostitute," so some people interpret the legend that way, but the 'raised-by-wolves' version holds much greater currency, and you see variations of the image in that statue repeated endlessly in the Eternal City. The legend continues, you see, with the twins growing up and killing that jealous great uncle (d'oh!) and reinstating their grandfather as king (I guess some god or other must have told them the deal.) They then decided to build a city of their own on the spot where the lupa had nursed them, but then had an argument about how to do that and Romulus killed Remus (d'oh!!) named the city after himself and established the three tribes that would populate it.

We saw this piece at the Capitoline Museum, which is one of those places that we could have blown off, but it's so good we didn't. Amazing pieces in there, including this Etruscan beauty. (Well, there's some debate as to whether the Etruscans actually made it, but for now I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt.)

This is one of my favorite shots from our trip. It's the Temple of Saturn, from the Forum.



And here's the curve of the Colosseum, streetlights and all.


And finally (for now) a shot of your friendly neighborhood blogger continuing the conceptual continuity of dancing in front of churches he started more than 10 years ago in London, this time in front of the Holiest of Holies.

More on the Vatican later...

In Honor of the Rally Against Prop 8

There's a big rally at the Latter Day Saints' Temple in New York today opposing California's horrifically bigoted Proposition 8, which revoked Gay Marriage in that state, along with the other anti-equality ballot initiatives that passed last week. The good news is that it would seem a foregone conclusion that these laws (and all like it) will be struck down by the courts. It seems likely to me that eventually (soon?) the U.S. Supreme Court will hand down a ruling covering the whole nation - similar to the one that revoked all laws banning interracial marriages in 1967.

For now, we have to contend with "religious" groups acting out their sexist fears in appalling ways. Well, I guess we appall each other. Don't mean to offend any Mormons who have seen the light (or what I call the light - you know, that thing that clarifies sight). As for any of the closed-minded ones who happen to be reading this, I'd recommend that you let go of your fear, if you're in the mood to listen to my recommendations.

Update

So I've been slacking on the blog a bit. Got a nudge from a friend, so here's a bit of an update:

Saw Die Walkure at the Met a couple weeks ago. Now, loyal readers already know that I have this music geek side to me. And about a year ago I wrote about receiving the gift of Wagner's Ring Cycle on vinyl. Still, I wasn't sure how I'd respond to 5+ hours in a theater with this music.

Silly me. It was awesome (and I do try to avoid Valley Girl-style misuse of that word. I fail sometimes, but I try.) Even a first-time operagoer in my group who had given prior notice that she might bail at one of the intermissions stuck with it and loved this show. Wouldn't be exactly right to say it 'flew by,' but it went faster than I'd have thought it could. I will say that, from our seats waaaay up top at least, that wall of fire that Wotan builds around Brunnhilde didn't look quite so vibrant. Still - fantastic!

I've kept very busy with auditions lately, which has felt good. Also started some music work, which has me excited too. The logistics of life constantly intrude - welcome to the world - but I've been fighting the good fight. Political concerns are on the mind all the time these days. That shouldn't surprise anyone much either.

Couple nights ago saw Patrick Stewart in Macbeth at BAM. Stunning. Not perfect by any stretch, but some choices I hadn't considered, mostly very good acting, and, well, I'll cop to a soft spot for bald actors who really rock the house.

There's Patrick with his Lady M., Kate Fleetwood. Once again I was way up in the rafters, and this time I think it made me miss out on some important stuff. Still: helluva show. The whole run is sold out, so you may want to make really good friends with someone involved with this show, or with BAM, or who already has tickets. And by 'make really good friends,' I of course mean 'have sex with.'

OH - got a great shirt from my sister delivered to the dayjob today! A gray athletic t-shirt with an image of Jesus, halo and all, standing on a cloud with arms outstretched, and beneath Him is the caption: JESUS HATES THE YANKEES. Hehehe. I think that the fact that my sister's husband (who's a bigger baseball fan than I am) is studying to be a Christian minister makes this even funnier. After all, he'd know who Jesus hates, right? In the note she sent with it she wrote: ...And for the Yankee fans you may work with... well, Jesus hates them, too. :-) That's my sis!

Happy Spring Training one and all (even Yankee fans)