Sometimes I feel like Tannhäuser more than I care to admit. What an opera to identify with, huh? The plot: Tannhäuser is a great Franconian knight and bard, floruit 13th century C.E., ran away from home a year before the opera takes place and found his way into the Venusberg, the mythical subterranean domain of the goddess Venus. But now he's getting bored with Venus (how?!) and decides to return home. There he's reunited with Elisabeth, an old flame of his from before Venusberg. Elisabeth had fallen in love with Tannhäuser and his songs but then he fled home and she's been pining. Now we've got a proper Wagnerian conflict between unholy pagan love (i.e. Venus) and sacred Christian love (i.e. Elisabeth.)

Everything blows up when there's a singing competition and Tannhäuser scandalized everyone by singing about the venereal joys of Venusberg. He's sent on a lonely pilgrimage to Rome and an audience with the Pope, only to be told he's forever damned and "Wie dieser Stab in meiner Hand, nie mehr sich schmückt mit frischem Grün, kann aus der Hölle heissem Brand, Erlösung nimmer dir erblühn!" (As this staff in my hand no more shall bear fresh leaves, from the hot fires of hell salvation never shall bloom for thee!) Elisabeth has tried to follow him on the pilgrimage but died along the way. Tannhäuser decides going back to Venus is the only option, she shows up to welcome him back, but then he remembers Elisabeth and learns of her death. Venus is foiled, Tannhäuser expires next to the body of Elisabeth, someone comes running in with the Pope's staff covered in new green leaves, and everyone's who's still alive shouts praises to Heaven. Happy ending!

Gawd, it's practically autobiographical, except for the staff thing. Miracles don't happen for me. Anyway I'm glad Tannhäuser exists, if only because that made "What's Opera Doc?" possible. Venusberg is all over "What's Opera Doc?"

~Chara

Spending too much time on Twitter is definitely bad for the brain. Undoubtedly the place is addictive, which I ascribe almost wholly to the frenetic pace of things there. One is dazzled by the ever-changing parade of events. Surely there's a similar draw towards casinos, carnivals, the furious hyperactivity of market speculation, etc. Even when I'm away from the place, the memory of Twitter spins round in our headspace, always seeming to gain speed with time, like the runaway carousel at the end of Strangers on a Train.

There's so many people who still use Twitter to try to support themselves that it feels like a shame merely to crash the place. I've entertained idle notions of Twitter recovering something of itself under new management, but probably the damage is irreversible. And maybe something like Twitter shouldn't ever come back, because it breaks people's brains. In the extreme case they practically lose their ability to use language and can only communicate in symbols and pictures.

~Chara of Pnictogen

I'll add a grace note to this piece: one of the most striking moments in Lars von Trier's Melancholia comes when the protagonist Justine (superlatively realized by Kirsten Dunst) says quietly but confidently that there's no life outside Earth. This comes in the second half of the movie as the "Melancholia" disaster slowly builds and she seems to be the only person at peace with it.

As an expression of despair it's very powerful: "We are alone. There is nothing else." I used to live with that....It's not true. We are not stranded here.

~Chara