what better way to spend the daylight hours of your 21st birthday than enjoying an obscure russian opera at lincoln center? even those circumstances are immeasurably improved by the realization that you're in the company of the boy-you-love and making your father happy on your father's dime.
opera isn't usually my cup of tea. still, the nytimes raved about this one, and truly it was an experience. i'd never been to lincoln center before, or sat through four hours of russian, except for that seder in moscow.
life in general leading up to this momentous occasion has been lovely. intense research spanning two (2) boroughs has led me to discover the fascinating role victoria woodhull -- my woman, the subject of the screenplay i'm writing as my thesis next semester -- and harriet beecher stowe -- the woman who wrote uncle tom's cabin -- played in each others' lives.
about harriet beecher stowe, dorothy parker wrote the following:
the pure and worthy mrs. stowe/ is one we all are proud to know/ as mother, wife, and authoress./ Thank god i am content with less.
about victoria woodhull, people haven't written much; at least not recently. but in 1872, harriet beecher stowe wrote a satirical play about vw, in which hbs called vw "audacia dangereyes." poof: my screenplay-thesis now has a title.
tonite is all about dining and drinking. celebration. yay! i will never be a twenty-nothing again.
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