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A Night at the Opera
A Night at the Opera, 4 July 2000
by Scribbler, who reserves all rights and warns youth to read no further,
lest they go blind.
This one is for a number of "Gisele" fans who've been waiting patiently for
installment 2 of "Spraycan Seminar". . .this isn't it, but I hope it helps
tide you over. Thanks to all who've said kind things about my writing here.
. .tomorrow AM its back to R/L work. . .so I may not be able to write as
much, but I'll be around.
***********************************************************
"I've been cheated", Gisele huffed.
"Why's that, darling?"
"This Dappertuto guy, he promises but he just can't focking deliver, now can
he"
Judy Deutsch looks around -- it's the second interval at the Royal Opera,
and Judy'd like to keep her "youthful ward" Gisele Hoch from getting tossed,
even as they eat their second course in the Floral Hall. Judy teaches Gender
Studies at Bay State, but with her recent Macarthur grant, she's travelling
the world with her companion, German avant-garde performance artist, Gisele
Hoch.
"Gisele. . .what do you mean?"
--Well, he says "je varie mes plaisirs", right?
Judy nods.
"My pleasures change. . .well to focking what do they focking change? When
my pleasures change, I go from wanting someone to on me, to wanting to
piss on someone, right"
Judy nodded.
"Or I go from electric nipple stimulation to that time when you got your
whole fist up my ass. . .so what's changing here. What pleasure varies?"
Judy looks a little pale: "Well, he wants Hoffman's reflection, for one
thing. . ."
"Well, that's not much of focking anything, now is it? I mean, if he wanted
his balls, if he gave the whore the diamond so that she would cut off his
focking balls while they were in the gondola, now that would be a
wouldn't it?
"Um, yes, but it wouldn't be this story. . ."
"That's right, it would be better."
There's a moment of awkward silence. Other diners are gaping . . . it not
just that the sight of six foot Valkyries is usually restricted to Wagner
evenings; its that Gisele's interpretation of evening dress involves rather
more leather is usually seen at any time. Combined with her outspoken
critical views of Offenbach (which some find "refreshing novel"), she's not
your everyday operagoer.
A waiter approaches . . .
"Excuse me," he gushes, "I'm a big fan of your work. . .could I have your
autograph"
Well this puzzles the City crowd. Who is she, exactly? There's a murmur in
the crowd . . .she's the one who pissed on the newscaster, isn't she? The
South Bank show, the episode they couldn't air . . .
The waiter turns out to be named "Dennis" and proves to have a keen interest
in the ballet, and opera when Caballe is singing. Gisele turns to him.
"And what about the dwarf. . .maybe he's a dwarf because they cut off his
balls?"
Judy put her head in her hands.
"No, I don't think dwarfs work that way, you're thinking of eunuchs".
"OK, OK, so what comes next. . ."
The waiter cherishes the opportunity to be helpful.
"Well, you see, Antonia is the of a opera singer who died of
consumption."
"What's that?"
"TB-- tuberculosis; and anyway, now she's got it too."
"So big deal"
"Well", the waiter brightens, "the problem is that if she sings, the TB get
worse, and she dies"
"So, don't sing"
"You'd think that, yes, but the evil Dr. Miracle appears and conjures up the
ghost of her dead who tells her to sing . . ."
Gisele looks puzzled. "So what happens: she sings herself to death?"
"Exactly, its very beautiful . . ."
"Could you tell me this: is there an opera where they get fucked to death?
That would be a good opera."
The waiter looks bemused.
"Tristan, sort of, in a musical way; but there is the ballet that you're
named after: Giselle . . .in that one the gentleman deserts Giselle, and she
kills herself, and then all the ghosts of all the who've killed
themselves over other gentlemen come back from the grave and dance him to
death".
"Yeah I know, but really, they should fuck him to death, shouldn't they-- I
mean its not like he was 'dancing around' on the is it? He was fucking
around, nicht war?
"I guess so"
Judy watched the situation deteriorate. Gisele was now offering the waiter
"his choice" of labia rings or on his hand as a souvenir of his
encounter with fame.
"Come on dear, its time for you to go home. . .we have the Japanese
people coming tomorrow morning.
As they shuffle out the door. . .
"Japanese tv, are those the I'm supposed to on?"