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Mozart Out the WindowWe are not actually incapable of cleaning our homes: but we are liable to reorganize instead of scrub; we do our cleaning in a series of periodic assaults. A mother-in-law has only to appear over the horizon and we act like the murderer in a Ray Bradbury story who kept on wiping the finger prints off the fruit at the bottom of the bowl. We work in a frenzy; but the frenzy usually subsides before we have got everything back into the cupboards again. |
   
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Sunday, September 14, 1997
It was cool enough this weekend that I broke out my Polartec fleece socks to wear with my sandals. Very cozy! and a very Seattle thing to wear. I think I'll buy some more pairs. They come in very nice patterns, too! It seems strange to wear socks that are sewn, rather than knitted.
Actually I could wear them because I found the second one in the process of cleaning up my bedroon. The last few times I have cleaned up, it was before a gathering or party, so I started cleaning from the living and dining rooms and didn't get much done in my bedroom. I decided this time I'd start from the bedroom.
My secret (or not-so-secret) shame: it's completely easy and comfortable for me to live in a mess. One minds one's own trash less than other people's, and my tolerance is higher than most. But I'm not attached to the trash; I don't fear that I'll turn into one of those people with an apartment full of newspapers, stacked to the ceiling except for a narrow path. In fact I stopped subscribing to the newspaper a while ago, just so that couldn't happen.
But I have lived as a neat person, when living with others. If I hadn't, I'd have had no moral authority to complain about their mess!
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Last night I watched Ingmar Berman's movie of Mozart's The Magic Flute, which I bought not too long ago. Mozart's operas are some of my favorites, but The Magic Flute has some aspects that are a bit hard to take. The constant misogynistic statements by the otherwise admirable Sarostro, about the worthlessness and evil, weak nature of the Queen of the Night (his wife!) distress me.
One thing I do like is the dualistic nature of Tamino (the hero) and Papageno (his sidekick). Tamino undergoes trials to win his love, and Papageno is just along for the ride. He doesn't look beyond the present. But they really make up one whole person between them, and in some scenes they are finishing each other's lines. Both views of life are needed, it's Dionysian and Apollonian.
I also like the fact that Pamina and Tamino both undergo the ritual tests. This is a story point not found in the materials that formed the basis for Schickenader's libretto. Both are needed for the proper future of Sarostro's kingdom.
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About Katherine Whitehorn: she's an English writer who was a columnist for many years. She and my mother knew each other at Cornell, just after World War II, when my mother chose to live in the International House. Be on the lookout for collections of her columns like Only On Sundays. Funny stuff!
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