evenings unused....

because of tiredness, at least Monday's and yesterday's. Tuesday, still tired, but walked over to Lincoln Center, watched most of opera movie Iolanta, by Tchaikovsky---really amazing, loved the music, Tchaikovsky such a genius---interesting that during the curtain call, I noticed another difference in the evolution of opera.When I began to really watch opera (1965) curtain calls were slanted towards the audience loving the individual singers, and their bows reinforeced this. Watching Netrebko, et.al, take their bows on the screen, I realized that all of the singers seem to realize that for all that they give to their roles, and their importantce,  they are part of a greater vision. It's more of an honor to the composer----they see themselves as parts (important parts, of course) of the whole. Just realized that by watching the curtain call in the movie outside the Met.
Stayed for a little bit of Bluebeard's Castle, by Bartok, , but style of the music was so different, so harsh, in comparison to the Tchaikovsky, it was difficult to get involved. Still, those movies on the Lincoln Center Plaza are really effective---I am glad that they are there.
Yesterday---after tutoring (a lot) returned home without much energy. Am reading The Beautiful Struggle, by Ta-Nehisi Coates, the first book that this essayist wrote.It is a really strong picture of the isolation of the black youth in Baltimore. He was raised near Mondawin---where Park Heights and Reisterstown Road really begin. Strong memories of that area from my four years at Hopkins, it was, of course, the Jewish section (winding down its thirty or forty years as such)--so the streets that he imposes the chaos on, I remember as streets where I road my car (1964) dreaming and searching for Jewish high school girls---loved the quietness of the private houses. Remember two long walks along Park Heights Avenue in September of 60, and then again in September of 63. Both were on the Saturdays of Yom Kippur, I remember being amazed at the many Jewish people who seemed to be moving between and entering the three or four synagogues that we passed. This was a life I wanted (or so I thought at those moments). Yet, only a few years later---probably by the late sixties, the neighborhood had changed, with most Jews moving across Northern Parkway, and poorer blacks replacing them. By the eighties, we have the brutal world that Coates describes. Still hung up by my Baltimore memories---well, it is the only other city in which I truly lived, so perhaps it is understandable.
Today, will probably go out to Brooklyn, maybe visit SOS Crown Heights, I have promised to do that for a while---today would be a good day to go, unless tiredness overcomes me, which is possible. Will return with a report, tomorrow.