Williamsburg Scottish Festival

The Wise Ricky and I are off on another adventure this weekend (and, yes, I'm trying to get back into the regular blogging thing, so please be patient with me...thanks). This time, it's up to near his home stomping grounds of peninsular Virginia. Specifically, we're attending the Williamsburg Scottish Festival 30th Year Celebration.

It will cap off a rather productive week of work for me (in between juggling visits to the doctor and starting a new writing project), and I'm anxious to hit the road. We'll see our standby Scottish drum master faves, Albannach, and several other acts (musical and maybe otherwise), too. As I've only been through Virginia Beach once many years ago (with someone who hated long bridges and almost passed out when we crossed what I think was the James River), I'd like to see some of what I've missed in that area. I'm becoming quite a fan of Virginia this year, actually, and this will be trip four since June.

And, just to see exactly how much of me that my bestest friend can handle in one setting, we're capping the trip off to see a vocal performance of none other than Henry Rollins. WR was completely unawares as to who Henry even was, so between the Wikipedia writeup and what kind of fans show up at The NorVa in nearby Norfolk, this could be quite the learning curve. After seeing The Mental Mouth, WR will either love Henry as much as I do or hate him forever for being a bit too much. (But, hey, I like my men being a bit too much...rim shot, please.) This last part could go really, really well or really, really badly...but it will be interesting as hell to see what his reaction is.

Mandatory Beach Meditation

So I have not been feeling well. There, I said it. Not badly, mind you, but just not 'well'. In a perpetual state of getting ramped up, all to eventually really do nothing. I can't specifically say what exactly is going on, or even if there is anything going on. Rougher medical days have come and gone, but I just feel like a rudderless sailboat at present...happy as hell to be in the water, but circling and circling and going no where fast. And apparently also unable to correct my course.

So this past week, I've taken some days off...a couple to travel, a couple more to meditate how to reconstruct a 'rudder' (for the non-swimming, non-boating kinda girl), and still another glorious one at a near empty beach on the Carolina coast. Carolina Beach, near Wilmington, to be exact.


There's some calm out there, over the Atlantic...
And while the journey's still out about all the other days I've been desperately trying to recharge my batteries, let me just say this one fact without hesitation or refute: spending a sun-filled day on an almost empty beach, with the wind in your hair and seashells and sand at your feet...is about as close to Heaven as any one human should ever be entitled to.

A Maestro's Silenced Aria

While I am not the world's greatest opera fan by any stretch, it is with great sadness that I report the death of the great Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti. This supremely gifted man, endowed with a voice that would send chills down your spine when in full chorus, died yesterday after a long battle with pancreatic cancer (and after a series of deteriorating health issues over the recent years).

I became a fan of his, believe it or not, after watching his Three Tenors series of concerts (with Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras) on PBS some years back, during one of their fundraising drives. I was sick and refusing to move from the couch that particular weekend, and all I really remember was these three men just wowing me out of a subconscious state. I normally am not emotionally attached to any kind of music (except some old country songs my Dad would sing and the occasional rock n' roll classic), but I remember quite distinctly crying at the end of the Tenors special. Over the years, this redneck girl's appreciation for such culture has only grown...even to the point that old and new friends alike have sent me CDs of Amici Forever and Enrico Curuso. Hell, I'm even going with friends to see The Ten Tenors when they come to Raleigh in November. The mainstream success of Pavarotti made this all possible. And one of thee days, I vow, I'll make it to see a live performance at The Met.

From YouTube, as usual:

Puccini's "Nessun Dorma", as sung by Pavarotti at Torino, Italy, 2006I'm only sorry I never found this music sooner in my life, but am very thankful that the glorious Three Tenors special caught my ear all those years ago.

Maestro Pavarotti, you garnered a very unsuspecting fan and made me appreciate and seek out the music you so clearly loved. I can't count the number of times I've heard your voice when seeing something otherworldly beautiful in person, whether that be the hushed awe of the Sistine Chapel in Rome or the sunrise in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. (Who knows...maybe there's hope for me culturally yet.) A singer singing his songs, touching his audience forevermore...could there be a better legacy? Rest in peace, gentle giant, rest in peace.