Opera....

"A catastrophe curev, Mr. Bucket, is what opera runs along. Opera happens because a large number of things amazingly fail to go wrong, Mr. Bucket. It works because of hatred and love and nerves. All the time. This isn't cheese. This is opera. If you wanted a quiet retirement, Mr. Bucket, you shouldn't have bought the Opera House. You should have done something quiet, like go into alligator dentistry."

"Oh, theater,", said Salzella. "Theater doesn't even approach it. Opera isn't theater with singing and dancing. Opera's opera. You might think a production like Lohenshaak is full of passion, but it's a sandpit of toddlers compared to what goes on behind the scenes. The singers all loathe the sight of one another, the chorus despises the singers, they both hate the orchestra, and everyone fears the conductor; the staff on one prompt side won't talk to the staff on the opposite prompt side, the dancers are all crazed from hunger in any case, and that's only the start of it, because what is really---"

...

...What? Oh. Yes. Yes...you see, it's fine for actors. There's plenty of parts for old men. Acting's something you can do all your life. You get _better_ at it. But when your talent is singing or dancing ... Time creeps up behind you all the ... " He fumbled for a word, and settled lamely for "Time.

Time is the poison.

You watch backstage one night and you'll see the dancers checking all the time in any mirror then can find for that first little imperfection. You watch the singers. Everyone's on edge, everyone knows that this might be their last perfect night, that tomorrow might be the beginning of the end."

...


Carpe Diem.