"Handel had been left off-balance by his mighty swing. De Gex lashed out with his free hand and caught the composer's lace cravat in a bloody grip. He jerked hard, desperately trying to pull himself out. Eliza reacted before she could think. Her free hand dropped to the bridge of the cello. She raised it on high as her other hand levered the neck down toward the floor, and she launched it across the pit in a high arc. It rotated as it hurtled through apogee, and came down like a javelin, its whole weight concentrated behind the tail-pin. When it stopped, it was sitting on de Gex's chest. It lodged there at an angle, emitting a spectral chord as the life sighed out of de Gex. He let go of Handel's cravat.
The composer picked up his staff from the floor and righted his periweg. "Fifth page, second bar!" he called out. But the musicians were slow to return..."
"There must be an opera tonight," Jack remarked through the grate.
" 'Tis not possible," Daniel returned. "It is out of season. I do believe they are erecting sets, and rehearsing, for a revival of The Alchemist by Ben Jonson."
"I saw it a hundred times as a boy," Jack said, "why ever are they reviving it now?"
"Because Herr Handel has written new music for it."
"What? It is a play, not an opera."
"Styles change," Daniel said...
"...It chagrins me to hear that the good old Alchymist [sic] is being subjected to such perversion," said Jack. "I've a mind to pop Mr. Handel in the gob."
p. 564 from System of the World, the third volume in Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle...I'm almost finished with this massive undertaking –– I must be a masochist; moving on from DFW's Infinite Jest (just under 1,000 pages) onto Stephenson's 3-part series, each of which clocks in at around 900 pages.
TW, on the other hand, continually reads and re-reads the Twilight series –– and now she's moved on to Sookie Stackhouse, of True Blood fame. So, anything w/vampires and she'll read it. Me –– anything w/o vampires, and I'll give it a go.
Check out the Times for an interesting compilation of data concerning your Netflix queues...for conversation's sake, here's the good ole 02453 (Waltham):
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Burn After Reading
I Love You, Man
I don't know what it says about Boston, but in and around the city, Slumdog, Button and Milk seem to make the top five. Thought provoking, but also a little creepy -- although not for me, since I stopped Netflixing about 4 years ago. What do you think?
February 2nd -- the countdown begins. I've been holding the last 5 episodes of Season 5 on my DVR. Last night, we watched episode #12 "Dead is Dead." I've still got 4 more to go before the premiere; unfortunately, I've got less than a month to go...
(1) "The Nightmare Before Christmas" by Tim Burton, given to me in preparation for my trip to Burton's exhibit at MOMA by Al.
(2) "Jurassic Park" given to me by my sister-in-law TW. (edit: I've been informed by my lawyer that TW gave me "Jurassic Park" and my sister-in-law gave me the 1st season of "30 Rock". My apologies for the mix-up...)
(3) "Airport" given to me by my sister-in-common-law, Sarah S.
(4) "Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith", which I'm pretty sure I bought for myself...
Taken from my current read, The Confusion part 2 of the Baroque Cycle by Neal Stephenson:
"Roger, what is Mrs. Bligh's bloody book -- by your leave, Mrs. Bligh! -- but squiggles of ink? I have ink, Roger, a firkin of it, and can molest a goose to obtain quills, and make ink-squiggles all night and all day. But they are just forms on a page. What does it say of us that our commerce is built 'pon forms and figments while that of Spain is built 'pon silver?"
"Some would say it speaks to our advancement."
"I am not one of those had cases who believes credit is Satan's work, do not put me in that poke, Roger. I say only that ink, once dried on the page, is a brittle commodity, and an economy made of ink is likewise brittle, and may for all we know be craz'd and in a state to crumble at a touch. Whereas silver and gold are ducile, maleable, capable of fluid movement..."