Frankfurter Kranz

A Frankfurt Ring is a dense cake, almost like a cookie, baked in a bunt pan. After it has baked and cooled, you slice it horizontally three times, layering the spaces with butter cream icing, preserves and marzipan. It is then topped with butter cream icing and crispy little, sugared nuts. Do I look proud, or what?

A Rag Man

The cool anagram computer-thingy at http://wordsmith.org/anagram/ had 2170 variations on my name. I have shortened the list to several of the more interesting ones:

A Fear His Juror
("A" must be a way to keep the juror anon. The grammar is always a little iffy on these things.)

Aura Frier Josh
(I do like fried food, I have to admit, but what kind of aura does this gives me? I am assuming a kind of yellowish lackluster.)

Area Fish Juror
(This sent me into a whole "Spongebob" kind of realm from which I must immediately escape.)

Friar Jar House
(I keep seeing images like the ones in my cartoon-y palindrome book, this one of a cupboard in a monastery.)

A Fair She Juror
("Pretty She-Juror" is how the retard mass murderer refers to the knock-out about to sentence him.)

Aria Re Fur Josh
(This was the subject heading of Beethoven's email to me about the new piece he is writing. Well, he wrote one for Elise, why not me?)

Raja Fuhrer I So
(Ok, a missing Umlaut again, but it does kind of sum me up, doesn't it?)

Biblical Proportions

I was reading an article this morning in the Washington Post about the eminent collapse of the Mosul dam in Iraq, which, according to estimates, may kill approximately 500,000 people when it fails. The dam was built upon gypsum, a material that disintegrates when in contact with water. Uh… Huh? The structure was built on "sand"? And they are surprised that it is unstable?

Reading this article brought back a whole lot of Bible stories from childhood. Specifically poignant is Matthew's story of two brothers, one who builds his house on stone and another on sand. When the rains came, the foolish brother's house was destroyed. Matthew goes on to say:

Matthew 7:24-27 (NIV)

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash."

Other than just Mosul, another city will be destroyed by the dam's collapse. Because the city is Nineveh, you can understand why the fire and brimstone with which I was raised started coming back in full force. Nineveh is the city that Jonah (remember the guy that was swallowed and later regurgitated by a whale) preached to and eventually saved. It is often, though, condemned in the Bible and is described as evil:

Nahum 1:14 (NIV)

"The LORD has given a command concerning you, Nineveh : 'You will have no descendants to bear your name. I will destroy the carved images and cast idols that are in the temple of your gods. I will prepare your grave, for you are vile.'"

It just all seems so "weird", you know? I don't think that it has much significance, to be truthful. It is interesting, though.

The problem is that if a dam breaks and kills 500,000 people and destroys several cities in Iraq, the Iraqis, who built the dam in the first place, will not be blamed. The US will be seen as incompetent even though the Army Corps of Engineers has recommended to the Iraqi government that the dam must be seen to immediately. Thee government is in control of the money and gives the OK for such projects. But, we will get the blame if something catastrophic happens. Great.

A short, open letter to the residents of Mosul and Nineveh: Move!

Aufmerksamkeit Alert

Would someone please comment on Chris' video where he makes Grießbrei? The poor thing is feeling truly needy and cannot understand why he is not the new star of youtube.

Oh, bloggerites, please help!

Website

Check out my website. It is by no means finished yet, but Chris has made some changes and you can hear some audio examples there. Enjoy!

I have taken the name of the site off because it reveals my true identity. If you want to know the site address, just put a comment here and I will email it to you.

Heidelberg University Library

We went yesterday to visit our friends in Heidelberg. We went to see where our friend works and I was so impressed with the building, the university library. It was built in 1902. How cool would it be to work in this building very day?

Grießbrei

Here is my husband Chris, as he demonstrates how to make Grießbrei mit Rote Grütze (Semolina Pudding with Red Fruit Jelly.)

Widdle Devils

Ok, another plug. Another favorite blog: http://blandwagon.blogspot.com/

Look at the penultimate post called "Fell". It is absolutely hilarious! In it, you can see things like this:

Characters

Can I justo recommend one of my favorite blogs? It is http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/

This guy just takes pictures of people who seem to have interesting senses of fashion on the streets all over the world. You get to see characters like this:



Go there, you will like it. Maybe.

Plodding on

Well, I called Coburg today and they said the role has been filled. I felt a little like the little dog in Mary Poppins when the cockney maid opens the door, sees no nannies but a little dog in their place "The position az been filled." And, with a whisk of my tail and an aloof sounding "hurumph" (not sounding unlike a muffled bark), I run off in my little, haughty dog way.

I have decided that the American-style follow up call is completely in order in this day and age, because the guy from Coburg had not even received my CV and photos, etc. that I had sent on Monday. Beware of computer technology, ye internets.

On a lighter side, I got the nerve to call Bonn to see what they had to say about the long shot of being invited to an audition there. The good news is, they haven't decided on anything and will know more by Monday. I see this as "good news" because it not a "no". Hey, you take what you can get, people.

Basically, if I am completely honest with you, I am struggling to not fall into a deep depression because of all of this. Betsy, in her tough love way, told me yesterday to harden up a bit on this. I will learn. Don't worry. I think part of the problem is that I hadn't really prepared myself for what kind of mental challenge this was all going to be because I was too concentrated on doing whatever I could to finish my doctorate. So, mentally, it's all kind of happening fast.

Just throw me a bone, dear life. Give me some little concert or role to work on in the meantime. That would really help. ☺

Bumps

Well, I haven't heard anything back from Bonn or Coburg. Bonn was a long shot, so that is ok. I will call Coburg tomorrow to see if they want me to come on Friday or not. We'll see.

Actually, "We'll see" is easier said than done. I am finding that I really need a project that I can sink my teeth into so that I don't get pulled into some kind of cabin fever. Betsy has suggested that I learn a couple of roles while I wait. That might not be such a bad idea… But, I need something a little less esoteric to work on, too, something that I can really wrap my mind around. I have really wanted to write a book for a long time. Maybe a novella would be fun. I have a couple of ideas in mind. I have also really wanted to write a new textbook for French Diction classes modeled on the method that I came up with for my own classes at KU. Hmmm. I definitely need something that has a lot of brainpower and definite endpoint through publication or some such thing.

Filling my days with working out, practicing and cooking dinner for Chris just isn't enough.

By the way, any of you that haven't heard my voice for a long time can hear it via my webpage at this address:


http://www.joshuafarrier.name/heldentenor/audio.html

Cheers!

Warm This, Bitch

Al Gore getting the Nobel Peace Prize has got to be just about the most positive thing that has happened in a long time, I think. I can think of no better reward for someone who picked up the pieces after such a shattering defeat as his. Her perseverance to educate people about his cause has been truly amazing and inspiring. In this topsy-turvy world, where right often seems to lose out to evil, it is good to see that someone who is trying to save the Earth is rewarded.

Whoever hasn't seemed to read the writing on the wall, I'll condense it for you: G.W. Bush will go into the history books as a blithering half-idiot who completely fucked up our country and Al Gore will be remembered for bringing to a wide audience the realities of global climate change. So, for those of you counting "points" and wondering who really "won", it seems that the answer is becoming more and more obvious. The Prize is a vindication for all of us on the Left who have been ignored for nearly 7 years. After having come back from America amazed at how conservative Conservatism is there, it is a wonderful symbol and not-so-subtle message from Europe that Americans need to make a "Great Leap" (excuse the Maoist irony) in order to catch up with the rest of the civilized world.

On a personal note, things are starting to pick up career wise. It has been 5 days since I sent out my first three agent letters and two since the next three. No response so far from any of them. But, my friend Betsy called the other day and relayed that they are looking for a "Mitch" in Coburg for their production for Streetcar Named Desire (by André Previn.) The production goes up on the 11th of January. I called the house on Friday, and they said that they want a photo and my materials per email (because the director wants a certain body type) and that the audition will be on Friday afternoon. I probably will get an audition there as the part is for a tall, stocky Heldentenor and the opera is in English. I guess I should say, I HOPE I will get an audition.

And, Betsy played my recital CD for a friend of hers that is a music critic. He had a lot fo nice things to say. When he heard Max's aria (one, actually, that I have been less confident about) he said "That IS Max." I guess he was really enthusiastic about my voice, and loved my timbre. This is cool because my timbre is a very strange one, I think, that is not necessarily everyone's taste. Anyway, he gave Betsy a bunch of role suggestions that she has passed on to me. He said that I would be a perfect "Paul" from Korngold's Die Tote Stadt. He also mentioned that Bonn is desperately seeking a Paul right now, also for a production that opens in the spring. So, I'm going to contact them on Monday and see what I can find out. That would be a fantastic opportunity in a B-House with app. 900 seats—perfect for me right now. I'll let you know what happens there.

It is just mind-blowing for me to be getting these possibilities, even if they don't come into fruition. To think that I could start working almost immediately has been deemed impossible by me for such a long time that, if it happens, I will be shocked, just shocked. I always thought that I would be sitting on my ass for at least the first three or four months, having a tough up-hill battle, having trouble even finding an agent that represents me. I had planned in my head that I may be auditioning for more than a year before something comes. Hey, it may still be that way, don't get me wrong. "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched." Is an adage that cannot be said often enough.

But, damn, even the possibility of going to Coburg to sing in an audition on Friday is exciting as hell, don't you think?

Point of no return

One of the most frightening aspects of visiting America was the almost rampant ultra-conservatism that seems to be the norm in central Illinois. My brother-in-law cannot talk about Hillary Clinton without using the word "socialist". A good friend from my childhood, when confronted with the "inconvenient truth" of peak oil and the concept that one day there will be no more oil to use, simply retorted "well, at least now people will revisit the positives of using coal." At some point or another I wanted to run agog like the screaming banshee on those Hallmark cards away, away from America back to where liberalism is not a bad word. I count myself lucky not just that I am surrounded by people of somewhat like mind, but that I live in a basic utopia, where there is no such thing as poverty such as it is on the American scale, where there is health insurance for all, and where I feel safe because the crime rates are low (and there are virtually no hand guns.) It is funny how so many of the big issues in America revolve around poverty, a subject that the typical American does not believe exists in his land, but I shall not digress, not this time.

Made pumpkin soup for dinner and Chris brought home a loaf of still-warm pumpkin-seed bread from the bakery. A very nice meal. Yum.

Today is that day that will live into infamy, as, after all of the hemming, hawing and general whining about the impending auditions and start of my, hopefully, career, I sent out letters requesting dates to sing for agents. I am cautiously confident about what is going to happen in this next phase of my life. Keep your fingers crossed.

Chris, at one time rather sure about the prospect of a certain job in Berlin, is almost certain now that they have chosen someone else. The move to Berlin is contingent upon him having a job there before we pack up and go, as both of us being unemployed simultaneously and moving such a great distance to the "big, bad city" is not a prospect either of us relish. This works out for the best, though, as, although I do not enjoy running into the occasional questioning faces of people from the theatre on the streets of my little town, Pforzheim is home, and feels stable, a thing that I am sure will greatly help as the auditions begin. I need a strong home foundation to start this craziness, so I hope that it will work out for the best. A potential wrench in the works is that our landlord may not allow us to rescind our request to quit the lease. That would certainly be difficult—to find a new place, organize and move over 400 miles in just 6 weeks. Ok, maybe it doesn't sound so scary by American standards, but just the moving van will cost 1000€. Enough said.

Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and pass on that my search for a career as a Heldentenor has officially begun. Wish me luck.

The End of an Affair

After I visited my friend in Chicago, I traveled to Lawrence, Kansas, where I spent nearly two weeks tying up all of the loose ends, and presenting my thesis equivalent and defense. This was an extremely trying period where I was mentally challenged time and time again. My orals (Oral Comprehensive Examinations in Music History) were the first hurdle to bound my cumbersome body over…especially dull is my knowledge of dates and names as I have been out of school for 4 years. This is the kind of exam people have nightmares about, the kind of exam that one cannot study for, where no holds are barred and the student is basically responsible for the cumulative knowledge of his entire academic career. The student sits at one end of the table and the professors sort of surround you, something like a lynch mob, positioned, ready to pounce on any discrepancy. They take turns asking you questions; they can ask anything they want. It is not expected that the student knows everything but he must definitely exhibit some kind of mental prowess, preferably proving that he is an academic show dog, the product of the professors good work and the student's sponge-like brain.

And the things they asked…one professor asked me: "so, if you are in Paris, on the left bank, and you see an advertisement for "Le Crépuscule des Dieux", what would it be for?" Answer: "Götterdämmerung" (this kind of question was obviously intended to confuse the hell out of me.) The musicologist brought in scores without their titles. They were examples from varied time periods and were accompanied by simply "Is there anything you can tell me about this?" That was very hard. I think I shocked them when I guessed properly that some voice part with a realized bass was actually an excerpt from the first opera ever written, Orfeo, a joint venture by members of the Florentine Camerata, Peri and Caccini.

When, after a couple of hours, the committee asked me to leave so that they could deliberate, I sat outside like a schoolboy waiting for the principal's condemnation, my ass practically hurting already from the eminent ass-whooping that I knew I was about to receive. Surely such feeble answers to these broad-spectrum mental searches would be transparent to the 5 members of my committee. When my teacher came out and said only "Honors", I was stunned to say the least. I guess this is relatively rare for someone to receive honors.

The rest of the time leading up to my lecture recital is all a blur of sorts. I had to present my theory papers, and rehearse with my pianist, I had to get my document ready and practice its recitation, there were forms to fill out and re-fill out as the attention to every detail at this level of academia is knit-picky beyond description.

The big push forward was the lecture recital, of course, and it went smashingly well. I sang well and the audience was very responsive to the text, even laughing at the occasional jokes that I inserted. The final aria even received "bravos" from the faculty. The next day, at the defense, pointed critiques were posed, but I came out relatively unscathed. While waiting for the deliberation, though, I was still scared, I have to admit. When I re-entered the room, the faculty, stood, and the Chairman reached out his hand saying "Congratulations, Dr. F." This was a wonderful moment emblazoned into my memory. At that moment, I became Dr. F.

Following the defense there were only small commas to be replaced and citations to be straightened out. I fixed those in about 20 minutes, copied everything off onto resumé paper and was finished. I turned everything into the Dean's office the next day and my entire academic career, spanning from 1991 until the present, came to an abrupt end.

This monkey on my back had become an apee with time. To have it no longer there makes me feel lighter indeed. Of course, my future now now possesses my thoughts. I guess "one less thing to worry about" is one of those little white lies we tell ourselves. Every little worry, after all, is quickly replaced, especially when you are ambitious.