Author: David Gorsline

Most foul

Via Botany Photo of the Day, Basilio Aristidis Kotsias makes the case that Claudius could indeed have poisoned King Hamlet by instilling henbane into his ear. And yet,

There are other explanations that fit the crime in question….. Finally, there exists the possibility that everything related to the apparition of the ghost on the platform before the castle of Elsinore was a product of Shakespeare’s fantasy, as well as the death of the melancholic prince, wounded by the poisoned sword (with what venom?) that Laertes held. If this were true, our interpretation would result in pure fiction.

Cole Porter in Japanese

Is it an opera or a musical? Anthony Tommasini offers a distinction that might settle the argument discussion that Leta and I regularly have:

Both genres seek to combine words and music in dynamic, felicitous and, to invoke that all-purpose term, artistic ways. But in opera, music is the driving force; in musical theater, words come first.

This explains why for centuries opera-goers have revered works written in languages they do not speak. Though supertitles have revolutionized the art form, many buffs grew up without this innovation and loved opera anyway.

On the radio: 6

Stacey asked me to do a voiceover for the first part of Jason Beaubien’s three-part report on the harrowing journey that Central American migrants make across Mexico, so they can then cross (illegally) into the United States to find family and work. I voiced the worker Hector Valdez, who is remarkably low-key about the prospect of being kidnapped by gangsters; he’s introduced at 2:00. And who’s that we hear near the end of segment? Stacey herself!

The entire series is worth a listen (part two, part three), as well as Beaubien’s reporter’s notebook post:

I’d dozed off on what the local media have dubbed “the Highway of Death.” I jerk awake and immediately feel for my backpack on the floor of the bus. My bag is still there.

The bus has come to a sudden stop and several young men are coming up the front stairs. A few weeks earlier, hijackers, allegedly from the Zetas cartel, had been boarding buses on this road, pulling off migrants, bashing their heads in with blunt instruments and dumping them in mass graves.

The young men are yelling and for a second I’m trying to make out what language it is. This often happens to me when I’m traveling. I wake up on an airplane, I look up from a cup of coffee in a restaurant and I have no idea where I am.

It’s Spanish. They’re speaking Spanish and they’re selling snacks. Everything is OK. I fumble in my pocket for some coins to buy one of the sandwiches wrapped in foil that they promise are very hot and very tasty.

A milestone: 4

Five years of A Honey of an Anklet:

  • 2006: We drove out to the Eastern Shore yesterday to say goodbye to Marlie…
  • 2007: Katherine Ellison looks at today’s carbon offset market.
  • 2008: Henry Phillips received a patent for his screwdriver and screws on this day in 1936…
  • 2009: The last play in August Wilson’s cycle of Pittsburgh plays, Radio Golf, is set in 1997…
  • 2010: Just a quick snap to mark my completion of the Fairfax Cross County Trail.

Old Times

Director Michael Kahn and his cast give a cool, clean, faithful reading of Harold Pinter’s enigmatic exploration of memory and friendship. The intermission changeover of the set from the sitting room to the bedroom, specified in the script, serves to disrupt the momentum of the piece; the perfunctory second act (30 minutes, if that) feels as if the narrative arc has fallen off the table.

But this mounting, admirably, makes the story both more transparent and more opaque to me compared to the last time I saw a production. (It couldn’t have anything to do with the intervening twenty years, could it?) Steven Culp’s amiable Deeley is a bit shambling; Tracy Lynn Middendorf is languid in pink satin as Kate; Holly Twyford’s brittle Anna makes us wish that she had known as much fun as a young girl in London as she claims to have.

  • Old Times, by Harold Pinter, directed by Michael Kahn, Shakespeare Theatre Company, Washington

Selby decoded

Nothing too hard to figure out, but I found it interesting as a bit of antique technology.

The machines finally stopped and [Lucy] told the children to sit right there and she emptied the machines then sat back on the bench and waited to use the extractor. While she waited a woman came in with a cart of clothes and asked if she could use the extractor, the one in her laundromat across the way broke down. The woman in charge told her she would have to wait until all her people were finished, that she couldnt let people from other buildings come in here and use her extractor until her people were finished and she didnt know if theyd be finished in time, it was getting late and there were a awful lot of people waiting and she had to close soon.

—Hubert Selby, Jr., Last Exit to Brooklyn (1957), pp. 260-261

There are several online definitions of extractor that fit the specific sense of a laundry machine more advanced than a wringer, among them Infoplease’s “a centrifuge for spinning wet laundry so as to remove excess water”.

Frederick City Watershed

Our wrapup field trip took us to the Frederick City Watershed Cooperative WMA (part of the municipal forest property), on Catoctin Mountain between the national park and Gambrill State Park. We were cleared for netting in this area, and fortunately it’s not deer season, so we got good up-close looks at three skippers, Little Glassywing (Pompeius verna), Northern Cloudywing (Thorybes pylades), and Tawny-edged Skipper (Polites themistocles), as well as a Summer Azure (Celastrina ladon neglecta). I am still struggling with IDs of Papilio swallowtails, but Pat called Spicebush and Pipevine for the butterflies we brought in.

The destination butterfly for this area, however, is Edwards’ Hairstreak (Lycaena phlaeas), which is dependent on scrub oak and barrens habitat. Starting from a parking area on Gambrill Park Road north of Five Forks, Pat led us to a heathy patch (Vaccinium in fruit) known to be a hotspot. We were extremely fortunate to find several individuals, many of them ventrally basking on the oak foliage (Quercus ilicifolia). My field trip organization skills let me down however, so I was without means for good photographic documentation. The butterflies didn’t seem to mind.