remember that the great dinosaurs all turned into pigeons
jeremy geragotelis
2) In which I consider why I can't tell the future
I was always under the impression that if I could get smart enough, I’d be able to tell the future.
When I was fourteen, I asked my Mom to interlibrary loan Benjamin Britten’s opera Peter Grimes for me. It came as a suggestion from my voice teacher. You see, when I was a kid, I was going to be famous. I had the voice of an angel. I didn’t do much with that gift – as I’m here and not there. But that’s okay, I guess.
I remember the CD had a terrible graphic on the cover. Like something from clip art: angular, gray, cold. Two cartoon headstones floating in a cartoon ocean. The names of the singers, the chorus, the orchestra, and conductor on the right side of the image. And the phrase “2 CDS” on the left.
I first listened to the piece on a snow day. In January or February. A common practice for our household. Shovel the snow and then everyone locks themselves in their rooms. My brother across the hall, reading or playing video games. And I am in my room, pacing back and forth, listening to opera. Loudly. Because my Dad is not home and my Mom doesn’t care.
I was always under the impression that if I could just learn the right things, I’d be able to tell the future.
The first scene of the second act is between Ellen Orford – Peter Grimes’ clandestine lover – and John – his new, young ‘prentice (brought to him upon the “accidental” death of his previous apprentice). John, a silent role (well except for one blood-curdling scream at the end of the second act), sits with Ellen as she knits. They watch the sea together. The rest of the town is at church. Ellen notices a tear in John’s coat…
I was always under the impression that if I could be as smart as my Dad, maybe? No…that’s not right. Maybe smarter than my Dad. I could predict the future. My brother could do it. That’s why he can always beat me at chess. Why can’t I play chess? I get bored with chess. But I can try and guess at what your silence means? I don’t know that I’m always right. I try and convince myself that I’m not always right. But I’m usually always right. Because silence rarely brings good news. Once in a blue moon you’ll get an affirmation after something like: “Thank you. I will give you a detailed response soon.” Once in a blue moon. But I can feel myself tugging against what I know is true. Which is the worst possible scenario. The one you’ve always dreamed of, only in nightmares – of course.
I guess I was really always under the impression that if I could be as smart – no, smarter – than my Dad, I would be able to tell the future and not care.
I have a tattoo of a dragon on my left leg. I respect dragons because they can tell the future and the past. And they continue to not care as they always have not cared. They stockpile their gold and sleep. And let the tired world around them roll by, rolled by.
What is most remarkable about this moment in Peter Grimes are these two E-sharps next to each other. The first one suggests its resolution – to D-sharp and/or/and to F-sharp. The other one, holds you from it. Britten does it again a few measures later. He ties two D-naturals together, which also do the work of shifting the emphasis of the phrase down a minor 2nd. He writes the drama of the text – Ellen desperately checking John’s body for signs of abuse – into these minute moments of resistance. And all of this is framed within a larger structural conceit – the Sunday Service happening behind the opera. Of course, in an entirely different key.
I always found this dramatic event to be very disturbing. Because the music pulls against itself. Only to reveal – in an arpeggiated B-major chord – the damning truth: “A bruise… Well, it’s begun!”
I think the future lies somewhere in-between these in-betweens. In the pull from the center, the beginning of unravelling. And then, when the future happens, it all collides back to what it was before. Like an arpeggiated B-major chord on the damning truth: “A bruise… Well, it’s begun!”
(Smash into: 3)