Summertime and the...

Early evening temperature is creeping back to the 90s, but, Deo gratias, not today. It is the feast of Saint Apollinaris, martyr and first bishop of Ravenna by the Apostle Saint Peter's own hands (Introibo, CE, Wiki). 

Am having to go out to the silly pharmacy in a couple of hours, my morning being consequently upset. Am listening now to the video recording of this morning's penultimate session of the Chopin Competition Preliminary Round (but Prime and Terce have to be fitted in before I leave) and will be able to listen to the first half hour of the evening session (these begin at 0800 my time). 

Today is the final day, and my understanding is that the names of those who will progress to October's next rounds are announced tonight i.e. toward noontime here. While I will recognize the names of those who 'survive' the judgment of the jury, I expect that I won't recall much if anything of their performances beyond the occasional 'she was very good' or 'he seemed to be listening to some other piece in his head'. There was a fellow whose copious sweating sticks in the mind and the young woman whose facial agonies were such that, had I been in the aula, I'd have been obliged to telephone the emergency services-- a milder form of this phenomenon has afflicted many, if not most, of the participants but that woman had an exceptionally bad case of it. I happened not to witness the performance of Hayato Sumino ('Cateen') who is, I read ad nauseam in the chatting, a star! in Japan, or, at least, on YouTube-- in an especial way, I imagine, amongst 13 and 14 year old girls and a certain number of old men. I've turned all the sessions on but what part of them I've actually listened to I don't know; 14 or 15. 

Was reminded in the morning's email that the Proms begin sometime soon-- with full audiences in the Royal Albert Hall, apparently, from amongst those who have received the plague vaccine anyway. The poor English seem to be dying off at alarming rates. I shall have to make sure the VPN is working properly-- I can't think why I last had it turned on. Time for Prime. 

Post Sextam. Haven't hard boiled eggs for so long I've forgotten 'the best' way to do it. Brought to a boil, let sit for 8 minutes: perfection.

Ante Vesperas. The Eugene Symphony's new season includes too much contemporary nonsense (one of the 'new works' isn't even finished at this point and remains nameless)-- they sent out an email today tempting us to subscribe. The composers I recognize: Florence Price, Rachmaninov; Mendelssohn, Ravel, John Adams; Brahms, Bartok; Mozart, Tchaikovsky; Tan Dun, more Rachmaninov, Matthew Browne ('composer-in-residence' this year, so I know the name); Hindemith, Higdon, Fauré, Beethoven; Chopin, Dvořák (guess which); Mahler, and then the first act of Wagner's Tristan und Isolde (act the second next year, I guess, and the last one the year after); Richard Strauss, Elgar, more Ravel (guess which); and then a multi-media extravaganza on top of a work by 'Oregon's best-known composer' David Schiff dedicated to the memory of the runner Steve Prefontaine, an Eugenian hero. I think I'll probably buy the 'three concert package': the Wagner, Chopin and Dvořák, and then Bartok/Brahms or else Mozart/Tchaikovsky, although the T. will probably feature a lecture about the agonies and glories of homosexuals in the modern age. Sigh. 

It is also the feast of Saint John (5th century), of Saint Brigid (14h century), and of Saint Severus (3rd century).

V. Et álibi aliórum plurimórum sanctórum Mártyrum et Confessórum, atque sanctárum Vírginum. R. Deo grátias.