A Reason Why I Love Maria Callas

I went through a Forza Del Destino phase recently and listened to a different recording of it every night after I had spent the day sending out begging emails for crowdfunding for my book My Tutu Went AWOL!
I don't know if those two things were related...
Anyway, I listened to these recordings: with Leontyne Price, Martina Arroyo, Renata Tebaldi and Rosalind Plowright, awash with the beauty of the opera itself, of the singing; muttering to myself in awe of so and so's breath control, phrasing, or floated top notes. Then when I listened to the Callas recording my muttering was all: 'Open the monastery door, you stupid monk, which part of her brother's after her wanting to kill her did you miss? Oh, God, no...don't trust him, he clearly lives off nothing but his own hatred. No, he'll still have his sword on him, don't help him...oh, for the love of all things, wasn't that just bound to happen? And look who's here now. Bit late, padre, she's dead. Oh, no, she isn't, she's still singing. But she'll be dead any time now...'
Visceral, that's the word.

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