I hate opera. Mostly because I dislike loud sounds. And Viking helmets. However, what Callas did with her astonishing instrument — and her extraordinary operatic life — continues to amaze me. Whenever I listen to La Divina, my engorged-with-disappointment heart is pierced — pricked open like a septic cyst. Or, a water balloon — depending on your threshold for gore. The raw, insane power and otherworldly grace of her voice lifts me up away from the rancid, unstable place my feet normally stick. Like the floor of a multiplex. I experience something unfamiliar and slightly disorienting — pure sensory pleasure. OMG! Could I be any gayer?