Philip Glass/Robert Wilson, Einstein on the Beach

Finally got around to watching Chrisann Verges and Mark Obenhaus' 1985 film Einstein on the Beach: The Changing Image of Opera (available from ubuweb here) yesterday.
For the first time since coming across the LPs in Durham University's listening library (now, alas, no longer) in 1996, I got to see some excerpts of the stage action in motion.
It confirmed to me what I had suspected for a long time: that my ideas about my own opera were on the right track. I feel that what Wilson was doing on stage (more so than what Glass was doing in the pit) had so much relevance to me, and correlated so tightly with my preferences for modern dance, that I have to go forward.
Haven't yet got the right libretto, which does require some thought, more than I thought originally. My original libretto was made up of chunks of existing work:

• the text for Mozart's Abendempfindung;
• the marriage and funeral services from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer;
• Amy Lowell's Patterns;
• the section on the suicides from Dante's Inferno;
• the vowels from the name 'Malespina';
• the madmen's speeches from Webster's Duchess of Malfi

Recently I've realised that the libretto for an opera (particularly contemporary opera) can be fundamental to its success (by my standards, not necessarily a critical/popular success) and I've come to this conclusion by looking at the Glass/Wilson Einstein, and my two favourite Birtwistle operas: The Mask of Orpheus and Punch and Judy (libretti by Peter Zinovieff and Stephen Pruslin respectively). In each case, the libretti have shaped the drama and intensified what the composers do with the drama more (in my opinion) than in any other operatic work that they produced (or are producing).
So I'm looking to work with a librettist now because my writing of prose is just not up to the job.

The goal is to complete my three act opera, lasting three hours entitled MALESPINA over the next two years. It's scored for solo soprano and tenor (Bride and Devil), and SSAATTBB chorus, with an orchestra of two clarinets, two horns, two pianos, two percussionists, two violins, viola, two cellos. I feel like I'm in the right 'zone' to actually get on and do it now, but it's a matter of carving out the time, setting myself deadlines and really motivating myself to actually do it.

It's not an opera in the sense that most opera companies will recognise or that most critics will accept, and that's not really the point. I want to write the work that I want to write; the work that I want to see on stage.