These are the roots of rhythm
And the roots of rhythm remain
A well-deserved recap.
I took off of work on Friday to go play in Corning, NY. I decided to take a bus there, and Lindsay and I would just drive back to Brooklyn the following morning.
The subways were all messed up in Brooklyn on Friday, so it took me forever to get to the Port Authority. I made it to my bus about 5 minutes before it left, but that was fine.
The bus ride was beautiful, and being so high up, it made the trip I've done so many times seem like brand new. I saw the Susquehanna River like never before; the way it winds and bends around the Appalachia, with the rapids, the white water acting as a mirror to the droopy, low hanging clouds that always seem to resemble a cartoon character I grew up watching. The shallowness of the river was starkly constrasted to the ferocity and depth of the rapids, all bordering the other and minding their own business. Life passes through each, and I spectate. The Delaware Water Gap is striking, the way the mountains, with their up-ended sedimentary rock, cut swathes into the water, so it seems. The truth is, the water has cut the swathes into the mountain, but I digress. I longed to pull over, hop over the rail, and take root amongst the trees and jump in the shallow water. To feel wet sand, and be unable to get rid of it from between my toes for the next three days or so. But that would not be this trip.
I missed my connecting bus from Binghampton to Elmira because of some heavy construction on I-81 going into Binghampton. I began to panic, and had to find a way there in time to play. I had to take a cab to Elmira, costing me (well, at the time, my mother) $120. I arrived in Corning 20 minutes before I was supposed to start. An otherwise beautiful, touching day was completely up-ended by the huge financial hit and anxiety that was missing the connecting bus. My sister and mother came out though, and their presence was wonderful, even if they kept to the back of the venue for the most part. Scott played with me, and that too made me calm down. He was very even-keeled, and such a great help. Deb and everyone at the bar were incredible, as always. Lindsay showed up right as I was about to play, and it certainly raised my spirits. Still, I felt really frustrated by the day, not being able to see Brandon very long, putting my mother and sister in a huge inconvenience and frustrating them, and putting me in the dreaded position of playing immediately following a long road trip. It was not going to go well, I thought.
We started playing, and the bar was otherwise non-responsive. They didn't seem too into it, and while I know I was playing well, it seemed like I wasn't "touching" the people the way I usually can. My back ached like no other, I was sweating terribly, and my leg was bleeding from scraping against something. It was not going well, and it was just another thing contributing to a shitty evening. On top of that, after the expensive cab ride, I was only going to break even from the show, something I've been really trying to avoid lately.
At the end of my first set, a group of about 10 people came in, ranging from a woman about my age, all the way to two elder women. They all had green on, with green party hats and necklaces, very much like St. Paddy's Day. When they came in, I played some Irish music, and they all perked up and started dancing. One of the younger women came up on stage and started singing with me, and everyone else was drunk and swaying back and forth. After the song finished, she pulled me close and began whispering in my ear. She said "listen hon, we're all here tonight for our two aunts, _____ and _____." [editor's note: I forgot the names, but that's not the point] "They both have cancer and are not doing well, and we decided to take them both out as a family and show them a great time...would you mind playing a song for them?" I immediately agreed, and a sense of what tonight was about began to seep into my head. I played song after song for them, not taking a break, and they all kept dancing, even the elder aunts, as if they were all 16 again. They would scream, shout, clap, and do all the things we all do when music takes hold of us. Smiles, laughs, drinks.
I started to play "Mrs. Robinson", and the family kept on dancing. When I got to the part of "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? / Our nation turns its lowly eyes to you" I noticed one of the aunts, now dancing with her much younger nephews or cousins, stop dancing altogether. She stood there and reached out both arms to the boys on either side of them, and pulled them in as tight as she could. The boys danced through this gesture, and brought themselves in closer to her, and a moment was had. It was not lost on me, and when I saw that one small thing, I started to weep. I immediately turned my eyes towards my mother, now standing at the bar, and she saw it too. My eyebrows raised, my forehead crunched, and it was as if a Mack Truck hit me. Family. In it's most tangible form. Family.
I know knew why I had been put through the ringer trying to get to Corning. I could not possibly have profited monetarily from something like that. The lessons of the evening would have been completely overlooked if I kept thinking about the tremendous payday I was going to get. No, instead God (or whatever you wish to call it, fortune, luck, fate, etc) placed me there to experience that and learn from that. I had been careless with my family as of late, and when chips were down, I am always there for them, but I had been terribly inconsistent. Missing calls, leaving cards and gifts at home when I promised to bring them, fighting or mal-treating them, and ultimately expecting them to bend-over-backwards to dig me out of either a self-imposed mess or being dealt a bad hand by life. It's not fair to them, and I owe them much more than I could ever give them in times of crisis. My family had been through enough in the past few weeks, and I should not be another stressor for them. My music seems to always make them happy, but I feel that should not be enough on my end. It's just a shame that it took something like that hug to jolt my mindset, and make me see how selfish I really can be. It's not the way to live a life, the way to treat people you genuinely love. I have to do better.
The show finished without incident, and the family tipped me $40 dollars for helping make their night out a good one. I gave it to Scott for all his help, reluctant as he was to take it.
Lindsay and I spent the night in the hotel provided by the bar owners. It was wonderful, a suite with kitchen, living room, and huge bedroom. The bed was comfortable and welcomed. I was so dehydrated from playing that my body frightened me with the signs it was displaying. I won't go into it on here, but I was worried for awhile. I fell asleep a wiser man watching Family Guy with Lindsay.
The next day we ate and drove back to Brooklyn. The trip was nice, and I got to hear all about the work Lindsay is doing in the greenhouse in Fredonia. She works with Dr. Titus, a man I enjoyed having as a teacher, and she really knows her stuff well. She is so bright, and so sharp, it is welcoming to speak in depth about things like native plant life in Chautauqua County, or the way non-native species such as Japanese Knotwood invades and smothers species throughout the region. It's fascinating stuff, but you have to love it.
She got her first dose of New York, and sadly, it really rattled her. She was dreading driving home as soon as we got there, and I sensed she never really was in the moment while we were in Manhattan, looking around to see things the way I would. It was too bad, and when we got home we both felt ill. We ended up staying in, and she planned on leaving the next day to return upstate. I'll be seeing her on Friday though when I go home, so not all is lost.
We watched almost the entire Live Earth concert, chock-full-of flubs and missed notes, interesting collaborations, and a wonderful message about helping to reverse the climate change and our global footprints. Global warming, and I have done extensive reading and listening as part of my biology coursework and as a concerned human, is a very real and grave concern, and is not a product of normal weather fluctuations that occur throughout history. There is now indesputable evidence that is a general consensus from the scientific world, from the physicists, chemists, biologists that I have encountered in my college years. Across the board, the knowledge (not a "belief" anymore) is that Earth is getting too hot, too fast, and too much CO2 is being generated. We must try to curb this before we permanently hurt the world of the many generations to come. We musn't be the cause of our own demise.
Lindsay left on Sunday, and I played a show. The show went well, and that's about it. Nothing truly insightful about any of it.
Family. Trials and faith. Sense of togetherness. Unity. Knowledge. Happiness. Struggle+Family=Ability. Love.
July 9, 2007
July 5, 2007
Bosstone
The eyes burn. That means I didn't satisfy the daily slumber requirement set forth by the cells in my body.
I'm slumping today, working out of necessity where I would have otherwise called in. Too many other days to not be here for that are coming up.
Went to Boston to play and celebrate America's birthday yesterday. Had no sense of direction, no idea of the street layouts, no idea what to expect. It was a dreary day at best, but not too hot. I took the Chinatown bus, because of the cost, there and back.
The thing is, I do not understand Chinese people and culture, far beyond the language. The food we bought before we left was from the Chinese bakery, and while it was really cheap, the bread was stale, the hot dog loaded with nitrates, and even the bottled Snapple tasted like crap. Everyone else on the bus was content with their purchases, and it makes me wonder if W.A.S.P.s like me just don't have the stomach that others may have. Anyways, before I knew it I had abdominal pain and heartburn, on a non-stop bus to Boston. I know the Chinese supermarket near my house smells like rotting fish, and I cannot bear to enter it again. I don't get their sense of humor. It is so closed-off, and other times it's blatant enough that I've seen someone point and laugh at a perfect stranger. I dunno, I'm just saying I guess.
Boston is a ghost town, at least from what I saw. Even Quincy Market and the state house, popular tourist attractions, seemed sparsely populated. I was expecting more urban sprawl, since everyone I've ever met from Boston likes to talk it up, saying how great it is. I don't know, I mean, you can feel the history in the city when you arrive, and everything is really clean, with new buildings interspersed with old colonial ones, but I think people make a place have a pulse, and there was none to be found. Zuppe told me once that it's like Albany, but cleaner. Touche.
I played at Revolution Rock Bar, for about 10 people, early, so the bar could close 'cause it was so slow. The people I knew in Boston weren't able to make it, and a few strangers-turned-fans stayed to hear me play, and then bailed when I was finished. I played well, and the bar enjoyed my music, and apologized for the lack of people. We gotta go back on Friday or Saturday night and show them what we're made of.
I opened with the new song, "Ophelia," a bit faster, with new voicings and lyrics over the bridge as per Zuppe's constructive criticism. He mentioned that Ophelia walks into the river and drowns after going mad in Hamlet, and this was an interesting perspective to bring to mind. I wrote the bridge, then, on the bus ride down. Everyone keeps saying it is my best work to date, and I really think it could be. It's not 1000% complete yet, so we'll see how the days and the ways shape it.
Corning, NY tomorrow, meeting up with Lindsay and playing. Then she and I drive back Saturday, and spend the weekend finally relaxing. Yankees game and another show on Sunday, leading up to a week of Maine, Buffalo and Indiana next week. I jump at the prospect of travelling so much, so many miles under my belt, so much Americana unfolding before my eyes. It will be my third and deepest trek in New England, with each time testing the waters further and further. Every little waterside community I see seems to be a portent of my future. I want a little girl and a son. I want a wife, and I want Sunday afternoons on a boat. I want to wash the sea salt out of my clothing every Sunday night; to wake up at dawn, make breakfast for my family, and hold them tighter as the weeks go by.
All this is very fleeting
But my spirit is strong
And I look skyward
To know I have come correctly.
Boston sucks.
Go Yankees.
I'm slumping today, working out of necessity where I would have otherwise called in. Too many other days to not be here for that are coming up.
Went to Boston to play and celebrate America's birthday yesterday. Had no sense of direction, no idea of the street layouts, no idea what to expect. It was a dreary day at best, but not too hot. I took the Chinatown bus, because of the cost, there and back.
The thing is, I do not understand Chinese people and culture, far beyond the language. The food we bought before we left was from the Chinese bakery, and while it was really cheap, the bread was stale, the hot dog loaded with nitrates, and even the bottled Snapple tasted like crap. Everyone else on the bus was content with their purchases, and it makes me wonder if W.A.S.P.s like me just don't have the stomach that others may have. Anyways, before I knew it I had abdominal pain and heartburn, on a non-stop bus to Boston. I know the Chinese supermarket near my house smells like rotting fish, and I cannot bear to enter it again. I don't get their sense of humor. It is so closed-off, and other times it's blatant enough that I've seen someone point and laugh at a perfect stranger. I dunno, I'm just saying I guess.
Boston is a ghost town, at least from what I saw. Even Quincy Market and the state house, popular tourist attractions, seemed sparsely populated. I was expecting more urban sprawl, since everyone I've ever met from Boston likes to talk it up, saying how great it is. I don't know, I mean, you can feel the history in the city when you arrive, and everything is really clean, with new buildings interspersed with old colonial ones, but I think people make a place have a pulse, and there was none to be found. Zuppe told me once that it's like Albany, but cleaner. Touche.
I played at Revolution Rock Bar, for about 10 people, early, so the bar could close 'cause it was so slow. The people I knew in Boston weren't able to make it, and a few strangers-turned-fans stayed to hear me play, and then bailed when I was finished. I played well, and the bar enjoyed my music, and apologized for the lack of people. We gotta go back on Friday or Saturday night and show them what we're made of.
I opened with the new song, "Ophelia," a bit faster, with new voicings and lyrics over the bridge as per Zuppe's constructive criticism. He mentioned that Ophelia walks into the river and drowns after going mad in Hamlet, and this was an interesting perspective to bring to mind. I wrote the bridge, then, on the bus ride down. Everyone keeps saying it is my best work to date, and I really think it could be. It's not 1000% complete yet, so we'll see how the days and the ways shape it.
Corning, NY tomorrow, meeting up with Lindsay and playing. Then she and I drive back Saturday, and spend the weekend finally relaxing. Yankees game and another show on Sunday, leading up to a week of Maine, Buffalo and Indiana next week. I jump at the prospect of travelling so much, so many miles under my belt, so much Americana unfolding before my eyes. It will be my third and deepest trek in New England, with each time testing the waters further and further. Every little waterside community I see seems to be a portent of my future. I want a little girl and a son. I want a wife, and I want Sunday afternoons on a boat. I want to wash the sea salt out of my clothing every Sunday night; to wake up at dawn, make breakfast for my family, and hold them tighter as the weeks go by.
All this is very fleeting
But my spirit is strong
And I look skyward
To know I have come correctly.
Boston sucks.
Go Yankees.
July 2, 2007
New song: "Ophelia"
"Hamlet to Ophelia:
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through millennia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
And we play these plays
And say these parts
And dance through all these issues in the dark
Feigning madness
From the start
While we dance through all these issues
in the dark
"Hamlet to Ophelia:
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through millennia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
I just can't take the stage
And say these parts
And dance around these issues in the dark
Feigning madness from the start
And we dance around all these issues
in the dark
And Kings will kill kings
And marry their queens
But love always seems
to be lost
on me.
So, to my Ophelia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through my heart and lungs
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(and kings will kill kings)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(and marry their queens)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(but love always seems)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
recording on the way. Should be done today. Will post when finished.
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through millennia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
And we play these plays
And say these parts
And dance through all these issues in the dark
Feigning madness
From the start
While we dance through all these issues
in the dark
"Hamlet to Ophelia:
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through millennia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
I just can't take the stage
And say these parts
And dance around these issues in the dark
Feigning madness from the start
And we dance around all these issues
in the dark
And Kings will kill kings
And marry their queens
But love always seems
to be lost
on me.
So, to my Ophelia
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
Echoes through my heart and lungs
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(and kings will kill kings)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(and marry their queens)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(but love always seems)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
(to be lost on me)
'Adieu, love, adieu.'
recording on the way. Should be done today. Will post when finished.
June 27, 2007
Perspective is EVERYTHING
I'm in a daze today
My family is now in turmoil
Leading up to us saying goodbye
To Cassie's earthly remains on Friday
Accusations, anger, frustration
Remorse, fear, regret
Division
Law enforcement
Whirling around
Wrapping us up
In frenzy
But the smoke shall clear
The lives mend
The spirits lift
And we will stand back and see the truth:
Cassie is gone
at the accidental hands of her cousin
She is united with God
Our lives forever changed
And those responsible will be held accountable
As sorry as I will be to see that
when it occurs.
"There are greater forces than you at play here
We must bring people together now
Not drive them apart
All other worries are fruitless."
My family is now in turmoil
Leading up to us saying goodbye
To Cassie's earthly remains on Friday
Accusations, anger, frustration
Remorse, fear, regret
Division
Law enforcement
Whirling around
Wrapping us up
In frenzy
But the smoke shall clear
The lives mend
The spirits lift
And we will stand back and see the truth:
Cassie is gone
at the accidental hands of her cousin
She is united with God
Our lives forever changed
And those responsible will be held accountable
As sorry as I will be to see that
when it occurs.
"There are greater forces than you at play here
We must bring people together now
Not drive them apart
All other worries are fruitless."
June 25, 2007
Cassie Covers
Back in Brooklyn, currently working. Need to articulate the comings and goings, the ebbing and flowings of the days gone by.
My family has been cut down by loss. A tragedy of sharpest pains has hit us all; a young life ended so suddenly, so accidentally, and so tragically.
Only if you are like children can you enter the Kingdom of My Father. I think back to singing "Let the children come to me" in elementary school in Church on Fridays. "Never hinder them, never stop them, just let the children come." Cassie has gone to God, and she is there.
As a thinking man, I am contented to know that she must, absolutely must, be with God right now. United with Him, with great life force. One in the same now. She had her last rites, she was without sin, without any blemish whatsoever, and for that, I am overjoyed. I feel our prayers have only made her closer in unison with God, and she now is a part of those who have gone before us that observe, assist, and help intercede. This comforts me, and I hope it comforts the rest of my family.
I saw the depth of loss on Saturday, I witnessed it firsthand. I took 3 or 4 steps back, evaluated my own life, family, and priorities, and saw how beautiful a family truly is. I played the role of reinforcement, relieving my sister who had been at the hospital all day and all night and all morning, along with my father who was there that same timeframe as well. It was just this horrible yet at the same time, inspiring, moment. We would all make little jokes, something my family does to try to deal with things, and little sarcastic remarks about how Cassie thought her doctor wasn't very funny. Then, as expected, the reality of who was lost would set in, and everyone would be hit by a wave of devastation. This cycle would go on and on, and seemingly will as long as it needs to. But I felt everyone already celebrating the beautiful, yet short life, and I saw the imprint she made on everyone there.
I myself recall all the times I saw her at my aunt's house, ruling over the house and taking no lip from anyone. She called my father "Nutin", meaning nothing, and even his strong personality was no match. My sisters would leap and cheer for her, would squeeze her tight and show her off, my Aunt would laugh and sit back and revel at the energy and beauty of young life. She was the spark to that side of my family, and she always will be.
It's fitting that we all wear pink and purple to the funeral. I too, even thought I cannot make it, will make sure to wear my pink tie that day, for Cassie. We will be the pink and purple members of the princess' court that day, and I will be honored to take part, even from so far away.
There is tremendous wisdom in youth, and Christ saw it, and I see it now.
My family has been cut down by loss. A tragedy of sharpest pains has hit us all; a young life ended so suddenly, so accidentally, and so tragically.
Only if you are like children can you enter the Kingdom of My Father. I think back to singing "Let the children come to me" in elementary school in Church on Fridays. "Never hinder them, never stop them, just let the children come." Cassie has gone to God, and she is there.
As a thinking man, I am contented to know that she must, absolutely must, be with God right now. United with Him, with great life force. One in the same now. She had her last rites, she was without sin, without any blemish whatsoever, and for that, I am overjoyed. I feel our prayers have only made her closer in unison with God, and she now is a part of those who have gone before us that observe, assist, and help intercede. This comforts me, and I hope it comforts the rest of my family.
I saw the depth of loss on Saturday, I witnessed it firsthand. I took 3 or 4 steps back, evaluated my own life, family, and priorities, and saw how beautiful a family truly is. I played the role of reinforcement, relieving my sister who had been at the hospital all day and all night and all morning, along with my father who was there that same timeframe as well. It was just this horrible yet at the same time, inspiring, moment. We would all make little jokes, something my family does to try to deal with things, and little sarcastic remarks about how Cassie thought her doctor wasn't very funny. Then, as expected, the reality of who was lost would set in, and everyone would be hit by a wave of devastation. This cycle would go on and on, and seemingly will as long as it needs to. But I felt everyone already celebrating the beautiful, yet short life, and I saw the imprint she made on everyone there.
I myself recall all the times I saw her at my aunt's house, ruling over the house and taking no lip from anyone. She called my father "Nutin", meaning nothing, and even his strong personality was no match. My sisters would leap and cheer for her, would squeeze her tight and show her off, my Aunt would laugh and sit back and revel at the energy and beauty of young life. She was the spark to that side of my family, and she always will be.
It's fitting that we all wear pink and purple to the funeral. I too, even thought I cannot make it, will make sure to wear my pink tie that day, for Cassie. We will be the pink and purple members of the princess' court that day, and I will be honored to take part, even from so far away.
There is tremendous wisdom in youth, and Christ saw it, and I see it now.
June 22, 2007
Little Cassandra
Cassandra
The little firecracker
That makes my sisters and father bounce
We're praying for you, love
Hang on right there.
Aunt Debbie
Be strong
Life is forever dealing you setbacks
And this tragedy is no different
Be with my family tonight, Lord.
However you wish to take,
Be with us all
And make us one in you.
The boy who I helped baptize
Has shook us all
And crying right now is not the half of it.
The little firecracker
That makes my sisters and father bounce
We're praying for you, love
Hang on right there.
Aunt Debbie
Be strong
Life is forever dealing you setbacks
And this tragedy is no different
Be with my family tonight, Lord.
However you wish to take,
Be with us all
And make us one in you.
The boy who I helped baptize
Has shook us all
And crying right now is not the half of it.
June 20, 2007
When you bend it, you break it, it's gone
So I didn't get my promotion.
::punch in the gut::
Not because I didn't do well.
Because I just haven't worked here long enough.
I was a "superstar" in the interviews, I was told.
And, in the end, I've lost nothing.
But I feel so disappointed.
It is certainly bringing out other things.
Now, I might not be able to go home.
I don't think I'm going anyways, now that I think about it.
Must have been karma.
Must have done something.
A cloud has just covered me
And into the depths I go yet again.
And for the record, I am not bitching
And fuck you if you want to label me as dramatic
I care so much about what I do
Who I do it with
And where I do it at
That when disappointment strikes
My spirit breaks a bit.
Don't blow me off
Or write me off
Or dumb me down
To be a glorified actor.
You'd be dead wrong.
I have Wrath
My most glaring deadly sin
And it can take hold of me so quickly
And so completely
And leave no one in its path
But don't. Don't do that.
I have layers like an onion
A raw, stinging onion
That awaits cooking use
And if you cannot see that
Then we are now done with this post.
::punch in the gut::
Not because I didn't do well.
Because I just haven't worked here long enough.
I was a "superstar" in the interviews, I was told.
And, in the end, I've lost nothing.
But I feel so disappointed.
It is certainly bringing out other things.
Now, I might not be able to go home.
I don't think I'm going anyways, now that I think about it.
Must have been karma.
Must have done something.
A cloud has just covered me
And into the depths I go yet again.
And for the record, I am not bitching
And fuck you if you want to label me as dramatic
I care so much about what I do
Who I do it with
And where I do it at
That when disappointment strikes
My spirit breaks a bit.
Don't blow me off
Or write me off
Or dumb me down
To be a glorified actor.
You'd be dead wrong.
I have Wrath
My most glaring deadly sin
And it can take hold of me so quickly
And so completely
And leave no one in its path
But don't. Don't do that.
I have layers like an onion
A raw, stinging onion
That awaits cooking use
And if you cannot see that
Then we are now done with this post.
June 19, 2007
My favourite scene...
Me and Sean Conrad acted this out
in Sophomore English class for a project.
The great Dane, cunning and sarcastic
He makes an ass out of his would-be father-in-law
Enter HAMLET, reading.
LORD POLONIUS
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
HAMLET
Well, God-a-mercy.
LORD POLONIUS
Do you know me, my lord?
HAMLET
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
LORD POLONIUS
Not I, my lord.
HAMLET
Then I would you were so honest a man.
LORD POLONIUS
Honest, my lord!
HAMLET
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
LORD POLONIUS
That's very true, my lord.
HAMLET
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?
LORD POLONIUS
I have, my lord.
HAMLET
Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to 't.
LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord?
HAMLET
Words, words, words.
LORD POLONIUS
What is the matter, my lord?
HAMLET
Between who?
LORD POLONIUS
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
HAMLET
Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.
LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
HAMLET
Into my grave.
LORD POLONIUS
Indeed, that is out o' the air.
[Aside] How pregnant sometimes his replies are!
A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
HAMLET
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal:
except my life, except my life, except my life.
LORD POLONIUS
Fare you well, my lord.
HAMLET
These tedious old fools!
in Sophomore English class for a project.
The great Dane, cunning and sarcastic
He makes an ass out of his would-be father-in-law
Enter HAMLET, reading.
LORD POLONIUS
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
HAMLET
Well, God-a-mercy.
LORD POLONIUS
Do you know me, my lord?
HAMLET
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
LORD POLONIUS
Not I, my lord.
HAMLET
Then I would you were so honest a man.
LORD POLONIUS
Honest, my lord!
HAMLET
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
LORD POLONIUS
That's very true, my lord.
HAMLET
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?
LORD POLONIUS
I have, my lord.
HAMLET
Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to 't.
LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord?
HAMLET
Words, words, words.
LORD POLONIUS
What is the matter, my lord?
HAMLET
Between who?
LORD POLONIUS
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
HAMLET
Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.
LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
HAMLET
Into my grave.
LORD POLONIUS
Indeed, that is out o' the air.
[Aside] How pregnant sometimes his replies are!
A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
HAMLET
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal:
except my life, except my life, except my life.
LORD POLONIUS
Fare you well, my lord.
HAMLET
These tedious old fools!
June 18, 2007
Kings will kill kings, and marry their Queens
My stomach is finally settled. BURP. I drank too much; I got sick on Saturday night. But that's neither here nor there...
Friday was reminiscent of how my days were a few months ago. Jay was home working and seeing his family, Vinny was out to dinner with someone, and Elliot was working I believe, so I had the house to myself. I remember how I used to have that every night when Ryan still lived with us, and at first I cherished it, but it began to weigh on me.
Well, I welcomed the solitude for once. I was invited out to see Maria and Carolyn, but I was already down to boxers and a t-shirt, eating some chicken and watching baseball when she called. Another time for sure.
My time alone was wonderful, watching baseball and studying the game as usual. No other sport can attract both casual fans and "student" fans. I'm a student, and I love to see stats, match-ups, tension, and drama play out on the field. The Yankees lost 2-0 on Friday night to the Mets, and although they lost, it was great to see an entire game. That's the beauty about baseball. The Yankees lose to their cross-town rivals, and everyone just says, "eh, get em next time" and heads home. There are no tears, no screams, no boos, just a feeling that it's a long season, and sometimes you take your lumps, sometimes you give the lumps. It's a great way to view life. Every loss is not a cause for concern, unless the losses start piling up. Every win isn't meant to be jubilant, unless the wins start piling up. Then, in the end, the sum of our consistent efforts is what translates into victory or defeat. The way school works, with all the quizzes, papers, tests, projects, and so on. The way a marathon works, one foot in front of the other, 25+ miles.
After the game, I decided I would go lay down for the night, with it still early, because I knew full well that tomorrow would be a long day. When I sat in bed, I accidentally click on my blog when trying to log into myspace or something, and my last post came up. I read through it, and had an almost out-of-body experience. Often times I will re-read words or lines I have written, and they almost seem to be from the mind of someone else. I never quite know why my soul chooses the words that it does, and I think when I am in a logical, normal mode, like right now, my mind is speaking. But, when I wash away all the muck, and let the soul speak, I see and read things I wasn't sure I was capable of articulating.
For example, I wrote, in reference to my feelings of loss and being let down: "Hamlet to Ophelia: Adieu, adieu." In context, it made perfect sense. Hamlet is the most compelling and intriguing character I have ever encountered in literature. The stakes for him could not be higher - a recently dead father-king, an uncle marrying a recently-widowed mother-queen, and a ghost commanding him to "avenge me." He is betrothed to Ophelia, daughter to Polonius, a court advisor. Hamlet suspects his uncle has killed his father, and then charmed his mother in order to become king. He feigns madness (if you ask me), and casts aside all others in his attempt to get revenge.
Hamlet's relationship with Ophelia is one that particularly always interested me. While pretending to be insane, he pushes her away; he calls her names, shoves her, and makes her incredibly uncomfortable. Then, after an unfortunate accident, he accidentally kills Polonius, her father. Ophelia then goes insane from this, and kills herself out of grief. She lost everything, including herself. Hamlet pushed her away, on purpose; he removed her from his love and affections.
Looking at things from Hamlet's perspective, there were so very many factors that were weighing on him. He had the immense grief of suddenly losing his father, coupled with the frightening and sobering request of the spirit to "avenge me." He had intense anger at his mother for not mourning her husband long enough, and quickly marrying his brother. He had recurring thoughts of suicide, which is where the "To be or not to be? That is the question." speech came from. His childhood friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, were trying to murder him, and his future father-in-law, Polonius, worked for his uncle and was a royal pain in his side. All this swirling around his head, his room, his life, his sleep, his soul.
And then there was Ophelia. The little flower that loved him. The one source of true love and concern in his life. His one opportunity to feel alive again, to feel something again. Hamlet becomes an animal before our eyes, and his one chance to turn back, if you ask me, was in staying with Ophelia. Hamlet slaved over this, until finally deciding he would end his times with her, as it oft made him lose focus on what he felt needed to be done. He called her a whore, screaming "Get thee to a nunnery!" and scared her sick. Polonius was trying to use her with him, and he realized it, and needed to cut her off.
Now, that is remarkable. Standing in the face of all that, Hamlet even turns away romantic love. Not even his heart is worth saving, and he shuts it down. That is where I can begin to relate. I have never lost someone so dear to me so suddenly, and my heart goes out to those who have. I can only speculate on what that must do to your feelings and mind and body. But I do know what it is like to deny someone your affections, despite your inner-workings wanting otherwise. I know what it is like to feel tricked by someone you loved, as Hamlet did with Ophelia, and feeling the wrath associated with it. It makes you a cold, calculating animal. You want to feel nothing, and you want to build a massive wall, so your bleeding stops and you keep any new information from getting in. You say adieu, not bon voyage. Adieu, out of frustration, longing, anger, and sobering clarity.
There is another facet to this I think. It is more a jealous feeling than anything. There are certain people who have a knack, not that much different than the way I have a *knack* for solving problems with electronics, for being in love. They go from one, to another, to another, to another, blowing through people, cherishing every moment, and getting drunk or high from whatever it is that love does to us. You know what I mean; this is not just some girl who finds her flavor-of-the-night when out, or a guy who hooks up all the time. I'm talking about the people who have 7 6-month relationships in a row, dating back to sophomore year in high school, or the ones that always are on the cusp of seeing someone new, because she seems so exotic, wild, or grounded and normal for once. I don't really understand it - is there a love receptor that they are especially biologically attuned to? Do they just get lucky that many times?
I have been in love twice in my life. For two distinct periods, no more than 14 months at a time. I have much to show from those two times, and I cherish them no matter how they worked out or ended. They are times I fall back on when I feel no love, and those people, ironically enough, are still a big part of my life. The love never leaves you, you know?
But what is frustrating is how so many people blow through others like Hamlet's mother. They mourn a relationship for a moment, and jump at the next thing that comes forward. Good for them, right? Way to get back on the horse, eh? Just because I haven't had that good fortune, doesn't mean I should get pissed at those who have, ya know?
Yeah I know, I get it. And I cannot just neatly put someone away and stop feeling. I cannot pour myself into someone new without living out the one before. It fucks me up too much. I doubt myself, my spirits, and who I am as a man before I can ever let someone new in. And I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around the people who can do that with new people. I admire you, and wish I had what you have. I get tastes of love every now and then, and I get all excited and anxious for it to take hold, and then I'm left there as the bus leaves. "Head in my hands, here I am standing in my bare feet / watching you drive away, watching you drive away."
Hamlet has shown me a way that I can deal. I have to turn to ice, to completely shut down. To guard myself ferociously until that hurt goes away. It feels like a caged animal, more a golden retriever, who wants to lick everyone's face, but can't get out of his pen. You say adieu, you must say adieu.
So love is lost on me, and maybe always will. I've yet to meet someone willing to give what I want to give, at the amount I do and expect. I wonder if there is such a person.
And in this very notion, I began to play my guitar in my room, and a song came out. Based on Hamlet, based on me, feeling the depth that comes from a soul speaking, not a mind. It felt GOOD. REALLY GOOD.
I went to bed on Friday feeling numb, but comforted in my new addition to my repertoire.
Saturday was good, with rehearsal, the show, good friends, and getting sick on the way home. We played excellently, and Zuppe came up to play bass with me, which meant so much. I felt respected by him; I felt I was part of the scene here. He's a tough sell, and he was itching to play on stage with me. It was wonderful. Maia Davies was wonderful, all the way from Quebec. I was so sorry I missed her show on Sunday too. But I suspect we will cross paths again soon.
Sunday was golf and relaxation, once I calmed down about playing terribly. But, my spirits were up and it was a nice day to hang out with Vinny and laugh. My friends make my life so beautiful, so wonderful, in their own way.
Wow, this is long. But I can go on and on about Shakespeare, most especially Hamlet. It feels good to articulate that all for myself, and for others it may ring true with as well.
Adieu.
Friday was reminiscent of how my days were a few months ago. Jay was home working and seeing his family, Vinny was out to dinner with someone, and Elliot was working I believe, so I had the house to myself. I remember how I used to have that every night when Ryan still lived with us, and at first I cherished it, but it began to weigh on me.
Well, I welcomed the solitude for once. I was invited out to see Maria and Carolyn, but I was already down to boxers and a t-shirt, eating some chicken and watching baseball when she called. Another time for sure.
My time alone was wonderful, watching baseball and studying the game as usual. No other sport can attract both casual fans and "student" fans. I'm a student, and I love to see stats, match-ups, tension, and drama play out on the field. The Yankees lost 2-0 on Friday night to the Mets, and although they lost, it was great to see an entire game. That's the beauty about baseball. The Yankees lose to their cross-town rivals, and everyone just says, "eh, get em next time" and heads home. There are no tears, no screams, no boos, just a feeling that it's a long season, and sometimes you take your lumps, sometimes you give the lumps. It's a great way to view life. Every loss is not a cause for concern, unless the losses start piling up. Every win isn't meant to be jubilant, unless the wins start piling up. Then, in the end, the sum of our consistent efforts is what translates into victory or defeat. The way school works, with all the quizzes, papers, tests, projects, and so on. The way a marathon works, one foot in front of the other, 25+ miles.
After the game, I decided I would go lay down for the night, with it still early, because I knew full well that tomorrow would be a long day. When I sat in bed, I accidentally click on my blog when trying to log into myspace or something, and my last post came up. I read through it, and had an almost out-of-body experience. Often times I will re-read words or lines I have written, and they almost seem to be from the mind of someone else. I never quite know why my soul chooses the words that it does, and I think when I am in a logical, normal mode, like right now, my mind is speaking. But, when I wash away all the muck, and let the soul speak, I see and read things I wasn't sure I was capable of articulating.
For example, I wrote, in reference to my feelings of loss and being let down: "Hamlet to Ophelia: Adieu, adieu." In context, it made perfect sense. Hamlet is the most compelling and intriguing character I have ever encountered in literature. The stakes for him could not be higher - a recently dead father-king, an uncle marrying a recently-widowed mother-queen, and a ghost commanding him to "avenge me." He is betrothed to Ophelia, daughter to Polonius, a court advisor. Hamlet suspects his uncle has killed his father, and then charmed his mother in order to become king. He feigns madness (if you ask me), and casts aside all others in his attempt to get revenge.
Hamlet's relationship with Ophelia is one that particularly always interested me. While pretending to be insane, he pushes her away; he calls her names, shoves her, and makes her incredibly uncomfortable. Then, after an unfortunate accident, he accidentally kills Polonius, her father. Ophelia then goes insane from this, and kills herself out of grief. She lost everything, including herself. Hamlet pushed her away, on purpose; he removed her from his love and affections.
Looking at things from Hamlet's perspective, there were so very many factors that were weighing on him. He had the immense grief of suddenly losing his father, coupled with the frightening and sobering request of the spirit to "avenge me." He had intense anger at his mother for not mourning her husband long enough, and quickly marrying his brother. He had recurring thoughts of suicide, which is where the "To be or not to be? That is the question." speech came from. His childhood friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, were trying to murder him, and his future father-in-law, Polonius, worked for his uncle and was a royal pain in his side. All this swirling around his head, his room, his life, his sleep, his soul.
And then there was Ophelia. The little flower that loved him. The one source of true love and concern in his life. His one opportunity to feel alive again, to feel something again. Hamlet becomes an animal before our eyes, and his one chance to turn back, if you ask me, was in staying with Ophelia. Hamlet slaved over this, until finally deciding he would end his times with her, as it oft made him lose focus on what he felt needed to be done. He called her a whore, screaming "Get thee to a nunnery!" and scared her sick. Polonius was trying to use her with him, and he realized it, and needed to cut her off.
Now, that is remarkable. Standing in the face of all that, Hamlet even turns away romantic love. Not even his heart is worth saving, and he shuts it down. That is where I can begin to relate. I have never lost someone so dear to me so suddenly, and my heart goes out to those who have. I can only speculate on what that must do to your feelings and mind and body. But I do know what it is like to deny someone your affections, despite your inner-workings wanting otherwise. I know what it is like to feel tricked by someone you loved, as Hamlet did with Ophelia, and feeling the wrath associated with it. It makes you a cold, calculating animal. You want to feel nothing, and you want to build a massive wall, so your bleeding stops and you keep any new information from getting in. You say adieu, not bon voyage. Adieu, out of frustration, longing, anger, and sobering clarity.
There is another facet to this I think. It is more a jealous feeling than anything. There are certain people who have a knack, not that much different than the way I have a *knack* for solving problems with electronics, for being in love. They go from one, to another, to another, to another, blowing through people, cherishing every moment, and getting drunk or high from whatever it is that love does to us. You know what I mean; this is not just some girl who finds her flavor-of-the-night when out, or a guy who hooks up all the time. I'm talking about the people who have 7 6-month relationships in a row, dating back to sophomore year in high school, or the ones that always are on the cusp of seeing someone new, because she seems so exotic, wild, or grounded and normal for once. I don't really understand it - is there a love receptor that they are especially biologically attuned to? Do they just get lucky that many times?
I have been in love twice in my life. For two distinct periods, no more than 14 months at a time. I have much to show from those two times, and I cherish them no matter how they worked out or ended. They are times I fall back on when I feel no love, and those people, ironically enough, are still a big part of my life. The love never leaves you, you know?
But what is frustrating is how so many people blow through others like Hamlet's mother. They mourn a relationship for a moment, and jump at the next thing that comes forward. Good for them, right? Way to get back on the horse, eh? Just because I haven't had that good fortune, doesn't mean I should get pissed at those who have, ya know?
Yeah I know, I get it. And I cannot just neatly put someone away and stop feeling. I cannot pour myself into someone new without living out the one before. It fucks me up too much. I doubt myself, my spirits, and who I am as a man before I can ever let someone new in. And I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around the people who can do that with new people. I admire you, and wish I had what you have. I get tastes of love every now and then, and I get all excited and anxious for it to take hold, and then I'm left there as the bus leaves. "Head in my hands, here I am standing in my bare feet / watching you drive away, watching you drive away."
Hamlet has shown me a way that I can deal. I have to turn to ice, to completely shut down. To guard myself ferociously until that hurt goes away. It feels like a caged animal, more a golden retriever, who wants to lick everyone's face, but can't get out of his pen. You say adieu, you must say adieu.
So love is lost on me, and maybe always will. I've yet to meet someone willing to give what I want to give, at the amount I do and expect. I wonder if there is such a person.
And in this very notion, I began to play my guitar in my room, and a song came out. Based on Hamlet, based on me, feeling the depth that comes from a soul speaking, not a mind. It felt GOOD. REALLY GOOD.
I went to bed on Friday feeling numb, but comforted in my new addition to my repertoire.
Saturday was good, with rehearsal, the show, good friends, and getting sick on the way home. We played excellently, and Zuppe came up to play bass with me, which meant so much. I felt respected by him; I felt I was part of the scene here. He's a tough sell, and he was itching to play on stage with me. It was wonderful. Maia Davies was wonderful, all the way from Quebec. I was so sorry I missed her show on Sunday too. But I suspect we will cross paths again soon.
Sunday was golf and relaxation, once I calmed down about playing terribly. But, my spirits were up and it was a nice day to hang out with Vinny and laugh. My friends make my life so beautiful, so wonderful, in their own way.
Wow, this is long. But I can go on and on about Shakespeare, most especially Hamlet. It feels good to articulate that all for myself, and for others it may ring true with as well.
Adieu.
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