Posts Tagged: Shakespeare

Where The Wild Things Are

Living In Harmony With (My) Nature “As you set out on the way to Ithaca hope that the road is a long one, filled with adventures, filled with understanding. The Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes, Poseidon in his anger: do not

Where The Wild Things Are

Living In Harmony With (My) Nature “As you set out on the way to Ithaca hope that the road is a long one, filled with adventures, filled with understanding. The Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes, Poseidon in his anger: do not

On Doing and Everythingness

Did Shakespeare invent “The Grind?” New to New York (as a resident), a friend and I did the very New York thing of attending a Free Shakespeare In The Park performance two weeks ago. The play running is Troilus and Cressida. Yes, one of the so called “problem plays” is not deemed as such without reason, given its rather dodgy pacing. As we are each fecund to seed we need, between extended blinks during the performance, the theme that struck me was in this play of slow action, ironically, that of the folly of inaction. The Greeks and the Trojans are at war. It’s that damn Helen’s fault. Achilles (his renowned heel and all), the great Greek warrior, refuses to fight and would rather shack up in pederasty or whatever with Patroclus. He’s great, he doesn’t need to do anything. But what is a warrior who is not warring? (Or as Lumiere sang in Beauty and The Beast: “life’s so unnerving for a servant who is not serving”). What is a warrior in waiting? There is no doubt this lightly explored concept struck me because of my own recent literary inaction. Who is a writer who is not writing?

On Doing and Everythingness

Did Shakespeare invent “The Grind?” New to New York (as a resident), a friend and I did the very New York thing of attending a Free Shakespeare In The Park performance two weeks ago. The play running is Troilus and Cressida. Yes, one of the so called “problem plays” is not deemed as such without reason, given its rather dodgy pacing. As we are each fecund to seed we need, between extended blinks during the performance, the theme that struck me was in this play of slow action, ironically, that of the folly of inaction. The Greeks and the Trojans are at war. It’s that damn Helen’s fault. Achilles (his renowned heel and all), the great Greek warrior, refuses to fight and would rather shack up in pederasty or whatever with Patroclus. He’s great, he doesn’t need to do anything. But what is a warrior who is not warring? (Or as Lumiere sang in Beauty and The Beast: “life’s so unnerving for a servant who is not serving”). What is a warrior in waiting? There is no doubt this lightly explored concept struck me because of my own recent literary inaction. Who is a writer who is not writing?