There!

A very happy birthday Jymn! Sacrificial remains make it hard to forget.

#116

Recently Dennis and I did a piece at a little Shakespeare event, where he performed a musical setting of Sonnet 116 and then I gave a midrash. In case you forget, here's how Sonnet 116 goes:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
     If this be error and upon me proved,
     I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


And this is what I read, while Dennis backed me up on guitar:

I love that this sonnet about the permanence of love is by the man whose characters are so divinely fluid, whose stories are full of mistaken identities, twins, and men who don’t realize that the boy they like so well is the woman they will marry. That’s comedy, isn’t it, not “the marriage of true minds.”  Ha ha ha. 

Let me be clear. In this sonnet he’s not saying that lovers never change, but that love itself is “ever-fixed,” that it’s “a star to every bark.” Love, we’re told, is not Time’s fool. It’s not a clown, it’s not a chump, it’s not a comedian.  

Let me play the Fool here a bit myself. You may remember that in the plays, the Fool is the character who is allowed to mock the wise. His fooling shows them their own folly. The powerful tolerate him or ignore him; the cleverer or more cynical characters see the wisdom in his folly.  Well that, I think, is what Love does to Time: it mocks the Great King even as it bows to him, keeping for itself, at least for a moment, the pleasures that Time and Death cannot reach.  In that way, maybe Love is Time’s loving Fool.

Think of the most loving and lovable Fool in the plays, the Fool in King Lear. He taunts the King and he teases him; he offers Lear his fool’s hat to wear, and he says that he and Lear together are the sweet fool and the bitter fool. He also follows him into the fierce, raging storm; as in the sonnet, he “bears it out even to the edge of doom.”  To the edge but not beyond, since the Fool famously disappears after that scene. 

In a strange way, in the way of words, the Fool returns at the very end of the play, just before Lear himself dies, when he calls Cordelia, “my poor fool.”  When he hears that Cordelia is dead, he says:   

“And my poor fool is hanged: no, no, no life

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more

Never, never, never, never, never.”

The moment when he finally acknowledges his love for his “poor fool” is the moment of no no no and never never never never, the moment of death.

Some people say this reappearance of the Fool, a reappearance in name at least, was an inside joke, since Cordelia and the Fool might have been played by the same actor.  Some say that they are actually the same person.  I don’t know about that, but it does befit Love, Time’s Fool, to say to the King, the Father, to Time itself with his bending sickle, as Cordelia does say, “I love your majesty according to my bond, nothing more, nothing less,” which is to say, only infinitely.  That is the bond of love that does not “alter when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove,”  as the sonnet has it. That’s the love that “bears it out even to the edge of doom” and maybe in this case beyond. 

And just to play the Fool a bit further: Perhaps Love has its own Fool, the joker that tries to kid Love, and in the end outlasts love. I mean poetry, I mean these sonnets.  After the lover and the beloved are both gone, after Love itself may have left the stage, the poems stay on to tell the story, like Fortinbras at the end of Hamlet. 

Touchstone, the fool in As You Like It says that, “the truest poetry is the most feigning” but he’s fooling, right? If love is changeable and fickle, why then, the sonnet tells us, Shakespeare never wrote. So tell me, who’s fooling whom?

Happy birthday Johny!

Raising an imaginary cup to my lips, to your health!

Jolly's at home everywhere

Please remind me: what rhymes with "forage"?

Mysteriously, unbidden, "Believe You Me" came to me this evening after a light supper, while I was eating chocolate ice cream.

Another Spring

I do not wish the days were longer
Nor that the sunshine should be stronger
I don’t need to hear the robin sing
Oh, I don’t think that I could bear
The scent of jasmine in the air
No, I could not stand another spring

I don’t want first paperwhites
Or to see children flying kites
Old-fashioned paper ones, with string
And if I heard a tree frog peep
I think that I would start to weep
No, I could not stand another spring

The tiny buds
On willow trees
Do not even
Mention these
The budding in
My tender heart
Can’t be allowed
To even start

Don’t let the sleeping earth awake
I am not ready for the ache
I don’t want to feel the sunshine’s sting
Please don’t ask me then to care
I’d rather sleep here in my lair
Oh no, I could not bear another spring

Flag Half Mast: Overture

I heard the news
Read the story
Lower Old Glory:
Flag half mast

From my house
I didn’t hear the shot
But doubt it not:
Flag half mast

So much fear
So much rage
Untended bodies
Left on-stage

And mine the shame
Mine the debt
I won’t forget:
Flag half mast

Flag Half Mast 1: The Day the Brownshirts Came To Town

The day the Brownshirts came to town, all us boys ran to watch them as soon as school let out. Some of the kids even snuck out early. We were all crazy about their uniforms and we loved the way they marched. They weren’t smiling but we could tell they were on our side, that they were the good guys. And they had guns, real guns, right out on display. Some of the kids knew what kind they were, like, “That’s a Luger,” or whatever. We all wanted to have guns like that. And the girls, they all giggled and waved at the Brownshirts who never waved back of course and we boys hated it, the girls just being dumb girls.

I stayed for some of the rally. It wasn’t that interesting and the music was stupid and there were lots of speeches, but we were happy to be there and see those guys with their uniforms and guns, When I got home little late for dinner and told them where I’d been. Grandma said, “Good for them! They’ll keep us safe.” Dad folded the paper he’d been reading and said, “It’s just trouble. Who needs all this trouble.”  Uncle Louie wasn’t at his place and I asked Mom where he was. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, well he had to go away for a little bit. He’ll be back in a while.” Uncle Louie was always doing weird things like that.

When I finished I asked to be excused. I wanted to run out and play with the guys. I said to Mom, “This is all for TV, right?  I mean, it’s not real is it?” Mom gave me a big hug, maybe a little bigger than I like, and she said, “Run out and play, just be back before it’s dark, OK?” and I went out to play Brownshirts with the guys.

Song: I Saw It On TV

Everyone cheered

Everyone hip-hoorayed

The pomp and pageantry

Yes, everyone cheered

The soldiers on parade

I saw it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

They told us they’d build

A new glorious arch

And burn down the library

They told us each week

We’d have a glorious march

We’d see it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

This must be

Reality

We saw it on TV

Flag Half Mast 2: "The Partisans"

I saw a movie on TV last night, or I guess just saw part of one since I fell asleep, about a village under occupation.  First there’s the hero, although when you first see him you don’t know he’s the hero but you do, because he’s handsome and his hair looks nice. He’s down in the village. Up in the hills, the partisans are preparing for some kind of guerilla insurgency. They’re all sort of dark and grim-looking but super-noble, except the one funny guy, the joker who drinks too much who’s dark but not grim.  Back down in the village, there’s the bad girl who wears va-va-va-voom eyeliner and hats with feathers. She is sleeping with the head of the occupying forces. Then there’s the mayor who is utterly corrupt and the simple sweet farm girl with suspiciously beautiful teeth for a peasant.

In the hills, bodies were found with their throats cut. The mayor crumples up a piece of paper he’s holding and says, “These partisans must be stopped!  They are animals!” Poison pen letters have been appearing throughout the village and rumors are spreading and mistrust is building. The beautiful farm girl is accused of aiding the partisans and her head is shaved and it’s implied that she’s raped.

I must have fallen asleep for a while, because the next thing I remember is that the soldiers are all at this farmhouse, although inside it looks my grandma’s house, and they are about to take away the hero who has of course hooked up with the beautiful farm girl, still beautiful even though she’s had her head shaved. The bad girl with the great hats dives in front of a bullet, allowing the hero to escape and redeeming herself in death. The hero is going to do the only thing he can do now, go up into the hills with the partisans and fight the good fight.  The beautiful farm girl weeps and wants to go too and he valiantly makes her stay. She has beautiful, tragic, glycerin tears in her eyes.  Everyone is gone except a couple of dark, older, noble-looking villagers, and one of them says, he says it right to me, “We don’t want to be remembered, we only want to disappear into the shadows once we are victorious.” That was my favorite part, it almost seemed like it came from a different movie. “The wind will blow us all away,” he says, “and we’ll be forgotten. That’s all we ask.” There should have been music there, but there wasn’t any. I fell asleep again after that.

Song: The Anthem of the Partisans

They may spray us with tear gas

They may put us in jail

The strength of our arms may sometimes fail

But the struggle itself will go, on my friends

The struggle itself will prevail

The light may be fading

And we can’t see the flame

Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim

But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

The struggle goes on all the same

We may compromise

Or join the enemy

We may prefer comfort to a life that’s free

 But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

 This struggle is bigger than you and me.

Flag Half Mast 3: Angry White Male

Once upon a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, I was king of this town and everybody knew it.  I could do whatever I wanted, I could shit on this place if I wanted to, because I was king.  Listen, I could get on any city bus and snap my fingers and someone would give me a seat, because they knew they had to.  Me and the guys, we’d do a couple of lines of itching power and Kaopectate and go out to the dance clubs and just beat our heads to the stupidest music you imagine, I mean it was really dumb, but no one could say a thing. And people couldn’t see us, they couldn’t hear our music, but also they had to see us, they had to hear the music, because we were so angry and the music was so dumb. So dumb and so loud.

Now everybody tells me, just stand in line, go suck your thumb, wait your turn. I should be able to grab whatever I want to, and they say just listen to Mother, we’ll get everything straightened out. I’ve been waiting my whole life.  How many people have better things than me, they’re not better than me, and they didn’t even wait their turn and the best anyone can come up with is be patient, listen to the grown-ups, things’ll get better if we all follow the rules. If we all follow their rules, that’s all they mean.  It’s just like everything these days: society tells you what to care about, what to think.

I remember those beautiful boys in their uniforms, and those coked-up swastika girls, they had bad perms and wore braces, but they were the most beautiful girls anyone had ever seen. They dressed up like Nazis but they weren’t really Nazis, they weren’t going to kill anyone, but they could, that’s the thing. They were beautiful and powerful and they could do whatever they wanted. If someone told us it was bad, if your mom and dad hated it, then we wanted it, we would do it and no one could stop us. But nowadays the girls—I don’t know what happened, but all the girls I used to know are fat now, and they talk too much and the girls who do matter, the ones who should be listening to me now, they don’t care.  It’s not like it used to be, things have changed, but I’m still the same. I’m still pissed off.  You can’t see me, you still can’t hear me, but I’m still pissed off.

 

Song: Democracy Has Failed!

Democracy, my friends, is a joke
It’s a bag of greasy donuts and a 40-ounce Coke
It’s Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian
Underwear worn as fash-i-on

We had a mighty ship of state
But now that ship has sailed
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

The people, friends, are a beast
For facts they care not in the least
Life’s a matter of team sports
The color of your cap and the color of your shorts

We can no longer fool ourselves
The truth has been unveiled
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

Letting the people decide is always a mistake
They’ll gorge themselves on grocery-store cake
The kind with cheap Crisco icing
Available for you at cut-rate pricing

We’re holding our breath, awaiting the worst
It’s time we just exhaled
Take a look around, you fools
Democracy has failed

Flag Half Mast 4: Twilight's Last Dreaming

I like to watch TV. I like sitting on the couch in the dark and watching. I like older TV shows especially. Like Ralph Kramden: he yells a lot and he threatens to hit his wife, but you know he won’t. He can’t. I mean, that’s the joke.  Or Archie Bunker: he’s a bigot and racist, but you like him. You feel bad for him. But now TV is different, or maybe it’s real life that’s different. Like, reality TV, it’s not real except then it becomes real.  What would it be like to be young now, and instead of seeing stuff on TV that you’d seen in real life, seeing stuff in real life that you’d seen on TV? The world is just a projection of your imagination, fantasy is reality, how great is that?  Except that what most people fantasize about is stupid and selfish, just about power and sex and always coming in first. Why be Fay Wray when you can be King Kong. Why be either when you can be both.

I don’t know what will happen now to people who like to lie on the couch in the dark and watch.  Will we just be taken advantage of, ignored, left in the darkness? I guess the story everyone wants is that we stand up and go into the hills to join the good guys. Whoever they are. Sign up for a team, wear the team colors and wave the team flag.  I hate all that stuff, I hate team sports, I don’t want to be on anybody’s team.

That reminds me of a dream I had the other night. In the dream I was asleep, or anyway I woke up and there was a huge fire, it wasn’t just my house, everything was on fire and I was trying to find my way out but it was so smoky, and then it was all flames, I couldn’t run anywhere I was just trapped.    Then somehow the fire stopped, I guess it was later, I was still in the same place but everything had burned down and there was nothing standing any more except the beams of the house and the fireplace. I wasn’t inside or outside anymore, everything was burned down and smoldering and covered with ash.  Flying from the beams of the house were all these flags, just at shoulder height and covered with ash.  It was almost dark but there was just a little blue light coming from somewhere. I stood there, I didn’t know what to do, and I realized that there was something in the house still, this is the weird part, I mean there wasn’t even a house left but there was something, it was like a spirit or a ghost, there was something still there, we’d forgotten or didn’t even know it was there before but now it was the only thing left, and I thought…I felt like crying, but I thought, if ever there was a moment for singing…I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream. 

Song:  Partisans (reprise)

The light may be fading
And we can’t see the flame
Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim
But the struggle itself will go on, my friends
The struggle goes on all the same

Today’s Verse: 17 February 2019

I like how you make

Words superfluous

Talk anyway

Cause you’re mellifluous

So am I

I like how you rend

Me unnecessary 

Love anyway

You’re not in a hurry

Neither am I

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your sleep

Be your rest

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your dream

Be your death

I wish I was

A happy bed

I’d never rise

I’d never set

I’d never let

The world depress me

Fuck me up

Or upset me

I wish I was

A happy bed

Today’s Verse: 15 February 2019

It is great

To be alive

Stolen moment

Secret smile

Today’s Verse: 9 February 2019

I find it hard to sympathise
With conditions of suffering
I will never know
Unknown diseases with
Sad complications
Names like Latin,
Not really though
Or endless wealth
Eternal life
Sex appeal
And it’s endowments
Memory
That’s photographic
Brilliant wit
That cuts like a knife

Movies try
But don’t succeed
(I don’t think
They really want to)
Make me feel
He’s really sad
To live forever drinking
Blood like sex
Or she’s real unhappy
With her drugs
He can’t find love
Cause his cock
Is too big
And his smile
Is too nice
She remembers the name
Of everybody she’s met
While he cracks a joke
That cracks everyone up

So when they get it
In the end
Betrayed by everyone
Left in the dark
To moan
Stabbed, crushed, and dropped
Ignored, condemned, forgotten
Oh well I say
And wander home

Today’s Verse: 6 February 2019

Who gives a shit’s

Sad rejoinder

You’d submit

I’d employ her

Dick goes here

There’s the hole

Light ignited

You have scored

Who gives a shit

How many times

You express

Your suicide

Any night

Any venue

It doesn’t matter

But if you can you

Find somebody

To absolve me

Exonerate and 

Corroborate me

Who gives a shit

That I love you

I can’t be me

Not thinking of you

Who gives a shit

And who can say

Why go on talking

Another day

 

Today’s Verse: 25 January 2019

I’m not who you think I am
I’m not a quiet, little man
Little in the p and l
The p and l that goes to hell
I’m not who you think I am

You’re not who you think you are
You’re not a brilliant superstar
A star that shines so proud and bright
So proud and bright provokes the night
You’re not who you think you are

We’re not who you think we are
Think we’re going way too far
Way too far to get ahead
Get ahead to go to bed
We’re not who you think we are

This Song’s All About Me

Everyone you see on the street

Everyone you know or meet

People who are going places

People going nowhere

Every person that you see

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

Everyday you see new people

Some are strong, some are feeble

People who are having fun

People who are having none

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Two people fucking

Two people fucking

Who would we be?

If not you and me?

Two people fucking

Everywhere you’ll meet somebody

Some you’ll like or maybe not

Somebody who will take you places

Someone who will take you down

Someone who just came to be

By two people fucking

BRIDGE

I like to spare a little thought 

For everyone who’s passed away

They’re getting bigger all the time

Because they never go away

Anyhow you think you’re special

You’re special just like everyone

Everyone who’s going places

Everyone going nowhere

Everyone who came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Repeat 1st verse

CHORUS

High and Wonderful

Hi Johny, not sure if this works for your current Jones project, but I think this rough song structure is very promising. Hope it helps.

I owe you a call

It’s been a long time since we spoke

And a lot has happened in between

Ha ha

Yeah a lot has happened to me

And to you?

I’d like to know how you are doing

Want to know that you’re alright

I want to tell you everything

Can’t figure where to start

Remember how we made an orgy

Surprised ourselves that people came

We looked each other in the face

Observed the border had been breached

(And we had breached it)

The wall twixt pure desire

and actuality

Well, my friend, that’s where I am now

Everything I want somehow comes to pass

Leaves me high and wonderful

Wondering how I got here and

What could possibly come next