Category: Poetry

Exaggerations of the Simple Stuff of Human Life

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Act 4, Scene 1 of William Shakespeare’s Macbeth, when the second witch says:

“By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.”

And Macbeth enters.  What a marvelous scene.  Witches, bloody ghosts and a demigod truly drained of his humanity.  A horror story in a stage play.  And then Ray Bradbury takes that line, “Something wicked this way comes” and makes it the title of his own American ghost story; the story of a haunted carnival.  Now what does Macbeth have to do with Bradbury?  Well, in both cases we have basically good people seduced by the devil.  Whether it’s Shakespeare’s witches or Bradbury’s Mr. Dark it is the story of men succumbing to the devil’s promise for their heart’s desire in exchange for their souls.

Macbeth wants the Scottish crown.  Bradbury’s Green Town denizens want various things.  Tom Fury and Mr. Crosetti succumb to lust.  Mr. Tetley wants money.  Miss Foley and Charles Halloway want their youth back.  Jim Nightshade wants to be older so he can indulge his various negative desires.  And for these things they risk becoming permanent prisoners of Mr. Dark and Mr. Cooger’s haunted carnival travelling the American continent in search of more souls to consume.

What a marvelous conceit.  An ancient locomotive from the Civil War era, arrives in small towns in the middle of the night and sniffs out the spiritually wounded inhabitants and lures them into the haunted attractions of the show.  If they wander into the house of mirrors, they will see their heart’s desire or their greatest fear.  Or they can follow the barker’s lure and enter the tent where the belly dancers expose their bodies for a silver dime.  And those that disappear are no longer recognizable as themselves and so cannot be rescued by any police force.

And redemption can only be had in Bradbury’s story if the devil is laughed out of town.  Laughter and happiness are the only cures for this evil.  The secret is to realize that life is not a tragedy.  Even at its worst, it is better than the alternative which is nothingness.  Pain and sadness and even death are a human story and in fact the only certainty in this world.  But it’s also still better than never existing.  Because no matter how sad and awful our existence, it’s still ours.  We get to feel it and react to it and maybe win a few rounds before we’re finally cornered and beaten by death.

So, the ride’s the thing.  That’s the lesson that Charles Halloway learns by the end of the story.  Even though he’s old and overwhelmed with trying to be the father of a young boy, that overwhelming challenge is his greatest opportunity to squeeze every bit of meaning and gusto out of what remains of his life.  And the boys get to see that fears and desires are exaggerations of the simple stuff of human life.  Lust and greed and fear are just the ingredients of life taken out of balance from their normal proportions and occasions.

I wonder who will take this theme up next?  Maybe I will, someday.

Donald the First

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William Shakespeare breathed life into Prince Hal and Marc Antony when he portrayed them in his plays.  He took some historical accounts and turned them into…?  Into what?  Well, into dramatic personae.  They joined Oedipus and Socrates and all the other characters that we know from the drama.  And not that the characters are historically accurate; they’re not.  They’re the invention of the playwright.  But they’re better than accurate.  They’re vivid.  Alive.  We know them.  We know them better than we know any real personalities from history or even the news of the day.  So, in a way they’re immortal.  Millions and millions of human beings have watched and heard and read the words spoken by Hamlet and Falstaff and Macbeth.  They’ve thought about the words, the intonation, the feelings the characters portrayed to understand what the characters were feeling and thinking.  This is a level of existence that otherwise only occurs for most people within the confines of their own family.  And in fact, rarely even there.  Which of us is so witty or profound or emotional that the day-to-day dialog we share with our spouses or children or friends does more than just bounce off of their consciousness?  It’s almost background noise in a way.  It’s only in moments of crisis or discussions about important matters that we choose our words carefully and fully listen to what is being said.

Outside of drama we rarely listen with our full attention to what people around us say.  Maybe during times of crisis.  I remember very clearly after September 11th 2001 that Bush gave a few very carful and important speeches and I remember that I was glad that his rhetoric wasn’t too flowery.  It was more about retribution and I was glad for it.  But that was an exception.  Most of what gets said by talking heads in the news goes in one ear and out the other and rightly so.

But it makes you think.

Who will be the next Shakespeare?  When will we get another dramatic poet of his stature?  And who will he write about?  I was thinking, “Will someone write a play called Josef Stalin or FDR or Donald Trump?”  It could happen.  These were men who defined their times.  If a great poet came along and breathed life into the character and made the story compelling future readers and viewers would be mesmerized by scenes where these characters mouthed the words that the author heard in his soul.

Of course, it might be a hundred years from now or even a couple of thousand.  Shakespeare’s closest foray into recent history was one of his last plays, “Henry the Eighth” and it was hardly in line with his greater works.  In fact, it’s doubtful he wrote most of it.  If an audience a thousand years from now watches (or however entertainment is sensed at that point) about Donald Trump it’s doubtful that the real Trump will shine through at all.  Only a comic genius, a futuristic Aristophanes could capture the bombast and swagger that “The Donald” provides in all of his speeches and interviews.  And if he did manage to capture that spirit would the audiences (especially the critics) reject it as too over the top and exaggerated?  They probably would.  But I’d go see the show on the first night.

And with Strange Aeons Even Death May Die

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“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.

In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,

And with strange aeons even death may die.”

 

After yesterday’s post I received several communications from readers outraged at the manner in which such a venerable and iconic entity as the First Selectman could be allowed to leave this continuum.  Many simply refused to believe the facts such as they are and hang onto hope that Cthulhu lives.  As the quotes above attest there is a tradition that Cthulhu can remain inert for literally billions of years and still reanimate and wreak a terrible vengeance on mankind when the stars align just right (or just wrong).

Well, I will not speculate at this point on the Great Old One’s chances of resuscitation.  As Hamlet very cleverly noted, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”  And if we add to heaven and earth the depths of hell, then we begin to list the span of infinities where knowledge of the First Selectman can be hiding.  And since I already miss the old villain a little bit, I’ll keep an open mind as to his chances of reintegration.  Let’s leave it there for now.

I have finally completed the herculean task to which I was yoked.  My spirit, such as it is, has rebounded measurably and I look around me to see the state of life in the here and now.  I note the same stale prattle about polls and bickering with the names Trump, Harris, Vance and Walz attached.  Frankly all of this is too tedious to even consider.  Let all of that stew for a while.

The summer wanes and school children are already frozen with existential dread at the approach of Labor Day.  But, this time of year is not without its charms.  I was forced to rise hideously early Tuesday morning and so I was out and about before 4:00 am when I happened to look up at the sky and was struck by the brightness of the stars and planets and their inspiring beauty.  If I had not been on an unavoidable mission, I might have stood there for a quarter hour and marveled at this arresting vision.  At that moment I was reminded of this aspect of reality and how these incomprehensible phenomena we call stars can be both the source of our lives and these beautiful beacons that light up the night sky that we so rarely bother to view.  So out of the most tedious and soul-crushing activities it is possible to experience a moment of primal joy and wonder.

But now I’ll spend a day or two catching up with my various duties.  Bear with me as I take up again the reins of my daily routine and restore order to my life.  I must write and trim some posts and schedule them and I must read up on any “news” I might have missed and try to draw inspiration from my surroundings and the important things that need to be said and done.

So good morning!

Michael Keaton Does Shakespeare

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Back in 1993 Kenneth Branagh directed a film version of Shakespeare’s comedy, “Much Ado About Nothing.”  Michael Keaton was given a small role as the dim-witted constable Dogberry and along with the malapropisms and absurd swagger Keaton added an almost Monty Pythonesque quality to the role and to that of his associates in the night guard.  I ten to think it’s the best part of the show.  Shakespeare did love his clowns.

Hamlet Scenes

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I was rewatching Olivier’s Hamlet today. So I picked out the scenes I thought were noteworthy. The characters are so strange to modern audiences and the plot so improbable. But there are some scenes that are iconic. Many will recognize the famous quote or the scene. My favorite is the gravedigger’s scene. Alas, poor Yorick. Shakespeare’s fools and jesters are obviously his favorites and always have the best lines.

Anyway.

To Thine Own Self Be True

That is the Question

The Play’s the Thing

I Knew Him Horatio

But Let It Be

Guest Contributor – Ed Brault – 08MAR2024 – Some Kipling

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I have eaten your bread and salt.
I have drunk your water and wine.
The deaths ye died I have watched beside,
And the lives ye led were mine. 

Was there aught that I did not share 
In vigil or toil or ease - 
One joy or woe that I did not know,
Dear hearts across the seas ?  

I have written the tale of our life 
For a sheltered people's mirth,
In jesting guise - but ye are wise,
And ye know what the jest is worth.

-R. Kipling

Real Artificial Intelligence

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Many people have heard at some point in their educational careers that in 79 A.D. Mount Vesuvius erupted and completely buried the Roman cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum that were located at the foot of the volcano.  Vesuvius is located adjacent to the present Italian city Naples.

What most people are unaware of is that during excavations of Herculaneum in 1752 a building was discovered that contained ancient books, or more accurately, papyrus scrolls.  Unfortunately the heat from the lava flow had reduced these scrolls to carbonized lumps.  For the last two hundred years and more scholars have attempted to unroll these carbonized scrolls and read their text.  The painstaking work has only been minimally successful and mostly they’ve managed to find a small amount of text while basically destroying the scrolls.

But now modern medical imaging technology and advanced machine vision and machine learning techniques have combined to produce a possible way to read these ancient books.  Using x-ray tomography images that look through the burned books can help identify layers where ink appears on the papyrus.  Combining this with computer mapping of the ink locations the scroll can be “virtually unrolled” to reveal the text on the ancient remnant.  The proof of concept has now been performed on a small bit of the scan.  The challenge is to do this for the bulk of the document.  It is a daunting task because of the terribly distorted shape of the scrolls.

Now a million dollar prize has been offered for any silicon valley type who is savvy enough to take the scans and turn it into a readable text.

For most people this is meaningless.  Interest in even the books written a few years ago pales in comparison to watching a “TikTok” video of some vapid “influencer” describing her workout routine or grapefruit-papaya diet or other earth-shaking events. These old arcane texts have no bearing on their lives.  And the scrolls currently unearthed are the works of an unimportant Roman philosopher.  But it is believed that the rest of the unexcavated building is the repository of a very large private library that may contain many lost works by the best classical authors of Greece and Rome.  The lost tragedies of Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes and lost histories that we currently only know the names of would be immensely interesting to scholars and also people like me who find remarkable relevance in these testaments from thousands of years ago.

So the fact that finally there seems to be some real progress on this project that has gone on for centuries, I find fascinating.  But my skeptical nature also forbids me from allowing unbounded enthusiasm to blind me to the likely outcome; failure.

So I share this with you, my readers, to let you know what I find to be the real progress that “AI” can provide to the world.  Not ChatGPT which just automates the nitwittery found on TikTok but instead the brute force restoration of books that were burned to a crisp by a volcanic eruption almost two thousand years ago.  A computer program guided by state of the art imaging technology plucking lost works from antiquity out of a pile of ashes.  That’s magic.