Remains

She still carries death, on piggyback

Scent of rotting insides and #27's

The stench is mellow, familiar

First line

A bubble burst reverberates

Shakespeare Sililoquies

I've been meaning to memorize a few of these. Call it self-indulgence..

LADIES FIRST:

Juliet, Romeo and Juliet
Juliet:
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Romeo:
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy:
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
Nor arm nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
and for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.


Lady Macbeth, Macbeth

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry 'Hold, hold!'

THE GENTS

Duke Orsino, Twelfth Night

"If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again;--it had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour.--Enough; no more;
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical. "



Jaques, As You Like It

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.



Hamlet
To be, or not to be- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins rememb'red.

Word to the Wise Abt Pisces

January 13, 2009
How to Attract and Deal with Pisces
By personalityseries

01. Talk about spirituality, the occult, astrology, anything that is out of reach of the real world. They will easily get lost in a good conversation. Although they are attracted to people with severe problems who desperately need help, this actually does more harm them good. Even though Pisces will offer to make everything right, do not allow them to take on all your problems because they will lose their identity in your situation.
02. They need a strong positive partner to make them strong. Pisces like adventure, new situation and social events and will be up to doing almost anything that you suggest.
03. Make them laugh, they are usually melancholy and will be impressed if someone has the ability to make them laugh.
04. They are not very conservative people so do not be afraid to talk about unconventional or strange things and tell them odd jokes, they will be impressed by that.
05. They are suckers for flattery give them compliments and tell them in a roundabout way that you admire them.
06. Be sensitive, generous and gentle, make them feel comfortable with you and make them feel good about themselves and all will be smooth sailing!

I Still Remember Shel.

One of my favorite poets to this day is Shel Silverstein R.I.P., a children's author/cartoonist--a truly gifted man. I began reading his poems around the age of 6 or so and his poems continue to reach me in as a profound way as they did when I was that age. His poems are whimsical yet extremely deep.

Here are some of my favorites from Where The Sidewalk Ends

LISTEN TO THE MUSTN'TS

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DONT'S
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me--
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.


POOR ANGUS

Oh what do you do, poor Angus,
When hunger makes you cry?
"I fix myself an omelet, sir,
Of fluffy clouds and sky."

Oh what do you wear, poor Angus,
When winds blow down the hills?
"I sew myself a warm cloak, sir,
Of hope and daffodils."

Oh who do you love, poor Angus,
When Catherine's left the moor?
"Ah, then, sir, then's the only time
I feel I'm really poor."


AND THIS ONE WHICH USED TO BE MY FAVORITE AS A KID. YOU CAN PROBABLY TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHY

LITTLE ABIGAIL AND THE BEAUTIFUL PONY.
There was a girl named Abigail
Who was taking a drive
Through the country
With her parents
When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed
Grey and white pony.
And next to it was a sign
That said,
FOR SALE—CHEAP.
“Oh,” said Abigail,
“May I have that pony?
May I please?”
And her parents said,
“No you may not.”
And Abigail said,
“But I MUST have that pony.”
And her parents said,
“Well, you can have a nice butter pecan
Ice cream cone when we get home.”
And Abigail said,
“I don’t want a butter pecan
Ice cream cone,
I WANT THAT PONY—
I MUST HAVE THAT PONY.”
And her parents said,
“Be quiet and stop nagging—
You’re not getting that pony.”
And Abigail began to cry and said,
“If I don’t get that pony I’ll die.”
And her parents said, “You won’t die.
No child ever died yet from not getting a pony.”
And Abigail felt so bad
That when she got home she went to bed,
And she couldn’t eat,
And she couldn’t sleep,
And her heart was broken,
And she DID die—
All because of a pony
That her parents wouldn’t buy.

WRITING, RESPONSIBLY

An observable quality of my person is that I care quite often about quite a lot, that the question of what or who I strive to be for me is always and inextricably tied with the well-being of humanity, that I am at all times and in equal parts responsible human being and responsible writer, responsible woman and responsible student, etc. and that thus I am a revolutionary activist and writer.

PONDER: that a person with my conscience and capacity (the debate about which is completely irrelevant) has but one real "choice"--to live and breathe the revolutionary spirit--meaning to be aware at all times of our collective power and of our individual importance, that is to say to be a knowledge seeker and moreover to be conscious of one's own unique strengths and weaknesses such that world suffering is ended--or inevitably steer straight into death, of our spirit or our entire person, becoming a cynic and a nihilist respectively.
(NOTE: the existentialist's dilemma questions our collective and individual strength and relevance, our very existence).
This is where my crisis starts and ends.
As a writer I am full of anxiety. As a human being, also.
No one who calls themselves a responsible writer, nay, a responsible human being, should be without some performance anxiety. In my case it happens to be all-engulfing, the beginning and the end. It guides all of my actions, all of my musing and in fact all of my life.

My heart and mind call for me to think and write with purpose and always think about ways to further the struggle for human liberation.
I am BAMN and BAMN is me.
The Coalition to Defend Affirmative Action, Integration, Affirmative Action and Fight for Equality BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY
www.bamn.com

put another way--my lifeline.

PONDER:
--What dehumanization must take place for someone to be at peace knowing the unnecessary suffering that happens throughout the globe?
--What special, unique capacities have you to help in impeding any further suffering?
--To what extent is it even a choice to be a revolutionary?
--That the first question any responsible writer must ask themselves is: "Who is my audience and how can I reach them to achieve our collective aim?"