Today is the last day for Mike's Oscar Wilde show. It's pretty sad, actually, for me whenever Mike closes a show. I love getting to know a new cast and showering them with mother-hen love and cookies. Which means today is my last hurrah to bake some bad-a$$ cookies for these guys. And then after today I might not see some of these people for the rest of my life. That's sad to me after going through such an emotional rollercoaster (for all plays are, aren't they?) for the past two months or so.
Not that I know them too well. But I am excited for the day when Mike's show is extended and we have a great excuse to get to know a cast better.
But that's all sentimental. I think it's time to go make some pumpkin cheesecake bars and pecan pie bars. Maybe this was all just an excuse for me to eat goodies. Or maybe it's an excuse to put off writing a novel. I still plan on getting my 1000 words in today (which means I will be many tens of thousands of words short by the end of November if I continue this, but we chip away at these things, don't we?)
And perhaps I am new blood to the cooking world, but what in the hell is a jellyroll pan?
Showing posts with label Wilde. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wilde. Show all posts
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Random Angle
Woah Woah Woah
How did my last post happen 9 days ago? Where is my life going? Is this how years will fly by too? Wait... Am I still alive?
A humbling and slightly horrifying thought crossed my mind today in an utterly strange way: A quick prestidigitation of my life digits and I will be swept in with the eighth notes until I am more of a hemisemidemiquaver.
(whaaa? where did that come from?)
But despite all the tug of wars, there are a few things that are keeping me from being pulled right into the sad crowd of those living at breakneak speed.
1. The Fall. A macabre piece set in the early 1920's or so that seems life affirming by the end. A study on the relationship between a suicidal stunt man recently paralyzed and a sweet, trusting five year old romanian girl. I feel that perhaps The Social Network is a better made movie, (also viewed in the past 9 days), but I can't help but be much more affected by The Fall. Of course, The Fall is about life and death, The Social Network is about The Facebook.
Please note that The Fall, though colorful and creative and tidied up with a sweet ending, might be hard for some dealing with loss.
2. MORE Oscar Wilde. Might as well, right? Autumn 2010, I feel, will be remembered by the fall of Wilde. I saw Mike's play, finally, and was touched by it. I have also spent today reading and rereading De Profundis; the letter written to his vain lover near the end of his two year hard labor jail term. Profound, and, in the very least, arrantly interesting as a study on his view of his love almost two years after being put in jail, after three very difficult trials and becoming the public example of 'gross indecency'. What is most interesting to me is his unique contemplation on Christ, love, and sin.
3. Work is a pill. Not just any pill, one that dehydrates and leaves me not recognizing any comparisons between weekdays and weekends. The shortening days also leave me with a distinct scurrying feeling at all times. So as my third point on staying sane amidst a torrent of insanity, I wanted to share a few things that calm me. I saw this post one day and ever since have thought about the things that really do calm me.
How did my last post happen 9 days ago? Where is my life going? Is this how years will fly by too? Wait... Am I still alive?
A humbling and slightly horrifying thought crossed my mind today in an utterly strange way: A quick prestidigitation of my life digits and I will be swept in with the eighth notes until I am more of a hemisemidemiquaver.
(whaaa? where did that come from?)
But despite all the tug of wars, there are a few things that are keeping me from being pulled right into the sad crowd of those living at breakneak speed.
1. The Fall. A macabre piece set in the early 1920's or so that seems life affirming by the end. A study on the relationship between a suicidal stunt man recently paralyzed and a sweet, trusting five year old romanian girl. I feel that perhaps The Social Network is a better made movie, (also viewed in the past 9 days), but I can't help but be much more affected by The Fall. Of course, The Fall is about life and death, The Social Network is about The Facebook.
Please note that The Fall, though colorful and creative and tidied up with a sweet ending, might be hard for some dealing with loss.
2. MORE Oscar Wilde. Might as well, right? Autumn 2010, I feel, will be remembered by the fall of Wilde. I saw Mike's play, finally, and was touched by it. I have also spent today reading and rereading De Profundis; the letter written to his vain lover near the end of his two year hard labor jail term. Profound, and, in the very least, arrantly interesting as a study on his view of his love almost two years after being put in jail, after three very difficult trials and becoming the public example of 'gross indecency'. What is most interesting to me is his unique contemplation on Christ, love, and sin.
3. Work is a pill. Not just any pill, one that dehydrates and leaves me not recognizing any comparisons between weekdays and weekends. The shortening days also leave me with a distinct scurrying feeling at all times. So as my third point on staying sane amidst a torrent of insanity, I wanted to share a few things that calm me. I saw this post one day and ever since have thought about the things that really do calm me.
- fall-flavored candles on cute candlesticks
- apple cider (warm or cold)
- deli cheeses and meats that spruce up a lame sandwiches at lame days at work
- seeing sheet music laying around
- reading, seeing, partaking of art
- feeling rested
- being completely ready for bed
- Jim Hensen
- reading aloud and being read aloud to
- seeing Michael on stage
- glossy wood floors
- pictures on the wall
- campfire smell
- and the smell of decomposing leaves
- watching lame movies and laughing. and laughing at how much of life is spent watching lame movies
- head on pillow
- storms
- and everything else on the curlsofred 20 calming things post that wasn't already mentioned.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Random Angle - Oscar Wilde
My husband is opening a show about Oscar Wilde this weekend. I'm pretty excited, and have actually been excited for over a month now, I would say. I had definitely known of Wilde and read some of his more famous works in the past, but when Michael started reading the script, which is primarily of Wilde's trials, my interest was piqued.
I love when Michael is in a new show, becuase that's a great excuse for me to read up on the playwright or subject for at least a month to gain some insight for when I see the show. Since his foray into a play about Jazz musicians at the fall of Jazz and the rise of Elvis, both Michael and I have become avid Jazz lovers. His graduate thesis on George Bernard Shaw also inclined me to his other works and an admiration for his mind. No matter the topic: drugs, certain types of comedy, period pieces, etc, it's a great chance to take in culture and knowledge.
So, reading up on Oscar Wilde has been a treat. I have reviewed poems, listened to audiobooks, took in his De Profundis (his first work after his stint in jail near the end of his life) and watched Wilde - the biopic, masterfully portrayed by Stephen Fry (though a little shocking at points).
One poem that has been particularly striking to me has been a poem reflecting on his time in jail, "A Ballad of Reading Gaol"
Considering that this man was prosecuted for 'gross indecency' (what they described his primarily homosexual acts), and considering the lifestyle I grew up with (primarily conservative christian), he brings some interesting takes on life and sin and god.
Here are some excerpts I thought particularly interesting, though I would say that reading excerpts (especially of a poem) is never as good as the whole thing:
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
They think a murderer's heart would taint
Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God's kindly earth
Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight?
But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
So never will wine-red rose or white,
Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who tramp the yard
That God's Son died for all.
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
By his dishonored grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
Whom Christ came down to save.
This too I know—and wise it were
If each could know the same—
That every prison that men build
Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
How men their brothers maim
I love when Michael is in a new show, becuase that's a great excuse for me to read up on the playwright or subject for at least a month to gain some insight for when I see the show. Since his foray into a play about Jazz musicians at the fall of Jazz and the rise of Elvis, both Michael and I have become avid Jazz lovers. His graduate thesis on George Bernard Shaw also inclined me to his other works and an admiration for his mind. No matter the topic: drugs, certain types of comedy, period pieces, etc, it's a great chance to take in culture and knowledge.
So, reading up on Oscar Wilde has been a treat. I have reviewed poems, listened to audiobooks, took in his De Profundis (his first work after his stint in jail near the end of his life) and watched Wilde - the biopic, masterfully portrayed by Stephen Fry (though a little shocking at points).
One poem that has been particularly striking to me has been a poem reflecting on his time in jail, "A Ballad of Reading Gaol"
Considering that this man was prosecuted for 'gross indecency' (what they described his primarily homosexual acts), and considering the lifestyle I grew up with (primarily conservative christian), he brings some interesting takes on life and sin and god.
Here are some excerpts I thought particularly interesting, though I would say that reading excerpts (especially of a poem) is never as good as the whole thing:
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
They think a murderer's heart would taint
Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God's kindly earth
Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight?
But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
So never will wine-red rose or white,
Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who tramp the yard
That God's Son died for all.
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
By his dishonored grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
Whom Christ came down to save.
This too I know—and wise it were
If each could know the same—
That every prison that men build
Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
How men their brothers maim
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