This is a question I would never ask.

Even if I were convinced I’d never been wrong about something in my life, I wouldn’t have the gall to say so.
I know Polonius is not a young man but he has a young man’s confidence. It is a confidence I envy, I confess. To be so sure of your own greatness when all of reality is pointing elsewhere is a great gift of blindness. To categorically believe you are never wrong, that you never make mistakes, that all your choices are brilliant will get a young man very far in this world. Or a young woman, too, might get far on this same formula. However, I have never met a woman a woman with this particularly fortunate pair of blinders. We are conditioned to question our motives, our decisions, to examine our desires, to acknowledge defeat quickly and to see the multitude of the error of our ways.
I would not wish away this sight but if I had a magic wand, I might augment it with a huge dose of not giving a shit about what anyone thinks of that stuff and proceeding anyway – fiercely, like a snow plow, not caring what ends up at the side of the road.

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice
And he, repelled, a short tale to make,
Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves
And all we mourn for.

Not such a short tale, is it? And a very linear journey to madness.
This is either:
a) a recipe straight from some pedantic text on madness or
b) a made up series of events or actually
c) Hamlet following the madness recipe straight from that same DSM of Denmark.
Because any madness I’ve ever seen never follows this step by step process. It can spring up on you all of a sudden or it can sneak in slowly bit by bit but this list sounds like depression slipping slowly into some sort of listlessness, not at all like madness. I guess I’m wondering if Polonius witnessed these symptoms or if he’s making some big assumptions.

Prescripts, eh? I am not so familiar with prescripts. Are they like precepts? Or a little play that you get the text of before something else? Like Polonius hands Ophelia a little dialogue on a sheaf of paper which lets her know, ahead of time, what she’s supposed to say. Or maybe it’s a play without words (a la Beckett) and it only includes the stage directions – those like, locking herself in, refusing all messengers, visitors and presents.

This must not be.

Normally, I don’t get home for lunch, but yesterday, I did. I picked up some groceries, brought them home, turned on the radio and began the process of fixing a little something. There was a sudden confusion on the normally quiet, steady talk radio show. They didn’t know if they were cutting to the news or to the impending press conference and everyone was stumbling over their words. The news was awful but there was a kind of journalistic glee behind the reporting of it. The questions were mounting about whether to pre-empt this or that program.
I admit that I wished they wouldn’t. I did not want to hear how many children were murdered, or how many teachers. I did not want to know if it was a single shooter or a pair. I did not want to know who he was or why he might have done it. I simply didn’t want for it to have happened.

What might you think?

Maybe you’ve read one of these strange responses that I’ve written here. Or maybe one led to another and you’ve read a few. What might you think of these words?

Writing them is like writing a little message in a bottle every day and setting it loose on the waves. I can tell that a few people have read a few of these little musings or stories or poems, depending on the day but no one has ever said. Maybe they don’t say because they hate what’s here or because it doesn’t matter one way or another or because there is nothing to say.

I am not trapped on a desert island and it’s not for rescue that I throw my bottles into the sea. I throw them out in order to put my pen to the paper, to roll up that paper and insert it into the bottle with sand and stone. I throw them out in order to cork them up securely, to pull my arm back and then release it over the waves, in order to watch the bottle float for a while before being carried away into the distance.

What might you,
Or my dear majesty your Queen here, think
If I had played the desk or table-book
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb
Or looked upon this love with idle sight?

Tonight, the role of the desk will be played by Polonius. He will also double as the table-book. The actor who would normally portray the desk will be unable to perform the role due to a physical limitation. We hope he will be better soon. Meanwhile, we present to you our current desk (and table-book) Mr. Polonius!
(Enter Polonius, walking, upright, royal, serious. He crosses from the wings, to the center of the stage where he, with great seriousness, lowers himself, first to one knee, then to both, he then tips himself forward a bit, puts out his hands and reaches to the floor, with first one hand, then the next. Polonius is then settled on his hands and his knees, center stage. He waits. Quietly. With dedication. For someone to come out and write on him.)

Lightbulb! These words always ran past my hearing as Polonius playing language games, getting lost in his thoughts, pulling a “By the mass, I was about to say something” sort of things but now that I look at, he’s actually saying something here. He’s implying that he knew something was up between Hamlet and Ophelia before she told him about it. This is important because it increases Polonius’ reputation as a wise perceiver.
He’s fluffing up his perceptive reputation perhaps because he is making a case for a theory. He’s very adamant about his explanation here. He makes a case for it like a lawyer, or a politician, using all marks of surety and a confidence man. I’m not sure WHY, though. What does Polonius stand to gain from making this particular case? Does he gain political favor with Claudius? Is there some way he’s perceived that Claudius would really like to have Hamlet off his back and this exploration would relieve him and win Polonius more favor in the court? He’s crafty, Polonius, and I wouldn’t put much past him.