An A. That’s a good note to start with.
A B is a little trickier. Give him an A, with all the attention and care, making sure that A is pure and clear – all things tuned to A.

Stithy? Is this like a smithy? It almost feels like a printing error. But of course, glossaries reveal that a stithy is an archaic form of smithy.
Vulcan is a smith – a blacksmith. . . and he fires his metals in fire. It’s an interesting image to have imaginations be foul. Well, a) to have imagination be plural – like imaginings, but it has a fun doubled quality.

I’d love to have more than one imagination. I’m pretty fond of the one I have – but because I have it, love exercising it, giving it rein to run wild, I think, well, more of a thing I love would be great. Like, more love, doesn’t suck. . .so more imagination would be great too.
With two imaginations I could give one a break while I attend to the other. And maybe each would have its own style. Like, I could imagine sci fi in one and film noir in another.
The imagination I do have, though, is precious and I’d hate to think of it fouled. I imagine Hamlet would prefer his to be true and clean as well.

This reminds me of a strategy we use in arts in education when preparing students for seeing a show. We give them things to look for and particularly trigger things to observe. When you see a man in a turkey suit, notice what the lights are doing, for example. It doesn’t diminish your pleasure in the turkey suit (and there is great pleasure in a turkey suit in my opinion) but also engages your action brain and your critical muscles. This then allows for a conversation afterward. What did the lights do in that moment? Why do you think that was? Next thing you know we’re talking about artistic choices and lighting and all kinds of complex interesting things.

The fact that Hamlet has told Horatio about what the ghost told him is kind of a big deal. It’s a small aside here, a tossed off, “That thing I told you about,” but it indicates a big change in their relationship. We saw Hamlet swearing Horatio to secrecy after the ghost scene, refusing to tell him what he just said, insisting he keep silent without knowing what passed between him and the ghost and here we find out that Hamlet has shared that information. This, more than the big speech he just made, lets us know how much Hamlet trusts Horatio.

I wonder how Claudius feels about plays in general. When they told him the players were here, did he get a little bit excited, thinking about the monotony of royal life getting broken up with a little drama?

Or did he roll his eyes and think, “Oh dear, I’ll have to go, won’t I? And I’ll have to smile and congratulate them even if it’s terrible. But one must to charitable, mustn’t one. I suppose it might be marginally better than that juggler they brought in a few weeks ago.”

I would guess it’s the former, actually. Hamlet, having watched plays with him before, we presume, since he’s watched them with Polonius, would choose this method of investigation with something Claudius is likely to pay attention to. He would likely choose it because he knows his uncle is particularly likely to get caught up in the wonder and action.

If his uncle were more moved by ballet or ballads, perhaps he’d try those instead.

If Horatio is anything like the man I wear in my heart’s core, he probably isn’t too comfortable with praise. Or expressions of affection. Most Horatios I’ve seen just stand there and take this waterfall of appreciation. I’d like to see one fight to stop it, one who doesn’t stand there, smiling mildly, like he’s listening to a sermon.

Suddenly, I imagined a physical struggle even – a grapple while Horatio tries to silence Hamlet and finally when he’s close, due to win – Hamlet switches out, on this line – as if he was going to stop on his own.

I wouldn’t have thought it, myself. I would have said I wanted passion and romance and drama. I might have said the opposite of this a few years ago. I might have said, “Give me that man that is passion’s vessel. . .”

But in recent years, I’ve changed my tune. Someone who is not a slave to passion will consider someone else before he considers himself. He is not subject to the tempests and torrents of desire or sail filling winds of fury. I wear him in my heart’s core, it turns out, right in my heart of hearts.

This feels a bit like metaphor foreshadowing. Right after this performance within the performance, Hamlet will use this same metaphor to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. And its not like there are dozens upon dozens of pipe metaphors throughout Shakespeare. Hamlet, in a sense, seems to have given himself this idea for his pipe conversation with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern from this conversation with Horatio.

He (or Shakespeare, rather) is demonstrating this extraordinary thing that does happen in conversation – that ideas and thought can develop throughout the day. When I talk about the circus in the morning with one friend, several hours later while talking with another, I am very likely to use a circus metaphor I’m exploring. It would seem to be the viral quality of thought.

It is remarkable how such good men are unconvinced of their goodness, while those who never think of others, who drive forward with heedless desire, are sure they are worthy.

This line got me in my heart parts today because it occurred to me that this was true for me regarding my partner. I was particularly struck by the soul’s being a mistress of her choice. Previous to the man I’m with, I’m not sure my soul was mistress of her choice. I seemed to choose before out of some combination of lust and cultural programming. This led to lots of “Bad Boys” and child-men. It led to non-relationship relationships. It led to lots of unrequited dreaming.

Once my soul did the choosing, there was kindness and consideration. There was support. My soul is a much better chooser than I ever was.

All too well. All too well today.
There is a man on his phone a few feet away, wheeling and dealing. He’s got a distinctive vocal tic – every other sentence finishes with “okay?”
It’s a little like the South Park character that says “m’kay”” but with a New York tint -about things like investment, money, business. It has the same nasal quality. And it cuts right through all other sound.

This coffee shop had an unusual quiet before he started talking. There was no music playing. Maybe there is still no music playing but I can’t hear the music or its absence through the “Okay, Okay – 5 million dollar deal” that reverberates through this little corner.

I hear and hear and hear and find it very challenging to not hear, to ignore, to build an aural barrier between me and the businessman. Apparently, this Al guy is at the center point of this deal.

I’ve resorted to earbuds and Donald Fagen singing to me through them. The only cure for hearing something is to drown it out with something else. Problem is: now I’m distracted by the music I like. Especially since I have to jam it pretty loud to avoid hearing all about a dude on someone’s yacht in the South of France who someone has to catch as soon as he gets off that boat.