What if there was a giant axe of justice in the city? And it stood at the center of the square, just waiting to come crashing down on offenses.
I mean, I suppose that’s what a guillotine is – and that’s essentially what happened during the French Revolution, from some folks’ perspectives. A giant axe, dealing out justice.
But of course I’m picturing a very different sort of axe than a guillotine. I’m imagining a Viking axe or a Paul Bunyan tree falling axe – and I picture it set up like a gate to the city – suspended over the entrance, ready to fall at any injustice.
So you shall.
The dings and scratches on my ego happen so often. I sometimes miss that they’ve happened until later. But an artist’s life is a landmine for this.
In a scarcity arts economy, there is intense competition that is usually heavily veiled. It is competition disguised as community or cooperation. But jealousies abound. And to retain the idea that somehow my art is still worth something even as I watch my peers get the opportunities I’ve been refused, I have to pull a neat trick not to start beating myself, metaphorically speaking.
But I must find ways to support my own vision – as no one else will. So I shall.
His means of death, his obscure funeral – No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o’er his bones, No noble rite nor formal ostentation – Cry to be heard, as ‘twere from heaven, to earth That I must call’t in question.
Maybe it’s the way the actors said it in those first imprinted productions, but I had always thought this line was about Hamlet. I thought it was Laertes planning for Hamlet’s murder. But he doesn’t know from Hamlet yet. This is a litany of crimes against Polonius. These are all the issues with Polonius’ death. Only one of which is not Claudius’ fault. Claudius didn’t kill him, it’s true. But it must have been his decision to not give him a decent funeral. It is curious. Why make himself vulnerable by not honoring a statesmen? Why hush it up? How does this benefit him? There must be a reason. But I’m not clear what it could be.
Let this be so;
I’m ready for the revolution, ladies. The time has long passed but we don’t always know until we’re old enough to no longer give a fuck.
Just now, for example, some punk ass privileged white kid thought he’d interrupt what I was doing by asking a banal and patronizing question. And in the past I’d have worried about a punk ass kid’s feelings. I’d have laughed, coyly, perhaps and tried to dismiss as nicely as possible. But times have changed, y’all. I ain’t feeling so nice. When asked a dumb ass question, I just said “no” – like they taught me at model mugging. No hesitation. Just force. Just clear. And then I moved away – just like they taught me to do when approached by a predator.
Now – do I think this particular asshole is dangerous? No I don’t. But…he’s good practice. And I’m just not having it anymore.
The thing is – what I learned from model mugging (years ago now but it remains vivid) is that a lot of assaults on women happen because we are socialized to be so polite, we are even polite to dudes who mean us harm, we are even polite to predators. It’s not that we want to be assaulted …it’s that we are so threatened by not being polite that we will risk assault rather than addressing an asshole’s asshole behavior.
Anyway – my prayer for myself is now: May I have the strength and peace of mind to respond to assholes appropriately. That is, quickly and forcefully.
But if not, Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labor with your soul To give it due content.
While I would absolutely NOT like for a man like Claudius to labor with my soul – I am intrigued by the idea of someone with the ability to do that. What if there were soul laborers? Or soul whisperers? Perhaps who could bypass your conscious intentions and just speak directly to your soul.
Actually, we do have these people. They’re called artists. Not every artist speaks to every soul but there are artists who speak to many at once. There are artists who perhaps only speak to one soul but even that is valuable. There are many artists who labor with my soul. Remedios Varo, Robyn Schiff, Shakespeare, Joni Mitchell and on and on.
My soul laborers.
If by direct or by collateral hand They find us touch’d, we will our kingdom give, Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, To you in satisfaction.
Ah, the collateral hand. The collateral hand has been quite busy in our current political moment. No one is guilty, it would seem, but so is everyone, by collateral hands. I have to hope and expect that there will be prosecutions, there will be convictions but right now, the collateral hands are so busy, there is no pausing long enough to them.
And just to remind you – I wrote this at the beginning of 2017. There have been so many prosecutions and convictions already though not nearly enough.
And they shall hear and judge twixt you and me:
Just keep in mind I was trying to write these things in the first months of 2017 and it was nearly impossible.
Dear lord. The times are so terrible. I can’t focus on this line at all. I see the word judge and all I can think about is the judge who put a stay on this horrible travel ban and what a hero he is. And how this administration is trying to discredit this George W. Bush appointee as a left leaning wacko and how they removed the judicial branch from the White House website and how judges orders are being ignored left and right and that’s all I can manage right now.
Go but apart; Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
This is my plan for the current horrifying political moment. I’m going apart. I am seeking out two of my wisest friends (among many wise friends these two live in the same geographic region, close to one another but far from me.) In dark times, they both give me comfort and great wisdom. It has been too long – too far, too impossible to see them before now. But now. now I will draw close to my wisest friends because I need them more than ever.
Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right.
In addition to being a murderer and manipulator, Claudius is also a dick. I mean. This is a dick move. Even more accurately, it is a narcissistic move. Insinuating himself into Laertes’ grief for his sister? I mean. It’s so ridiculously about him – and given the current political moment, I can’t help but imagine Claudius as our Toddler in Chief –our Chief Narcissist. Our Egomaniac Elect. This feels like something he would do…watch a man’s heart breaking and insist on his right to commune with him.
Do you see this, O God?
I saw a clip of the Orange Man in Chief in which he was asked about his thoughts on God. He proceeded to give evidence of the Higher Power that could be best summed up as “There must be a God because look at all this cool stuff I own!” And given the way so many equate wealth with goodness, I’m sure he sees it as God’s approval of him.
Many people see it that way. That God is like Santa Claus and when he likes what you’re doing, he gives you cool stuff. I’m no religious scholar but I’m pretty sure that’s not what most religions are after.
And so. Here it is. Day 11 of the Crazy Administration and people are already dying. People are already being ripped from their families. A baby was denied food for 18 hours because her mother was on one side of the airport divide and she on the other.
Do you see this?
Hey, God…the one who’s supposed to reward good behavior and punish bad…what are you doing?
Are you missing what’s happening here?
Luckily, I follow God on Twitter and he is smiting like crazy. Sometimes he gets banned from Facebook for his smiting of religious hypocrites but this God is watching at least.
The Hamlet Project 