no wonder Pynchon is seen at his plays.

[jochen stremmel]

Apropos the Fool:

VORSPIEL II



Nicht Narr, nicht Clown, nicht Trottel, nicht Idiot.

Ihr Zuschaukünstler habt für mich kein Wort.

Ich komm aus England. Daher kommt der Tod.

Ich bin der Sterbewitz. Ich bin der Mord-



versuch, jaja, ich weiß. Auch der macht Spaß,

weil er sich reimt und ist nicht so gemeint,

denkt ihr. Ihr denkt? Sieh an, seit wann denkt Aas.

Ich bin mein eignes Volk. Ihr seid vereint



in dem Verein, der richtet und der henkt.

Ich will, daß ihr euch hier zu Tode lacht,

voll faulem Mitgefühl das Herz verrenkt,

ersauft in Tränen mitten in der Nacht.



Ihr seid das Volk. Ich bins, der euch verhetzt.

Ich heiß: The Fool. Das wird nicht übersetzt.

(Written by Thomas Brasch around 1989/90)

2015-01-29 13:40 GMT+01:00 Monte Davis <montedavis49 at gmail.com>:

> HAMLET [Drawing]: How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!
>
>
> [Makes a pass through the arras]
>
>
> LORD POLONIUS [Behind]: O, I am slain!
>
>
> [Falls and dies]
>
>
> ***
>
>
> Stoppard's summary of a mummery:
>
>
> PLAYER: Lucretius, nephew to the king... usurped by his uncle and
> shattered by his mother's incestuous marriage loses . . his reason...
> throwing the court into turmoil and disarray as he alternates between bitter
> melancholy and unrestricted lunacy... staggering from the suicidal (a pose)
> to the homicidal (here he kills "POLONIUS")... he at last confronts his
> mother and in a scene of provocative ambiguity---(a somewhat oedipal
> embrace) begs her to repent and recant. (He springs up, still talking.)
> The King---(he pushes forward the POISONER-KING) tormented by
> guilt---haunted by fear ---decides to despatch his nephew to
> England---and entrusts this undertaking to two smiling
>
> accomplices---friends--- two spies..
>
>
> Mason on Wolfe's 1756 suppression of the weavers (313):
>
>
> “The Clothiers had made of children my Age Red Indians, spying upon them
> from the Woodlands they thought were theirs. We call’d them ‘the White
> People,’ and the House they liv’d in, ‘the Big House.’ Splendid boyhood,
> you might say, but you’d be wrong,— what I had imagin’d a Paradise
> proving instead but the brightly illustrated front of the Arras, behind
> which all manner of fools lay bleeding, and real rats swarm’d, their
> tails undulating, waiting their moment."
>
>
> ***
>
>
> No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
>
> Am an attendant lord, one that will do
>
> To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
>
> Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
>
> Deferential, glad to be of use,
>
> Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
>
> Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
>
> At times, indeed, almost ridiculous –
>
> Almost, at times, the Fool.
>
> On Thu, Jan 29, 2015 at 6:13 AM, Mark Kohut <mark.kohut at gmail.com> wrote:
>
>> The Guardian (@guardian)
>> 1/29/15, 4:07 AM
>> The Hard Problem review - Tom Stoppard tackles momentous ideas in his
>> rich new play trib.al/u5U4otQ
>> -
>> Pynchon-l / http://www.waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l
>>
>
>
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