She is just going out for a walk and window shopping with a friend-- when did she get so old? She was 8 when we mOved here.
Everyone is like 'Oh, snap...'
I am reading: 'Shakespeare's Restless World-- A Portrait of an Era in Twenty Objects' I like it very much already.
I am only on chapter one, which is about maps and globes. It compares the England of the 1580's and 1590s to the US during the 1960s. Interesting. It says that we can imagine the explorers like Drake by thinking of the space race. There was that sense of competitive boosterism. And that the theaters needed a new kind of writers. We can imagine that by thinking of the early TV writers and ad men. That the new maps, showing the new territories were put up where the public could see them, and that it led to a sort of national chest beating and a sense of expansionism.
It says that a lot of the fresh topical stuff in his plays goes by us now. (Like the part in the Comedy of Errors where the unfortunate maid-servant is compared to a globe, with lots of xenophobic giggles...) That would have been 'ripped from the headlines' of the time.
So, I am going to have a lot of fun with this book, I can tell already. And anything I learn about WS, has application for Marlowe.
Funny how research works, isn't it? It is like making chicken stock. You have the onions and the carrots, and the celery, and and all the chicken parts, and it looks like so much until you put it in the pot, and then so much boils away, and you end up with just a little bot of something, but if you are lucky it is chicken stock-- or a story.
My hope is that by doing a huge amount of research, I will be able to make the world of the story feel real and right. Actually, you know, maybe it is more like making kale soup than it is chicken broth. You take the awkward, bitter, uncooperative kale and you shove it in the largest pot you have...
Now I am hungry.
Title Well Spent
Rating R (for smutty stuff)
Word Count 1686
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The gleam from the harbor was gold and blue, splintering light from the water, and pitching into the air where it went to heat and rainbows. The sun was warm, but the air was damp enough to lay the dust of the road, nothing impeded the sunlight. It was bright enough to make a young man blink.
"Twill serve, ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man.They have made worms meat of me."
There is something so horrifying about the confused faces of Romeo's kinsmen. This first death changes everything.
This version-- watch it if you have not. It is stunning.
I am rewatching the 1996 movie That is the one with a very young Leo DeCaprio, with the brilliant Mercutio, played by Harold Perrineau. That whole moody, aggressive, brittle thing is very much of that time, early modern roaring boys. They were perfectly ready to die by violence. But WS was a phlegmatic plodder in daily life. He tended more to lawsuits than fistfights or knife fights. Just as well, he was a late bloomer. If he had died young like the university wits we would have been left with nothing. (There is a lesson there somewhere about thinking writers have a particular way of being . You don't have to be showy, or angsty, or damaged to be be a 'real' writer. You just have to write.)
Also-- as I think I have said before, if miserable childhoods made writers of people, we would be hip deep in Eugene O Neils.
It is doing spring rain here today. Hazel does not approve-- but I like it. The grass is green and the flowers are out. We have crocus and daffs. About time, sez I.
In the grocery store today I was listening to Tam Lin. (The Sandy Denny version.) Realized that Janet is a total badass. She was not going to let anyone push her around. Not the fairies, not her father, not Tam Lin himself. She is brave, and self-assured, and dammit, she is going flower picking!
I am working away on some Horatio and Archie smut. Slow going. I write slow, and I find sex scenes hard to write. So easy to do them poorly. I am always afraid they will be funny in the wrong way. Or that someone will end up with three arms. So, a few more days I would say.
This red haired fellow here is some distant descendant. He has apparently sacrificed himself for his friends, and gotten a chest/stomach wound which kills him. I wonder what made them think of that?