Tennessee William's Opening Line of The Glass Menagerie

April 29, 2009 2 Comments

Opening line, delivered by Tom: “Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion.“

An item from the preface (I think):  “The scene is memory and is therefore non-realistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic.“

Like the previous post on Brueghal’s Icarus, I am starting without doing my homework; Without reading all the analysis, and there is a ton.  Like the previous post, I am try to avoid other’s interpretations until I have formed my own.

The opening line was first publically delivered on Dec 26, 1944, in Chicago.  10 days prior, the single most bloodiest battle in US history had begun in the forests of Belgium (read more about the Ardennes Offensive at wikipedia, of course, but please come back).  Significance? I don’t know.  I’ll try to figure that out later.

I’ve known this quote by heart for 20 years.  It’s meaning is mercurial, year after year.  But it always has the same substance.  It is all I have been able to think about this morning.  It’s acting like a magnet in my mind.  Everything I see, think, touch, smell, etc. is somehow finding it’s relational relevance to this quote.  While I had planned to accomplish VWXY&Z this morning, I can only think about this.  My to-do list got iced. This could also be procrastination.

Here is a short list of various, personal interpretations of the opening line of Tennessee William’s Glass Menegerie.

i.) Early on, somewhere in my high testosterone, mating years, I used it as a pickup line.  It worked.  It created a confusing, mysterious, and misleading smoke screen.  I don’t think I understood it.  But I had memorized it.   I had memorized some other lines and poems. And my memories of these have mostly faded.  Today is the 1st day that I have analyzed to this quote, to each sentence, to each phrase, right down synonym pattern and count [(1111112, 111111. 111131113. 1113111311. 1111112213), (14. 13. 14. 14. ),  (57).]  And thanks to efriedma, we know what’s special about these numbers. 13 is the number of Archimedian solids. 14 is the smallest number n with the property that there are no numbers relatively prime to n smaller numbers. 57 = 111 in base 7.  Which is very interesting, but unrelated.

If you have a 17-25 year son, or daughter even, who is having trouble starting relationships, please share this trick with them.  Have them memorize stuff that other people said.  Also suggest that they don’t claim it as their own.  Eventually, they’ll get busted if they try this.  I got busted quoting an Erma Bombeck book title in fourth grade in Southfield MI, when writing a condolence card for a teacher who had lost someone important.  I really thought I was quoting my Mom, becuase she said it all the time, high volume when wasted, frequently.

ii.)  Today, I am relating to my social startup aspirations.  I am taking risks, making countless mistakes and experiencing just enough success to keep me going.

I’ll try to describe in other terms first.  In a highly flammable environment (kinda like this lab), I am conducting candle longevity tests.  At any moment in time, the entire room may ignite, toasting me and my hopes.  In the first round, I lite 20 candles.  By elimination, I wait for 17 candles to burn out.  The remaining three will be the subject of my next round.  Second round I buy 10 of each of the remaining three.  I’d burn these 30 candles in the same lab.  In the third round, I take the remaining 2 candles from round 2 and research them to the bone: the manufacturing process, the wax and wick composition, the density, optimal ambient temp, etc.  Then I will GO ALL IN! Get Wet! – Read “Ugly, Wet and Free” for the meaning of “wet” – I buy 100 of these candles.  Light them all in the incendiary lab, hold my breath, and wait.

I am not at round three yet, but I know it’s be one of those moments of truth.  I think the bootstrappers call it the valley of death.  I try to avoid studying their philosophy, becuase I try to avoid influences in my first attempts.

At this moment, I am giving “you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion.“  And what the hell does that mean?  The magician “gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth.“  Or, as I interpret it, knowingly misleads.  Tom, in the play, maybe saying a couple of things: a.) he is earnestly engaged in telling the truth, with touches of emotional, pleasant cushioning or b.) he is disclaiming via “pleasant disguise” only telling the truth as remembered.  I put in the preface description above for this latter point.

Now I can tie the knot on this point.  Even though I have regretfully damaged or decimated relationships and trust, it was not disingenuine, NOT illusion w/appearance of truth.  I can’t play chess, literally or metaphorically.  I don’t ever try to fake it.  My smarter associates are adept with chess.  My smarter associates think that I can to.  For the record, I cannot play chess.  I understand the rules, but my 10 year old always slaughters me.  I have approached my startup w/out prior experience, and I have made some big mistakes.  Lyn Graft of LG Pictures can tell you a recent experience, if he ever cares to share.  I am sure he doesn’t, becuase I am sure I on his VIP (very insignificant people) list.

iii.) Finally, and pretty simple, “I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve.”  Or, our life’s savings isn’t depleted yet.  Or, each passing hour over the last 5 months has increased my commitment to succeed on my own, with my family, with my integrity, and my health.  I’ve realized that these tricks and things reproduce in my sleeves and pockets with each success, with each failure.

Lastly, is a list of very recent influences that unknowingly forced me to move this from Draft to Published:

  • Neuroscientist Michael Merzenich looks at one of the secrets of the brain’s incredible power: its ability to actively re-wire itself. He’s researching ways to harness the brain’s plasticity to enhance our skills and recover lost function.
  • Sam Lawrence, of Jive, of gobigalways.com, of my list of favorite speakers in the history of the time-space continuum of forever and all of existence before and after the bang.  On April 27, at Interactive Austin 2009 his presentation arrested and injected – with a thickass needle in my skullbone – a reminder of what I am doing.
  • That there is harmony between the Dion Hinchcliffe’s and the whurley’s.  There’s gotta be those who can tell you the shape of the square wheel working harmonically with those who can imagine how to make it roll.  After, you need some implementers.
  • The genuine and gentlemanly dudes at Social Web Strategies.  If you are in search of humane human life forms on our planet (aliens take note), get to know Jon Lebkowsky.
  • The San Francisco Suicide Club.  I discovered them on the history channel with my son last nite.  They are living the life privately, that I led publically when I was 27, while hanging of the capital of Louisiana.
  • The remarkable story of a righteous man who can call you brother with sincerity.  Alan Graham, the founder of Mobile Loaves and Fishes.
  • And finally, my new DRAFT/MATIC 0.7 mm, that Allison bought for me this morning at Jerry’s Artarama right next to Shepler’s which has managed to keep it’s doors opened since the 1970′s

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Brueghel’s Icarus, the Painting, the Poem and the Other Painting

March 31, 2009 2 Comments

I’ve been asked the “if you were deserted on a island” question a few times in life. For example, “If you were deserted on an island, what 3 items from your house would you bring?” Never has anyone asked what poem or painting I might take.

Since nobody’s asking, nobody is gonna read this. Therefore, I can write whatever the hell I want, and not get corrected.

In case you’ve already lost interest, here is a more formal version on the same topic.

For the last 20 years, I was under the impression W.H. Auden’s 1940 poem Musée des Beaux Arts was about Pieter Brueghel’s 1558 oil on canvass Landscape of the Fall of Icarus. Just a couple of minutes ago, I found that my impression was wrong. Harper’s Magazine clarifies in a an article last November, 2008. Now the poem’s title makes sense. I wondered why “Icarus” wasn’t in the poems title? Now the poem makes more sense. Now, my adoration of Pieter Brueghel the Elder has at least doubled.

If I were deserted, I’d take the poem Musée des Beaux Arts and the painting Landscape of the Fall of Icarus (and The Census at Bethlehem if I could sneak by with it!)

Quickly I’ll tell you why, then I’ll ramble on and on and make unreal stuff sound real. These two pieces of work have shaped my perspective of life, my values, my purpose more than any other painting or poem. They have taught me more about suffering, and not turning away from those who suffer, more than any other painting or poem.

These aren’t my only influences, but if I were asked the “deserted” question, that would be my answer. I’d have a difficult time naming a well known historical figure I’d like to dine with. I’d have a horrible time selecting my favorite, most influencing songs. I would fall out of my seat if I had to choose the most influential person in my life, and I would probably crack my skull open and die right then and there.

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus Pieter Breughel c. 1558; Oil on canvas, mounted on wood, 73.5 x 112 cm; Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus Pieter Brueghel c. 1558; Oil on canvas, mounted on wood, 73.5 x 112 cm; Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels

Here’s the painting that I thought W.H. Auden was referring to. A few things to look for. In the lower right, Icarus has splashed down into the water. He must be thinking, “Dang! I really should have listened to my Pops!” { I am always wishing my kids would say that more often.} Now notice everything else in the picture, I mean everything, is turning away. The wind is pushing the sail in the opposite direction, the plowing dude and his horse are moving in the opposite direction, the sun is setting, the city is shining, the sheep herder, everything, in the opposite direction. There is this fellow in the lower right, who appears to be a fishing, looking straight down, focused on fishies. Every thing turns away.

Now, my take on this at first, was that the world has disregard for high-flying, disrespectful kids who didn’t listen to their fathers. Really. That is what I was thinking at 19, when would I splash down. As I got a bit older, I started to think that the world generally turns away from tragedy or others sufferings.

Well not entirely, who doesn’t want to get a glimpse of a bloody arm hanging from a car accident. I actually saw a dead person, propped in a coffin recently, at a funeral home in Kansas. Not a relative. No-one I knew. But Allison told me she saw this deceased lady, and I had to walk past and see for myself. In life, I think we tend to look for suffering. In movies, in music, in the news, etc. What separates is that we don’t really do much beyond stare. We don’t do much beyond that. Maybe things have changed in recent years. But in general, we are all pretty dang selfish.

OK, another bombshell I just learned moments ago when preparing for this blog. Some say the the painting hung in Brussels isn’t really from the hands of Brueghel. Some hack made it based on one of Brueghel’s original works.

On to the most excellent poem by W.H. Auden. The poem that I thought was about something other than it is actually about. But that doesn’t matter, the content of the poem is still remarkable.

Musee des Beaux Arts W.H. Auden

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

There is definitely a lot here, right? And I’d bet you a dollar if I hadn’t revealed the earlier information, you’d think this poem was written exclusively for the painting, 400 years later. You want to bet? Especially the last 8 lines. I mean really!

So here is what transformed my life perspective about this poem. 1. Old artists know a lot about stuff, including suffering, mostly Brueghel. 2. That suffering is a part of life, joy is a part of life, death and birth, yin and yang, salt n’ peppa’, etc. 3. Amidst suffering, we all go on our own ways, not often thinking about it, and in some cases, really not wanting it to happen.

I am trying to point to certain words or phrases or lines of the poem that really stick out. What’s astounding is the realization that Auden carefully placed each word so that not one word in particular stands out. The colors blend. It all blends. I guess if pressed, “the torturer’s horse scratches it’s innocent behind” is pretty dang arresting. Oh, and “the aged are reverently, passionately waiting for the miraculous birth” is a good one too. But overall, I would not accept being cornered into stating my favorite part of the poem. It’s all good stuff.

Pieter Brueghel the Elder, The Census at Bethlehem (1566)

Pieter Brueghel the Elder, The Census at Bethlehem (1566)

So the second chunk of the above poem is definitely about the Icarus painting. No doubt. But the first part, the main subject of the poem, is about The Census at Bethlehem. In fact, the article referenced above, inquires if this is an ironic message of Christ’s birth? or a political slap at the Hapsburgs, who the Flemish despised. Mary is in the painting though. The one quote that jumps for the above Harper’s Magazine article is “Brueghel is driven by irony. In fact … they anticipate nothing. A miracle is being played before them, and they don’t stop to notice it. But this is the special genius of Brueghel—he casts a sharp eye on the life of a village. He misses nothing. And in everything he sees the misery and harshness of human existence, but also the potential for something better.”

So here is what I have learned. That my favorite poem/painting duo, wasn’t exactly what I had thought is was. They are clearly still my favorites. I love lots of Auden’s stuff, and Breughel continues to rack up cool points. Especially in this last painting. I think I am gonna go to the public library and get some real, as in the kind that you can hold in your hand, reference materials on these guys and read some more. Refresh.

Oh and one last thing. Both Brueghel and Auden composed their works in times of great uncertainty. The article references this too, in the last paragraph. Funny, it was was written in November of 2008. Great uncertainty then too. Was the political ideology of the previous 8 years going to continue, the policy built on fear and distrust? Or, were we going to trust and hope in the human’s “potential for something better”.

I now have a favorite article, too, not my most favorite of all times though. That position was taken by The Washington Post’s “Pearls Before Breakfast” a few years back.

Oh … btw … don’t tell me the Brueghel is spelt wrong.  Of the articles I read, some used Breughel, others Brueghel.  I tried to be consistent.  I try to be consistent, but unfortunately I am often inconsistent.


Filed under art perspectives Tagged with ,

Ugly, Wet and Free

March 10, 2009 1 Comment

What does this mean? Where did it come from? Who first stated this? Does anyone know the origins of “Ugly, Wet and Free”???

It happens to be the way I’d like to be remembered when I buy my farm, which in fact I’ll never really buy, because I am a city person, not a farm person.

Sometimes I fantasize about the farming life (not ranching, i love animals, i eat meat remorsefully) but it’s a fantasy. Something I think about it when drivers piss me off, when neighbors gets robbed, when my kids can’t bike ride freely, when I am feeling depressed, when I am reviewing Wikipedia’s List of Paraphilias trying to see if I fit any of the descriptions. But that’s not often enough, so I am staying in the city.

“Ugly, Wet and Free”. The meaning of this phrase really became evident when I blogged about the 12 Rules & Childbirth, my last blog. Baby Lila, after 9 months enuetero (spell check, please help me), in Debby’s belly, blasted out Ugly Wet and Free. Just as my three angels did between 1998 and 2004. I know! it’s a crass description IF you think “ugly”, “wet”, and “free” are crass adjectives. I like them them though. That’s how I’d hope to be remembered when my curtains are pulled. I do have curtains, just not on a farm. New Moms and Dads typically don’t want to hear their newborns are “ugly”. But deep down, they know it. I knew it. They don’t mind hearing that their new releases are “wet and free”. That’s obvious and undeniable.

Ugly J

Ugly J

So, the meaning of “Ugly, Wet and Free” definitely applies to newborns. Where else does it apply? I think it applies to me, sort of.  I want to be ugly. I used to want to be handsome, between the ages of 14 and 27. “Ugly” gives a person freedom. No longer do I worry about how I look today. Don’t care. “Ugly” is my liberator. I like my scarred and cracked hands. I like my swollen and aggravated eyes. I am comfortable with this. My most highly admired superstars in life, people that I’d like to be like when I grow up, are ugly. Liberated, Comfortable, Confident, Wise, and Ugly!

Ugly is also related to the car you drive, the house you live in, the thoughts in your head and the words you speak.   In these cases, ugly does not mean trashy, scummy, incendiary, offensive. I don’t like that type of ugly. In these cases, ugly is a fine balance. You don’t want folks to envy or be jealous of you. You don’t want to burdened by worrying about this either.

If your car is ugly, you don’t worry about someone breaking into it. My cross the street, most supremely awesomest, neighbor, has 2 nicer cars and consistently never rolls the windows up. I am looking at one right now. Windows down and its raining. The potential thief walks right past it. Why? Windows down means nothing valuable. Go ahead, break in, all you’ll get is a breath of moldy air, mixed with dog hair. My car is ugly on the outside. I roll my windows up, and usually lock the doors, but the interior is neat. If someone dents the door, not a big concern. I love my car, maybe in an unhealthy way.

Maybe a good time to get literal.   First, the definitions: Ugly, Wet and Free. Now the synonyms and antonyms: Ugly, Wet and Free. Good stuff. Yum Yum.

Now on to Wet. Why would I want to be wet? I’ve already established that this applies to newborns. This applies to all things that get born, including hatched things. We come into the world covered in guck. There is a better, more accurate term here, but I don’t know it. Guck works. Guck is a messy mix of fluids, some waste, some nutritional, some blood. Combined, it is guck. So newborns are wet with guck. I don’t really to be remembered as someone covered in guck. I want to be remembered as wet.

What “wet” means to me is committed. Fully immersed. Doesn’t imply knowledge or domain expertise. It means that I committed to attaining the knowledge or expertise. I have jumped in. An example. When my kid wets the bed at night, they are declaring that they are fully committed to either not wearing pullups, or not getting out of bed and using the bathroom (in the spooky dark) or possibly that they just want to piss me off. Another obvious example, when I get around to, once every few days, taking a shower, I am fully committed to getting entirely wet (and squeaky clean). Not just the fancy head, not just the beautifully scuplted belly, not just my misleadingly small feet. Whole body wet. Wet until the hot water supply goes out, which is about 6 minutes in our house. The previos 2 examples aren’t really making the case, too obvious.

Here’s another implied meaning of “wet”. Wet is a controlled, confident statement of ignorance. Wet is me stating either implicitly or really not, that I don’t know what I am doing. This paragraph is a materialization of the point. I don’t know what I am doing with this blog, with this section, with this paragraph, with this sentence, with this word. I am wet right now. I do not know what I am doing. Although, I am 1. demonstrating that I don’t know, 2. admitting ignorance, 3. but fully committed.

My marriage is wet, my fathering skills are wet, my business plan is wet, my education is wet, my car is wet, my future goals are wet, my past experiences were drenched, and so much more.

Being wet or fully committed isn’t so bad, most folks don’t mind if they are described that way. Admitting to ignorance is a separate matter. Admitting to ignorance places me in risky position. Some folks may play power games, look down or shrug off or not listen. So, when admitting ignorance, I usually flash some bling if necessary. For example, not mine, when we were growing up, the 10 year old girl declared to my 8 year old eldest brother that she could run faster. His response, “Let’s see who can pee the furthest.” Bling. In other cases, the bling is not needed.

Free.  Well, depending on where you live in the world, “free” has alot of variations.  A woman in Afganistan, who has removed her Burka, may feel free.  To me, the best description of free, the most accurate, comes for an overdosed and dead lady.  “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”.    I have throught about this for several weeks,  and there is no better defintion.  M-W online dictionary defines free as “1 a: having the legal and political rights of a citizen b: enjoying civil and political liberty <free citizens> c: enjoying political independence or freedom from outside domination d: enjoying personal freedom : not subject to the control or domination of another“.  Not what I am thinging about.

“Free” to me, simply means not afraid of being yourself.  Blurting out whatever you want, whenever you want, without fear.  Throughout life, I have been very NOT free. Due to social constraints, fear of losing a job, fear of hurting someone’s feelings, I have been NOT free.  But once you lose your job, once all your friends have gone their own way, once you’re left with yourself, free becomes something fantastic.  Nowadays, if there is something that I want to say,  I say it.

A better example of Free is told by old ladies.  Women, in the US, haven’t been free for a while.  I remember when I was young, my mom would say that she couldn’t wait until she was 80+ until she could spit on the street without caring.  I, of course, thought it was a weird thing to hear when I was 10, becuase I was spitting everywhere.  But she was talking about her freedom.  The point in her life where she’d be comfortable, liscensed to spit on the sidewalk.  Allison’s Grandmother, who very recently passed away, had a funny story when she was in the nursing home.  She said something along the lines of “I can say whatever I want, I am 92″.  It was probably to an underserving nurse, but Grammy was free.

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.  Freedom is great.  When you aren’t worried about something (your car getting busted into, your home getting robbed, loosing your job, failure, being poor, etc.) getting taken from you, you are free.  I feel free today.  Free to act just like me.

That’s probably enough about what the words mean ane why they are important to me.  Now on to the origin.

This will take a few sentences.  A guy I worked with at the Washingtonpost.com named Chris signed my going away football, in big, bold letters “Ugly, Wet and Free!”  In Dec 2000, I had never heard this, and didn’t understand, @ 27 yrs old, what he meant.  11 years later, it’s clear.  He is a genious.  He won’t talk to me anymore, and I am not sure why.  As far as I know, this quote is his.  I give him credit for it.  It’s possible tht he heard it in a song, or read it in an article.  Who knows.  But as it turns out, his going away message, on my cheap going away football, has changed my goal in life.

I want to be Ugly, I want to be Wet and I want to be Free.  I want to be that today.  I want to be that tomorrow.  I want that on my tombstone, although I dont want the tombstone.  I just want my dead body to be buried in the earth, no coffin.  I want a tree planted in the soil above my body, I want to feed the tree and grow with it.

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