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Thursday, April 25, 2013

THE ONLY CURE FOR LOVE - A WHIPPING IN A DARK HOUSE!



       

         I woke up this morning and I knew where I was, which is
always a good sign. My mind felt like it had passed through a
food strainer. My eyes were red, I felt off-balance somehow...
as if I was stumbling. The cupboard was bare. The fridge was a
horror I could not face; the bathroom looked as if someone
had killed a chicken in it.
        My eyes were out of focus and I had a general sense of doom
which loosened my bowels and made me want to apologize
for everything I had ever done.
        There was no one here to apologize to... thank God!
Had there been someone here, I might have said something I 
really and truly meant. And this always gets me into trouble.
         They haven`t quite figured out how to formulate a crime
out of "verbal assault" (unless you happen to spray the other person
with spittle when you`re screaming at him. ) This is
 good.
         One thing I`ve noticed about the Criminal Code - the sentences never get lighter, as time goes by, and once they figure out how to codify a new crime, the crime stays on the books: it never leaves, it is there for good. You can still get 14 years for buggery in Canada
          The Code never gets lighter; it keeps getting heavier, and heavier until we have no civil rights at all.

           Ha! Ha! And now I`m way off topic.

            Yes, waking up, feeling horrible, jumping when I see my own shadow, afraid to look in the mirror... ... When I feel like this, I usually  have a stiff drink and turn to Shakespeare. He`s always worth a laugh or two.  And the fact that he seems to know me is a comfort. When I wander through his pages, he always cheers me up.          

            I`m sure more people would read him if they hadn`t met him first in English class, if they realized his savage nature. Shakespeare is a beast! He has the big mind, a nasty mind capable of expressing some of the ugly truths about being women and men. And he`s not afraid to say exactly what he means

                It is from Shakespeare that I get the above  quotation
To paraphrase:

                 The cure for madness is a whip in a dark house.

                 Love is a kind of madness.

                 So the cure for love may also be  a whipping in a dark house.
                   
                 
                 So speaks Rosalind in,  "As You Like It" 3.2

"Love is merely a madness, and I tell you
deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen
do: and the reason why they are not so punished
and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the
whippers are in love too..."



                                                                   
                                                                                                                                                                 I had the privilege of studying with Northrope Frye
for four years at Victoria College, University of Toronto. He said sometimes he thought Shakespeare`s comedies are his best works, the ultimate culmination of his talent
                   I agree with him. The character of Rosalind is not as well known as Lear or Hamlet, but boy is she deep! And she`s funny at times, also, so I can forgive her the sadism of some of her comments and actions.
                   Forgive her sadism?  What am I talking about? I`ve always
encouraged a  healthy sadism. Read the part about how she has tortured a young man in love with her in order to cure him of love.
                   Wow! A bug on the end of a pin maybe feels less pain.
                    To be honest I find the notion of a whipping in a dark house arousing. And sadistic ladies have always had a certain appeal to me... So you can see why I enjoy Rosalind. I feel as if I`ve met her already! And I had a really rough time when I did.
                 

                  People don`t read Shakespeare so much these days and that`s fine with me because that means I get to pick from his treasure house alone as I please.
                   One thing I have to say about Willie, apart from his being a beast, is: 

                    What a wild garden he has! There are vegetables in it
that no one has met yet, and creatures there that no one will ever name.

                     His characters are archetypes. I have seen them
walking past me in the crowds of Main Street.

                      Reading his plays I encounter an understanding so fundamental as to be preternatural.
                     I hear his peoples` voices speaking across the centuries, whispering down the wind.



Here`s a little savagery.


"There have been cuckolds ere now,
And many a man there is (even at this present,
Now, while I speak this) holds his wife by th`arm,
That little thinks she has been sluiced in`s absence,
And his pond fished by his next neighbour (by
Sir Smile, his neighbour)"

Should all despair who has unfaithful wives,
the tenth of mankind would hang themselves. (paraphrase)


There`s no cure for it: it is a bawdy planet.
                                          
                                                The Winter`s Tale  1.2
                                                      

                                                              




                                                            Respectfully submitted.  RR.