Sing, Sing, Sing

Anger is a brief madness. HORACE

Lately, in an effort to slay my latent and expressed anger, I've been writing and raving and singing. Yes, singing. My life requires a soundtrack, always. Particularly one I can sing to. Even my anger. Especially my anger.

When I'm angry there are dozens of potentially suitable songs which could be played. But I've noticed over the years there are four that play during every outburst. These are them.

"All Apologies" - Nirvana

"Behind Blue Eyes" - The Who

"Basket Case" - Green Day

"Destroyer" - The Kinks

It's all further evidence that I'm trapped in Stuart Smalley's hell and it makes me angry.

I should say no matter my mood I will belt these out if I hear them. Like right now. I'm singing while I write this.

Why Do I Smell Smoke?

An old girlfriend of mine once told me that had I lived during the Reformation I would have been burned at the stake.

On the bright side, I do prefer to be hot rather than cold.

At the time I thought she said it because of my theological outlook. Over the last twenty years, though, I've come to think that she meant something much more intrinsic.

This all comes on the heels of a day where I was perhaps too zealous in my approach. Though in some cases, I knew what I was doing and wanted to provoke the moment so we could have a conversation. I did that because, despite claims to the contrary, we don't actually talk about necessary things.

What happened was a typical conversation which included altered histories, insecurities masked beneath authority, and a general expression of victimhood.

Perhaps the most disappointing part of a disappointing day is the realization that, for the most part, I work with and for children. Public tantrums are permitted under the guise of compassion, all constructive criticism is taken as condemnation, and an absence of any plan or direction is considered freeing. In almost every way it's the opposite of how I want to be. And just to add to these joys, it's been explained to me that all change only comes from the top down, but there's currently no need for change because we. are. perfect.

The hardest part of all is knowing I'm complicit in this too. I add to the crazy, but with the best of intentions. Which is just like them. They only have good intentions. They may not see the whole board the way I do, but they're still well-intentioned. Besides, none of them are smart or talented enough to be Machiavellian.

Still, I'm not always easiest person to work with. I expect an awful lot. Mostly, I expect people to bring their brains and use them, actively find ways to be better today then yesterday, and be open to the new. That list sounds benign, but it's not. It's about change and power and effort. Dangerous things that, if you're the one being read the list, can leave anyone feeling judged ineffectual and wanting.

I guess it all comes down to this: I'm clearly worshiping in the wrong church and I'd better get out before they lash me to the stake and toss the torches.

Fate, The Jester

by Arthur Guiterman

 The planets are bells on his motley,
   He fleers at the stars in their state,
He banters the suns burning hotly -
   The Jester whose nickname is Fate.

The lanterns that kindle their rays with
   The comets, are food for his mirth;
But, oh, how he laughs as he plays with
   His mad little bauble, the Earth

He looks on the atomies crowding
   The face of our pitiful ball;
His form in the nebulae shrouding,
   He chuckles, unnoted of all

The valorous puppets that chatter
   Superbly of Little and Great.
A flip of his finger would shatter
   The dreams of these "Masters of Fate" -


He laughs at their strivings and rages
   And tosses the murmurant sphere
To bowl through the zodiac-stages
   That measure the groove of a Year.

He laughs as he trips up the maddest
   Who scramble for power and place,
But laughs with the bravest and gladdest -
   Fate's comrades, who laugh in his face;

Who laugh at themselves and their troubles
   Whatever the beaker they quaff;
Who, laughing at Vanity's bubbles,
   Forget not to love as they laugh;

Who laugh in the teeth of disaster,
   Yet hope through the darkness to find
A road past the stars to a Master
   Of Fate in the vastness behind.

Source

Jester Envy

From William Shakespeare's As You Like It (c. 1600), Act II, Scene VII

JACQUES
A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

DUKE SENIOR
What fool is this?

JACQUES
O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

DUKE SENIOR
Thou shalt have one.

JACQUES
It is my only suit;
Provided that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
The 'why' is plain as way to parish church:
He that a fool doth very wisely hit
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

Many Parts

You know you're at an interesting place when you start thinking, "what have I really done with my life?" Usually it means you are dissatisfied or bored with the current state of things, which is how I've been feeling and why I asked the question.

As I thought about the answer, Shakespeare's line "And one man in his time plays many parts" kept popping into my head. I wondered how many and what kinds of parts have I played and if they amounted to anything?
 

I was hoping to find that one really cool achievement. Something that would make me feel instantly better. It turns out, there isn't one. No one thing jumped out at me, but taken as a whole I started to see a different picture of my life emerging, one that is more diverse and balanced than I usually notice.

So what have I been so far? This...

Actor, Adjutant, Adult, Altar boy, Apple picker, Aquarius, Archer, Artist, Author

Babysitter, Best man, Blood Donor, Board member, Book reviewer, Boyfriend, Boy Scout, Brides' man, Brigade major, Brother

Captain, Caterer, Child, Citizen, Class president, Coach, Competitor, Cook, Corporal, Counselor, Coworker, Curator, Custom framer, Customer

Date, Dancer, Delivery guy, Director, Donor, Driver, Drunk

Eagle Scout, Editor, Enemy, Eulogizer, Ex-

Fan, Fencer, Fiancee, Friend

Grandson, Golfer, Godfather, Godson, Groomsman

Historian, Historical consultant, House painter, House sitter

Intern, Insider

Janitor, Juggler

Lieutenant, Lifeguard, Loser, Lover

Male, Manager, Member, Mentee, Mentor, Model

Nephew

Opponent, Organizer, Outsider

Pall bearer, Passenger, Patient, Patron, Private

Racquetball player, Reenactor, Runner

Salesman, Scout master, Sergeant, Sleeper, Son, Stage crew, Storyteller, Stranger, Student, Supervisor, Supporter, Swimmer

Tailor, Taxpayer, Teacher, Teammate, Tenant, Tour guide, Tourist, Traveler

Uncle

Winner

Thinking about all of this has settled my agitation about where I've been, but it hasn't left me any calmer about where I'm headed. Which is OK so long as "deceased" doesn't make it on the list any time soon.

My People

It doesn't seem to matter where I am, I'm always here.

Ya, Ich Spreche Deutsch

German. This blog's title and my pseudonym are German. They translate as "ship of fools" and "fool" respectively.

Just thought you should know what you're getting yourself into.