Shakespeare's Sonnett 116

SONNET 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Mabillard, Amanda. An Analysis of Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Shakespeare Online. 2000. (04/25/2006 ) <>.

[ANALYSIS
[Lines 1-2]* T.G. Tucker explains that the first two lines are "[a] manifest allusion to the words of the Marriage Service: 'If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony'; cf. Much Ado 4.1.12. 'If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined.' Where minds are true - in possessing love in the real sense dwelt upon in the following lines - there can be no 'impediments' through change of circumstances, outward appearance, or temporary lapses in conduct". (T.G. Tucker, ed. Sonnets of Shakespeare. Cambridge: University Press, 1924, [192])[Line 5]* 'mark' = a beacon to warn mariners of dangerous rocks.
Sonnet 116 is about love in its most ideal form. It is praising the glories of lovers who have come to each other freely, and enter into a relationship based on trust and understanding. The first four lines reveal the poet's pleasure in love that is constant and strong, and will not "alter when it alteration finds". The following lines proclaim that true love is indeed an "ever-fix'd mark" which will survive any crisis. In lines 7-8, the poet claims that we may be able to measure love to some degree, but this does not mean we fully understand it. Love's actual worth cannot be known -- it remains a mystery. The remaining lines of the third quatrain (9-12), reaffirm the perfect nature of love that is unshakeable throughout time and remains so "ev'n to the edge of doom", or death. In the final couplet, the poet declares that, if he is mistaken about the constant, unmovable nature of perfect love, then he must take back all his writings on love, truth, and faith. Moreover, he adds that, if he has in fact judged love inappropriately, no man has ever really loved, in the ideal sense that the poet professes. The details of Sonnet 116 are best described by Tucker Brooke in his acclaimed edition of Shakespeare's poems:
[In Sonnet 116] the chief pause in sense is after the twelfth line. Seventy-five per cent of the words are monosyllables; only three contain more syllables than two; none belong in any degree to the vocabulary of 'poetic' diction. There is nothing recondite, exotic, or metaphysical in the thought. There are three run-on lines, one pair of double-endings. There is nothing to remark about the rhyming except the happy blending of open and closed vowels, and of liquids, nasals, and stops; nothing to say about the harmony except to point out how the fluttering accents in the quatrains give place in the couplet to the emphatic march of the almost unrelieved iambic feet. In short, the poet has employed one hundred and ten of the simplest words in the language and the two simplest rhyme-schemes to produce a poem which has about it no strangeness whatever except the strangeness of perfection. (Brooke, ed. The Sonnets. London: Oxford UP: 1936, 234)

18 Days to go

The wedding is shaping up nicely. The site is booked, the food is coming along. My dress is ready for final fittings, and Daniel's things are on the way. The minor snafus is making sure that all our attendants have their things and are ready. I have to ask one more person to take part in the ceremony: Dee. Her and Bob have been married 33 years so I think she is fully qualified to read Sonnet 116. I need to get the seating plan sent to the site so they can get everything set up for us. There is always something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, got to order the wedding cake this weekend!

The DUH Factor, the first in an ongoing series

I am starting a new rant string called the DUH Factor, dedicated to news stories that insult our intelligence by being painfully obvious. Here is the first:

"Goth" youths more likely to self-harm: study - Yahoo! News

"LONDON (Reuters) - Young people who adopt the "Goth" lifestyle of dark clothes and introspective music are more likely to commit self-harm or attempt suicide than other youngsters, according to a study on Friday. "

"Michael van Beinum, a child-and-adolescent psychiatrist, said the Goth subculture might be attractive to young people with mental health problems, allowing them to find a community where their distress might be more easily understood. "

You have a subculture that digs gothic images, black clothing and makeup, vampire literature, and Marilyn Manson, made up mostly of young adults who are so alienated by our culture that they strike back by dressing like corpses, and scaring the crap out of high school administrations everywhere. It took a scientific study to tell the public that this group is more likely to commit or attempt suicide than their mainstream peers......

DUH !!!!!!

Ghosts and Dreams

Angel and Tish have been on my mind lately, a lot. Tish is my mothers younger sister, who died of lung cancer six years ago at the age of 39. Angel was her daughter, who died at the age of 12 three years ago. I have been having dreams about Tish. She had a set of wedding bands she loved that were worth quite a bit to her emotionally and financially. My dreams are that she tries to throw them away, to actually flush them down a toilet. I keep asking her what the hell she is doing, has she lost her mind? However, she never says anything back. She just continues to try to pull them off and disperse with them in one flush. She never succeeds, but I end up walking away disgusted, and waking up confused. I've had these dreams on and off for the past two weeks. Then I went on my 3 times weekly walkabout in Pikeville, and saw the ghost...

The holler (hollow, to those unfamiliar with the local vernacular) road that goes past the apartment to Riverfill Road goes past Pikeville hospital, where coincidentally, Tish died. I was walking past the hospital when I glanced down the hill and spotted a woman pushing a stroller with a handicapped child in it. I was about 50 yards up the hill, looking from a distance through weakening glasses. But, the child that woman was pushing was Angel,I would have sworn on my life. The dark curly hair that was so wiry it would not be brushed down was the same, fought into pig tails. Ice blue eyes stared back at me, and smiled. I actually almost stumbled when I saw her, going so far as slamming my eyes shut to make sure I wasn't seeing things. The vision did not change. The woman put the child in a car, and drove away. I was bereft. The last time I saw Angel was in her casket, and then she shows up where I least expect it. I cried, but kept on walking to gain composure before the natives thought I had lost my mind.

I never had closure with either of them. Tish died while I was in Oregon, and Angel died when I was in Lexington, 150 miles away. I never got to say goodbye properly. Its no question I miss them both terribly. It has even gone so far as for me to seek out where Tish's wedding rings actually went. To my relief, Tish's whole jewelry box is in my sisters possession. Would wearing those rings bring me any closure? I doubt it, and I wouldn't ask Raymond (Tish's widower, Angel's father) for the permission. It would be too painful. And yet....I had that dream again last night. This time she was pulling on them so hard her finger bled. The only explanations I can come up with is that I just miss them, and the upcoming wedding is making me feel their loss even more.

Rapture! A fan letter

I am always just tickled to death when people write me and tell me they not only read my blog, but enjoy it enough to write me about it! Here is the letter in its entirety"

"Actually I was browsing and came across your profile, which then led to your Blog, and just thought you enjoy hearing/reading that for some reason I just couldn't get enough/stop myself. Therefore, best of luck with all your new & wonderful adventures, and definitely please continue to contribute online material for all your (new)fans :)"

S.M [name withheld to protect the innocent, LOL]

Thanks!

ITMFA

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Thanks Dad

I haven't spoken about my biological father much on this blog. He was, and still is, a complex, troubled man. He was the youngest child of a very wealthy couple in South Western Virginia, who he found out later was really his aunt and uncle who adopted him. He went to Vietnam, and came back twisted. He has been an abuser, and is a cross dresser. He disappeared when I was 11 years old, and I found him at age 28. I've seen him once in that time. I speak about him now because his birthday is coming up this week, and I doubt I'll call him. The reason I wanted to write about him is to thank him.

Starting at about 9 years old, he started making me call people for him for information. He would listen to my speaking voice and correct my grammar, enunciation, and timing. He told me he did it because I was so shy I couldn't look someone in the face, much less talk to them clearly. He would make me call and order pizza. I would be the one he made to call about movie times (at a time you talked to a human being for such information). After the call it was nag nag nag if I spoke too fast, or stuttered. Sometimes I would cry it was so bad. He was known for his persuasive use of language, i.e, he could sell swampland in Florida. He told me he didn't want to be ashamed of me. Now, all these years later, I am known for being fairly articulate. I was a telephone operator, and don't mind public speaking. If I had to pick one trait I'm proud of, its my speaking. Thanks Dad

LYRICS ALERT...Z'S FEELING FRISKY

Ah yes...Spring is in the air. I'm getting married in 6 weeks, the antidepressants are working again, and I finally found this song, that I haven't heard in at least 13 years....It brings back very sexy memories



"Sex (I'm A...) "
Berlin

"Feel the fire, feel my love inside you it's so right
There's the sound and the smell of love in my mind
I'm a toy, come and play with me, say the word now
Wrap your legs around mine and ride me tonight

I'm a man - I'm a goddess
I'm a man - Well I'm a virgin
I'm a man - I'm a blue movie
I'm a man - I'm a bitch
I'm a man - I'm a geisha
I'm a man - I'm a little girl
And we make love together

Slip and slide in your wet delight, feel the blood flow
Not too fast, don't be slow, my love's in your hands

I'm a man - I'm a boy
I'm a man - Well I'm your mother
I'm a man - I'm a one night stand
I'm a man - Am I bi
I'm a man - I'm a slave
I'm a man - I'm a little girl
And we make love together

Skin to skin, tongue to oooh! Come on honey hold tight
Come inside, it's a passion play just for you
Let's get lost in that magic place all alone now
Drink your fill from my fountain of love, wet your lips

I'm a man - I'm a teaser
I'm a man - Well I'm a virgin
I'm a man - I'm a one night stand
I'm a man - I'm a drug
I'm a man - Well I'm your slave
I'm a man - I'm a dream divine
And we make love together

I'm a man - I'm a goddess
I'm a man - I'm a hooker
I'm a man - I'm a blue movie
I'm a man - I'm a slut
I'm a man - I'm a geisha
I'm a man - I'm babe
I'm a man - I'm a dream divine
And we make love together
And we'll make love forever"

Sign the Pledge!!! G4 - Attack of the Show

I was watching Attack of the Show a few weeks ago, and came across this wonderful tidbit. Apparently Valentine's Day has been morphed into
The Day of Purity. The Day of Purity was started three years ago by the Liberty Counsel, a Christian law firm in Orlando, Fla, to try to keep teenagers from having sex before a 'biblically correct [paraphrase]' marriage. AOTS came up with its own pledge, The Promiscuity Pledge, from the The Society for the Liberation of Undone Trousers (S.L.U.T). Here it is, in its entirety,

"We hereby pledge to be promiscuous; to do anyone and anything at any time; to march boldly into the whorehouses of the world and joyously dance the horizontal mambo. To “spread the love,” in the dirtiest way, and to have enough sex during our formative years to ensure we know what we’re doing if we ever get married.

We do it for humanity. We do it for freedom. We do it because we love doin’ it. And we do it for our friends, who will think we are totally cool.
This we pledge."

I would like to invite all who read this to pledge the more realistic pledge.....Viva S.L.U.T!!!!!!

HOTH2014.COM - HOTH'S XXII WINTER OLYMPIC BID & PETITION

Shane Igoe and I have a lot in common. We both grew up in the 1970's and 1980's, when the Winter Olympics meant something to Americans. My solution to the waning interest: start making children interested in the sports offered. His solution: hold the games on Hoth.

Yes, Hoth, the winter planet from the Empire Strikes Back. Hey I'm a big Star Wars geek I love the idea. Here's the link : http://hoth2014.com/

In Like a Lamb, Out like a Lion?

Well February has come and gone. I'm sort of glad winter is passing so quickly, what there was of it. March is here, and the pressure grows. I need to find a job. It isn't fair that Daniel has to support me. I haven't kept up my end of the bargain in keeping the house up. This is the worst the fibro has been since 1996. I want to see about getting a job so I can get back into a schedule again. I have a doctors appointment on Friday, and hopefully the will max my meds. The wedding is coming up, and I'm not nearly as prepared as I need to be with the planning. I feel like life is walking right in front of me and I am too tired and in too much pain to reach out and grab it.
Got an email from the old profession. Kinda sent me off kilter. I have no idea who I am anymore, and it seems that the old life with the escorting was someone else's life.

Insomnia and Creepy-Crawly Crotch Rot

This is turning out to be a 2 post a month deal. I must do better. I've been saying that a lot about my life lately. I must do better at: housekeeping, exercising, trying to do my art, planning the wedding, etc. Now add blogging to the list. I must do better at blogging, because you know, I can never do anything good enough to please myself. I'm perpetually displease with myself. Like with sleeping. I don't do that much anymore. In fact I have been up almost 24 hours and I'm not even mildly tired. What I am is wiggly from the aforementioned creepy crawly crotch rot (my sister's term for yeast infection..thanks Samantha!). So here is my current status: buggy eyed and slap happy from no sleep and worry about shit I cant control, and squirmy from, well, you know. ...

AND FOR THE MEN READING THIS........

My darling Daniel offered, before he went out today, to stop by Wal-Mart to get some Creepy-Crawly Crotch Rot Cream on the way home from getting break work done on the car, which the thought of would send most men into a hari kari attempt. TOP THAT FOR WONDERFUL, MEN OF THE UNIVERSE!!!!!!

Fibromyalgia

Some probably would think I've given up the blog. Not true! I have been ill lately. My fibromyalgia has been acting up. I believe I've told you all about this before, but as a refresher:

-First, you begin not to sleep well. Mostly this is chronic but controllable to greater and lesser degrees.
-Then, your muscles begin to hurt, because you aren't getting a recuperative sleep.
-Next, the pain becomes so bad you cannot do daily activities. You actually don't feel like moving at all.
-No exercise= the pain gets worse. You get depressed because you cant do the things you want or used to do.
-And because you are depressed, your sleep gets worse......thus the vicious cycle begins again until one spins out of control.

And I have reached that point. This week has been pretty hellish, and has been building for about a month now. The only way to break the cycle is to up the antidepressant. That will break the depression and fatigue, making me feel the energy to exercise, allowing me to fatigue my muscles the
natural way, thus causing a deeper sleep. The cycle breaks, and I become a functioning member of society again. The last time I maxed my wellbutrin XL, I had so much energy I became a runner. I really miss having the energy to run, and paint, and even do the most normal things. I want to volunteer at the local museum. I want to walk again. I want to start being an artist, and soon a wife.
Daniel has been a pillar of strength. There is really no way to tell him how bad this is, but he is patient and loving, the best thing I need.

Imbolc 2006

The first holiday of the new year. It celebrates the return of the sun to the people, the continuation of the rebirth cycle started at Yuletide. Usually this is the time of year that drives me nuts, since it is normally all snow and darkness. However, our winter cant decide between cold or spring, so it really hasn't been half bad. I consider Imbolc a reminder that warm weather is on its way, just keep some patience. I've had to have a lot of patience so far this new year.

Many of my long suffering readers will remember a character called Mr. Cool. He was an older, wealthier, secret-agent-man-type that convinced my stupid ass that escorting was glamorous. I have been distant from him the past few months, just running his swing club. However, the pills melted what was left of his brain, and he accused me of stealing...again. The problem was I'm getting married to someone else and he can't control me anymore. This group was the last hold. So we started our own club: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Appalachian_Swingers/ .

Mr. Cool did introduce me to the Swing Lifestyle, which I will always thank him for. He put me in a position to learn a lot about myself, and human nature. But, the mindfuck is over. I consider this Imbolc to symbolize the returning to the light of my own life, my own powers, without Mr. Cool's sick influence being there. So Mote It Be!!

No Excuses--an update

Yes, I haven't posted much this new year. The fibromyalgia has been worse this winter than it has in several years, and we really haven't had a cold winter. I have gained a lot of weight, much to my annoyance. I have tried to do regular pain management things, like sleep more and belly dance, but the pain is still there. Sometimes I like the achy feeling, as sick as that sounds. It reminds me that many fibro patients have it a helluva lot worse; at least I'm not on pain pills.

On the good side, my back room is almost ready. All I need is a relatively sturdy table to set up my sewing area and my painting area. Part of me wants to try to talk Daniel into stealing a low table from one of the closed flea market booths in the area....They are the right length and height. I am working on a embroidery art piece, and even have a piece or two I could try to sell on eBay. Still, I miss the painting. I don't feel like a real artist when I don't paint. But soon, I will be back in the saddle and covered in paint.

There is trouble a brewing in the Lifestyle, mostly boring political bullshit, in our group. We have met so many new people, and I look forward to seeing them all at the next Rockers party (next weekend).
Now my hands are hurting, so I must go, I promise to try to post more.

Howl - Allen Ginsberg

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LYRICS ALERT!!!!!

Closer to Fine--Indigo Girls

I’m trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
And the best thing you’ve ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
It’s only life after all
YeahWell darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable
And lightness has a call that’s hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it
I’m crawling on your shores
I went to the doctor,
I went to the mountains
I looked to the children,
I drank from the fountains
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

And I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a b-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind
Got my paper and I was free
I went to the doctor,
I went to the mountains
I looked to the children,
I drank from the fountains
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.
To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend
And I woke up with a headache like my head against a board
Twice as cloudy as I’d been the night before
And I went in seeking clarity.
I went to the doctor,
I went to the mountains
I looked to the children,
I drank from the fountains
Yeah we go to the doctor, we go to the mountains
We look to the children, we drink from the fountains
Yeah we go to the bible, we go through the workout
We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

Blonde joke

Sometimes you just have to love a good blonde joke...http://bluefairlane.blogspot.com/2006/01/blonde-joke.html

The Alchera Project for Dec. 2005

The tree leans away from us,
the string ready to tie it to the roof
of the stationwagon.
It knows it will leave its farm home,
and with one fell blow from an axe,
will morph from tree, to garland, to fire.

Broken hearts covered in coal dust.

My father was a coal miner, for most of the 10 years he was actively in my life. We lived in coal areas as diverse as Kentucky, Illinois, Colorado, and West Virginia. Buchanan, WV, specifically, in an little area called Tallmansville. It was a hauntingly beautiful place, a mix of the Appalachian culture I was used to with some markings of New England. My father worked the mines there, but I couldn't tell you if it was the Sago mines. It was almost 25 years ago, the name has changed. It was definitely that area. I remember the church I saw on CNN, the church where the families of 13 trapped miners sat trying to comfort each other as they waited..and waited. Then, inexplicably to me, there was news of 12 Miners alive. It didn't ring true to me. The levels of methane that was measured, I knew from long experience, couldn't support life that long. Three hours ticked by, then the truth that I had felt all along was revealed: only one survived. I watched CNN as the CEO of the coal company told those people that there had been a mistake. I heard the screams from the church on TV. The coal company knew 20 minutes after the first announcement that it was probably wrong. They let those families sit there, in rapture, for three hours thinking they would see their men alive again. They rushed the only survivor to St. Joseph's, a hospital too small to help him (Pikeville Hospital is bigger). My father got his hand stitched up there, after a piece of coal cut the top of his hand.

I felt a special sickness watching all of this. Unlike 9/11, I was part of the culture these people came from. I know that faith is the deepest part of their psyche. Faith keeps miners going into the mines, hoping they come out alive. Faith that if they keep that job, they feed their families. Faith in a Christian god that miracles happen. The CEO of International Coal group, Ben Hatfield, with one sentence, shattered the one deepest part these people use to survive. I am not a Christian, and I don't believe in an absolute Hell. But the obscenity of letting those people have hope for 3 hours, while knowing the truth, deserves punishment enough for 12 lifetimes in Hell. Actually, a special circle of Hell needs made just for them; one that looks like the tunnels of a deep, dark mineshaft, with eternal suffocation. Forever looking at a tarp, covering an opening, that will never protect you from the fumes you know are coming for you. That is the punishment they deserve.