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In the book Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett, two men wait for a man named Godot. Godot, however, never appears. The two men waiting for Godot are named Vladimir and Estragon, but they call themselves “Didi” and “Gogo”. They’re very close friends, maybe even brothers. While they wait at a indiscernible and ordinary hillside, two other characters are introduced in the story. Their names are Pozzo and Lucky. Pozzo is a fairly well off type of man, and Lucky is his human slave who is treated like an animal. In the first scene, Pozzo is able to see, and Lucky is able to think and dance. In the second scene, though, Pozzo is blind, and Lucky is dumb. A couple of times Didi and Gogo flirt with the idea of separating or killing themselves or leaving, but they never do. The play is filled with repetitions, both of actions and of words. Nothing really happens; that is to say that there is no typical plot arch. They wait for Godot, but Godot never arrives. Characters come and go, and there are fights and friendly conversations had, but in the end, it all comes down to the absence of and the waiting for Godot.
This play was interesting because of the conversation and the depth of the characters, and because of the general expectation that something will happen, but of course nothing ever does. There are so many underlying concepts in this book, especially in the reality that Valdimir and Estragon create for themselves. Some of the themes that I saw in this book were time, friendship, religion, life and death, and obedience.
One scene that stands out in my mind is during the first scene, when Vladimir and Estragon think about killing themselves using the tree’s bough. Estragon wants Vladimir to hang himself first because Vladimir is heavier. If the bough doesn’t break when he tries to hang himself, then it certainly won’t break if Estragon tries to hang himself. This is such an interesting idea. They couldn’t stand it if one of them died while the other lived, so they have to think up a way to ensure they both died. But they decide to not do anything, “it’s safer” (21). This reminded me of a quote in my planner. “The man who does things makes many mistakes, but he never makes the biggest mistake of all—doing nothing” (Benjamin Franklin). If I were to answer my essential question, “Do I need to have a specific goal in my life in order to achieve something?” from the point of view of Gogo and Didi, I would guess that they would say yes, but then live no.
Gogo and Didi have their own reality. They also have their own controller, much like Lucky does. Lucky obeys Pozzo, even though Lucky could escape at any time. Gogo and Didi obey Godot’s orders to wait for him, even though they could leave at any time. They are not ruled by their own minds, but by Godot; not even Godot, the possibility of Godot. Their decisions are made by the variable of Godot coming.
I see Godot as that thing that needs to happen in order for Gogo and Didi to get on with their lives. They think (paraphrasing), “Once Godot comes, we can go exploring to the Pyrenees.” Godot will never come, though, and they order themselves to stay and wait for him, never really living their own lives. This phrase comes to mind, “I’ll just sort things out, then I’ll devote myself to my dream”; always complaining that the conditions aren’t quite right.
In my own life, there are many variables like Godot. The first one that pops into mind is college. We’re asked, as students, to make sure our grades, SAT scores, and extra curriculars are up to impeccable standards of the colleges we want to go apply to. We’re asked to make sure x, y, and z are perfect and then we can get on with our real life dreams. Being in high school can easily be like waiting for Godot, because we are all waiting for that time when we can finally be happy and follow our passions instead of worrying about how we’ll look on paper. We wait until Godot comes in the form of a large white envelope with a college letterhead on it.
The sad thing is that it’s not the answer to all of our dangling expectations. If we go through high school racking up perfect scores, make it into our dream college, and finally attend it, we are still waiting. Neither the college acceptance letters nor the high school diplomas are our tickets to living our life.
What if Gogo and Didi blew off Godot? What if Lucky broke free? What would they have left? Is it inevitable that they always wait for Godot? Always obey Pozzo? Is Beckett implying that waiting for something is life itself and that it’s inescapable? I want to say that it’s not. I want to say that we all have a choice. But do we? Is our only choice to make waiting our thing, like Sisyphus made the rock his thing in the Camus interpretation?
Going back to that Benjamin Franklin quote, “The man who does things makes many mistakes, but he never makes the biggest mistake of all—doing nothing,” I feel like he’s right, and whatever Beckett meant in his text (“I cannot explain my plays. Each must find out for himself what is meant,” says Beckett), I say we have a choice. After reading waiting for Godot I felt helpless, like I really was waiting for something that would never come, just like the characters in the play. I feel the only question I can ask myself now is, “am I awake?”
Warning: Maybe be obscene and offensive, as the flarf movement dictates.
different types of donkies,
their use in history,
and trivia
yay hitler was like yay lets kill.
as a look, it is about as quintessentially
fucked up as it gets.
like a personal ad:
Asian Slave Escorts offers oriental submissives and Asian BDSM services worldwide. Tailored to your tastes, needs and desires.
like a marriage vow:
Legalized Abortion IS Slavery to Satan.
Stop It, or God Will Destroy the USA
OR DIE TRYING
My Giant Scissors: cutting the antiwar Heart out
Your urine-filled (microwavable) plastic-penis: taking the fun out of sex
Mother Darwin, tell me The Bedtime Story of Evolution again please.
Phrases taken from Google searches for terms: slavery, religion, plastic urine, fairy bible wand, anti-abortion religious, donkey, french coffee cigarettes, scissors cutting
I thought I saw two dead cockaroaches today. One in the basement of our English building, with its white guts hanging out, and the other upside down on my kitchen floor. I felt deeply that it was a message from a deceased relative.
But when I finished making my sandwich and turned around, the second one flipped itself over, and scampered under the fridge.
I think it’s a sign, actually.
“…and frankly, it’s unamerican.” — one of the presidential candidates on NPR
My Bus/Adventure will finally be lived out next week. I will live it out.
Armed with only a notebook, my messenger bag, and the newspaper staff’s beautiful Nikon digital SLR, I will hit the grimy streets of Honolulu, sustainably. That means I won’t drive anywhere but instead catch the bus or ride my bike. I plan on getting to know my city again, meeting new people, experiencing the architecture, riding The Bus, and living.
I don’t want to leave Hawaii next year without having done this. I don’t want to live another month without having done this. I just want to do it, and make the experience my own.
Right now I’m half studying for French, half letting my mind wander off and explore. I’ve come to connect the city and exploring new places with this surreal still night time street lamp type feeling. Does that make sense? Think of walking down a black pavement street, surrounded by old Hawaii buildings basking in the yellow light of the street lamps. Picture yourself alone on this street after having been at a wonderful party, listening to your favorite music and seeing friends you love.
That doesn’t do it justice.
But on Thursday, I’ll do a little raffle/draw type thing with different places I want to go to, so I can decide the order. I just can’t wait. I want to adventure now.
Listening to: Metric, Too Little Too Late
Reading: French subjonctif conjugation practice
My inability to cry. The ideas cartwheeling through synapses. Slimy teeth in a sleeping mouth.
Fake palindromes playing. The taste of dark purple lipstick on skin. Blue Mr. Sketch marks.
My delusions. Mental blocks I created. Old rave music on shuffle.
Finding my good fortune in an old Chinese temple. Legs wrapped around the tree. Pillows.
Yesterday, a bright day. Tomorrow, misting rain cloud that has come into its way.
Bamboo branches that bend right. A song into the darkest night.
I plan on writing a really long post, but I don’t have time right now. To give you a little teaser,
hair was dyed.
Oh, and some major freak hath cometh on the dance floor.
I announced the start of the V-day collaborative art book at the end of Janruary, and I’ve gotten a couple of beautiful submissions. I’ve decided to extend the due date until the beginning of April, so if you want to contribute, PLEASE SEND ME ART/POETRY!
Here’s the description of what you should send:
On an 8.5 X 11 in piece of paper (any thickness), I want you to express how you feel about love, Valentines day, vaginas, women, relationships, no relationships, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, etc in the most creative and cathartic way possible. There are no medium restrictions (i.e. you can do it in charcoal, pencil, nail polish, etc). Illustrated poetry is great too. You can send as many as you want.
Then I’m going to get them professionally scanned, lay the pages out on indesign, and send them over to Lulu to have it printed. I’ll send you a copy of the book if you send your address and a bit of a monetary contribution along with the piece of art.
THE DEADLINE IS BY BEGINNING OF APRIL.
Send your art to my address:
Lindsea
280 N. Kainalu Dr
Kailua, Hawaii 96734
United State
280 N. Kainalu Dr
Kailua, Hawaii 96734
United State
I also posted this on http://nervousness.org (a forum for mail-art lovers)
Photo by Diane Cordell
In the Book of Job, God doesn’t only punish sinners. He punishes Job, although Job didn’t do anything wrong. Job was being “tested”, but he didn’t actually do something against God. He didn’t sin, and yet he was punished. The world that is presented in the Book of Job is a world where the presence of God is unquestioned. It’s basically a given fact. Job questions God’s reasoning, but he never questions the existence of God. His friends don’t either, they only speculate at why God is hurting Job in this way, and they are punished because of that.
In American Literature Honors, we’re reading Hemingway’s short stories set during World War One. Reading these stories reminded me of the Book of Job, because in the world Hemingway describes, God doesn’t exist. To quote The Sun Also Rises, Brett Ashley says, “You know, it makes one feel rather good deciding not to be a bitch…It’s sort of what we have instead of God.” In this time period, people feel disillusioned and disenfranchised; they don’t have God. Instead, they search for ways to compensate for this enormous loss. They don’t have the unquestioning faith that the characters in Book of Job have.
In the short story Soldier’s Home, the character Krebs reminded me of Job. He came home from the brutal war to see his whole town unchanged. He’s very much changed himself. He’s deeply affected by the war, and it was like this huge dark cloud was following him. It made everything he experienced kind of meaningless. He was being punished—like a million others—for no particular reason.
An even better analogy would be between Job and the old man in A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. He was miserable, “in despair.” The man used to have a wife, a house, a seemingly full life, but now he just sits on the street at night, drinking. Instead of doubting God’s reasons for punishing him, he doubts God instead. He believes in “nothing,” “Our nada who art in nada…” (Hemingway). His clean, well-lighted place is a temple for him. It was the only place that his suffering was alleviated. This had nothing to do with the concept of God. God was gone from their lives.
Instead of having God to fall onto, people fell onto the simple, physical sense of “real”. For example, the clean, well lighted place, or e. e. cummings’ description of “your etcetera”. It wasn’t about the abstractions of war, honor, glory, courage, or faith; it was about the concreteness of the physical sense of a place, and a person.
When God is gone, what’s left? Do ethics and morals disappear? I don’t think they do. They’re still alive, but in a different sense. People don’t feel compelled to act morally and ethically because some higher power will smite them, instead they are moral and ethical because eventually the real punishment will come from inside.
This video makes me think of Anthony’s post on Students 2.0 about teaching design. The story may be there, but unless it doesn’t equal more than the sum of its parts, it’s worthless. Or vis versa, if the story sucks, but there’s a great reflection, it’s still a waste of time.
I think breaking it down in these terms really helps me to understand quality story telling/ podcasting/ radio broadcasting. So, here’s the equation (as I see it): interesting sequence of events + meaningful reflection (the why)= a good story. That sounds about right.
Ira Glass is my hero, as you all know. He’s definitely pretty high on the Guys I’d Like To Marry.
For some reason, I constantly get these emails telling me about magic spells and potions that I can do on my own, at home. I think sometime in 8th grade I did a whole bunch of research on magic, because I was convinced that I was a witch, and that’s how they got my email.
It amuses me to no end.
