"That's how it is on this bitch of an earth"
Matthew Biberman writes today about the "tragedy of tragedy," about nothing and nowhere to fall from.
Beckett's "that's how it is on this bitch of an earth," sums up much in today's Lear-related posts. That's the line we repeatedly sighed around San Quentin as the men worked on their 1988 production of "Godot." In an obvious example, no line characterized better the many dozen memos we wrote to get permission to bring into the prison items, such as : "one pair of black lace-up men’s shoes, one wood pipe (smoking), one gold watch, one wig (blond) and one buggy whip."
We planned three nights of public performances and when we sent out invitations, we had to include: Certain special security measures must be taken to ensure your ability to enter and exit San Quentin at the conclusion of your evening in prison.
Please Read The Following:
Do Not wear blue.
Do make sure to bring a current driver’s license or State picture ID.
Alcohol, drugs and weapons are prohibited on State Prison grounds.
Vehicles are subject to search.
Please arrive at San Quentin at 4:00 p.m. for institutional processing.
To this list my boss, his boss and I added: “That's how it is on this bitch of an earth."
And yet...
And yet Godot's reminder "To all mankind they were addressed, those cries still ringing in our ears!” is as true as the "bitch of an earth" retort.
No one puts "and yet"better than Issa:
The world of dew is only the world of dew
And yet
And yet
About Judith
Judith Tannenbaum is a writer and teacher who cares very deeply about a vision and practice of art-making that includes all of us. She has received two California Arts Council Artist-in-Residence grants. The first of these allowed her to teach poetry at San...
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Judith
what happens to men in their prime who lose the power in prison? This is the view I'd hope you'd share with us. What happens when male beings, used to having their own domain and sphere of control, lose it?
requests
Belle, I responded to your previous request a few posts ago, and that answer applies to the question you ask here. One challenge with your questions is that you ask for THE answer, as though each person responds the same. As one common prison phrase has it "Everyone does his own time." Besides which, what you're asking has to be asked of the men themselves. All I can say, which I have been saying (in all my writing, including a few of these brief posts and comments) is what I observe, how those observations move me, and (if I have permission) what the men tell me.
I looked through your posts
which one was it?
responses
http://www.redroom.com/blog/judith-tannenbaum/saying-thank-you
Belle: I did put this link as a comment on your post (one before you left on your trip) -- it is hard to know where to post what, and then where to look to continue the conversation. Anyway, I know this isn't the kind of response you most want, but if you want to take the time I do have articles posted on my own website that explore these issues , and I've got a copy of my Disguised as a Poem with your name on it (though I totally understand and agree with your policy on reading). As I wrote -- I try not to over-generalize or to speak what isn't my own to speak (especially in relation to people in prison) - but, of course, the loss of power is almost a defintion of imprisonment.
When
you visit your mom next, if you have time, I'll come by and pick you up for a walk and tea. I would love to read your book, which so generously signed to me.
Thank you. I'll go to the link now.
You are right about my wanting THE answer instead of looking for a broader experience. I am too myopic and need to expand my intake. Breathe deeper.
Btw, in a much earlier post regarding thanking. Like your daughter, I always writer thank you letters and I was merely playing the devil's advocate to echo what Anna Eisner said in her Op-Ed about RR being too "nice" instead of getting on with discussions. I walk around with a sense of incompleteness, hanging heavy on my neck, when I do forget to give thanks. I worst pain is to be misunderstood. (Wow, that episode is still bearing bad fruits.)
And I did read the "thank you" to my thank you, but I missed the comments farther down the thread.
Men don't thank as bountifully as women. Why is that? Okay, you are going to say I have too many questions. The formal thanks-giving is done by the women in the family or partnership.
great
It's a date! I'll probably go to Mom's next in early August; I'll email you a few days before. (We were just there this past week-end -- it's been bad here with fires and breathing, but it was even worse there.)
I don't get the sense you're myopic -- it's just that people have their own experience and generalizations only go so far. I'm probably very sensitive to this because my experiences and responses are often esoteric, not the norm.
What you write about men thanking more bountifully than women is an example. That's probably generally, true, but my father was more of an active "thank you" sayer than my mom. He was the one who stayed in touch with people, etc., the most. Just his nature.
I don't think you have too many questions. If for no other reason than that I'm the biggest question-asker around!
great post and thread
My teacher and friend Tom Sleigh shared some of his stories from teaching in prison so from early on I have had immense respect for people who have done it. I still haven't, even though I am friendly with some of the people running the Shakespeare Behind Bars program here in KY. One day I guess I will. But then to add in Beckett? I love Beckett. I was trying to work in Rough for Radio II in the blog you picked up on but I just couldn't do it. I will always remember how I felt hearing of Beckett's death. It had been a crazy dream of mine to go to Paris just to look at him in a cafe. I miss Bellow too.
thanks
The movie of the KY Shakespeare Behind Bars program is really good, I think. Went to see it with a prison arts friend and we were both a bit wary -- caring as much as we do about the work and the way people inside are portrayed we knew we were likely to either love or hate the movie. We loved it.
Jan kept telling Spoon "Beckett died with your chapbook on his night table.""