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 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