Mojo, The Bard, & Me

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Rumble thy bellyful. Spit, fire! Spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children;
You owe me no subscription. Then let fall,
Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis’d old man;
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That will with two pernicious daughters join
Your high-engender’d battles ‘gainst a head
So old and white as this. O, ho! ‘Tis foul.

 

Lear

King Lear              Act III, Scene ii, Line 16

 

Classic scene. We’re well into the play and Lear is now aware that his two older daughters are rotten bitches. He’s wandering on the heath at night in a thunderstorm, alone except for his fool, howling at the heavens. Classic!

I’m sitting at my granddaughter’s house in Minnesota drinking my morning coffee before anyone else is up. I’m listening to Zac Brown’s Knee Deep and feeling pretty good about things.

I have no doubt that there are people who get driven as mad as Lear by life’s problems. I’m thankful that I’m not one of them. At least, today I’m not. And all we really ever have is today, n’est pas?

 

No rain, wind, thunder, or fire; just a peaceful sunset over frozen Forest Lake.