I was Hamlet, once. The story begins with that play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, where in the beginning, Guildenstern flips a coin, and it turns up heads 90 times in a row. Well, I had thought it was tails, and that Rosencrantz hadn’t guessed them, either, and that figures in a bit. In the play Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are supposed to give this note to such and such a leader while they are off with Hamlet visiting somewhere, and this leader is supposed to then give orders to off Hamlet. Hamlet, though, reads this note, and writes another note, replacing it, saying to kill the bearers of said letter, instead of himself. Thus, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are “hoist by their own petard”. Killed by the very thing that they carry. Hamlet was always getting the better of them. Back in the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, R & G have this game they play where you try not to answer any questions, and they intersperse parts of Hamlet there, where they all interact, and in the course of their conversation, H destroys them at this game. H is always 10 steps ahead.
I always had vague notions of being a Hamlet-like character, even before my madness, and then when the psychosis was in full swing, I made up a character for myself: Hamlet, Prince of Amsterdam. Amsterdam, because, well, I was stoned off my butt, and really thought somewhere where pot was legal would have been really cool to be prince of. I also have the “to be or not to be” speech memorized, for real. Hamlet was always one of my faves. So, anyway, this last day before I was kicked out of this apartment, I proved (at least to myself and the voices in my head) that I was Hamlet. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in my mind was at the mercy of the coin, which I mistakenly thought had turned up tails again and again: I flipped a coin myself, slapped it on the table, and had my hand over it. “Heads,” I said, and I was willing it to be so. And in this little drama, I lifted my hand, and so it was: heads. Thus was I Hamlet for that day, that moment. Strange how elaborate these fantasies sometimes were, how strong sometimes the desire to be someone not yourself — one who just might be in better control of his destiny.
Reflection
12:27am sunday, 25th september
Schizophrenia is no joke.Thats why we started this conversation.
Stand
1:35pm sunday, 25th september
Hm? I was quite serious about this at the time. Did it come off as making light? Oh, well.
Reflection
5:16pm sunday, 25th september
Stand, You couldn't step off a curb in my shoes.
just me
8:29am monday, 26th september
Perhaps it is a joke and perhaps not but better to laugh at something
Reflection
Stand
Reflection