words: a response to compassion

Albir

I miss the life I had as a child. Everything was black and white. Nothing gray, no shades.
But then there were no sudden bursts of color either.

Ariella walked with me last night. In my silence, she left me there in the garden. It wasn't abandonment, it was understanding.

Tears came immediately to my eyes and my efforts to angrily send them back from whence they came were unheeded. I cried like a child; with complete abandonment, weeping as loudly as I dared. There was nothing to help it!

There was a girl standing in the bushes. That girl. The unfortunate girl who became the object of Alphonse's misjudged obsession. The girl who still bears the bruises I inflicted.
I expected ridicule, spite... cruelty in revenge for my abuse.
She stood there for a moment with loose strands of her hair caught in the branches behind her.
I never imagined such a graceful gesture; in one movement she was on her knees before me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressing her face against my chest.
I confess that despite my expectations, I welcomed her embrace. She could be nothing but one of the most beautiful beings I have ever encountered. Her eyes, when she finally released me, were bright with tears, and I kissed her. A kiss in a garden and a wooden seat swinging slowly back and forth.

I seek solitude for my despair, but long for an end.

words: compassion

Elsapatience

To the gardens to nurse my wounds.
I was startled when I encountered Ariella coming down the little path between the grove and the rose bushes. She didn't see me, however. In fact, she didn't even look up; she was completely oblivious to everything except her own footing.

These are the last warm days before autumn and I let my hair loose in the breeze as I came round the bend to my swing.
I stopped short and my heart began to pound.
There was Prince Albir by the oak tree, curled up and bent over across his knees. He held his head in his hands and I could see his body shake. He was crying.

I stood and watched him for a moment. I watched him slowly break down until I could see the tears falling from his eyes, though his face was hidden.
In a most peculiar way, I felt a painful, wrenching sensation in my chest. After all my professed hatred and anger for the man, my heart was breaking for him.
This wasn't the same sorrow that Evelyn gave up here in the gardens; hers was of betrayal... this terrible, heart-wrenching pain was complete despair.
I gave an involuntary sigh and he looked up immediately, right into my face.
The poor man started, choking a bit in the attempt to conceal his weeping. I thought for a moment that he would start flinging insults at me. I thought too, that perhaps he would send a fist flying my way. But he didn't.
And in the moment of suspended silence, I took a heavy step towards him and without even thinking, threw my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder.
Contrary to what I expected, he didn't move, didn't thrust me away in revulsion and disgust. Save for the occasional shudders, he was completely still in my embrace.
Moments went by, and I could feel the leaves above slowly break away from their branches and fall... and catch in the wind.

When I finally found the courage to break away, I found to my astonishment that there were tears in my eyes. The prince saw them too.
The prince... in one seamless gesture, bent his head and kissed my cheek. He didn't say a word, but stood up and left me kneeling in the grass.

And now my wounds have healed in a way I would never have expected, and still have trouble believing. I continue to see in my minds eye the bent over, broken down young man lost in his own desolation. I have nothing left now but to forgive.

words

Albir of the Great House

I am convinced there is a rule in life that when one wrong thing happens, there will be more, much more, to follow.

Mother is dying.

They haven't officially said so, but I can hear it in Father's silence and see it in his constant absences.
He won't tell me how long she has or even why she's sick.
He will leave soon, and it will be abrupt and unspoken. He will leave without me, and I will be trapped here in hell without her and without any last goodbyes.
My life is shattering around me like a pane of glass.

To be friends

Fall is here, hear the yell
Back to school, ring the bell
Brand new shoes, walking blues
Climb the fence, books and pens
I can tell that we are going to be friends
Yes I can tell that we are going to be friends
Walk with me Suzy Lee
Through the park and by the tree
We can rest upon the ground
And look at all the bugs we've found
Safely walk to school without a sound
We safely walk to school without a sound
Well here we are no one else
We walk to school all by ourselves
There's dirt on our uniforms
From chasing all the ants and worms
We clean up and now it's time to learn
We clean up and now it's time to learn
Numbers letters learn to spell
Nouns and books and show and tell
Play time we will throw the ball
Then back to class through the hall
The teacher marks our height against the wall
The teacher marks our height against the wall
And we don't notice any time pass
Because we don't notice anything
And we sit side by side in every class
The teacher thinks that I sound funny
But she likes it when you sing
Tonight I'll dream in my bed
While silly thoughts run through my head
Of the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
That you and I will walk together again
Because I can tell that we are going to be friends
I can tell that we are going to be friends

From långfredag to påskdagen

KRISTINA: Suffering does that-- happiness only makes everything commonplace.
ELIS: Perhaps it might be-- love. Don't you think those two young people--
KRISTINA: Sh! Sh! Sh! If you touch a butterfly's wings, it'll fly away.


ELEONORA: Benjamin! We can go to the country-- in two month's time. Oh, if only the time would pass quickly! [She tears the pages off the calendar, and scatters them in the shaft of sunlight that streams into the room.] See how the days fly.... April... May... June... And-- look, the sun shines on all of them! Now you must thank God for helping us to get to the country.
BENJAMIN [shyly]: Can't I say it to myself?
ELEONORA: Yes, you can say it to yourself, for the clouds have gone now, so it will be heard in Heaven.

from

EASTER

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

(1901)

by August Strindberg

baby light

Smile

Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking

When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile

another's words

Evelyn

My tears have all dried up. At least now it's easier to pretend.
Pretend, pretend, pretend. I could be a talented actress with my acquired skill at pretend.

What a wrong they have dealt me; what hypocrites!

The events come back to me again and again.
The poor girl fought and struggled; still the energy of her refusal to submit was nothing to Alphonse's physical size and strength. He forced himself upon her so-- how lucky I came upon them when I did. I can't think of what might have happened!
Oh, but the indignity my own cousin inflicted was something I never expected. He shouted and swore that my anger was unjust and unfounded and grew so incensed that he turned round and slapped the poor victim across her face. He released his anger into the force of that blow; it knocked her to the floor.
I still cannot comprehend such an action. So much abuse leveled at one girl! She will have numerous bruises and I feel as though it is my fault.

Will her bruises at least be evidence of Alphonse's misdoings? Or will Father continue in the idiotic vein that the maid consented to Alphonse's advances? How can something so obviously abusive and twisted be construed as consent?
Why do my accusations carry no weight? Why is my love and dignity insignificant when compared to Alphonse's pride and honor? He is a coward; only a fool would be blind to it and only a fiend would deny it.

I have been blind.

words

Elsapatience of the Great House

There she is.
There she lies, facedown on the grass. She has been weeping uncontrollably and would continue, but for her physical exhaustion. One can see the emotional stress rending her entire body and her muscles shuddering with the strain.
What would I do if I wasn't myself? If I were her friend instead of her maid, would I kneel down in the grass and comfort her? Offer my shoulder to cry on and my arms to embrace?
I think that I would. But our different situations distance us and withhold any kind of compassionate assistance I could off her. If I were her equal instead of her maid, I would be her friend at a time when she desperately needs one.
Now all I can do is discretely observe, if only to make certain sure she doesn't hurt herself.

It has been about a month since certain pressures on the princess gradually began to take effect.
Life at the Great House has exploded... or imploded, actually, into chaotic melodrama.
'Tis a far cry from the monotony that my life was before the strange mysterious Albir and his comrades.
I almost prefer the monotony.

Evelyn caught Alphonse red-handed. It offends my sensibilities to go into detail on the matter, of which I know all and from which I have not quite recovered.
Honestly, I've never seen anyone so angry before. It wasn't the yelling, crying, cursing-the-heavens kind of anger that the princess displayed. It was calm, serene, level-headed anger. The shock of the blow she bestowed on Alphonse was all in the deep, decisive hatred positively flaring from her eyes. He was leveled by it. It nearly took off his head.
He cowered behind Albir, weak in the knees and quivering.
Evelyn remained calm and collected, while the hatred in her eyes grew. I believe that hatred shocked Albir as well. It shocked, upset and unsettled him; thus his response was the yelling, cursing anger described above. His rebuttals to Evelyn's accusations were about as worthless as his current state as heir. He is a complete fool. And if there's one thing I can surely say about my character, it is that I don't pass such judgement lightly.
Prince Albir will forever be the bane of my existence. I level curses at his hollow head.


If there is one absolute example of an "intrinsically evil" action, it is the destruction of another's hope and dignity.

Evelyn's father has sided with Albir and Alphonse as well, and told her that she was behaving like an over-emotional child. Her response was that if all men used the same logic and displayed the same behavior as the three whom she had--at one point--loved and respected, then she would vow at that moment never to submit to marriage.
To this, the king did not respond, though he grew very red in the face.

Alphonse continues to cower and quiver like the horse-excrement he is and Prince Albir continues to mumble, glare and curse like the lunatic he ever resembles.

All this whilst Evelyn hides away in the gardens and weeps, if only to save the last shred of dignity she possesses.
And I was born without it, so I have lost nothing.

words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Alright. My guilt has finally taken hold.
I really must intervene for the sake of my cousin.
This afternoon I witnessed him interfering with a maid. I could just tell by the smile on his face... it made me shudder. He touched her once and I saw the poor girl cringe. She was certainly not charmed by his advances, unfortunately for her. 'Tis unfortunate, for the more he is rejected, the more he pursues--any woman, no matter their class.
I should speak to him.

My enemies are growing. Konnick has successfully taken hold of three provinces now, including his own. How can there be so many bitter people in such a peaceful, prosperous country?

words

Elsapatience

Oh! I hate him!
If I believed in reincarnation, I would be quite certain that he was a snake in another life. I can almost see the hissing tongue between his teeth every time he speaks.

I can't see how everyone in the Great House has been duped by him. They all agree he's the most charming thing around. Even Evelyn, whom I'd always admired for her strength of character. She smiles and flirts and encourages. There's no doubt he's been the ruin of many a young woman... how can no one see it but me?

He will not solicit my attention or my admiration, no matter what he says to me. Augh! Just the idea that he would go so far as to pursue a servant girl! If that doesn't reveal the true nature of his character, than we are all blind, deaf and dumb.

Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Good lord, that's bad timing. Still, I can't help but be relieved at someone from the outside who isn't seeking my mental destruction.

He's been here barely a week, and already he's solicited for and obtained my cousin Evelyn's favor. I keep telling myself to intervene on her behalf; she doesn't know what she's getting into by egging him on. Alphonse is one of my most loyal friends, but he's dangerously close to becoming a terrible cad. Rejected women have often referred to him in other terms that I certainly won't mention. But intervening between Alphonse and his next victim is like trying to swim against the current and my experiences as his friend have shown my intervention rather meaningless. I suppose he's quite a charming fellow. My uncle and aunt certainly like him. Father and Mother always have.
Evelyn has always impressed me with a strong will and character. I'm sure she can handle herself.

TODAY

I am a second thought.

Modern Art: What the hell are they thinking? A question cliche.

NOTICE, EXAMINE THE LITTLE THINGS
THE LITTLE DETAILS

PROVIDING EMOTIONAL, AESTHETIC CONNECTION

IN QUESTION:

IS THERE ANY MEANING IN GENERAL TO MODERN INSTALLATION AND PERFORMANCE ART?

WHAT ARE THE CONCEPTS? THE IDEAS?

THE CONNECTIONS?

THE PURPOSE?

IS ART SUPPOSED TO NECESSARILY HAVE A PURPOSE IN LIFE?

OR IS IT JUST ABOUT THE WITHDRAWAL FROM THE NORM? SOMETHING DIFFERENT TO LOOK AT?

IS THERE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ANY PERSONAL OUTPUT? SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT? THOUGHT PROVOKING?

AM I GENERALIZING?

IS THAT BAD?

AM I MISSING SOMETHING?

AM I A REAL ARTIST?

OR AM I JUST A COPIER?

BY THAT I MEAN, AM I UNORIGINAL? AM I BORING? IS MY ART NECESSARY? CHALLENGING? DOES IT HAVE ANY PERSONAL, EMOTIONAL CONNECTION TO VIEWERS?

HOW DO I , WILL I, FIT INTO THE ART WORLD?

IS IT NECESSARY TO BE OFFENSIVE? SHOCKING?

OR IS IT ABOUT DRAWING SOMEONE IN?

OR IS IT ABOUT THE ARTIST'S PERSONALITY, EXPERIENCES, INTERESTS?

DOES THAT MATTER?

WHAT IS THE NATURE OF CONTEMPORARY ART?

HAS IT TAKEN ON SOCIETY'S CONCEPT OF "DO WHAT FEELS RIGHT"?

OR IS THERE ANY REASON? IS THERE A PLACE FOR IT IN THE WORLD? IS THERE A NECESSITY FOR ART ANYMORE? IS IT STILL NEEDED? DO PEOPLE STILL HAVE THE CAPACITY TO QUESTION, WONDER, ANALYZE, GAZE, DEVELOP, ADMIRE? OR HAVE PEOPLE BECOME THE DRONES OF TECHNOLOGY, OF CONVENIENCE? CAN ONE SOMEONE STAND STILL, ANALYZE AND ADMIRE, PATIENTLY AND INTELLIGENTLY FOR MORE THAN A FEW MINUTES?

DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT ART ANYMORE?

IF PEOPLE DON'T, HOW AM I , AS AN ASPIRING ARTIST, SUPPOSED TO FIT INTO THE WORLD? DOES THAT MATTER?

IF PEOPLE DO, HOW DO I RESPOND AS AN ASPIRING ARTIST? DOES THAT MATTER? IS ART ONLY AROUND FOR TRADITION'S SAKE?

DOES ART MATTER?

DO I MATTER?

These are just questions. I'm not even able to come up with reasonable answers.

A letter to a friend that I'm too afraid to send.

I don't understand you.
I don't understand why I am naturally supposed to respect you. Why I naturally must accept your beliefs, your opinions and your rants but I don't naturally deserve the same respect in return. I don't understand why my beliefs and my opinions are singled out because they happen to be so different from yours. I don't understand why you pledge to be open-minded and considerate, but display this open animosity and disrespect for the ideals and faith that are innately important to me. I don't understand why my feelings are not important. I don't understand why you call me your friend but don't treat me as such, or only treat me like a friend at your own convenience. I don't understand your definition of friendship.

Can you honestly make me understand? Can you show me why you behave this way?

You say I'm not that conservative, and yet you laugh at the positions that I hold. You say you believe in diversity, and yet you openly mock my faith, assuming that I can laugh it off too, that I can be flexible, that I can forgive and forget, that I have this wonderful sense of humor. You have immediately, from the very beginning, stereotyped me as the quiet, passive, simple, religious prude. Did you do this accidentally? Will you tell me that I'm interpreting all of this completely wrong? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you don't hate everything I hold as important? That I shun away from sexuality because I'm a conservative Catholic prude? Oh, alright, so you never said that, perhaps never purposely implied it. Then why do you immediately interpret my expression as one of disgust, displeasure, hatred and fear? Why do you label me this way just because I believe in respecting the human body (because it is beautiful) because I believe in the dignity of a person's sexuality? Am I wrong?

Have you ever thought, just once, that perhaps the reason I keep my beliefs and my faith so quiet and so close is because they are entirely inherent to who I am and how I see myself that I can't bear to expose them to people like you, who instead of offering constructive criticism, selfishly and cruelly pull them apart bit by bit for your own pleasure (pleasure in offending people) and amusement? You're pulling me apart, and it hurts. And I hide it because I am a coward and afraid to lose friends. But are you really my friend if you can't see that what you say, as innocent and insignificant as it sounds to you, is hurting me? I'm afraid that I'm not as flexible as you want me to be. I can't let things go so easily, shrug them off as though they didn't stick in my skin like little needles.
You sit there and you lament about humanity: it's so twisted, so cruel, so corrupt. Have you never thought how much you're contributing? I don't pretend to say they effect the whole of humanity; but they effect individuals, and right now they are effecting your friend.
So I invite you to walk--if not a mile, at least a couple of steps--in my shoes. I would do it for you. Go ahead and disagree with me as I do with you; I accept that, I invite it, I expect it. Just remember that what you say has an impact, no matter how trivial you find it.

Words

Alphonse Burntrod of Farwood to Prince Albir Elderberry of the Great House

Dear Albir,

I have heard of the plights you've endured at the Great House. Let me tell you that you are sorely missed amongst your friends, Robert, Gil, Ron and I. My sister speaks especially often of your absense, interpret that as you will.
So I've decided to undertake the journey to visit you (and your father, of course) provided I will not be imposing on the household. I trust this will not be the case, as I am sending this letter to you on the rough road to the House. You will simply have to put up with me for a few weeks, at least until I can gather enough first-hand information on your health and happiness to carry back to your poor mother (who worries constantly-- to me, of all people-- that you are not keeping up your strength.)

Expect me in a fortnight or less.

Your greatest of friends,
Alphonse