This year’s National Poetry Day is today, Thursday 2 October.
The theme for 2014 is ‘remember’.
***
Memories of Jacob’s Room – At the Sea Lane Cafe
Beyond the pane of glass,
endless strata of sands stretch out to the lighthouse.
Wet swathes of brown and grey in irregular ridges,
in donkey colours.
I think of the rides of childhood he never had.
The sky sleeps snug above,
inverted greyness of the ground,
tucked in
and thickly cloud clad.
Stranded seaweed lies drying,
dying on the foreshore.
Patterns like magnified veins.
Scattered stones,
rounded down by years of wear,
worn down tossing in the waves.
Becoming sand.
Tossing in the waves.
The result of endless cycles of destruction,
construction,
worn down under pressure.
Tossing in the waves.
Becoming smaller,
and smaller.
Tiny damaged shells are picked up by playing children,
taken home, clamped tightly in their tiny hands.
Inside the adults sit, each at a table,
one a group of six absorbed in talk of the breakfast,
stolen from the office fridge.
Told by a man wearing tortoiseshell rims
around elegant eyes,
deep in experience,
face etched with laughter, he grins.
His white-grey hair merging with the wintry sky beyond,
beyond the glass.
I drift into daydream.
I would like to have known him.
‘Number fifty-nine. Pot of tea for two?’
‘That’s your peugot, the blue? Isn’t it? You’ve left your lights on.’
An older woman gets up, keys in hand.
Dragged from her steaming reverie,
thoughts abandoned.
Dragged back outside into the cold mainstream of life
by the saving, searching beams of her car.
She stays outside and walks along the ridge.
Kitesurfers catch the early morning offshore breeze
on their voyage out.
And I,
I think of Virginia Woolf
and her pebbles
and of knitting blue woolen stockings
which were so small.
“Beloved actor Robin Williams was found dead on Monday, police reported. He was 63.
According to his publicist, Williams had been battling severe depression.” (Huffington Post, August 11th)
As a teen, we’d all seen Dead Poet’s Society in which he played inspirational teacher, John Keating. We didn’t just watch it. We felt it. “Oh Captain, my Captain.” It was a film which allowed us as teens to discuss suicide. He taught us something of self expression, through fiction. He inspired us to indeed, seize the day. Carpe Diem. We felt his awkward authenticity. Or perhaps, his real-life authentic awkwardness. He had to manage his mental health publicly. There were occasions when you could see through the exterior, and see how hard that was.
One of my favourite of his films, is Good Will Hunting. Whilst cliched fiction, I have always enjoyed the park scene, in response to the boat painting discussion in which Will (Matt Damon) disrespectfully hits raw notes in Sean’s (the role played by Williams ) life. Matt Damon’s character hits out at criticism of his chosen path in life and avoiding the expectations of others. He counters, “At least I won’t be unoriginal.” That is perhaps a comic’s greatest fear.
Whilst playing a psychologist, and asking his client to open up, Williams manages to do the same for himself on the screen. He somehow touches a genuineness in that role, perhaps revealing an ability for self-examination which not all of us possess. Whilst playing a character, I believe in that role we see much of what it meant to him being authentic as an actor and as a human being. He discusses the value and need we have of revealing who we really are. The importance of being oneself. And the grit of authentic experience. Comics are famous for being less than happy on the inside. Extrovert exteriors can be used to mask the inner storms and insecure introvert.
We, Joe Public outsiders, will never know the real Robin Williams, but I believe this WTF radio interview with Marc Maron captured some of the authentic him, from 2010.
It comes with a ‘bad language’ warning if the title doesn’t give it away (mainly at the start):WTF interview April 26, 2010.
Mark gets Robin talking about playing the early days Mork, stand up clubs in the seventies and fellow comedians and experiences, learning his art. He talks about fears and authenticity, plagiarism and ‘the celebrity’.
The art of being a comic seems to have been fraught with fear of failure and fear of feelings, but a need to use them to engage with an audience. “What do you do with the anger? What do you do with the fear? ” He openly agrees with the interviewer, ”Big Time”. But he also shares how he deals with them. He shares his optimism on second chances, on alcoholism and heart surgery. He talks about divorce and living ‘in a different game as two units’, and how well his family manages it. They talk about sharing insecurities with the audience, and where they draw the line between sentiment and overstepping the mark, looking for approval from the audience. Effectively wanting to know from them, the universal question which makes the world go round, “do you love me?”
Talking about therapy they close by talking with humour, he puts the whole subject of dying over in the WTF category. He reveals through comic interpretation, discussion with his conscience. There is a fine boundary between his comedy humour and revealing his innermost thoughts. There may be many wondering about that interview today.
His acting has been part of my life since I can remember watching films, and he touched the lives of many he will never know. My kids have laughed raucously watching him as Professor Brainard in Flubber only this week, in the summer holidays.
He was the deep Sean McGuire. He was the humorous DJ, Adrian Cronauer. He was the desperate & committed parent in Mrs. Doubtfire. He was engaged John Keating. He was the Fisher King. He enjoyed exploring dark traits in characters such as in the role of photo shop technician-turned-stalker in One Hour Photo. At the heart of each one was a glimpse into a conflicted character.
He was so much more. He was original. He was it seems, the very complex, Robin Williams.
When England play Uruguay this week,they might be hoping the Southern American team’s secret weapon may have been taken away.
Not one of the world’s best players whom we know from playing at Liverpool, Suarez, but the team supply of dulche de leche, as the BBC reported:
“Brazilian officials say they confiscated 39kg (86lb) of caramel spread from Uruguay’s football team as it arrived in Brazil for the World Cup.”
I first discovered dulche de leche when a friend in South America brought me back two jars. She was a very good friend.
It’s a caramelized milk product, made by mixing milk with sugar, baking powder and vanilla extract. has the consistency of a thick sticky nutella and is found in many desserts and pastries from the region.
At the time, I ran a cupcake company and so the Dulche de Leche based, Salted Caramel cupcake was born.
But nothing has ever tasted as good as the Torta de Tres Leches I had in Santiago in 2013. So good, it was worthy of the photo above. Mind blowingly sweet, but with a saltiness and lighter-than candy floss sponge, it is a blend of taste and consistency I’ve never had before or since. I can recommend making your own.
I doubt the footballers have time for cake though, so I do wonder what they used it for? Breakfast spread? I should think their diet regimes are planned to the nth degree based on nutritional values.
