29 November 2011
475
R. Linda:
In early November, the local theatrical talent begins rehearsing for the annual Shakespearean play. This year, it is As You Like It. Tonya be a bit of an artist, and she had signed up to paint sets. So, in early November, she was off to do this bit of creativity.
I was at home working on paperwork when I realised I needed her signature on several important papers. So I packed the kiddos up and headed over to the theatre. The boys were both quite sleepy as it was nearing their bedtime, so not to disturb the rehearsal, I put them in two seats where a couple of "actresses" said they'd watch them. They pointed out where Tonya was busy to the side of the stage with a few other "artists", and off I went. This is a small theatre, and they were rehearsing not only on stage but in the aisle, so I quietly picked me way to the side.
I got the papers to Tonya and whispered what we needed, and she signed. As I was making me way hunched down out of the view of the director and his assistant, he stopped the rehearsal and called out to me. He wanted to know who I was, and I instantly thought I had got me wife in trouble by interruption. But that wasn't it.
"I say, have you acted before, young man?" He threw the question at me, and I was confused about who he spoke to. I haven't been called 'young man' since . . . I don't know when.
I cleared me throat and answered that I had many years ago.
"And what was it you acted in?"
I told him, and as I did, I realised where we were going and I said I wasn't there to audition, I had come to see me wife.
"Well, look here, Gabriel, was it?" He did not wait for me to answer, "I need someone in the role of Oliver. The actor we had has taken another role and is not willing to do the two plays together. You have the looks and build for Oliver, and we need to see how well you can act. You've done Shakespeare?"
"Yes, he has," Tonya shouted, "and I understand he was quite good, Irish accent and all."
"Oh Irish . . . ," the man laughed, "I thought Englishman for sure, but the last name should have clued me in. So Gabriel," then aside to some minion of the theatre, "here, Shelley give him that script," then turning to me as I was handed it, "get up there with Orlando and Charles and say the lines on that first page."
I was gobsmacked; I swore I'd never do another theatre production again, and here I was. Me wife was smiling brightly and the kiddos (who were being very good for a change) were wide awake and hanging on every word. I sighed.
I started to read, and in short order, I had a role if I wanted it. But not so much if I wanted it; Tonya, the boyos and everyone else thought without asking me if I had the role, wanted or not. Thus, I found meself being outfitted in a costume that made me look like Robin Hood surrounded by the rest of the Merry Men in tights and jerkins. Oi!
Rehearsal has been going on for about a month. We open in December before Christmas for four nights for two weeks each of Shakespeare, eight freaking shows! In the process of all this, the director ordered us, as soon as we stepped foot in the theatre, to fashion our speech like Shakespeare. That would only enhance our pronunciation on stage and get us into character quickly. He also recommended we speak like that at home to further the embellishment for a natural delivery of such speech on stage.
Tonya has been all about this thing we are doing speech-wise. And I must say it has got in the way of my everyday speech and life at work. Only yesterday, I found meself expounding on a piece I had written that Cruella was going to toss by saying to her, "Art thou doth a wing nut without the aid of pliers?" Needless to say, she narrowed her eyes and looked at me in question.
"Really Gabriel?"
"Prithee, thou art spoilith me habit of writ and it soundeth as ifth thou art me cousin Sean. If you please to readeth me prose once more, I swear as an oath thou wilt see the value upon such."
"O . . . K," she said, glancing at a gape-mouthed Ms. Jaio who scribbled at me, "Lao Zi Dum Idea."
"And . . . I should do this; why? To make sure my original judgement wasn't correct? Editor that I am?" Cruella looked at me askance.
"Hark ye here," I pointed to me headline, "it sayth clear and bright mistress, that I haveth researcheth the subject beyond compare and doth taketh the point that the City Council be filled with . . . with mindless beef-witted men of no distinction but that of . . . pet issues and . . . et tu, Brute mentality."
She sat there staring at me along with Ms. Jaio. I realised then and there that I had been talking Shakespeare. Me eyes must have widened in the realisation that this lingo was invading me professional life, and I stood there looking squirrelish and unsure.
"Well . . . " Cruella said, glancing at the floor. "Sirrah," she said, looking up at me with a sneer, "I am far from looking like your cousin Sean, methinks, me hopes, and since thou doth to persist that thou talketh like Shakespeare, I must taketh up the gauntlet and spake in kind. I wouldeth to sayth that thee summation that the City Council are foul lumps of deformity be true. As thou states in thou missive, they are all canker blossoms on society at large. I wouldeth prefer not to instil in thou eyes meself as so demeaning a fusty nut with no kernel, BUT me cousin Gabriel, methinks thou shouldeth containeth thou barbs less passionately. I would to haveth the beef-witted colleagues of the City Council be referred to, not as boar pigs or a trove of barnacle bladders."
This she held up so I could see that I actually called them that. Oh my God, I had not only ruined me public speech, but I was writing like Shakespeare!
"I pray thee further, to harken upon the unfortunate use of referring to one Council member as being indecisive in the matter to vote or not to vote on the issue of funding recreational sporteth teams in Roxbury by insisting," she held the copy out to me so I could read where her pen was indicating, "what fools these mortals be!"
I looked at her shamefacedly. What was my excuse for this? I hesitated to tell her about the play because if I did, the whole office would be in attendance. I had to come up with something.
"I'm terribly sorryeth, I mean sorry, O'Hare be studying Shakespeare and . . . "
It was silent as both women looked at me, their faces taking on a questioning scowl.
"Isn't he five? Are you telling me that his Kindergarten is teaching Shakespeare at such a tender age?"
I really did it. I stepped in it I did. I forgot she knew how old O'Hare was and well . . .
"I be an artless, fowling chicken!" I exclaimed in exasperation.
"Neigh, methinks thou art a beslubbering beef-witted scribe." Then, turning to Ms. Jaoi, she said, "Alas, poor Gabriel, we knew him when. T'was long ago before he took up Elizabethan English." Big sigh she heaved, then she stretched out her hand with copy and said to me, "Methinks a published trove of treasured barbs wilt be better brought to the light of day if thou hast got in thy brain a remembrance of modern English. Then perchance the script wilt be published."
I smiled at her and took up me copy. Ms. Jaio scribbled at me, "Cometh Bak And Winneth!" She then held two thumbs up. Not to let her have the last word, I smiled at both, gave a limp-wristed salutation and said, "All's well that ends well." Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
In early November, the local theatrical talent begins rehearsing for the annual Shakespearean play. This year, it is As You Like It. Tonya be a bit of an artist, and she had signed up to paint sets. So, in early November, she was off to do this bit of creativity.
I was at home working on paperwork when I realised I needed her signature on several important papers. So I packed the kiddos up and headed over to the theatre. The boys were both quite sleepy as it was nearing their bedtime, so not to disturb the rehearsal, I put them in two seats where a couple of "actresses" said they'd watch them. They pointed out where Tonya was busy to the side of the stage with a few other "artists", and off I went. This is a small theatre, and they were rehearsing not only on stage but in the aisle, so I quietly picked me way to the side.
I got the papers to Tonya and whispered what we needed, and she signed. As I was making me way hunched down out of the view of the director and his assistant, he stopped the rehearsal and called out to me. He wanted to know who I was, and I instantly thought I had got me wife in trouble by interruption. But that wasn't it.
"I say, have you acted before, young man?" He threw the question at me, and I was confused about who he spoke to. I haven't been called 'young man' since . . . I don't know when.
I cleared me throat and answered that I had many years ago.
"And what was it you acted in?"
I told him, and as I did, I realised where we were going and I said I wasn't there to audition, I had come to see me wife.
"Well, look here, Gabriel, was it?" He did not wait for me to answer, "I need someone in the role of Oliver. The actor we had has taken another role and is not willing to do the two plays together. You have the looks and build for Oliver, and we need to see how well you can act. You've done Shakespeare?"
"Yes, he has," Tonya shouted, "and I understand he was quite good, Irish accent and all."
"Oh Irish . . . ," the man laughed, "I thought Englishman for sure, but the last name should have clued me in. So Gabriel," then aside to some minion of the theatre, "here, Shelley give him that script," then turning to me as I was handed it, "get up there with Orlando and Charles and say the lines on that first page."
I was gobsmacked; I swore I'd never do another theatre production again, and here I was. Me wife was smiling brightly and the kiddos (who were being very good for a change) were wide awake and hanging on every word. I sighed.
I started to read, and in short order, I had a role if I wanted it. But not so much if I wanted it; Tonya, the boyos and everyone else thought without asking me if I had the role, wanted or not. Thus, I found meself being outfitted in a costume that made me look like Robin Hood surrounded by the rest of the Merry Men in tights and jerkins. Oi!
Rehearsal has been going on for about a month. We open in December before Christmas for four nights for two weeks each of Shakespeare, eight freaking shows! In the process of all this, the director ordered us, as soon as we stepped foot in the theatre, to fashion our speech like Shakespeare. That would only enhance our pronunciation on stage and get us into character quickly. He also recommended we speak like that at home to further the embellishment for a natural delivery of such speech on stage.
Tonya has been all about this thing we are doing speech-wise. And I must say it has got in the way of my everyday speech and life at work. Only yesterday, I found meself expounding on a piece I had written that Cruella was going to toss by saying to her, "Art thou doth a wing nut without the aid of pliers?" Needless to say, she narrowed her eyes and looked at me in question.
"Really Gabriel?"
"Prithee, thou art spoilith me habit of writ and it soundeth as ifth thou art me cousin Sean. If you please to readeth me prose once more, I swear as an oath thou wilt see the value upon such."
"O . . . K," she said, glancing at a gape-mouthed Ms. Jaio who scribbled at me, "Lao Zi Dum Idea."
"And . . . I should do this; why? To make sure my original judgement wasn't correct? Editor that I am?" Cruella looked at me askance.
"Hark ye here," I pointed to me headline, "it sayth clear and bright mistress, that I haveth researcheth the subject beyond compare and doth taketh the point that the City Council be filled with . . . with mindless beef-witted men of no distinction but that of . . . pet issues and . . . et tu, Brute mentality."
She sat there staring at me along with Ms. Jaio. I realised then and there that I had been talking Shakespeare. Me eyes must have widened in the realisation that this lingo was invading me professional life, and I stood there looking squirrelish and unsure.
"Well . . . " Cruella said, glancing at the floor. "Sirrah," she said, looking up at me with a sneer, "I am far from looking like your cousin Sean, methinks, me hopes, and since thou doth to persist that thou talketh like Shakespeare, I must taketh up the gauntlet and spake in kind. I wouldeth to sayth that thee summation that the City Council are foul lumps of deformity be true. As thou states in thou missive, they are all canker blossoms on society at large. I wouldeth prefer not to instil in thou eyes meself as so demeaning a fusty nut with no kernel, BUT me cousin Gabriel, methinks thou shouldeth containeth thou barbs less passionately. I would to haveth the beef-witted colleagues of the City Council be referred to, not as boar pigs or a trove of barnacle bladders."
This she held up so I could see that I actually called them that. Oh my God, I had not only ruined me public speech, but I was writing like Shakespeare!
"I pray thee further, to harken upon the unfortunate use of referring to one Council member as being indecisive in the matter to vote or not to vote on the issue of funding recreational sporteth teams in Roxbury by insisting," she held the copy out to me so I could read where her pen was indicating, "what fools these mortals be!"
I looked at her shamefacedly. What was my excuse for this? I hesitated to tell her about the play because if I did, the whole office would be in attendance. I had to come up with something.
"I'm terribly sorryeth, I mean sorry, O'Hare be studying Shakespeare and . . . "
It was silent as both women looked at me, their faces taking on a questioning scowl.
"Isn't he five? Are you telling me that his Kindergarten is teaching Shakespeare at such a tender age?"
I really did it. I stepped in it I did. I forgot she knew how old O'Hare was and well . . .
"I be an artless, fowling chicken!" I exclaimed in exasperation.
"Neigh, methinks thou art a beslubbering beef-witted scribe." Then, turning to Ms. Jaoi, she said, "Alas, poor Gabriel, we knew him when. T'was long ago before he took up Elizabethan English." Big sigh she heaved, then she stretched out her hand with copy and said to me, "Methinks a published trove of treasured barbs wilt be better brought to the light of day if thou hast got in thy brain a remembrance of modern English. Then perchance the script wilt be published."
I smiled at her and took up me copy. Ms. Jaio scribbled at me, "Cometh Bak And Winneth!" She then held two thumbs up. Not to let her have the last word, I smiled at both, gave a limp-wristed salutation and said, "All's well that ends well." Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
8 comments:
fer me own partie itz 'geek' ta me. hee hee
Gag me with a gnat, 'geek' indeed. The correct Shakespearean line follows thus:
"But, for my own part, it was Greek to me." - Hamlet (Act I, Scene II)
Given this, I have a massive headache and exhibit eye problems from reading the comment of one misspelt Weasel.
O K LOLOLOLOL
Anonymous, to quote Shakespeare, "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool". - ( As You Like It - Act V, Scene I ).
Gabe -- I wouldeth pay gold coin to see thee in tights. ;)
Since we are quoting. "Can one desire too much of a good thing?" As You Like It quoteth I after imbibing far too much rum, savvy?
time for a new story!LOL
How greedy can you be? LOL Two stories within the last two days and you want more. I should call you Oliver. Oh and I see the new picture. Just which Hobbit are you?
pick one. WE ALL LOOK ALIKE!LMAO
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