Poppy-cock (sure)

  • 2013
poppycocksurecover

  [For a while (years) I’ve fantasised about a production of Hamlet that only presents scenes when Polonius is present.]

poppyendpaper

poppyessay 

poppycocktitle

poppycast

deadking

phillippa&hellmut

lesleaves

polly&ray

polly&bugs

pollycomfortshellmut

ras&gill

firstplayer

claud&co   
          
phillippatrap

polly&claudbehindcurtain 

hellmutvsclaud

theactorperformsamime
  
claudexplodes

trudybedroom

pollyscreams

hellmutstrikes

hellmut&ghost

pollydead

[pages from Poppy-cock (sure).]

Edward Lear wrote of an Old Man who amused himself by ‘pulling’ his ‘bell’ day and night. And what of the regular stroking of his ding-dong and its resounding alarm? Nobody comes. The stroking of his tangible purpose keeps falling short. With all his tugging he is incapable of seeing that the end is nearing to pass (or has past) and all his efforts have only been for self-amusement. The Old Man reminds me of Bobby Fischer playing with himself in chess; a cognitive myopia of sorts that caused him to show utter uninterest for things other than his chosen nonsense that he took seriously. For him chess was the proverbial carrot promising omnipotence. A dangling reward swollen with mystery and the more he fixed his eye the more the mystery enlarged. Carry-on Fischer while the alarm sounds: impotence and loneliness (resonating) – to the end. Fare-thee-well. Well, there we are. (So I queen a pawn; that is, promote the Old Man or Fischer, better, cross the two (a spawn of sorts). The pretend lovechild resembles Polonius. With another re-reading of Hamlet (as I approach forty) I observe, with close scrutiny, the tragedy proper for all men.)
[text from Poppy-cock (sure).]


mockup
[mockup for Poppy-cock (sure).]