Woman: A Play Essay
Edward E. Rochon
WOMAN: A PLAY ESSAY
By
Edward E. Rochon
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Woman: A Play Essay
Copyright © 2015 by Edward E. Rochon
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Some Other Works by the Author
The Second Coming: An Essay
Adam's Earth
Number Bases & Digits: An Essay
Super Intelligence: An Essay
Inquisition of Christ
The State & Statecraft: An Essay
U. S. Third Republic: An Essay
Seven Month Pregnancy: An Essay
Reading Material
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Preface
The Play
About the Author
Preface
This bit of musing on the human condition springs from the human condition and from some psychic gyrations engendered or spawned or spun upon reflections of W. B. Yeats and his gyrations, spawning or spinning on woman and the sexual paradigm of the artist as a young man, old man and at other ages in between. So much for short sentences and homage to Henry James. The essay has something of the play about it. But then, who is playing? And is it not silly to think of life as a play or game? Is this not where every manner of vice, tragedy and cruel farce begins? For Jesus was compelled to play King Fool to the cruelty of Pilate's legionnaires before being crucified. First the farce, then the tragedy, in contradistinction to the liar and knave, Karl Marx. And Napoleon III did not look amused at Sedan, sick and dying. And what was so funny about the battlefield of Sedan, the twisted and mangled bodies, the young men crying for succor? Farce is a lie, and the satirist never jokes, but writes a faux farce in scorn and in parables to the blind, or he tortures himself to no good purpose, what money derived hardly worth the bother. Earn your bread, if bread be earned, in hatred of this detestable show on earth, and let hatred be the manure of love. Comedy does not bring sexual pleasure to fruition, but serious intent in bed, in garden, in the living spaces, the living room makes for a good marriage.
So what then? All tragedies end in a marriage, and all comedy ends in unjust slaughter? Is the only thing funny about comedy that comedy is funny? And we all laugh only because laughter relieves stress of anger and depression. Gladiators, sport of kings as slaughter, the winning urge at cost of dignity, integrity, morals, health and even wealth in the end. A travesty of human life, a human sacrifice umpired by Lucifer for the diminution of man and his degradation. Bye, bye Miss American Pie. Leave the levee, the whiskey and rye. To hell with James Dean; leave Buddy Holly to eternity and make your own music. The choir always sounds better than the solo. All that is needed is the desire to harmonize. Husband and wife, lover and beloved sing better. Let the fallen choirmaster be replaced with a happier chorale, if not a better heaven, then a better earth. Back to Table of Content
The Play
A tidbit of W. B. Yeats perused in times past:
On Woman (Extract)
Though pedantry denies,
It's plain the Bible means
That Solomon grew wise
While talking with his queens.
The advantage of dabbling in drama, daydreams and fiction is that you can always conjure up dramatis personae for the occasion. I placed this little bit of Yeats sagacity before the celestial presence of Divine Wisdom, Consort of the Almighty, and asked her opinion on the matter. The reverberations of her scornful laughter still echoes in my mind down through the years. Paying closer detail to the biblical chroniclers of the kings of Israel, we learn that these said queens turned the sage to folly, the price of which was paid for by the chosen people in coinage of civil strife, war, usurpation, poverty, death and ultimately the destruction of their sojourn in the Promised Land. The Queen of Sheba flattered much and taught but little of worth. His actual wives were far the worse. At least Sheba had sense enough not to become wife one thousand and one.
While in her presence, I took the advantage to ask her what the answer was to the question: What do women want? She said:
W: They want one of two things, either one or the other.
EER: That sounds encouragingly simple. What two things?
W: They want whatever I tell them to want. Failing that in time they want the second thing.
EER: And the second thing?
W: To wish that they had never been born.
EER: I do see why Yeats yearned for a wise wife. Only a fool wants to marry a fool in hopes of gaining advantage thereby in the relationship. I suppose you would make the perfect wife. I have no problem heeding babe or woman if their advice is more sage than mine. Jesus became man to save. Perhaps you could become woman incarnate and marry me. I would be very grateful.
W: I am man's mother, not his wife. You do not marry your mother.
EER: Oh, so that means no sex, then? Perhaps my mother was right in believing sex was overrated. And Jesus said that men and women neither marry nor are given in marriage in heaven. But then I am not in heaven at present.
W: No.
EER: From the time that such things arise in a man's mind, I have always wanted to marry. I personally consider myself to be good husband material from the point of view of attitudes and disposition. There is the money matter, good looks perhaps, and a morose disposition due to my unhappy life. But other than that, I see no problems that could not be solved by marrying someone with money and a good disposition. Good-bye moody blues; hello happier demeanor. And as they use to say in the projects when I was a boy: You don't f**k the face. I am very diligent and dutiful in fulfilling my spousal duties. What do you think?
W: A woman would have to be a fool not to marry you. You are absolutely correct.
EER: Then why am I still a bachelor?
W: Because a woman would have to be a fool not to marry you. I have no daughters and but a few sons. They have all ran off with Satan.
EER: What then do I do?
W: Stop making a fool out of yourself for the sake of women. You do recall making a fool out of yourself for women! This separates you from me. You never leave me for another woman. I am eternal mother and you eternal child.
EER: So this means what, no sex?
W: As they are saying these days, the cock blockers, both male and female, hate you because of me. Shun false friends. Never waste time on a woman who thinks that a sense of humor makes for good husband material. Check up on all the lists of desired traits you find on dating sites, and assiduously avoid everyone of them. Aspire to be an FBI female profiler's description of a bad husband, and then have nothing to do with Internet dating, singles bars, clever attempts at engaging in conversation with these idiots and seek wisdom. Wisdom is more valuable than gold. Get wisdom and you get what you need. Let sagacity be the beacon that attracts the floundering girl, tossed about in the turbulent seas of iniquity. Cling tight to the rock of wisdom when pulling her out, lest she be an evil mermaid and siren that drags you down into the abyss. Pulling her out, and upon inspection, you find scaly lower portions, send her back to the abyss, her own element. If she is a real live girl, dry her off and warm her, and take her to bed.
EER: And that is it.
W: It takes two to tango in the dance of life. Never marry a slave, but a free woman. If nothing else you will grow in wisdom and have mother to take care of you. None of those evil little bitches are worth leaving your divine mother for. Go about your business and wait for kingdom come. And remember, a man is never truly alone as l
ong as he has his mother to turn to.
EER: What about Yeats and his gyres and rough beast crouching toward Bethlehem to be born?
W: The road to heaven is straight and narrow. Avoid forks in the road. Avoid making decisions that are not blatantly obvious. An intelligent general never makes a serious decision during the entire campaign of the war. If you have to make a decision, this is not a test of your mettle as a general, but a failure of sound staff work. When ignorant, reconnoiter, reconnoiter and reconnoiter some more. Looking for the Emerald City and coming to a fork in the Yellow Brick Road, and you see a sign that points to the Emerald City, and you see munchkins farming and frolicking in the field along one road, and the glow of the green spired towers rising above the horizon beyond the road dipping into the distance, and down the other fork, a sign indicating the Witch's Castle, flying monkeys over dark spires in the distance, haunted forests on either side of the road, is this much of a decision? No, avoid making decisions. If the straight road branches and you know the straight road has no branches, turn back, perchance you have started off in the wrong direction. If sure that this is not the case, then blaze a trail straight ahead; make a path through the wilderness. Or wait for the Behemoth to pass his way under the direction of his master's will to blaze one for you. It will not take you to Bethlehem. There is nothing there worth seeing and that is not God's beast. And what rough beast, his hour come round at last, strides the depths toward the River Shannon to clear the land of dragons, Satanic thickets of deception, straighten and clear the channels of journey and perception, and the witch's curse? Back to Table of Content
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Other Works by the Author
(Available online)
Elements of Physics: Matter
Elements of Physics: Space
Elements of Physics: Time
Logic: An Essay
Space as Infinity: An Essay
Space as Infinity II: An Essay
Unified Field Theory: An Essay
Collected Poems I
Golden Age Essays
Golden Age Essays II
Golden Age Essays III
Golden Age Essays IV
About the Author
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