Where is the man who can clamber to heaven? Only the gods live for ever with glorious Shamash, but as for us men, our days are numbered, our occupations are a breath of wind.

In other words, human life is impermanent and what we work to build is impermanent.

So what should we do with ourselves?

Gilgamesh takes a stab at an answer: In spite of impermanence, live life with a large, ambitious goal, such as fighting the forest monster Humbaba. Take risks, and if you fail, at least for awhile your name will endure on the lips of others:

[I]f I fail I leave behind me a name that endures; men will say of me, 'Gilgamesh has fallen in fight with ferocious Humbaba.'

Gilgamesh's answer recalls the philosopher Hanna Arendt's observation, in her book The Human Condition (1958), that the pre-socratic Greeks too saw immortality in these terms:

The task and potential greatness of mortals lie in their ability to produce things---works and deeds and words---which would deserve to be and, at least to a degree, are at home in everlastingness, so that through them mortals could find their place in a cosmos where everything is immortal except themselves. (19)

In short, one solution to the problem of mortality is to plug oneself into the divine, or the eternal circle of nature, by building a pyramid or writing lasting sonnets, as Shakespeare has done, or conquering an archetypal monster, such as Humbaba, as Gilgamesh and Enkidu set out to do. 

Arendt continues:

The distinction between man and animal runs right through the human species itself: only the best (aristoi), who constantly prove themselves to be the best (aristeuein, a verb for which there is no equivelent in any other language) and who 'prefer immortal fame to mortal things,' are really human; the others, content with whatever pleasures nature will yield them, live and die like animals. (19)

I hear in this position, apparently shared by Gilgamesh and the pre-socratic Greeks, Nietzsche's Apollonian Ubermensch ("Superman"), who embraces eternal recurrence because he has actually done something with his time on earth---he has been a creator, taken risks, and has no regrets, and would live life the same way over again. Here's Nietzsche (quoted in Pessimism, 2006, pg. 188 by Joshua Dienstag):

My new way to 'yes.' My new version of pessimism as a voluntary quest for fearful and questionable aspects of beings. . . . A pessimist such as that could in that way lead to a Dionysian yes-saying to the world as it is; as a wish for its absolute return and eternity . . .

I also hear in Gilgamesh's call for quest in the face of human impermanence the restlessness of Alfred Lord Tennyson's Ulysses, who is not content to sit around his palace, even in old age, but is determined to launch forth into new adventures:

It little profits an idle king,

By this still hearth, among these barren crags,

Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole

Unequal laws unto a savage race,

That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

 

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

Life to the lees . . .

 

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

Like Gilgamesh, who is not content to hang around the city of Uruk with Enkidu, but must seek out a risky new adventure that will test the extremities of his being, so Tennyson's Ulysses must move.

I also think of Charles Darwin, whose father discouraged his world travel. But Darwin did not heed his father's safe and sensible advice, but took great risks with his life out on the edge of discovery, and brought something new, and apparently permanent, into the world: his great book, The Origin of Species.

In this sense, Gilgamesh and Enkidu are also Nietzschean heroes initiating, as it were, the beginnings of World Literature with a quest after Humbaba, and having a kind of immortality by the preservation of their names and story.

But they still died.

The father of the gods has given you kingship, such is your destiny, everlasting life is not your destiny.

In other words, Enkidu is telling Gilgamesh: You are a being unto death. What are you going to make of your powers and your impermanent existence?

In general, Enkidu has two suggestions for Gilgamesh, and that is, as king, he should not abuse his power, and he should deal justly with those under him:

[The father of the gods] has given you power to bind and to loose . . . But do not abuse this power, deal justly with your servants in the palace, deal justly before Shamash.

This is all well and good as general advice, but what, exactly and specifically, should Gilgamesh do as an impermanent being unto death?

This is where, I think, the Epic of Gilgamesh should be more broadly recognized as a marker to humanity's first existentialist musings, for it is here, at the beginning of Part 2 of the Epic, that we get some of the first really sustained reflection on the human problems of idleness, boredom, emptiness, vanity, and nihilism.

Typically, when we think of the literary precursors to 19th and 20th century Existentialism with a capital "E", from Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard to Sartre and Camus, we reach back to the Bible, and the mooning about of the author of Ecclesiastes:

Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. (1.2)

But the author of the Gilgamesh Epic is equally saavy as to what, ultimately, bedevils Enkidu and Gilgamesh, and drives their quests: the problems of human emptiness and purpose.

Take Enkidu. Enkidu was, at one time, an unreflective animal-like being, innocent, and living in wild Nature. But by Part 2 of the Epic, slowly, gradually, he has become a being of experience. He is reflective, civilized, and now dwells in the city of Uruk with Gilgamesh. In short, his growing consciousness and contact with civilization has both enfeebled his body and set him into an existential crisis of purpose:

The eyes of Enkidu were full of tears and his heart was sick. He sighed bitterly and Gilgamesh met his eye and said, 'My friend, why do you sigh so bitterly?' But Enkidu opened his mouth and said, 'I am weak, my arms have lost their strength, the cry of sorrow sticks in my throat, I am oppressed by idleness.'

Long before there was Shakespeare's Hamlet mooning about his father's castle, there was Enkidu mooning about Gilgamesh's Uruk.

For Enkidu, as for all overconscious, Hamlet-like humans, idleness and the dilemmas of choice threaten to open a vacuum of purposelessness, and a recognition of one's ultimate mortality and nothingness. Enkidu, made too comfortable in Gilgamesh's Apollonian city of Uruk, is, like the author of Ecclesiastes, wasting away. Gilgamesh, observing this, has a revelation. Human life, if it is not to fall into despair, needs purpose and action:

It was then that the lord Gilgamesh turned his thought to . . . the Land of Cedars . . . He said to his servant Enkidu, 'I have not established my name stamped on bricks as my destiny decreed; therefore I will go the the country where the cedar is felled. . . . [W]here no man's name is written yet I will raise a monument to the gods. Because of the evil that is in the land, we will go to the forest and destroy the evil; for in the forest lives Humbaba whose name is 'Hugeness,' a ferocious giant.'

Enkidu and Gilgamesh cutting down and taming a forested land, imperially building a new city with Gilgamesh's name stamped on every brick, raising a monument to the gods, and fighting the evils and terrors that lie outside the new city's walls---this is enough purpose and activity for any two mortals seeking to fill up their time as beings moving towards death.

But are all these renewed Apollonian ambitions enough? Do they, ultimately, satisfy? The Epic seems to answer in the negative. When Enkidu dies, for example, Gilgamesh perceives the ultimate vanity of the trappings of success:

This way and that he paced around the [death] bed, he tore out his hair and strewed it around. He dragged off his splendid robes and flung them down as though they were abominations. (from Part 3)

Perhaps the most haunting scene in all of the Epic is in Part 2, where Gilgamesh cries out to the father of the gods, Shamash:

O Shamash, hear me, hear me, Shamash, let my voice be heard. Here in the city man dies oppressed at heart, man perishes with despair in his heart. I have looked over the wall and I see the bodies floating on the river, and that will be my lot also. Indeed I know it is so , for whoever is tallest among men cannot reach the heavens, and the greatest cannot encompass the earth.

Like the Buddha, who, as a young prince, leaves his parent's palace and sees, for the first time, an old man, a sick man, and a dead man, so Gilgamesh must have his encounter with the dead bodies floating in the river, and think about that.

Those dead bodies floating past in the river of time are what haunts, and drives, Gilgamesh.

Here's an excerpt of the word:

somewhenotodayoundressomecologicalinenumerousexyeslowillingnesshotstr-angereactioneglectabulationumberightonightomorrowidoweremembersufficien-togethernessobviousoomphilariousayourselforeasonablexplorerideseriouservan-twinklechoingoosevenowomeneedoorbellikelectricalamplantingoverockslightly-ellowelluminousportuitionevereoccupiesilentouringadderoastsalmonearlyowlec-habitationationalizespecialegornamentitartanomineejectwolivesubjectwentiet-hypertextransformereappearstaticrazyoungsterunearbyachtoo...eddingown

Cover image of The Blah Story, Volume 19:

The word was coined using simple algorithm:

Apparently Tomm's neological method (or is it madness?) is to string together words where the last letter of one word is the same as the first letter of another. So "somewhennotoday" comes from "somewhen", "not", and "today" (with the common first and last letters reduced to one character). (read more)

Moreover, the word contains all previously known longest words (page numbers where these words can be found in The Blah Story, Volume 19 book are given):

• lopadotemachoselachogaleokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphio-paraomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryo-noptekephalliokigklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon (4 page);
• taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu (53 page);
• pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (103 page);
• pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism (153 page);
• floccinaucinihilipilification (203 page);
• antidisestablishmentarianism (253 page);
• honorificabilitudinitatibus (303 page);
• aldiborontiphoscophornio (353 page);
• chrononhotonthologos (353 page);
• bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonn-thunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk (503 page);
• supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (803 page).

Want to hear this 3.6 million letters word live? Then listen to the robot: 

P.S. All The Blah Story, Volume 19 can be downloaded for free from Nigel Tomm's Amazon page.

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
• Longest Word in English No. 6
• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
• Longest Word in English No. 9
• Longest Word in English No. 10
• Longest Word in English No. 11
• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

Pensou em “Oh, meu Príncipe, o meu dever, por ser audacioso, prejudica o comportamento da minha afeição” nos últimos seis meses. Ensaiou as intenções, as pausas, as entonações, estruturou toda a psicologia do momento e buscou em seus banco as memórias afetivas. Tudo ruiu agora que Alan percebe que Lucy vem em sua direção, sorrindo, preocupada é claro, mas sorrindo, resplandecendo, dando aos pobres como ele mera esmola de beleza. Tiveram uma amizade que cresceu ao longo da produção.Lucy mora no mesmo bairro que Alan e ela sempre deu carona em dias de ensaio para garantir que ele não atrasasse. Não é sem razão que a amizade cresceu, pois caronas sempre pedem interação. Alan nunca confiou em si, porém sempre se impôs enquanto o mais desconfiado de si mesmo e isto sempre rende algumas boas risadas eventuais. É claro que as mulheres preferem a confiança que irão defendê-las do mundo, mesmo que isto traga junto uma série de qualidades pouco amistosas, àqueles que irão fraquejar frente ao leão de sete cabeças. Entretanto, algo dava esperança a Alan. Sim, ele sentia que seria ali, agora, o momento fora do quantum, a elipse da existência.

- Tá pronto, Alan? Você entra logo.

- Tô. “Mas não consigo comandar daí qualquer declaração harmoniosa; me falta perícia”.

Os dois riem. O sorriso dela é diferente: os dentes sobressaem, contudo não chamam a atenção, não tentam aparecer; formam uma simetria interessante com os lábios, puxam o que há de mais bonito no entorno e com isso formam um teatro mágico de forma e conteúdo.

- Parece que você ta pronto mesmo. Olha, fica tranqüilo tá tudo correndo super bem, ta bom?

- Tudo bem. Falta quanto tempo pra eu entrar?

- Cinco minutos. Cadê o Edu?

- No camarim. Ele gosta de ficar sozinho, rezar, baixar o personagem. Eu prefiro ficar aqui na quentura.

- Bem, eu vim aqui ver se está tudo bem e... desejar sorte, né?

- Obrigado.

- De nada.

Ela não vai. Silêncio. Ela continua ali. O que fazer? Silêncio.

- Eu preciso te dizer uma coisa.

- O quê?

Alan pega Lucy pela cintura e a beija. Ela não recusa, não se opõe, não o chuta ou empurra: Lucy beija Alan, que não acredita que o tempo parou, que tudo o que deveria ter ido não foi, que o universo é agora um beijo, um encontro de bocas, um gosto doce, um gesto de lábios, uma troca, um tudo.

Silêncio.

Um olhar.

- Eu preciso te dizer uma coisa.

- Fala.

- Eu sou casado.

- É sua hora.

Ela simplesmente se vira e vai embora. Será que ficou decepcionada? Sentiu algo. Ela volta com Edu, parece ter o olho cheio de lágrimas, mas não será só impressão? Lucy nem chega perto. Qual é a primeira fala.

- Pronto Edu?

- Vamos lá parceiro.

É hora do show.

- Maravilhoso, gente! Vocês foram um espetáculo! Com certeza nós vamos fazer uma temporada enorme, mesmo!

O diretor é um otário. Se acha pra caralho, mas não sabe de nada. Com o elenco que tem nas mãos ,é lógico que ia ser um sucesso; só tem gente boa e talentosa. O texto nem se fala, fora de questão. Uma das melhores traduções já feitas. Ele não teve que fazer nada, só comemorar, tomar seu champanhe, comer um canapé, agradecer, dar meia volta e sair.

No meio da comemoração, Lucy está sozinha, lacônica, toma a champanhe e conversa com as pessoas por convívio mais que por vontade. Ela olha para Alan que já está lá esperando há muito tempo. Ela desvia o olhar e volta a conversar com a equipe.

Quando ela pede licença, Alan vai atrás. Ele a interrompe; nunca teve tanta coragem assim.

- Lucy...

- Por que você falou aquilo? Eu não preciso saber disso!

- Mas você precisa saber. Eu preciso...

- Eu não quero saber! Olha, você quer saber? Eu tenho namorado! E agora? Como fica?

Eu não sei; ninguém sabe; alguém saberia?

- Eu só quero um negócio legal com você, mas não quero saber o que fazer da vida agora! Eu não preciso saber da sua mulher, da sua família. Só me pressiona, Eu não quero isso.

Ela desanima. Alan a abraça. Um abraço sincero, sentido, dois corpos jogados na vida sem órbita, passando pelos planetas sem saber onde vão se chocar. A fraqueza que os atinge se torna força. Alan, o covarde, ergue o rosto de Lucy, a bela, e a olha. O olhar comunicativo, sem palavras. Palavras não são nada, não tem significado, são padrão, norma. O olhar que Alan e Lucy trocam é conceito, é substância. O olhar seguido do beijo: ninguém vê, ninguém ouve, mas eles estão lá, protagonizando o espetáculo de suas existências e aplaudindo na primeira fila. Como num filme, Alan não sabe se sonha ou se vive, se pára em busca da verdade ou se deixa levar pela leviandade de um momento único que pode ser a maior das mentiras, o sonho de ser estrela, quando na verdade, tudo não passa de uma fantasia que, mesmo boa, acaba quando a cortina se fecha.

É dia. O despertador toca ensurdecendo Alan. Sua esposa se levanta e vai ao banheiro. Ele não entende nada, tira um cochilo. Algum tempo depois – não se sabe quanto, pois essas coisas não são medidas – a esposa de Alan abre as cortinas. É um belo dia de sol. Não há nada de diferente de outro belo dia de sol. Ela vai até ele, fica sobre ele e o beija com carinho.

- Meu bom senhor, permita-me uma palavra.

- Pode dizer meu nobre ator.

Alan tem uma sensação de tudo e nada, um paradoxo de instantes que duram eternamente. Algo engasga em sua garganta, mas não resiste e sai sem pedir licença.

- Te amo.

Isso deixa a esposa feliz, pois sabe que, dia após dia, a temporada não vai acabar.

Shakespeare reverses the thought process of loosing someone, gradually introducing the death and then the shock of what happened, rather than the shock of loosing someone and the gradual striving to justify keeping memories. Horatio embodies these memories by recounting the story of the valiant ghosts (previous King Hamlet) life, "At least the whisper goes so." This narrative technique is typical of Shakespeare, allowing the audience to meet the characters and then delving into their back story, much like how Prospero retells the story of how he and Miranda came to the Island in The Tempest. This retrospective approach recurs when the truth of the matter being retold becomes twisted, either deliberately or innocently by the characters memory. This creates a sense of foreboding; the ambiguity of their recollection places your trust into question and rotten becomes more like a state of mind implying that something is very wrong, or to the degree's of rotten, not quite right. Thankfully, this vacillating is validated by Barnardo who isn't even entirely sure the ghost is the King, "I think it be no other but e'en so."

Interestingly, the intensity of feeling that something is missing, or more so, that something is "like a guilty thing upon summons" is confirmed by the most awkward situation in the early parts of the play. This is of course referring to the sudden marriage between Cladius, the now King of Denmark, and Hamlet’s Mother, Gertrude; this, as certain people point out, is not incestuous by any literal means, however most English Literature students agree that the holy matrimony between the two characters is not, for all intensive purposes, of a proper disposition, “A little more than kin, and less than kind.” At this point, there is no longer a sense of foreboding, the issues of rotten memories and traumatic experiences dissipate with a “Flourish” as Cladius commands and dominates the court room with little remorse, instantly launching into respite from the memories of the past, contrasting the woe with the joyful, “The memory be green…In equal scale weighing delight and dole.” Shakespeare teases the scene with similar distaste, contrasting the pace with which the Kings speech is delivered to the tones of silence and besides the point responses, the unexpectedness of this sudden transition feels twitchy and constructed, as if the whole incident had been expected itself.

The audiences suspicions are obviously not unfounded as they become personified through young Hamlet, who besides being the most relatable character, also happens to be the most fluently eloquent. Hamlet’s retrospective speech in Act 1 Scene 2 is the single most important speech in the early parts of the play, possibly the entire play. The first thing that is striking about his language is its ability to erode away at the surface of the scene, to resonate so deeply with feelings of despair and isolation as the speech decomposes in front of you, “sallied flesh would melt… ‘gainst self-slaughter.” The words gradually begin to embody the mood of the scene, gradually and monotonously rotting away at the underlying thoughts in your head about each and every character, “How weary, flat, stale and unprofitable,” punctuated by the exclamations of “O God” and “fie!” that fracture Hamlets sentences into sharp splinters, each one pronouncing something different, but combined as a whole to condemn not only the unrighteous, but himself, “I must hold my tongue.”

This is taken a step further, creating very potent and literal imagery about the decline of a garden, doomed even from its conception, “’tis an un-weeded garden… Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.” This metaphorically is typically seen as social disorder, but on a larger scale it could indicate Hamlet’s infuriated state of mind that his fathers’ death is being treated with so little respect, and this is therefore the wrong social order of things. However, with the inclusion of the line “That grows to seed,” it could mean he has a greater hatred towards “such dexterity to incestuous sheets”, possibly a marriage that was contrived, and as much as we like to believe the most relatable character is noble, the initial presumptive age difference suggests his emotions get the better of him, “O most wicked speed!” and this becomes even more poignant as your realize that Hamlet has established his roots as a older man.

What solidifies Hamlet’s speech as an embodiment of rotting society, besides its emphatic passion, is his willingness to condemn his own mother, “a beast that wants discourse of reason”. Later on in the passage, he references his father to Hercules, the son of a god renowned for slaying beasts with his almighty strength, possibly indicative of either the future plot of the play, killing her before she killed him, or merely an expression of his anger. From the entrance and conversation with Horatio, it appears that the first speculation would be true as the conversation is abrupt and questioning, “Armed, say you? ... What looked he – frowningly?” meaning even as anger, humility and pride blind him, Hamlets is either desperate, or looking for answers, “I will watch tonight.” However, this collected tone contradicts his passion, making the audience question Hamlet’s motives; the speed of which his replies spill from his mouth reflect the “wicked speed” of his mother, which simultaneously implies something rotten.

Rotten is a provocative word to use to describe part of a play, especially when its such a diverse adjective, however Shakespeare, possibly through experience, embraces it.

Here's a very small excerpt of the word:

babyoubiquitouseadogablahomeffectonightobyeassymmetricityowlablaheat-enderopechoeslightlyuppiepitheturnsweetoastiedgedificexcretadamanterribl-educatedrumustablahisisterealityearnobodyesirapacityounderstandoorbellick-sensuousecretownevereadsimplelationatchomiciderectionaboblahisupered-iagramustoleratevenominalovenergyahoopsorryoudderunoxiouslut...oiletub

Here's the cover image of The Blah Story, Volume 10:

 The word was coined using a simple algorithm:

Firstly, Nigel Tomm takes a word "baby." The word "baby" has the last letter "y," so Tomm adds to the word "baby" a word which has the first letter "y," he chooses a word "you," and gets the word "babyou." Symbolically it can be written

baby+(y)ou= babyou.

New word "babyou" has the last letter is "u," so Tomm must add a word which begins with a letter "u," and he chooses "ubiquitous." Now, he gets a new word "babyoubiquitous." Symbolically it could be written as

baby+(y)ou+(u)biquitous= babyoubiquitous

Applying this algorithm one more time we get:

baby+(y)oubiquitous+(s)eadog= babyoubiquitouseadog

and

baby+(y)oubiquitous+(s)eadog+(g)ab= babyoubiquitouseadogab,

and

baby+(y)oubiquitous+(s)eadog+(g)ab+(b)lah= babyoubiquitouseadogablah,

and so on. This algorithm was applied to get the word which is 2,087,214 letters long and occupies 728 pages.

You can find the algorithm here.

 P.S. All The Blah Story, Volume 10 can be downloaded for free from Nigel Tomm's Amazon page.

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
• Longest Word in English No. 6
• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
• Longest Word in English No. 9
• Longest Word in English No. 10
• Longest Word in English No. 11
• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

Hawkins and his mother, the owners of the inn, are now left alone in the Admiral Benbow.  In a few hours the pirates will be there.  In fright, Hawkins and his mother flee to a neighboring hamlet for safety.  However, they foolishly decide to return to the Admiral Benbow in order to retrieve some money that the Captain owed them.  When the pirates arrive, Hawkins and his mother barely escape with their lives.

Along with the money, Hawkins and his mother found a treasure map.  Together with Squire Trelawney and Dr. Livesey, Hawkins decides to find the treasure.  In order to reach the island that held the treasure, they had to get a ship.  Unfortunately, the pirates found out about the treasure trackers and succeeded in joining the crew.  While on the way to the island, Hawkins overhears a conversation between the pirates and discovers their plots. 

Once on the island, the pirates attack the treasure hunters and kill a number of them.  Quickly, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and their followers take possession of a stockade on the island.  The pirates attack the stockade, but are beaten off.  Eventually, after a number of invigorating skirmishes, the pirates are beaten and the treasure is found.  Leaving some of the remaining pirates on the island, the treasure seekers return home laden with gold.  This is an excellent novel, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in learning more about pirates, the sea, and good writing.

Mr Jeremey Wagstaff, a diehard fan of prose and poetry, running over his scripts for his upcoming soliloquy on one of Shaker Spear's most endearing plays, Hamming The Hamlet.

"To pee, or not to pee, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the prostate to suffer
The G-stings and sparrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a booty of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die in sleaze,
No more; and by a sheep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand kinky shocks
That flesh and hair to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to peep;
To peep, perchance for wet dreams—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of what moist dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of a schlong thong life."

- Hamming The Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 1, 55–87, Shaker Spear

- SPH Blue, The Straight Times

However, professional dictionary writers regard generic names of chemical compounds as verbal formulae rather than as English words.

Some illustrations:

Find out more about the video above here.

From video description: "Simplified model of cardiac sarcomere. Myosin, actin, troponins, tropomyosin, myosin binding protein C, myopadin, Zasp, titin, actinin and other proteins in the cardiac myofilaments are shown."

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
• Longest Word in English No. 6
• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
• Longest Word in English No. 9
• Longest Word in English No. 10
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• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

When there is

incongruity between feeling and event,

puzzlement and discernible moodiness 

in the moment’s texture 

like rubber on sand.

When there is intangibility,

a slippery point of reference,

a sign of silk in a bed of soil.

Or when words are sketchy,

and affected areas are

rendered out of reach,

windows are sealed off.

The mind keeps turning left

A re-orbiting of the eight ball,

or else, a sudden stroke of cognitive slippage, 

mischief by Goetic  demons,

a crisis that cuts allegiance to logic,

or the immediacy of life, death,

grave illness, the cold Kali stare of sudden change...

Or else the opposite--fantastic luck--

love, the light of angels, lust, 

the thrill of possibilities and improbabilities,

siddhi powers seducing and surprising you,

Prince Hamlet’s hamlet,

like when hanging--(indeed clutching)--on fate’s bubble

sinking in one’s stomach,

when stuck in a head-vice

or left oscillating in ambiguity

with a strange suspension of time,

split conditions and mixed messages,

or when straddling extremes 

ampering volts of high emotion

scattering dossiers of delusion

without closure or conclusion,

tripping off flags of foreboding

like inching clouds and scattered drops 

upon a picnic sky of summer sun... 

And yet the Net of Indra beckons.

You feel strange gravities to enter,

to catch and be caught by it,

to make mirrors of molecules,

crafting outcomes in serendipity

with the untold forms

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Let's start with freshman year. Maybe it didn't help that my English teacher was a bit... loony and passive-aggressive. We were forced to read Romeo & Juliet or at least the ones in the normal English class. The honors English classes got to read Julius Caesar, which I am told is one of Shakespeare's greatest and there were a few that expressed that they did enjoy it.

First off, I believe English classes tend to kill anything in the required reading. Being forced to read something is not something very appealing to anyone. In addition, there is also the tendency that overexcited English teachers make their students overanalyze every single word. That kinda kills the magic of reading critically and finding things out for oneself at a leisurely pace without the badgering of a crazed person using grades as a threat incentive.

To start off, Romeo & Juliet was most definitely not one of Shakespeare's greatest works. I don't care what anyone says, I find the main characters to be whiny and overly hormonal teenagers who need a good smack in the face. I don't understand the connotation of Romeo being the poster boy of romance, when he was really a whiny brat who is in dire need of common sense. Seriously? Falling in love lust with someone whom you have met five seconds ago and then running off to get married. That's not love, that's just an inability to keep one's trousers on.

Yes, it's a tragedy that is supposed to be some sort of lesson to use your brain and common sense. But is there anyone really that stupid? Wait... don't answer that question.

The next year, most of the students were forced to read MacBeth. This one I didn't mind too much and I don't really remember any sort of aggravation associated with that particular play.

There wasn't any required Shakespeare reading for my junior year, but instead we were forced to read more John Steinbeck and to say the least I would have been more than willing to go back to Romeo & Juliet than read any novels by Steinbeck ever again. Even though I had a very awesome English teacher, it was the most painful thing we ever read... actually, no that's a lie. We read many painful things that year.

And finally senior year. I was fortunate enough to have another amazing English teacher... not so fortunate to be forced to read Hamlet. I believe Shyaporn of YouTube sums up my feelings about Hamlet quite nicely:

Hamlet - Emo Prince of Denmark. But less painful than Lord of the Flies that was part of the required reading that year.

Liddell and Scott translate this as "name of a dish compounded of all kinds of dainties, fish, flesh, fowl, and sauces."

The dish was a fricassee, with 17 sweet and sour ingredients, including brains, honey, vinegar, fish, pickles, and the following: fish slices, fish of the Elasmobranchii subclass (a shark or ray), rotted dogfish or small shark's head, generally sharp-tasting dish of several ingredients grated and pounded together, Silphion "laserwort" (apparently a kind of giant fennel), a kind of crab (beetle, or crayfish), eagle, cheese, honey poured down, wrasse (or thrush), on top of a kind of sea fish or Blackbird, wood pigeon, domestic pigeon, chicken, roasted head of dabchick, hare (which could be a kind of bird or a kind of sea-hare), new wine boiled down, dessert fruit or thing eaten raw, wing (fin).

In the Greek alphabet: λοπαδοτεμαχοσελαχογαλεοκρανιολειψανοδριμυπο-τριμματοσιλφιοκαραβομελιτοκατακεχυμενοκιχλεπικοσσυφοφαττοπεριστερ-αλεκτρυονοπτοκεφαλλιοκιγκλοπελειολαγῳοσιραιοβαφητραγανοπτερύγων.

Here's live performance of Aristophanes' Assemblywomen:

P.S. Lopadotemachoselachogameokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphiokaraomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptekephalliokinklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon Lopadotemakhoselakhogameokranioleipsanodrimypotrimmatosilphiokarabomelitokatakekhymenokikhlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptokephalliokigklopeleiolagōiosiraiobaphētraganopterýgōn isn't mentioned in the performance.

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
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• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
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• Longest Word in English No. 11
• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

Hier also mal nach langer Zeit wieder die Links zu:

Romeo & Juliet

Hamlet

via Toranor (Jahre her)

2. (thunder): Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghund-hurthrumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun
3. (clap): klikkaklakkaklaskaklopatzklatschabattacreppycrottygraddaghsem-mihsammihnouithappluddyappladdypkonpkot
4. (whore): Bladyughfoulmoecklenburgwhurawhorascortastrumpapornane-nnykocksapastippatappatupperstrippuckputtanach
5.: Thingcrooklyexineverypasturesixdixlikencehimaroundhersthemaggerby-kinkinkankanwithdownmindlookingated
6. (shut the door): Lukkedoerendunandurraskewdylooshoofermoyporter-tooryzooysphalnabortansporthaokansakroidverjkapakkapuk
7.: Bothallchoractorschumminaroundgansumuminarumdrumstrumtruminahu-mptadumpwaultopoofoolooderamaunsturnup
8.: Pappappapparrassannuaragheallachnatullaghmonganmacmacmacwhackfa-lltherdebblenonthedubblandaddydoodled
9. (cough): husstenhasstencaffincoffintussemtossemdamandamnacosaghc-usaghhobixhatouxpeswchbechoscashlcarcarcaract
10. (Norse gods): Ullhodturdenweirmudgaardgringnirurdrmolnirfenrirlukkilo-kkibaugimandodrrerinsurtkrinmgernrackinarockar

Want to hear the first thunder word? Here's one crazy reading:

All ten thunders (without breaks):

Bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk; Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurthrumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun; Klikkaklakkaklaskaklopatzklatschabattacreppycrottygraddaghsemmihsammihnouithappluddyappladdypkonpkot; Bladyughfoulmoecklenburgwhurawhorascortastrumpapornanennykocksapastippatappatupperstrippuckputtanach; Thingcrooklyexineverypasturesixdixlikencehimaroundhersthemaggerbykinkinkankanwithdownmindlookingated; Lukkedoerendunandurraskewdylooshoofermoyportertooryzooysphalnabortansporthaokansakroidverjkapakkapuk; Bothallchoractorschumminaroundgansumuminarumdrumstrumtruminahumptadumpwaultopoofoolooderamaunsturnup; Pappappapparrassannuaragheallachnatullaghmonganmacmacmacwhackfalltherdebblenonthedubblandaddydoodled; Husstenhasstencaffincoffintussemtossemdamandamnacosaghcusaghhobixhatouxpeswchbechoscashlcarcarcaract; Ullhodturdenweirmudgaardgringnirurdrmolnirfenrirlukkilokkibaugimandodrrerinsurtkrinmgernrackinarockar.

Longest Words in English Top 14:

• Longest Word in English No. 1
• Longest Word in English No. 2
• Longest Word in English No. 3
• Longest Word in English No. 4
• Longest Word in English No. 5
• Longest Word in English No. 6
• Longest Word in English No. 7
• Longest Word in English No. 8
• Longest Word in English No. 9
• Longest Word in English No. 10
• Longest Word in English No. 11
• Longest Word in English No. 12
• Longest Word in English No. 13
• Longest Word in English No. 14

The party was a high class affair put together by one Theodore Sinclair, a wealthy man form old Britain. He was a great fan of botanists and had in fact made this party in order to honor them. Inviting all of the botanists in the country to his mansion; one of them being my great-uncle. Mr. Sinclair had in mind to make this a gentleman's evening, and thus he suggested that the botanists leave their respected spouses at home. All of the men did, my great-uncle, being a newlywed didn't. He wanted to spend as much time with Sasha as he possibly could.

Mr. Sinclair was not thrilled to see Sasha, but he allowed them to stay upon realizing how much it meant to my great-uncle for her to be there. After an uncertain number of glasses of wine, and at a vague hour, one of the botanists and Sasha began talking about monkeys. The botanist in question was a James Windsor, the very man who would have his head beaten within the hour. I'd wager that Sasha and Mr. Windsor stumbled upon the topic of monkeys due largely to the fact that Sasha was a monkey, however that may not have been the case.

Whatever the reason, the topic came about and was discussed at length. Mr. Windsor, having supposedly began the discussion, stated that he found the monkey to be one of the better mammals. He praised their free spirit, and wished that he possessed such freedom to pick up his own excrement and throw it at a passerby. He mentioned their agility as well, explaining that at times he'd dream about swinging from branch to branch and feeling his hair flow in the wind. This was a peculiar statement as Mr. Windsor was in fact bald.

Sasha, having taken the con side of the argument, decided to point out some of the negative attributes of her kind. She found that people agreeing on things tend to be boring, and usually took the opposite side of an argument. She was an experienced debater; in fact, she was the leader of the debate team at a rather prominent University in the United States of America. Thus she realizing that Mr. Windsor took the pro side of the monkey debate immediately sided with the con.

She pointed out how vulgar the monkey is; how she could never imagine throwing her own excrement, much less picking it up. She also explained that only a base creature with a limited understanding could derive pleasure from swinging on trees. She then explained that the monkey was in fact the second biggest mistake God had made in his creating of the universe. She mentioned that the hair was ill-placed, and that it took her hours to wax it all and make herself look presentable. Some believe that that particular statement was what drove Mr. Sinclair over the edge. He, despite being a perfect gentleman most of the time, could not hold back his tongue, and before he knew what had happened he had said "You do your kind a great injustice, you madame are a sorry excuse for a monkey - if not the sorriest I've ever seen."

Unfortunately for Mr. Windsor my great-uncle happened to come by at that exact point in time, and upon hearing what he had said to his wife, he went upstairs to look for a sort of weapon with which to hurt Mr. Windsor. He happened to come across a baseball bat, which he picked up and carried back with him. You know the rest.

You may be wondering how it came to be that Mr. Windsor was wearing a football helmet at the time of the attack. Well, he had suffered a number of epileptic seizers, during which he had hurt his head. His doctor thus decided that it might be a good idea for him to wear protection, he thought that a football helmet would do the job. And it did help with the falling, however, it wasn't able to fully withstand the repeated blows to Mr. Windsor's head.

In conclusion, my great-uncle played the part of Hamlet in a school recital. He was the only adult in the play, and managed to get a standing ovation at the end of it all.

-Jakob Lint

Sometimes I think maybe I'm just caught up in all the hype and that Hamlet doesn't deserve to be the most studied, arguably most famous work of literature of all time (except maybe the Bible, I suppose) but it truly does. Shakespeare was so cool. I'm glad I went to see it right now because I've been feeling down lately and it helped. Which sounds bizarre, since it's not exactly uplifting, but it's incredible to have someone put those feelings into such beautiful words - perfect words. I can't imagine saying it better.

Mila and I were in the gift shop and there was a shirt that said "To be or not to be" on it, and I just thought it would be really weird for someone to go around wearing that. It annoys me that even at a Shakespeare festival people evidently aren't really understanding or listening to it. And there was one that was "2b or not 2b" like it's some hip, cool saying. People are strange.

Anyway, the moral of the story is - I love Hamlet!

Oh, and I also finally gave some money to the guy who is playing guitar outside the Festival Theatre every single time I go. Only $1.50 because that's all I had but he stopped singing to thank us and bowed and I curtsied back.

EDIT (July 1, 2008): I failed to mention that at one point, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were flipping a coin which was an obvious nod to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Mila and I practically squealed with delight! (Also...Happy Canada Day!)

whoever is in charge of the rain heard my complaint about it being just a drizzle. this saturday afternoon was all about downpour. on the way to the park to get our tickets for hamlet, it was a cinematographer's wet dream - pun intended. every street is shiny reflecting and refracting light and metaphors and symbolisms could be had by the dozen for free. thankfully, the rains stopped two hours before the performance (the back-up plan is WALL•E) and i saw the longest play of my entire life.  if it ran for another hour, it would be a lav diaz movie (note the choice of words). i know shakespeare is the man but should every line be relished? all in all, it was really good and it is something to be refreshed of the bard's immortal words like 

    there's the rub

    shuffling off the mortal coil

    despair, thy name is woman

etc, etc that is not a review for a quiz.