[Video: “Ten Things I Have Learned about the Sea,” by Lorenzo Fonda. One of whiskey river‘s posts this week was based on the text in this video. For more information, see the Vimeo page.]
From whiskey river:
Clam
Each one is a small life, but sometimes long, if its
place in the universe is not found out. Like us, they
have a heart and a stomach; they know hunger, and
probably a little satisfaction too. Do not mock them
for their gentleness, they have a muscle that loves
being alive. They pull away from the light. They pull
down. They hold themselves together. They refuse to
open.But sometimes they lose their place and are tumbled
shoreward in a storm. Then they pant, they fill
with sand, they have no choice but must open the
smallest crack. Then the fire of the world touches
them. Perhaps, on such days, they too begin the
terrible effort of thinking, of wondering who, and
what, and why. If they can bury themselves again in
the sand they will. If not, they are sure to perish,
though not quickly. They also have resources beyond
the flesh; they also try very hard not to die.
(Mary Oliver, from What Do We Know [source])
Not from whiskey river:
|
On the Flats |
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|---|---|
| Every day the sea proves to be collapsible— it goes away to the very horizon. until we are very far from shore— that is all that is left of the |
What’s real is the real question, addressed by us but never by the happy, go-lucky gulls. Later, in our yards, on our porches, and how we felt sad the way we stand, sometimes, |
(Mary Oliver, from What Do We Know [source])
…and:
The smell of the sea pulled him east. The Atlantic spread before him like a pool of diamonds, liquefied, tossing gently in gleaming tips and shards of changeable, fading bronze light. The sun climbed down toward dusk behind mountains of clouds swollen with moisture. The young man couldn’t wait to get in the water.
…He turned over on his stomach and looked toward land: the beach was a distant, shimmering strip exhaling the day’s radiant heat; the shadows had deepened in front of the [Victorian] turrets; ladies’ parasols on the boardwalk bobbed like puffs of yellow cream against the darkening sky. He was the last man in the water. He heard the dog barking from somewhere, across the wind and waves, and was amused. He heard voices, as if from far away. He kicked vigorously, and began his crawl toward shore. He felt an exhilarating jolt of adrenaline lifting him onward and over the waves. Perhaps he mistook it for the thrill of being noticed, or a simple joy in his youth and strength — “He is a Mercury, a brown Mercury, his heels are winged, and in them is the swiftness of the sea,” Jack London, one of his favorite authors, had written.
His form was perfect, arms arcing through the sea.
(Michael Capuzzo, from Close to Shore: The Terrifying Shark Attacks of 1916 [source])
You know the premise of Stephen Sondheim’s 1979 musical comedy Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, right? I mean, I’m not spoiling any delightful surprises (am I?) by telling you:
- It’s based on a Victorian-era “penny dreadful” story, in which…
- …barber Sweeney Todd joins forces with Mrs. (Nellie) Lovett…
- …who helps him dispose of his murder victims by baking them into meat pies…
- …which she then sells in her pie shoppe.
In Act II, according to Wikipedia:
Todd and Mrs. Lovett now have a specially-designed mechanized barber’s chair that allows Todd to kill someone (preferably a customer who will never be missed) in the barber shop and send the body through a chute directly into the basement bakehouse of the pie shop for Mrs. Lovett to use in her baking… Todd accustoms himself to the idea that he may never see [his daughter] Johanna again, spending his time methodically slashing throats… Later, Mrs. Lovett dreams of a future life with Todd, though he remains uninterested.
Here’s the original cast version of the song, “By the Sea,” with which Mrs. Lovett (Angela Lansbury) tries to convince the listless, sure-whatever barber (Len Cariou) what a swell couple they’d make:
[Below, click Play button to begin By the Sea (from Sweeney Todd). While audio is playing, volume control appears at left — a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 3:32 long.]
Lyrics:
By the Sea
(Stephen Sondheim)MRS LOVETT: Oh, Mr. Todd, I’m so happy
I could eat you up, I really could
You know what I’d like to do, Mr. Todd?
What I dream, if the business stays as good?
Where I’d really like to go in a year or so
Don’t you want to know?TODD: Of course
MRS LOVETT: Do you really want to know?
TODD: Yes, yes, I do, I do
MRS LOVETT: By the sea, Mr. Todd, that’s the life I covet
By the sea, Mr. Todd, ooh, I know you’d love it
You and me, Mr. T, we could be alone
In a house what we’d almost ownDown by the sea (TODD: anything you say)
Wouldn’t that be smashing?With the sea at our gate, we’ll have kippered herring
What have swum to us straight from the Straits of Bering
Every night in the kip, when we’re through our kippers
I’ll be there slipping off your slippersBy the sea, with the fishes splashing
By the sea, wouldn’t that be smashing?
Down by the sea (TODD: anything you say
Anything you say)I can see us waking, the breakers breaking
The seagulls squawking, hoo, hoo
I do me baking, then I go walking
With you-hoo, you-hooI’ll warm me bones on the esplanade
Have tea and scones with me gay young blade
Then I’ll knit a sweater, while you write a letter
Unless we’ve got better to do-hooTODD: Anything you say
MRS LOVETT: Think how snug it’ll be underneath our flannel
When it’s just you and me and the English Channel
In our cozy retreat, kept all neat and tidy
We’ll have chums over every FridayBy the sea (TODD: anything you say)
Don’t you love the weather?
By the sea, we’ll grow old together
By the seaside, hoo, hoo
By the beautiful seaOh, I can see us now in our bathing dresses
You in a nice navy, and me stripes perhapsIt’ll be so quiet, that who’ll come by it
Except a seagull, hoo, hoo
We shouldn’t try it
Though ’til it’s legal for two-hooBut a seaside wedding could be devised
Me rumpled bedding legitimized
Me eyelids’ll flutter, I’ll turn into butter
The moment I mutter I do-hooBy the sea, in our nest, we could share our kippers
With the odd paying guest from the weekend trippers
Have a nice sunny suite for the guest to rest in
Now and then, you could do the guest inBy the sea, married nice and proper
By the sea, bring along your chopper
To the seaside, hoo, hoo
By the beautiful sea
Nance says
11. From a boat, the sea is actually about the sky.
12. Below the surface, we do not think of it as “sea” at all. The idea is irrelevant.
Jayne says
That video near lulled me to sleep–so peaceful, relaxing, like a good yoga class. Whiskey’s adaptation is smart, and Oliver’s observations perfect as always. But then Capuzzo brilliance, and the absurdly hilarious Sweeney Todd?!
You are the wind here, John, blowing ripples in the water, forming a wave, pushing it along toward the shoreline where it enlarges, becomes more serious, until finally, it crescendos and releases all its inhibitions, splattering foamy spray in the faces of its giggling and adoring fans. :)
John says
Nance: Those are brilliant additions to the list!
(Actually, they work with whiskey river‘s version, too, in which the sea stands in for life.)
I’ve never been exactly head-over-heels in love with the ocean, not the way that many of the people dearest to me are. Don’t like water sports in general. Can’t swim. Burn in bright sunlight like a sonofabitch, as they say. Every barefoot step on a sandy beach — above the waterline — a misery of needles and fire.
But I really loved the two cruises we’ve been on (Alaska and the Caribbean — the former our honeymoon, and today’s our 11th anniversary! yay!). And, as I said a long(ish) time ago here, it’s hard to beat the ocean as a source (or object) of rumination.
John says
Jayne: Thank you so much!
Don’t take this observation the wrong way, but… I have a feeling that even if your local vendor of wine and spirits had no hand at all in the preparation of that comment, Dr. Freud was not far away. :)
marta says
Yesterday when I was exhausted and stuck for the day’s story, I read this post of yours and it gave me a story–the bit about the ocean. Well, I suppose you’ll see for yourself.
So thank you! I needed an idea.
John says
marta: I can’t think of a better reason to be happy I posted this then — loved that story!
Jayne says
@John – Ha! Dr. Freud is never very far away. And it was green tea Saturday evening. (Maybe I should have had that glass of white.) ;)