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For to end yet again

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14th July 2009

waitsfortherain3:25pm: Self-Interview
Q: Who are you?

A: A guy in his fifties with an incurable neurological disease who entirely depends on a number of drugs, including two psychotropics that must have their adequacy and dosage constantly checked/adjusted by a neurologist or else there may be a sudden upheaval in the whole nervous system leading to dreadful consequences, and who on top of being far from well-off has a really hard time putting up the money for doctors’ bills and the atrociously expensive drugs.

Q: Any chances that you may be overdoing it, like presenting a worse picture of your own reality than what the facts point to?Read more...Collapse )

27th January 2009

busterandsam5:22pm: Theater based on 'Film' with Beckett, Keaton, and Schneider
Hey guys!

If you are in the LA area, Theater of NOTE is putting on a great play called "Film" based on the making of "Film", a movie that brought together director Alan Schneider, the amazing (as we all know) writer Samuel Beckett, and performer Buster Keaton. It's a great performance with a great cast so you should come check it out!

Theater of NOTE
1517 N. Cahuenga Blvd, Hollywood, CA, 90028
February 13-March 21
Reservations: 323-856-8611 or

Come and witness this brilliant debut!

10th August 2006

icarus_smicarus12:00am: I just saw Waiting for Godot, and I found it quite nice.

What should I read first, considering I'm new to Beckett?

24th April 2006

especially10:31pm: If Godot is not God, who is he?
I'm seeking any suggestions.
No explanation necessary, as long as they are sensical !.!

16th April 2006

larvatus11:42am: introduction
Greetings, fellow tramps!

I have stumbled upon this community while commemorating the centennial. In the spirit of that occasion, I have translated Samuel Beckett’s mock essay Le Concentrisme, hitherto unavailble in English. Some day I am hoping to expatiate on Beckett’s standards of auto-repatriation, as exemplified in his rendering of traditional Jewish humor. All comments are welcome.

18th March 2006

ksenie10:33pm: Hi, thank you for this community.
I have one question: why did Beckett begin to write in French?
Maybe there are some links that could help me.
Thanks in advance

5th December 2005

mooseonski6:23am: Random choice of quote...
From Molloy:

I listen and the voice is of a world collapsing endlessly, a frozen world, under a faint untroubled sky, enough to see by, yes, and frozen too. And I hear it murmur that all wilts and yields, as if loaded down, but here there are no loads, and the ground too, unfit for loads, the flight too, down towards an end it seems can never come. For what possible end to these wastes where true light never was, nor any upright thing, nor any true foundation, only these leaning things, forever lapsing and crumbling away, beneath a sky without memory of morning or hope of night. These things, what things, come from where, made of what? And it says that here nothing stirs, has never stirred, will never stir, except myself, who do not stir either, when I am there, but see and am seen. Yes, a world at an end, in spite of appearances, its end brought it forth, ending it began, is it clear enough?

9th November 2005

aporian12:17am: .

"the mind at last its own asylum, disinterested, indifferent, its miserable erethisms and discriminations and futile sallies suppressed"

The Dream of Fair to Middling Women, pg. 44


27th October 2005

aporian12:57am: .

From The Dream of Fair to Middling Women, Beckett on Belacqua and Alba being drunk:

"Let it be said now without further ado, they were just pleasantly drunk. That is, we think, being more, becoming and unbecoming less, than usual. Not so far gone as to be rapt in that disgraceful apotheosis of immediacy from which yesterday and to-morrow are banished and the off dawn into the mire of coma taken; and yet at the same time less buttoned up in cohesion, more Seventh Symphony and contrapanic-stuck, than usual. Not, needless to say, melting in that shameless ecstasy of disintergration justly quenched in the mire and pain of reassemblage; no, it was not the glory of coming asunder in an apotheosis of immediacy, it was merely an innocent and agreeable awareness of being and that less clocklaboriously than was their habit. Pleasantly drunk."

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