A particular speech by “Hamlet, Prince of Denmark”, often runs through my mind, and usually, I am singing the words. Hamlet’s speech in Act II, scene ii of William Shakespeare’s play, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, is famous in itself, but also because it was made into a song for the 1960s musical Hair. So it’s easy to remember. But “lately,” as Hamlet said, I have “lost all my mirth”. This poem is my version of Hamlet’s lament, not so much late middle ages Elsinore, Denmark, as present day Vancouver, Canada. (Sorry, Shakespeare, no iambic pentameter this time.)
I Have Lately Lost My Verve
What a piece of work am I? How pedestrian in nature, How limited in faculty. In form and moving How slow and fat. In action, how clumsy. In comprehension of it all, How like an average sheeple. I have, of late, And why I do not know, Lost all my verve. This frame in which we live, The earth, our world, Has become ugly and alien. This space above us, the air, This overhanging sky, Filled with colours, clouds and circling planets – It appears to me no other than A canvas for countless invisible EM-IR-X waves, Contrails from transcontinental flights, The cacophony of communication, Transportation, consumption, coexistence. What is the meaning of This quintessence of dust? How do I function in it? I don’t want to talk with you – The only one who matters – About anything, other than The only things that matter to me – The things that I have made. What a piece of work am I, But a small voice that you might hear? Though from your smile I can tell that You seem to find my silence Meaningful enough.
What do I mean by this? Well, after a lot of wondering and agonizing about why I am like I am, I finally got an explanation in David Byrne’s book, How Music Works. This quote, below, is printed out big, and stuck on the wall of my study. Whenever I think I’m losing my marbles, I look at it and realize I’m not the only one who is like this.
“I was incredibly shy at the time and remained so for many years, so one might ask (and people did) what in the world a withdrawn introvert was doing making a spectacle of himself onstage. (I didn’t ask myself such questions at the time.) In retrospect, I guess that like many others, I decided that making my art in public (even if that meant playing other people’s songs at that point) was a way of reaching out and communicating when ordinary chitchat was not comfortable for me. It seemed not only a way to ‘speak’ in another language, but also a means of entry into conversation – […] Years later I diagnosed myself as having a very mild (I think) form of Asperger’s syndrome. Leaping up in public to do something wildly expressive and then quickly retreating back into my shell seemed, well, sort of normal to me.”
David Byrne, in How Music Works, by David Byrne, pp. 36 – 37
The original quote:
Hamlet: Act II, Scene ii
Hamlet. Act 2, Scene 2. Hamlet
This text is used in our interview with Michael Urie
318 I have of late–but
319 wherefore I know not–lost all my mirth, forgone all
320 custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
321 with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
322 earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
323 excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
324 o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
325 with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
326 me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
327 What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
328 how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
329 express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
330 in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
331 world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
332 what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
333 me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
334 you seem to say so.
SEVEN CIRCUMSTANCES 
A particular speech by “Hamlet, Prince of Denmark”, often runs through my mind, and usually, I am singing the words. Hamlet’s speech in Act II, scene ii of William Shakespeare’s play, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, is famous in itself, but also because it was made into a song for the 1960s musical Hair. So it’s easy to remember. But “lately,” as Hamlet said, I have “lost all my mirth”. This poem is my version of Hamlet’s lament, not so much late middle ages Elsinore, Denmark, as present day Vancouver, Canada. (Sorry, Shakespeare, no iambic pentameter this time.)
I Have Lately Lost My Verve
What a piece of work am I?
How pedestrian in nature,
How limited in faculty.
In form and moving
How slow and fat.
In action, how clumsy.
In comprehension of it all,
How like an average sheeple.
I have, of late,
And why I do not know,
Lost all my verve.
This frame in which we live,
The earth, our world,
Has become ugly and alien.
This space above us, the air,
This overhanging sky,
Filled with colours, clouds and circling planets –
It appears to me no other than
A canvas for countless invisible
EM-IR-X waves,
Contrails from transcontinental flights,
The cacophony of communication,
Transportation, consumption, coexistence.
What is the meaning of
This quintessence of dust?
How do I function in it?
I don’t want to talk with you –
The only one who matters –
About anything, other than
The only things that matter to me –
The things that I have made.
What a piece of work am I,
But a small voice that you might hear?
Though from your smile I can tell that
You seem to find my silence
Meaningful enough.
What do I mean by this? Well, after a lot of wondering and agonizing about why I am like I am, I finally got an explanation in David Byrne’s book, How Music Works. This quote, below, is printed out big, and stuck on the wall of my study. Whenever I think I’m losing my marbles, I look at it and realize I’m not the only one who is like this.
The original quote:
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