I was one, sir, in this enterlude—one Sir Topas, sir, but that's
all one. "By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do you remember?
"Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? And you smile
not, he's gagg'd." And thus the whirligig of time brings in his
revenges.

Thus, Feste, in Twelfth Night, putting the final barb into Malvolio, the man who, because he doesn't know himself plays the fool, and though he's humiliated in open court by Feste, the professional fool, never, really, gets the point.

Yesterday I was caught in the whirligig of self, wanting to do much, so I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing.  So,  on the only April 4, 2013, I'll ever get, I spent most of it running in circles. Why? Because in my eager desire to do so much I became a one-eyed man, seeing only the object in the distance and not what was in front of me.  About three hours in the maze of the self on the gerbil-wheel running for the little piece of cheese!

So much for thinking I'd left all that behind....

On the other hand--thank god for two hands!--I finished another phase of the project, taking my time, getting it right, before I disappeared into the blindness of panic. Aiee!

Poor Polyphemus, the Cyclops in the Odyssey....No man did this to me! the poor fool cries out, the joke turning on the many ways the now-blind monster had always been blind.








 


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