Godot, Waiting for or Otherwise

There is nothing I can write that will add to the understanding of Waiting for Godot.

Everything I have to offer is subjective, and worth less than nothing.

I can offer this You-tube video that presents a portion of a filmed version of the play.

And note that now it plays on Broadway.

Starring Nathan Lane.  And Bill Irwin.

Oh, and John Goodman.  And John Glover.

And, oh, it isn't playing.  It stopped.

In the summer.

And to me it did not seem as it did when I first read it in high school when it was fresh and new and alive.

And it probably still is.  And perhaps I merely need to invite myself into its world.

And yet, there seems no cause to do so.

But surely there must be as it is the premier play of the 20th Century.

Of all time.

Of the twentieth century.

Of all time.  Except Shakespeare.

And Racine.

And Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus.

And Menander. And Tennesee Williams.

And Clifford Odets.

But it's a fine play.

It is a fine play.

Not a good play.

No, but a fine play nevertheless.

And it does reveal a side of the human condition.

Two sides, perhaps more.

Perhaps less, and it is an odd shaped side.  Not at all what one would think looking at it.

And should I read it?

Should you read it?  Should you not?

I should not?!

Who am I to say should and should not.  But if you've nothing better to do while you're here, why not?

After all, what's to do but to wait.

Yes, and perhaps in waiting, to spend one's time more profitably.  Perhaps thinking about the thief on the cross as did Vladimir and Estragon.

Gogo and Didi.

Yes. It is so.

**** recommended (although when I finished it last night I did not think so.  It grows on you as you wait, and perhaps enlarges with reading.)