Random thoughts.... post yours!

I am trying to recall a TV episode of some show where a Shakesperean scholar went back in time only to discover that Shakespeare was a hack and ended up writing all the plays himself (logic loop) . It is driving me mad that I can't find it.
That sounds vaguely familiar! Now you've got me trying to remember it. 🤣
 
Crazy how you lose track of time and how quickly it moves
Yeah, I've been pondering that as well lately. The quote about time from Star Trek: Generations is something that has stuck with me to the point where I had to look it up; it comes from a poem by Delmore Schwartz named Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day.


Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)

(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)

Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
 
I'm new and here with a question (yes I love sci-fi, have shelves of books). I am trying to recall a TV episode of some show where a Shakesperean scholar went back in time only to discover that Shakespeare was a hack and ended up writing all the plays himself (logic loop) . It is driving me mad that I can't find it.

Can anyone help me?

BTW, didn't know the site existed; I'll be back... Favorite authors are Chalker and Niven. But I really need to figure out the source of my recollection...

Cavebear

I‘ve been so busy writing that I wasn’t paying attention to this. Sorry for not replying to you sooner. :smiley:

The TZ episode is “The Bard,” but it’s a hack TV writer who conjures up Shakespeare. Rod Serling wrote it to satirize TV of the time. It’s one of my favorite episodes.

The plot you describe, though, sounds a little like a short story I’ve heard, from the early 80s I believe. Time travelers can go back into the minds of folk in the past. The go back into Beethoven’s mind, driving him mad, and thus some of his greatest works are never written. I think it was mentioned in passing in a book on writing, which is the only reason why I recall it. I don’t think I read it when it came out.

Hope that helps.
 
Yeah, I've been pondering that as well lately. The quote about time from Star Trek: Generations is something that has stuck with me to the point where I had to look it up; it comes from a poem by Delmore Schwartz named Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day.

Calmly we walk through this April's day,​
Metropolitan poetry here and there,​
In the park sit pauper and rentier,​
The screaming children, the motor-car​
Fugitive about us, running away,​
Between the worker and the millionaire​
Number provides all distances,​
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,​
Many great dears are taken away,​
What will become of you and me​
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?​
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)
(This is the school in which we learn...)​
What is the self amid this blaze?​
What am I now that I was then​
Which I shall suffer and act again,​
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days​
Restored all life from infancy,​
The children shouting are bright as they run​
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!​
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)
Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!​
Where is my father and Eleanor?​
Not where are they now, dead seven years,​
But what they were then?​
No more? No more?​
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,​
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume​
Not where they are now (where are they now?)​
But what they were then, both beautiful;​
Each minute bursts in the burning room,​
The great globe reels in the solar fire,​
Spinning the trivial and unique away.​
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)​
What am I now that I was then?​
May memory restore again and again​
The smallest color of the smallest day:​
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
I like that, quite beautiful and thought provoking
 
Apparently I have not gone 'shiny toy' shopping in some time, I had no idea that Think Geek was bought out by Game Stop. 🤯
 
200.gif


Hello everyone! Just popping in before I go do some housework.

How we doing today? :smiley:
 
Back
Top