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@NONNIE wrote:
But if Rumple / Dark One is 300 years old when the curse was cast as described by Robert Carlye and the H&K…. then Morraine would have been dead for almost two centuries. She did not go to wherever Bael went to when he fell into the void.
The multiple time frames and multiple stories make it very confusing.
N
Sorry for the confusion Nonnie…I don’t think Morraine is actually Wendy…just that she could be a nod to Wendy thus giving us a clue to Baelfire’s identity as Peter Pan. 🙂
[adrotate group="5"]I am really starting to agree with you all about Baelfire being Peter Pan. I’ve posted a long post about my belief that Neal Cassady is Baelfire, which I totally believe is true…but what is also a great possibility is that Neal Cassady is Baelfire…who became Peter Pan when he was lost through the hole.
I found numerous books written about the Beat Generation and Neal Cassady, where the Beat Generation was referred to as the “Lost Boys” and Neal Cassady was called “Peter Pan”. That makes me feel really good about the Mystery Man/Neal Cassady/ Baelfire…..being Peter Pan. It fits so well. On top of that we have Peter Pan first appearing in Barrie’s book, The Little White Bird (the dove at the window), we have a disembodied red hand on the wall (Hook’s hand or red-handed), we have a cell-phone going out the window, like grown up Peter Pan on Hook, in the official sequel to Peter Pan it talks about Peter looking at a silver trophy (like the silver trophy on his desk?), in Hook Peter Pan gave a pocket watch to his son,..the crocodile swallows the alarm clock (like the alarm clock on the shelf?)…there are probably more but don’t have time to think about it all right now. This is looking VERY promising! Even the songs on the NoMeansNo album all could point to Peter Pan.
My wish…..Neal Cassady is Baelfire…who is Peter Pan…who is Henry’s father.
Oh, one more thought. Baelfire’s friend, Morraine, looks an awful lot like Wendy whose full name is Wendy Moira Angela Darling????? And…remember all those boys pretending to sword fight with wooden sword (also Charming and Henry)…those sword fights sure remind me of the sword fights that were in the nursery. Lots of interesting connections.
***and you are right Golden Key….I’m gonna start double checking 😀
@Gypsy wrote:
Interesting thought, fairy dust, but didn’t Henry buy the bell for MM – when they had her get outta jail party….
You are sooooo right! That’s what I get for not going back and checking 😀
I just had a crazy thought. Remember when Emma was repairing the toaster…well…someone who repaired household appliances was called a tinker…and remember when Henry bought Emma a bell. Do you think this is just a nod, foreshadowing Tinkerbell or do you think Emma could somehow fill the Tinkerbell role???
@Phee wrote:
Love that post, fairy dust. Lots of cool connections in there!
Thanks Phee…it is going to be fun to watch and see if any of it turns out to be right. 🙂
I believe Allan Ginsberg’s poetry is the key to understanding the Neal Cassady character…and I do believe that it all points to Baelfire.
I’m pressed for time so I don’t have time to pull out every line (maybe I can do that later on) but here is a portion of Allan Ginsberg’s Kaddish, his mourner’s poem for his mother. Neal Cassady is not mentioned in this portion…but is referred to later on as N.C. This portion of the poem describes almost perfectly the path that Neal Cassady/Mystery Man walked through New York City, exiting Central Park at 7th Street, ending up on the lower East Side, even looking over his shoulder, the reference to horses from Emily Dickenson’s poem…the horses in the poem drive the carriage that is death…the last lines of Adonis fit Baelfire exactly. I could go on and on but I don’t have time. Kaddish and Howl are Ginsberg’s two most famous poems and they both are based on his early experiences.
The second section of Ginsberg’s Howl could also be speaking of Baelfire/Neal Cassady/Mystery Man. It is entitled Molech. Molech was a stone god whose belly contained fire. Little babies/children were sacrificed to Molech…they were laid in his sloping arms where they rolled into the fire. Rumple sacrificed his son, Baelfire, to save his Magic. It is also very possible that the name Baelfire was chosen with this synmbolism…as Molech and Baal(Bael) both trace back to the same Pagan god. And Bae was allowed to slip into the “fire”.
If these nods turn out to be correct I think the picture we are getting from Ginsberg, who was a beat poet and friend of Neal Cassady, is that Neal/Baelfire was a child sacrificed by his father and that child was thrust into a world where he is totally alone. The world, nothing like what he knew…and unlike August Booth, his father did not lovingly put him in a magic wardrobe and send him away with love….rather his father dug his rumple blade into the dirt to keep himself from following his son…and let go of his hand, sacrificing Bae for his own greed/fear/magic.
This brings me to another thought. Bae’s world is totally lost. There are multiple mentions of people jumping off of fire escapes in Beat Poetry…and Mystery Man/Neal Cassady/Baelfire dropping his communication could have been setting a scene where we are supposed to see the despair of the people that were at that hopeless place. I totally believe he is mourning…but then just like in the story of Noah and the Ark, where Noah’s world is completely lost, everyone gone…a dove flies to the window. And like Noah’s dove who bears an olive leaf…Neal/Baelfire’s dove bears a message of hope. The curse has been broken.
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm–and your memory in my head three years after–
And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud–wept, realizing
how we suffer–
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
swers–and my own imagination of a withered leaf–at dawn–
Dreaming back thru life, Your time–and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
lypse,
the final moment–the flower burning in the Day–and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed–
like a poem in the dark–escaped back to Oblivion-–
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all–longing or inevitability?–while it
lasts, a Vision–anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant–and
the sky above–an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to–as I walk toward the Lower East Side
–where you walked 50 years ago, little girl–from Russia, eating the
first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?–toward
Newark–
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards–
Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
and learning to be mad, in a dream–what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window–and the great Key lays its head of light
on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
sidewalk–in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
the Yiddish Theater–and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now–Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
the street, fire escapes old as you
–Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me–
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe–and I guess that dies with
us–enough to cancel all that comes–What came is gone forever
every time-–Here is a link to the entire Kaddish – http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15307
Here is a link to the post I wrote describing the Mystery Man’s path. It was written before the character was revealed as Neal Cassady whom I believe is Baelfire. Most of the items are very understandable now as they reflect the communication arts culture. https://oncepodcast.com/forums/viewtopic.php?f=45&t=1514&start=110#p21041
Even the color green that Baelfire fell into ties in with the Beat Generation. Robert Stone’s — Prime Green: Remembering the Sixties mentions Neal Cassady.
I just posted this on a different thread but wanted to post it here as well.
I believe Allan Ginsberg’s poetry is the key to understanding the Neal Cassady character…and I do believe that it all points to Baelfire.
I’m pressed for time so I don’t have time to pull out every line (maybe I can do that later on) but here is a portion of Allan Ginsberg’s Kaddish, his mourner’s poem for his mother. Neal Cassady is not mentioned in this portion…but is referred to later on as N.C. This portion of the poem describes almost perfectly the path that Neal Cassady/Mystery Man walked through New York City, exiting Central Park at 7th Street, ending up on the lower East Side, even looking over his shoulder, the reference to horses from Emily Dickenson’s poem…the horses in the poem drive the carriage that is death…the last lines of Adonis fit Baelfire exactly. I could go on and on but I don’t have time. Kaddish and Howl are Ginsberg’s two most famous poems and they both are based on his early experiences.
The second section of Ginsberg’s Howl could also be speaking of Baelfire/Neal Cassady/Mystery Man. It is entitled Molech. Molech was a stone god whose belly contained fire. Little babies/children were sacrificed to Molech…they were laid in his sloping arms where they rolled into the fire. Rumple sacrificed his son, Baelfire, to save his Magic. It is also very possible that the name Baelfire was chosen with this synmbolism…as Molech and Baal(Bael) both trace back to the same Pagan god. And Bae was allowed to slip into the “fire”.
If these nods turn out to be correct I think the picture we are getting from Ginsberg, who was a beat poet and friend of Neal Cassady, is that Neal/Baelfire was a child sacrificed by his father and that child was thrust into a world where he is totally alone. The world, nothing like what he knew…and unlike August Booth, his father did not lovingly put him in a magic wardrobe and send him away with love….rather his father dug his rumple blade into the dirt to keep himself from following his son…and let go of his hand, sacrificing Bae for his own greed/fear/magic.
This brings me to another thought. There are multiple mentions of people jumping off of fire escapes in Beat Poetry…and Mystery Man/Neal Cassady/Baelfire dropping his communication could have been setting a scene where we are supposed to see the despair of the people that were at that hopeless place. I totally believe he is mourning. Bae’s world is totally lost….but then just like in the story of Noah and the Ark, where Noah’s world is completely lost, everyone gone…a dove flies to the window. And like Noah’s dove who bears an olive leaf…Neal/Baelfire’s dove bears a message of hope. The curse has been broken.
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm–and your memory in my head three years after–
And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud–wept, realizing
how we suffer–
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
swers–and my own imagination of a withered leaf–at dawn–
Dreaming back thru life, Your time–and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
lypse,
the final moment–the flower burning in the Day–and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed–
like a poem in the dark–escaped back to Oblivion-–
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all–longing or inevitability?–while it
lasts, a Vision–anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant–and
the sky above–an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to–as I walk toward the Lower East Side
–where you walked 50 years ago, little girl–from Russia, eating the
first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?–toward
Newark–
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards–
Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
and learning to be mad, in a dream–what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window–and the great Key lays its head of light
on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
sidewalk–in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
the Yiddish Theater–and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now–Strange to have moved
thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
the street, fire escapes old as you
–Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me–
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe–and I guess that dies with
us–enough to cancel all that comes–What came is gone forever
every time-–Here is a link to the entire Kaddish – http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15307
Here is a link to the post I wrote describing the Mystery Man’s path. It was written before the character was revealed as Neal Cassady whom I believe is Baelfire. Most of the items are very understandable now as they reflect the communication arts culture. https://oncepodcast.com/forums/viewtopic.php?f=45&t=1514&start=110#p21041
Even the color green that Baelfire fell into ties in with the Beat Generation. Robert Stone’s — Prime Green: Remembering the Sixties mentions Neal Cassady.[/quote]
