A podcast about Emily Dickinson, but now she f*cks.
We love Emily Dickinson and are really excited to watch the new Apple TV+ show 'Dickinson,' created by Alena Smith and starring Hailee Steinfeld, Ella Hunt, Jane Krakowski, and Toby Huss. Join us as we discuss the show episode by episode, while also reflecting on the grim realities of life in 19th century New England with "charm" and "wit". Each episode also features a discussion of the OG Emily Dickinson's poetry.
Got questions? Don't we all? Feel free to write to us at email@example.com.
This was a Podcast—
In which we bring things to an end, with a discussion of mermaids, Julian of Norwich, and James Joyce's Ulysses. Because where would we be without that?
We bid adieu to a show that meant a lot to us as viewers, as readers and new-found fans of Emily, and as prospective creators ourselves. And we end on a poem that we hope the OG Emily herself would appreciate. Until Season 4- The Mabel Loomis Todd Season. Take care, everyone.
These are the Days when we look back- On this fair Poet and how she Grew
Happy Valentines Day!
The Dickinsibs resolve their conflict, Austin outs himself as a draft dodger, Mrs. Dickinson hops out of bed to sweep, and Emily reads out loud.
Oh, and I guess she f*cks too.
Meanwhile, Ben and Kyle discuss the inevitable struggles of parenting, horny Shakespeare, and their thoughts on Taylor Swift.
These are the days when Birds come back –
A very few – a Bird or two,
To take a final look –
These are the days when skies resume
The old – old sophistries of June –
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And swiftly thro' the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf –
Oh Sacrament of summer days!
Oh last Communion in the Haze –
Permit a Child to join –
Thy sacred emblems to partake –
Thy consecrated bread to take –
And thine immortal wine –
All the letters I can write
Are not fair as this—
Syllables of Velvet—
Sentences of Plush,
Depths of Ruby, undrained,
Hid, Lip, for Thee—
Play it were a Humming Bird—
And just sipped—me—
My Life had gone down- Spiral Stairs- A Steep Descent to Hell
And we're back. And we enter Hell.
The Dickinsons are creepy. Sue does her best Marlene Dietrich. Henry kills a man. And Emily, in the midst of this, loses everything and finds real hope at the bottom of the darkest depths.
My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -
In Corners - till a Day
The Owner passed - identified -
And carried Me away -
And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -
And now We hunt the Doe -
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply -
And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow -
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through -
And when at Night - Our good Day done -
I guard My Master’s Head -
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow - to have shared -
To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -
None stir the second time -
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -
Or an emphatic Thumb -
Though I than He - may longer live
He longer must - than I -
For I have but the power to kill,
Without - the power to die -
The Future never Spoke-- For Women- did not Come
In a feat of editing, Kyle turned over two and a half hours of meandering meditations on Sylvia Plath, determinism, performative allyship, and whether or not true revolution can happen by playing by the rules of the system (spoiler alert: Nope.) into this episode. Obviously, we had a lot to say about Dickinson's "The Future never spoke," written by Ziwe and Alena Smith and directed by Heather Jack. Mainly: it rules.
Omitted topics include: Scheherazade and the Hunger Games, even more drug discussion, a brief history of Japanese female-female queerness, and yes- more of the absolute delirium that ends the episode.
We also want to give a shout-out to the other two podcasts discussing the show: "The Slave is Gone" and "Dickinson Forevermore." Give them a listen if you haven't already!
You can contact us at firstname.lastname@example.org. One of us (theoretically Ben) will get to you! We promise!
The Future—never spoke—
Nor will He—like the Dumb—
Reveal by sign—a syllable
Of His Profound To Come—
But when the News be ripe—
Presents it—in the Act—
Indifference to Him—
The Dower—as the Doom—
His Office—but to execute
A Little Madness Is The Thing, Women beholden to a Clownish King
Hoo boy, that episode title is a STRETCH.
This time around, we head to a lunatic asylum with the Dickinsons and discuss Episode 6 of Season 3 of Dickinson, "A Little Madness in the Spring," written by the kick-ass Ayo Edebiri and directed by one of our favorites, Silas Howard. We discuss Victorian Era approaches to mental health care (surprisingly better than you'd think for a bit there... and then things disintegrate quickly!), arbitrary systems of control (they're EVERYWHERE), and the benevolence or self-preservation of Susan Gilbert Dickinson (is it always 'or'? is it never 'and'?).
I don't know about you, but we're ready for winter to end so that we can indulge in a little bit of spring-based madness of our own.
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown –
Who ponders this tremendous scene –
This whole Experiment of Green –
As if it were his own!
Sung from the heart, Podcast Listeners
Steel yourselves, everyone. Ben and Kyle break into "Sung from the heart, Sire," the fifth episode of the third season of Dickinson and MY GOODNESS it is a stressful episode, especially after the holiday season with potential family visits (unless you're like Kyle and you hiked up a mountain in the snow instead!).
In this episode, we discuss the history of "Safe in their Alabaster Chambers," Stephen Foster, and pitch our idea for Dickinson! The Musical. Step One: Keep the original cast, we don't care how iron-clad Hailee Steinfeld's Hawkeye contract is.
As always, you can contact us at email@example.com. Take care and enjoy 2022, everyone.
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers—
Untouched by Morning —
And untouched by noon—
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
Rafter of Satin, and Roof of Stone.
Grand go the Years,
In the Crescent above them —
Worlds scoop their Arcs—
And Firmaments — row —
Diadems — drop —
And Doges — surrender —
Soundless as Dots,
On a Disc of Snow.