No Nostalgia Sundays: Lessons In Greek Mythology And Bleak Pathology

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No Nostalgia Sundays: Lessons In Greek Mythology And Bleak Pathology

I dig allusions. I always have, and I probably always will. I like the idea of metaphorically pointing to something outside of a piece in scope and time and having the reader get a better, fuller understanding of what you’re going for without having to actually spell it out for them, which admittedly can be a painstaking process.

Don’t call it laziness; call it artistic license.

When I was younger, however, I saw allusions a little differently. Allusions were poetic street cred: the more you laid down, the more you were showing that you were down, dig? It works much the same way as namedropping within the music scene: the more obscure bands you know about, the cooler you are. See how that works?

I wouldn’t say that I overused allusions per say, although I may have abused them a little bit. To be honest (a tall order indeed), maybe I didn’t need to take out my psychological insecurities concerning women on a citizen like Aphrodite, or rest my alcoholic aspirations on a bystander like Dionysus. But it sounded pretty, and, at least in my own eyes, it lent a little more academic credibility to the plain fact that I was just a fucked up kid scribbling fucked up diatribes about fucked up neuroses.

Back then, I tended to allude to things pre-1960 or so. In fact, I purposely avoided contemporary or pop culture references in my work for a very, very long time. It was my belief that it would cheapen the effect, would lower my art to a level of consumption that was somehow beneath me because the modern age was (wait for it…) beneath me. Now I realize that allusions are as much for the reader’s benefit as for my own—and perhaps more. In short, some of those pop culture references would have probably had a much more profound effect than the highbrow Greek stuff I habitually tossed around back in those days.

But, of course, those still have their place, don’t they? Like if you wanted to, say, write a drawn out series of letters to a certain Greek God? Yeah, I think that’s still acceptable.

Some things, lack of change, never, etc.

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P.S. This is the first instance of me invoking Dionysus in my writing, something that would later on develop into a recurring theme…

P.P.S. Composed circa 2004-2005 would be my best estimate.

A Lesson in Greek Mythology

Dance with me, Dionysus:
Will you buy me some beer?
My patron saint of drinking
has left me high and dry.

I’m Phaëthon and I stole your chariot
and drove the fucking thing into the ground.
I don’t differentiate day or night;
it’s all the same to me.

Aphrodite, you dumb bitch:
you think I chase any skirt?
Maybe I do, but I won’t look,
for pride, just to spite you.

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