Bucephallus Anyone
It's too cold to go outside, but sitting here is starting to make my head spin. More likely the spinning is related to my diet of rock hard pears and coca cola; I don't think I'm building strong bones and healthy teeth.
Nevertheless I haven't moved since I arrived home hours ago, except to hold my guitar on my lap and type. The saving grace, if one is to be had, is that this is extremely atypical for me. I accomplish things all the time. Not things relevant to achieving much in life, or even very pleasurable things. To wit, I've almost finished reading a collection of character portraits by Plutach, most recently Alexander. I don't know if you have read Plutarch, but the Alexander story is hugely overrated. Not least because his death is so inconclusive. He just gets a mysterious fever and keels over. Poisoning? Malaria? West Nile? According to some people West Nile is actually a serious possibility.
The CDC, therefore, should mention that, when they talk about west nile, hereafter not superflously capitalized. Think you're tough? Ever conquered the known world, had various bones shattered by arrow impact, or been cudgelled so violently that your optic nerve was damaged? Then you probably think you're too tough to die from west nile, but that's where you're wrong, chum. Even if you're in your early 30's, provided you're sclerotic enough, it could claim you for its own, just like it did Alexander the Great.
So maybe that's not such a boring death, but it's not like Coriolanus or Themosticles. As in the never watched or read or discussed eponymous Shakespearian adaptation, Plutarch's Coriolanus is a bad mother. Ostracized from Rome for being a little too vehemently the patrician stallion, he goes out, gets an army, and brings Rome to its knees. But, at the 11th hour, just before he conquers his home town, his mother and wife are trotted out to beg him not to destroy the city. At the sight of his mother's tears, Coriolanus relents and takes his army away; shortly after his men set upon and kill him.
Themosticles, by sheer weight of balls, forced the Greek victory at Salamis, and thereby saved Western civilization. So naturally he was ostracized from Athens a few years later, because, let me tell you, direct democracy is not a system you want to live under. A political rival poisoned the ears of the ruminating masses against him, accusing him of intriguing with the Persians, the ancient analog of communist paranoia. So Themo flees to Persia, to the king he was instrumental in defeating, and asks if he can hang out there for awhile. The king laughs that the Greeks banish their bravest and most capable citizens, and graciously says okay.
Years later, Themosticles is offered the admirality of a fleet of ships the Persian wants to use to smite Greece. Rather than betray his countrymen, and likewise unable to disappoint the king, Themosticles drinks poison and kills himself. For which the Persians, reportedly, respected him even more. It sounds better the way Plutarch says it.
Nevertheless I haven't moved since I arrived home hours ago, except to hold my guitar on my lap and type. The saving grace, if one is to be had, is that this is extremely atypical for me. I accomplish things all the time. Not things relevant to achieving much in life, or even very pleasurable things. To wit, I've almost finished reading a collection of character portraits by Plutach, most recently Alexander. I don't know if you have read Plutarch, but the Alexander story is hugely overrated. Not least because his death is so inconclusive. He just gets a mysterious fever and keels over. Poisoning? Malaria? West Nile? According to some people West Nile is actually a serious possibility.
The CDC, therefore, should mention that, when they talk about west nile, hereafter not superflously capitalized. Think you're tough? Ever conquered the known world, had various bones shattered by arrow impact, or been cudgelled so violently that your optic nerve was damaged? Then you probably think you're too tough to die from west nile, but that's where you're wrong, chum. Even if you're in your early 30's, provided you're sclerotic enough, it could claim you for its own, just like it did Alexander the Great.
So maybe that's not such a boring death, but it's not like Coriolanus or Themosticles. As in the never watched or read or discussed eponymous Shakespearian adaptation, Plutarch's Coriolanus is a bad mother. Ostracized from Rome for being a little too vehemently the patrician stallion, he goes out, gets an army, and brings Rome to its knees. But, at the 11th hour, just before he conquers his home town, his mother and wife are trotted out to beg him not to destroy the city. At the sight of his mother's tears, Coriolanus relents and takes his army away; shortly after his men set upon and kill him.
Themosticles, by sheer weight of balls, forced the Greek victory at Salamis, and thereby saved Western civilization. So naturally he was ostracized from Athens a few years later, because, let me tell you, direct democracy is not a system you want to live under. A political rival poisoned the ears of the ruminating masses against him, accusing him of intriguing with the Persians, the ancient analog of communist paranoia. So Themo flees to Persia, to the king he was instrumental in defeating, and asks if he can hang out there for awhile. The king laughs that the Greeks banish their bravest and most capable citizens, and graciously says okay.
Years later, Themosticles is offered the admirality of a fleet of ships the Persian wants to use to smite Greece. Rather than betray his countrymen, and likewise unable to disappoint the king, Themosticles drinks poison and kills himself. For which the Persians, reportedly, respected him even more. It sounds better the way Plutarch says it.
posted by sevenfactorial at 5:14 PM
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