A Dream I Had Last Night

For a long time I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say "I'm going to sleep." And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I ...

Marcel Proust

As I contemplate what to write for my last blog, I realize that most of intellectual energy is completely drained: I am too tired, I am too overworked, I am anxious, and right now, I feel like my brain is on the verge of collapse.  I am guessing that the reader doesn’t want to hear anymore of this.  That being said, perhaps it would be more entertaining for me to tell you about a dream I had last night. 

            I am assuming that those who are reading this blog right now have already read my paper.  If not, read it, otherwise this blog is not going to make any sense.  Well, anyway, back to where I was going with this. 

Last night, I had one of these deep catatonic slumbers with a number of fantastic dreams—all of them are slipping from memory now, except this one which actually relived me of some of my recent pangs.   I guess I will first describe the scene—from what I can I remember—in which it took place. 

I vaguely recall being in an immense field of grass, with thousands of wild flowers.  The sun was low enough on the horizon that the colors of this field were faded to a golden brown.  And, as I was walking through this field I noticed that there was a faded grey monument at its center.  I walked toward it, arrived at it, inspected its marble halls, and then I remember sitting at the foot of one of its towers, gazing up at the sky--and then, suddenly, I returned to my bedroom. 

After arriving in my bedroom, I noticed that at the foot of my bed, there was an old man, with a long grey beard, and a staff with a snake coiled around it.  His finger was pointing up—and then he disappeared.  After awaking from this dream I had come to the conclusion that I had been studying too much—and Asclepius’s midnight visit was merely a result of that.  I am not going to lie though, this morning I did feel better than I had for a while.

Well, for those who read this, I hope it was someone what entertaining.  And, I guess as I close my blog up, I just want to thank everyone in mythologies for a great class.      

                 

Final Paper

John Nay

Mythologies Term Paper

“Those who apply themselves to philosophy in the proper

way are doing no more nor less than to prepare themselves

for the moment of dying and the state of death.”

“The coldness was spreading about as far as his waist when Socrates

 uncovered his face—for he had covered it up—and said (they were his last words):

‘Crito, we ought to offer a cock to Asclepius. 

See to it, and don’t forget.’

----Plato

            Several weeks ago, on a brisk November afternoon, Dr. Sexson suggested that I, for a final paper, explore the significance of the deity Asclepius in the context of Socrates last words: “Crito, we ought to offer a cock to Asclepius (190)”.  At first, this spontaneous essay prompt, seemed a little beyond my capabilities; particularly since the answer to this riddle-like question could only exist within the confines of my very basic understanding of myth, and Platonic philosophy.  However, after reading various sources, and the footnote in the Phaedo, I felt contended knowing that my riddle had been partially been solved by others.  The re-accruing answer, that I continually stumbled upon, was this: “Socrates soul has been healed…and one is only injuring the body (251)” by condemning him to death.  To clarify this statement a bit, the reason Socrates tells Crito to offer a sacrifice to Aesclepius (the god of healing) is that he wants to pay homage to the new day, and the deity that has cured him during the night, from the pangs of bodily existence.  

This answer, as I have said, is more or less universally agreed upon.  Yet it is still an explanation bound by a limited context.  What seems of more use to the student of myth then—is rather this question: how much depth does the invoked Asclepius provide Socrates on the precipice of his plumage into the underworld.  Stated in slightly cleaner language, after some of the mythological significance of Asclepius is understood—which this is essay shall do—what is added to Socrates last utterance, and how does our understanding of Socrates situation—as the hemlock poison takes effect—depart from the realm of the simplistic?      

After pondering the best way to structure this essay, I have come to the conclusion that I first need to discuss the role of physician, and the role of philosopher in ancient Greece.  However, before we arrive at this comparison, let us first understand our current definitions of the word philosopher, and the word physician.  According to the American College Dictionary, the word philosopher, derived from the Greek origin philosophos, literally means “lover of wisdom”.  Physician, on the other hand, is derived from the Middle English word fisicien, meaning “one who is skilled at the art of healing”.  While perhaps not entirely clear now, the purpose of these definitions will be of partial use throughout the essay as these categories of meaning shift.  

Typically, modern man would probably not find many similarities between the occupation of philosopher, and the occupation of physician.  However, for the Asclepiads of Kos—a cult of the deity Asclepius—sickness, and discovering cures for sickness, was not only empirical study, it was also a metaphysical study.  C. Kerenyi, author of the book Asclepius, Archetypal Image of the Physician’s Existence, proves this point by stating that “the author of…the ‘sacred malady,’(an Asclepiad of Kos) professes that for him all diseases are human and divine, this does mean natural and supernatural, but natural and for this very reason divine…(thus, the) physicians awareness of the divinity of their art must be understood in the same sense (61)”.  To add some weight to the notion that these physicians were philosophically inclined, C. Kerenyi also proves that the Asclepiads of Kos were of the strict belief that “a physician who is lover of wisdom is the equal of god (61)”.   Through this understanding, we can at least deduce these two points concerning the Asclepiads of Kos: 1. They saw Asclepius as “the divine (all knowing) physician (61)” from which their profession was derived. 2: Since the Asclepiads of Kos viewed all sickness as having a divine source, which Asclepius could cure, they, in a sense, by worshiping and studying his craft, were also philosophers—lovers of wisdom. 

Now that I have established a basis for why these categories of meaning (philosopher, physician) were more interchangeable in ancient Greece than one first suspected, it is now my duty to explain why the cults of Asclepius saw this deity—a healer of maladies—as a source of this wisdom.  But, before we engage in the above mentioned, I ask the reader to quickly reference the top quote, on the cover page of this essay. 

For those of us who are familiar with Socrates on trial, and Socrates in his jail cell, this sort of sentiment seems rather typical of him:  one who is a philosopher deeply contemplates his death, and according to Socrates, eventually welcomes it; for it is finally the soul’s opportunity to rid itself of bodily desires.  Deconstructing these ideas, we can at least gather this much: prior to Socrates execution, he had a self-proclaimed intimacy with the topic of death.  For him, it was in his nature as a philosopher, and, in a sense, as a physician to find a cure to the malady inflicted on the soul—the body.  Death for Socrates is thus welcomed as a treatment.

 Like the philosopher Socrates, C kerenyi in his study proves that the Asclepiads also had a self-proclaimed intimacy with the topic of death: “the limits between chthonic darkness and solar radiance are effaced in a way that is almost terrifying…but less so perhaps to the physician (who)… is accustomed to a certain twilight realm between life and death (17)”. Although we are still not sure whether the Asclepiads welcomed death in the same way as Socrates, we still have at least discovered two more similarities between philosopher and physician—their inherent intimacy with death, and their interests in curing maladies.  Now, let us investigate the story of how Asclepius came to inhabit this “twighlight realm” so as to better understand the mythological significance of Socrates cure.

 However, before we turn our attention back to Asclepius, we first need to address the fact that there is a problem which arises when investigating the origins of this deity—the vast array of varying regional myths.  For the purpose of this paper however, so as not to encumber it with tedious detail, I will simply focus on Asclepius’s conception at Thessaly, and Epidaurus, so as to better focus on what I have found to be a prevalent theme: Asclepius’s was conception, via a god of light and dark, and a maiden also of light and dark.

Concerning Asclepius’s paternal lineage, C. Kerenyi in his book tells us that at the “Thessalian temples of Asclepius, sacrifices were first offered to Apollo…thus Apollo came first…in mythological terms, he was the father.”  (We, as students of myth, are all of course aware that Apollo is typically associated with the sun—a luminous life giving source.)  However, at Epidaurus, Apollo was also seen as dark.  C. Kerenyi gives us this bit of information which defends this claim: “the wolf…identified with darkness, was (also) sacred to Apollo (29)”.  Thus, we must understand that Apollo is both a god of dark and light.

 When investigating Asclepius’s maternal lineage, we also encounter a similar combination of light and dark that enshrouds Asclepius existence; yet, according to C. Kerenyi, the myths of the maternal origin seem to be much more of a mystery.  Overcoming this problem, C.Kerenyi relies on the information of Isyllos, a poet of Epidaurus, who tells the story of Asclepius’s mother, Aigla, the “Luminous one”.  C. Kerenyi, in his study, also reveals the more complicated nature of this figure Aiga, the “Luminous one”, by revealing that she was known more commonly during Isyllos’s time, as Koronis, “a dark haired, dark skinned maiden (28)”.  Thus, with this information compiled, it seems appropriate that C. Kerenyi suggest that “Asclepius is the procreative Apollo, flaring up from out of a mother both light and dark.” 

So, now that that we have briefly covered Asclepius’s origin myth (how he came to inhabit the realm between light and dark) one certainly needs to take this note: Socrates uttered his last words at dawn, on the precipice of a new day—during this “twilight realm”, that moment between light and dark.  Also, one should note that Socrates’ “twilight realm” was doubly meaningful; for this realm also existed between his life, and his death.  However, before we can assess the exact significance of this last statement, let us first investigate how Asclepius cured his patients during the night, and during their dreams.

As I begin to unfold this final topic, it has come my realization that I have forgotten to make mention of Asclepius’s sacred animal, the snake.  Yet, as I discuss the divine cures of Asclepius, perhaps this is the most opportune moment for me to discuss the immense importance of the symbol of the snake. 

Like the dog—a symbol of light—the symbol of Asclepius’s sacred snake also represented divine healing.  This snake, another manifestation of Asclepius, often visited its patients at Epidaurus in their dreams, licking their wounds, curing them of their ailments (32).  Because this symbolic healing typically occurred in the dark recesses of the patients dreams, C. Kerenyi has described the animal as representing “life at the threshold of death…dark and cold, but at the same time warm and radiant, that stirs beneath the surface of the waking world and accomplishes the miracle of cure (34)”.  Now that we are aware that Asclepius visits his patients during a dream, we must certainly add this context to our discussion of Socrates. 

Though Socrates was not visited by a snake, the significance of his death during this “twighlight realm” is beginning to be understood.  One can now begin to view Socrates invocation of Asclepius as a waking from the dream of life—so his soul could embark on its path to the realm of “true forms”.  To add further context this point, C. Kerenyi states that “In sleep the patient withdraws from his fellow men and even from his physician, and surrenders to a process at work within him (35).” By this point, we have probably already speculated that Socrates is in a sense a physician, yet now, as he passes out of existence, we realize he is neither this, nor philosopher—rather, he is simply cured.                                   

At the end of our study, I now ask the reader to envision Socrates against the foreground of a nuptial light, rising from the east, and awaking the world.  At this moment, as Socrates journeys into the realm of the underworld, after all this mythological depth has been digested, we must ask ourselves about the role of the hemlock poison.

 Now as my works is done, I leave this riddle, and Socrates at the precise moment between night and day,—hemlock taking effect, philosopher and physician waking from a tormenting dream—body no longer inflicted.

 After, as this “twilight realm” has dispersed, and Socrates is no longer, one must at least give thanks to magical herbs and the dawning of a new day.                  

Unfinished----

This is an unfinished blog i was working on:

The Age of Kali

About a year ago, I read a collection of Essays titled The Age of Kali.  The content of these essays is specific to the Indian subcontinent; these essays are replete with a vast subject matter; however, there is central thread that binds the volume:  it is the idea that India is currently in a severe state of degradation.  According to the author, William Dalrymple, many Indians believe the reason for this degradation, is that the world has entered into the fourth Yuga, The Age of Kali.  The Age of Kali is (according to Wikipedia) the age of the male demon…(and is also,) the last of the four stages that the world goes through as part of the cycle of yugas described in the Indian scriptures”.

  Concerning my tastes, I think would be fascinating to do a cultural study on the prevelance of this myth (The Age of Kali), and how it has shaped contempoary India.  As you probably all know though, the end of the semester gets a little chaotic, and I really do not have the time for such study.  So, for this blog, I will simply give an outline of what The Age of Kali is, so I can give a novice description of Hindu eschatology. 

               

The Four Yuga’s:

                Like the creation myths in the first book of Ovid, according to Hindu texts, the world is divided into four ages.   Each of these ages that the world goes through are much like what one would consider seasons in a grand universal expanse of time.  I might be incorrect in this next statement—but the central difference between the creation myths in the Greco-Roman tradition, versus the Hindu tradition, seems to be that the Greco-Roman creation Myths are embedded in a linear past, whereas the Hindu Yugas are cyclical, and repeat existences like seasons of a year.  Eliade states that “the essence of this theory is the cyclical creation and desestruction of the world and the belief in the perfection of the beggenings”.   Much like the Greco-Roman creation myths, human experience during these seasons varies, yet the first Yuga, the Satya Yuga, like the golden age, it is a realm of perfection.

Even in description, The Satya Yuga is similar to the golden age: “no law and compulsion then were needed”, and, according to my research, what men experience during this Yuga is an exisitance close enough to the gods, I which they can understand the ideal states of things: Truth’s are not saturated by malice. 

The Treta Yuga is less than the first, and is like the age silver (“an age inferior to golden times/ but if compared to tawny bronze, more prized”).  Also, human life while it is not as long as the Satya Yuga still stretches almost 10,000 years—according to some estimates.

 During the Dvapara Yuga, humans are venerable, yet no human is wholly truthful, they have lost the divine intellect.  One could note that this is the Yuga where castes begin to emerge.  The Final Yuga is the Kali Yuga which will get a longer description.

The Age Kali:    According to some interpretations, the age of Kali began around 3102 BC.  There are other Hindu theologians, like Swami Sri Yukteswar, that think the length of each of the ages has been misinterepertad, and the world has moved out of the Age of Kali, and into Dvapra Yuga during the 17^th century.  Regardless of weather we are, or weather we are not in this age, there are some intreasting mythic eschatological symbols we can discuss. 

To begin, the Indian concept of Dharma is certainly very relevant when discussing the four Yuga’s.  Dharma is, by the most widely accepted Hindu definition, “a person’s righteous duty…(which should accord to) class, occupation and gender”.                

Group 5's play

If anyone is intreasted, please feel free to read:

Narrator: When faced with the mundane occurrences which mark our day to day lives, the tales of myth and legend seem far off and well removed from our daily activities.  How romantic and vivid are the stories of Odysseus and the epic return journey. Upon closer inspection of our lives we realize that this separation of myth and reality may not be as great of a divide as first thought. Thin is the veil which limits our perception of reality. Upon closer inspection we find that the divine is often found in the most mundane of details and it is only through the unskilled eye that such observances are ignorantly ignored. Join me if you will…and feed your voyeuristic tendencies as we watch together an ordinary day in the life of John….

John is a typical college student.   Bound by the responsibility of juggling aspects of the domestic, the scholastic, and the social realms are all a part of a reality everyone in this room can relate to.

Behold John and the barbarians……

Characters in scene 1:

Protaganist: John.

Room-mate 1: Lanette

Room-mate 2: Sarah

Room-mate 1: Yo, bro, pass the nug-master.

Room-mate 2: Chaaaa…let me pack it first.

*Room-mate 2 presses his thumb against the inside of the bowl simulating the act of packing a bowl. 

Rom-mate 2: Dude, This bud I got from that dude that came over last night, won the rasta-cup in Missoula. 

*Room-mate 2 pretends to take a hit, and then passes the bowl over.  Room-mate 1 looks at the bowl, and then says:

Room-mate 1: Damn dude, this bud really won the Rasta-cup; what is it called.

Room-mate 2: It’s a chronic heady kush-master crossed with a nebula Ak47 haze.  Also…get this bro: that dude that came over last night said it is a real heavy indica…with extreme couch lock. 

Room-mate 1: I’ll say…after last night bro, I think I am just gonna kick it all day on the couch and do nothing.

*Room-mate 1 takes a hit and then says:

 That party last night was just too sick bro—I drank like 45 shots of yaeger.

*Room-mate 2 motions his hand to the pizza box to see if there is any left.  He accidently knocks over a beer, and spills it all over the protagonist copy of Ovid. 

Room-mate 2: Oops, Will is gonna be pissed.  But anyway, dude, there is no way you drank 45 shots, you proably had like 32.

*Protaganist enters the rooms, walks over to where his room-mates are sitting, looks down at his book, looks at the audience, and then a scowl erupts on his face.

Protaganist: Barbarians!

Room-mate 2:  Barbarawhat? Will, is that the name of your caregiver?

*Room-mate 2 taps room-mate 1 on the shoulder

Room-mate 2: Bro, have you got your green card yet.

Room-mate 1: Yep, I got it on Tuesday. 

*The protagonist picks up his book and says:

Protaganist: not only did you guys keep me up all night, you ruined my book. 

*the protagonist clenches his Ovid, and then tosses it on the ground in a fit of rage.

Protaganist: God, don’t you guys have anything to do—like maybe cleaning shit-hole up.

Room-mate 1: Dude, you should just relax and have some of this chronic heady kush master.

*Room-mate one tries to hand him the bowl, but the protangainst declines

Room-mate 2: Dude, don’t forget the most important part: it’s crossed with a nebula Ak47 haze.

Room-mate 1: Chaaa.

*protagonist slaps his forward and then looks at his room-mates and loudly states:

Protaganists: How Could I Possibly Relax When I have been living with philistines for the past year?  God, you barbarians probably don’t even know the meaning of that word—philistine.

Room-mate 1: dude, just chill out, drink a bro-ski, and smoke a bowl.

Room-mate 2: Yeah dude, don’t lose it over a book.  Like dude-bro, you should be out there anyway, living life—like us.

*Room-mate 2 grabs a can of beer, takes a sip, and then says:

Room-mate 2: You read too much anyway bro…awwww gnarly: I think there is a cigarette butt in this beer from last night. 

*The protagonist receives a text message in his pocket.  He walks away so he can go check it in private. 

Room-mate 1: Bro just walked away.

Room-mate 2: Dude, I think he got a text from that chick in his class.  I am pretty sure her name is molly.

Protaganist: I am going on a walk to clear my head.  See you guys later.

Room-mate 1: Where are you walking to?

Protaganist: Downtown. 

End of Scene

Narrator: After a fierce altercation with the barbarians, John is left to find solace in the refuge of his own thoughts as he travels the cold snow packed streets of Bozeman on this cold November. Distracted by thoughts of love and war...John, our humble college student stumbles across one of the many victims of today’s current economic climate. Let’s see what misdeeds might unfold.

Characters in scene 2:

 Protaganist: John

Old Woman: Lannette                           

*The protagonist looks down at his phone, and then reads the text message he received at his apartment out-loud to the audience. 

Protaganist: Hmm…they would have probably grabbed this from me if I had stayed longer.  She says: studying for the Mythologies mid-term has been brutal.    I will wait another fifteen minutes before I text back—act like I don’t even like her—that is how you win them.

*Protaganist returns to walking and his inner-monlogue returns

Protaganist: Wilson used books—now a dispensary, what a shame.  Peculiar, always seems like you are in a bigger city than you are when looking at the Baxter.

*Protaganist stares at the Baxter for a moment. Enter Lannette as a homeless person

Homeless Lady: Please, young man…could you find it in your heart to spare some change.  I have traveled to this town from far away, and I have not had a single bite to eat since I got here.  Please, a god will bless your kind deed.

*Protaganist looks down her, tries to ignore her, and the mutters:

Protaganist: Agenbite of inwit.

Homeless lady: Young-man, I know you are repulsed by my face…but you should not let outward appearances impede visions of true beauty.

*Protaganist walks away and then mutters this statement:

Protaganist: God, I guess the town just hasn’t had time to ship the bums off to billings yet. 

*After muttering this statement Lannette unveils her true identity—she is a god.

Goddess: You will regret the choice you made. 

*Protaganist continues to walk away from the homeless person, and then he slips on a pomegranate.

Protaganist: My, I almost became another shade in Pluto’s realm.  Well, onward…there, my destintion, Vargo’s, finally.              

Narrator: It is easy for everyone of you sit back and judge the sanity of such a destitute fellow. Are you so quick to dismiss the very face of a god when ones graces our very existence! What would you do in such a situation…….

End of Scene

Narrator: After quite some time of battling barbarous hordes, facing inclement weather, and looking upon the very face of a God, John finds himself in the warm comfortable climate of Vargo’s Bookstore. Come with me once more and lets see what our new friend has instore.,,,,,,

Characters in scene 3:

Protagnist: John

Old Bookshop owner: Sarah

*protagonist walks toward the podium, and continues to mumble to himself he also looks at his phone several times.

  Hmm…questioning oneself is essential, yet how, and to what extent.  Am I in love, am I not love?

*Protagonist points and list off the different section of books.

Protagonist: Let’s see: self-help, self-reliance, self-Esteem, psychology, cooking, music, jazz, fiction, non-fiction…aww…here, poetry. 

*Protagonist opens the metamorphoses and reads the opening lines:

Protaganist: “my soul would sing of Metemorphoses./ But since, o gods, you were the source of these/ bodies”…uhhh: I don’t think I can bear any more of Ovid. 

*Protagonist but the book back down looks at his phone and begins typing.  While the protagonist is typing the old bookstore enters.

Protagonist: alright be smooth: yeah that myth class has been hard…um let’s see: she knows I take good notes, and she know that I have kept up with the reading…would you like to get together sometime to study…I think that was smooth—molly is just such a pretty name.

Old Bookstore owner: Ahem.

Protagonist: Huh, o, hey.  I didn’t see you behind me.

Old Bookstore owner: Young man, why would you put Ovid back on a shelf, when you looked so intent on buying it?

Protagonist: Well, I was intent on buying it when I came in—my copy at home was damaged this morning by my room-mates—but now I just don’t know if I really need it.  I mean, there are free cliffs notes on line, and it is only for a class. 

*Old bookstore owner stomps her foot as she says this.

Old Bookstore owner: Hmmm…well, that, to me, is just a terrible excuse.  Why would you not want to own one of the most important literary works of all time?   It is for a class you say.  It is not for personal pleasure.  Consider yourself lucky that you have the ability to work with such pleasurable material.  There are no boring books, just boring people.  Are you a boring person, do you know boring people?

Protagonist: No, I am not a boring person!

Old Bookstore owner: Why did you put the book back on the shelf then?

Protagonist: I, I, I don’t know.  I guess I have just been dissolusioned by literature recently. 

Old Bookstore owner: well, would you rather have that girl on the other end of the phone think you a simpleton, or a poet.

Protagonist: I’ll take the book.

Old Bookstore owner: wise decision.  And here, *The old bookstore owner hands the protagonist a book mark, think of this bookmark as a lucky talisman: there some fine quotes on it lead out of many tricky situations.

Protagonist: Thank you, I appreciate it.

*protagonist motions for his wallet and then bookstore owner says:

Bookstore owner: Think of it as a gift from me your lucky hermes.  Also, remember this before you leave my store, books give life meaning—cease feeling like they are a burden.  O, and one more thing, don’t let jealousy like Cephalus’s, get the best of you.

*Protagonist walks out—the scene ends.

               

End of Scene

Narrator: Graced with gift of mystic insight even John cannot fully anticipate what horrific challenges lay in wait mere blocks down the street. Epic challenges of want and desire…..Can he abstain from such devous temptations or will he succumb to temptation….

Characters in the scene:

Protagonist: John

Siren 1: Erin

Siren 2: Melody

Cyclops: Steven

Bartender: Sarah

*The Cyclops flex’s his muscles in front of the semi intreasted vixens.  He is captivated by them, he Is particualry entranced by their dancing and singing.  He orders a shot of vodka from the bartender slams it down and says

Cyclops: Yeah, a lot of girls say I look like Ronny from the shore.  I mean, to keep this look, I  have to start the day out with a protean shake…then I lift some weights…and then I go tanning for about 5 hours.  The guys at the 9, well…they say I could be a bouncer one day if I keep lifting. 

Siren 1: That’s hot.

Siren 2: Yeah, that’s really hot.  I love it when a guy is into muscles.

Siren 1: Yeah, muscles are hot.

Cyclops: To keep this look gal’s…costs a pretty penny.  I sell Kirby vacuums to fund the cost of tanning. 

Siren 1: Wow, you must be rich.

*The Cyclops kisses both of his biceps, and then says:

Cyclops: Rich, buff—and as handsome as the situation…what more could anyone want.

*The protagonist walks up to the bar and says:

Protagonist: I saw that you had a beer and burger special for 6.95, is that still available?

Bartender: ended an hour ago kid.

Protagonist: I will have a Coldsmoke then.

*The sirens scurry away from the podium, they whisper loud enough so that the audience can here:

Siren 1: That guy that walked in is sooo much hotter than muscles.

Siren 2: Yeah, we should go talk to him. 

*They walk over to the bar, position themselves close to the protagonist , and then begin to make flirtations comments and gestures.

Siren 1: I heard that you like burgers, too bad they stoped surveying them.  I like mine with jalapano’s, it makes them hot.

Siren 2: We like really hot things. 

Siren 1: Yeah, especially in the winter.     

Protagonist: Yeah…I suppose one can’t do without warmth in the winter.

*Protaganist looks over at the audience, shakes his head, and then says:

Protaganist: The crystal.

*suddenly, Lady Gaga’s alejandro erupts

Siren 1: Omg, it’s my song.

Siren 2: No, it’s our song

*The sirens lip sing to the music, dance a tempteous dance, while giving inviting gesture’s to the protagonist.

Narrator: Barely escaping with his life and chastity in tack John has just now evaded trouble….Yet how does the old adage go….Out of the frying pan and into the fire……

Cyclops: Hey, they were all over my guns a second ago. 

*Cyclops walks over to where they are dancing and then says:

Cyclops: Girls, I forgot to tell you that I am training for the UFC as well. 

*Sirens continue to dance and sing along.

Protagonist: My, they do look beautiful.  And that song, that angelic song is enough to push a man into their arms. 

*Bzzzz, the protagonist gets a text from Molly, and then reads it out loud.

Protagonist: she says: we should totally get together, and study some time.  I am done with these voluptuous masters of seduction.  And, enough of the: I don’t even care persona with molly—what would a poet say? 

*The Protagonist looks down at the bookmark, and then reads one of the quotes on it aloud:

Protagnist:  Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth. Below us bay sleeping sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs In the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. O wonder!          

Protagonist: I will have a glass of wine.

Bartender: sure thing Bub.

Protagonist: I will say to her: it’s too bad it is winter, I love studying in the mountains when the wildflowers are in bloom.

Cyclops: What a queer, who orders wine.

Siren 1: Hot guys.

Cyclops: you thinkThis puny loser hot.  If he were a man he would have orded a yaeger bomb.

*Cyclops goes up grabs his shoulder and then says

Cyclops: he man, no one drinks wine at this bar.  You better pour it out, and step away from my girls before something bad happens.

Protagonist: Something bad like what.  Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole.

Cyclops: what?

Protagonist: I will meet you outside my name is no-man.  Woo man, one of your eyes is really irritated you should check that out—these girls have been saying so, but I hadn’t noticed until just now.

*The Cyclops rushes off, and the protagonist rushes away. He comes out of the bathroom looking for the protagonist and says:

Cyclops: where is No-man

Siren 1: No-man, who is no man.

Siren 2: He is just being an idiot.

Scene Ends:

Once tempted by Harpies and conquering the mighty Cyclops John has gained the dignity and insight to return to the marauding masses……

*John is walking back to his house alone and then he gets a text from molly, he jumps up in joy:

Protagonist: she says: I was just thinking, that we should maybe go get a bite to eat sometime.  PS: I love spring flowers in the mountains.

*Protagonist looks down at the talisman and reads:

Protagonist: And all shall be well and/ and all manner of things shall be well

Protagonist: I suppose I should go help those guys clean up.

Narrator: You as a captive audience have witnessed first hand how Love, Temperance, and Strength have aided John in his travels. The divine and the mundane are inner woven into the very fabric of our existence. Look out because mythic battle and epic adventures surround you daily. You just need to notice……..

End