Monday, May 10, 2004

'S already six minutes past ten ante meridiem. Have checked email, perused news, and first this morning, played backgammon while listening to the radio news and breaking the fast.

Just been outside, barefoot, to let Altgeld find his mama, who was out doing chores soon after nine. Got bit by a fireant mid-toes while talking with Wilma and our neighbor Trudy, who chain-smokes, raises multiple cats, and three grand-kids. She hates living here, and wants to find a place in the mountains. Good luck I say. The rich are cornering the real estate in the mountains, the coasts, and many of the the nice places in between the two.

This weekend I'd been reading from the Iliad, finishing Book IV, in which Hera, Queen of Gods, persuades Zeus to authorize the provocation of hostilities by instigating one of the Trojans, a nobleman turned skilled archer, the son of Lycaon, to shoot an arrow at Menelaos. The incident soon escalates to a pitched battle. I read of Diomedes' exploits in Book V, how he dared confront the goddess Athena and god Ares, even wounding them, drawing "their sacred ichor." Last night I began Book VI, in which Hector returns to Troy.

Left off reading in the part where Glaucus son of Hippolochus meets Tydeus' son Diomedes. I suppose Glaucus is of the Argives' side, since the two have an amicable chat during what seems like a lull in the battle. The two make friends. Glaucus is citing Corinth, "deep in the bend of Argos," where Sisyphus, son of Aeolus' sired a son named Glaucus, who in turn became the father of Bellerophon, "a man without fault" whom "the gods gave ... beauty..." (I'm using Robert Fagles free verse and W.H.D. Rouse' prose translation.)

Waal, Ah best git started, cuz' tayims a wastin'.

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