Thursday, March 23, 2006
Let Me Tell You a Secret...
...I checked this book out at the Library for only ONE reason:

...and that's because I love saying "Herodotus". It's a lovely sound. It rolls and bounces in the mouth. I look at the book, and pick it up, and read a bit about Greek maidens and Io and tragedies. That's nice. But it's not as nice as saying "Herodotus".

I also like the way the book is covered in crackly cellophane, and smells like library paste and fingers of other people. I like to open the thick binding and shut the covers, over and over, just to hear that plastic sing. I drag my fingers over the plastic....SQUUUUUEEEEAK!...oh, it's delightful.

If I read long enough, I can almost imagine great ships rolling about over the Mediterranean Sea, and hear the gasps of the Argonauts, and smell the brine of seawater. I can almost imagine great armaments clashing in battle and the yells of ancient Gods, sitting in their theater arena, pitting human against human for mere entertainment. And then, I get bored, and put the book down, and watch television.

But before I turn the light off and rest my head on my pillow, I say the name again and again.

Herodotus. Herodotus. Herodotus.

And I drift away on a great ship, captive in chains, as my Alexander calls for me:

"Fritz! Fritz! I will rescue thee!"

Ah, thank you, Herodotus.

Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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