This is the first time that I am not really enthusiastic about writing something.
But I have to. I promised to myself I would write daily because, poetry, like bread, is made fresh daily.
I originally wanted to write about Dante and Don Quixote, about how of all the classical literary figures in history, none stick out more as my guiding figures than Dante, the pilgrim who travels through the afterlife for love, and Don Quixote, the knight errant/wandering fool who is mocked for romanticizing everything in his life but somehow manages to turn out to be a hero.
And I have been thinking about how I follow a vision, a romanticized version of my life that has an imaginative element and I've been looking for ways to bring realistic value to that imaginary element.
But no, it isn't happening. Maybe my blood sugar is out of whack, maybe I'm not feeling confident or stimulated. Maybe I'm just in a funk. But there's a point though where the bright side grows dim and you realize you're just not getting your share of the happy.
There's a giant crap sandwich that I'm eating and the power of imagination is not turning it into rainbow sherbert.
I mean this figuratively, of course. No faecophilia going on here.
Dante was less of a romantic then Don Quixote was. I mean Dante came face to face with the suffering in hell. He never said "it could be worse." In fact, Inferno and Purgatory are both gut-wrenchingly horrible when it comes to images of human suffering. Purgatory, I find far more moving because the humans there WANT to purge their ability to sin, they choose their suffering in hopes that it will end. The humans in Hell really just choose to suffer because they know no other way of existing.
Dante manages to keep his hope and faith despite all the pain he observes. And yes, it is filled with Roman Catholic dogma and doctrine espousing the sovereignty of Jesus Christ, something I'm none too sure about as someone is Jew-ish.
But still, he keeps the only thing that we can truly take with us, even after witnessing all that suffering. And that is why I read Dante.
Maybe the crap sandwich will always be a crap sandwich. But maybe, one day, it'll really turn into rainbow sherbert.
But I have to. I promised to myself I would write daily because, poetry, like bread, is made fresh daily.
I originally wanted to write about Dante and Don Quixote, about how of all the classical literary figures in history, none stick out more as my guiding figures than Dante, the pilgrim who travels through the afterlife for love, and Don Quixote, the knight errant/wandering fool who is mocked for romanticizing everything in his life but somehow manages to turn out to be a hero.
And I have been thinking about how I follow a vision, a romanticized version of my life that has an imaginative element and I've been looking for ways to bring realistic value to that imaginary element.
But no, it isn't happening. Maybe my blood sugar is out of whack, maybe I'm not feeling confident or stimulated. Maybe I'm just in a funk. But there's a point though where the bright side grows dim and you realize you're just not getting your share of the happy.
There's a giant crap sandwich that I'm eating and the power of imagination is not turning it into rainbow sherbert.
I mean this figuratively, of course. No faecophilia going on here.
Dante was less of a romantic then Don Quixote was. I mean Dante came face to face with the suffering in hell. He never said "it could be worse." In fact, Inferno and Purgatory are both gut-wrenchingly horrible when it comes to images of human suffering. Purgatory, I find far more moving because the humans there WANT to purge their ability to sin, they choose their suffering in hopes that it will end. The humans in Hell really just choose to suffer because they know no other way of existing.
Dante manages to keep his hope and faith despite all the pain he observes. And yes, it is filled with Roman Catholic dogma and doctrine espousing the sovereignty of Jesus Christ, something I'm none too sure about as someone is Jew-ish.
But still, he keeps the only thing that we can truly take with us, even after witnessing all that suffering. And that is why I read Dante.
Maybe the crap sandwich will always be a crap sandwich. But maybe, one day, it'll really turn into rainbow sherbert.
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