Classic

I explained in an earlier post, or at least I remember thinking about explaining, that the title of this diversion, Sailing to Byzantium, I stole from a William Butler Yeats poem. This one:

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enameling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

'Tis a great poem. And I don't really like poetry. Poets are musicians that can't sing or play an instrument. Less than, as it were, like an associate professor to a professor. But there is something magical about an artfully crafted sentence. In many cases, it's the difference between "Hulk Hogan" and "oscar material" in the movie world. Speaking of the movie world. The first line in this poem seems to have been the inspiration for a film. The other reason I couldn't be creative in my title is that I am instantly captivated by anything that makes the slightest reference to the Byzantine Empire. Something as esoteric and eloquent as sailing and Byzantium is quite a catch.

I've been trying to find the poem I wrote based on the 9th century Carolingian epic "Chevrefoil." Naturally, mine was "Aluminumfoil." It's been hard goings, as I wrote that on a computer that has since become obsolete. BSoD almost daily. I think I also wrote a poem about a squid. Or I read one about a squid once. I wrote some damn fine stories once too. The True Story of Snow White, consisting of 5 parts, and some story about an egyptian sage that was off the hook. Oh, my youth.

Really?

I recently came across a trailer for this new movie.



A few things. I don't know if you noticed, but the movie is called Clash of the Titans. Basically it is 300 with less naked dudes and more naked (hopefully?) fantastical Greek monsters. Then, I noticed the ever so hilarious sync up of the scorpion tail jabbing the ground with the ill fitting musical choice. That was trailer gold. Lastly, the only words shown during this little gem, used to clarify or explain in most trailers, instead repeated the title in a different word order (i.e. Titans will Clash). That, dear readers, was retarded. Uproariously so, but retarded nonetheless. The creative director of that trailer needs to be bitchslapped. Maybe shot. Whatever.

Walken!

Oh mercy me

Mercy is on odd thing. What's been bugging me about mercy is that the more likely it is that you possess it, the more likely it is that your enemies don't. In the over the top, grandiose way that I think about this, say there was a battle. I, the merciful one, have been captured by my unmerciful enemy. (you could ask why my enemy has to be unmerciful. Because I said grandiose, meaning there's probably some element of good vs. evil) Now, I probably have a mosquito's chance of surviving a napalm blast(barring some daring rescue on the part of my adoring followers) whereas should my enemy be captured by my forces, I will be merciful and let the bugger off the hook.

Huh. I think there is a point where being 'good' becomes detrimental. But this leads down a road of useless, moral-compromising justification.

Honestly, I'm just waiting for this episode of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia to buffer.

Rambling and Dyspeptic,
Rothgar.