when i write, this is how i hunch. down. like this. i cower before the impossible task of academic writing. i shiver. cold sweats happen. i try to hide, of course. only a crazy person wouldn’t. but it finds me. and so i try to run away. it follows. i run around my building, along the walls, and past the scamander. fuck you, paper! fuck you! but it comes at me with javelins and clubs and swords and wheels of torture. all the greeks, bringing along instruments of pain.
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“It may be that death had more charms for him than Alcibiades, since he did not stop it from slipping into his bed.”
-M. Yourcenar, Fires
“Actually, Homer was not written by Homer but by another man of that name.”
-passage from GSCE essay in Classical Civilization – lifted from Inventing Homer
not done yet.
“When was it that you became so small? Or were you always that small, from the beginning? Its funny, but I remember you, somehow, being taller.” “No, I was taller, actually, in the beginning. But then I got this idea into my head. I wanted to know how much my left leg weighed. I can’t recall how it all came about. But came about it did. I needed to know. The precise amount. Only that would do. If it wasn’t precisely precise, well, what’s the point? It was an important matter of scientific investigation. There was only one way. I had my left leg amputated. Then, of course, I wanted to compare this against the weight of my right leg. So I had that one amputated too. And now I have no legs. Which I think escaped your notice. How is that? The stumps are right here. Out in the open. See. Here and here.” “Ah, yes. There they are. There and there. One and two. Right and left. Wait. Is that your right or my left? I always get them mixed up. Oh, yes, like that. Left and right. Yes. There they are. Like tumors. No no. Like bald baby heads. Sweet. How soft they are. Who was he? The surgeon, I mean. He did a good job. As you were talking, I was imagining hideous and jagged things. Not like this.” “I did it myself, actually.” “Oh.” “Yes.” “But I thought red heads feel more pain.” “Yes, that’s true.” “So. Didn’t you pass out?” “No. See, I anticipated that….
cold war
“this is a cold war. do you know what you’re fighting for?”
head
The head ba-
nging a-
gainst a brick
wall to make a-
way the wall re-
fuses the head re-
peats the ba-
nging always without success the head
becomes ex-
pletive hurled a-
gainst a wall that acc-
epts bits and b-
lobs of head.
“I don’t want to tell you.” “You have to
tell me.” “No. I don’t want to tell you.” “Yes,
you have to.” “No. I don’t want to
tell you.” “Tell me.” “No. No.”
“Yes, you have to.” “No.” “Tell me.
I’ll cut your throat if you don’t tell me.” “Cut my throat.” “No, tell me.”
“No. Cut my throat.” “No.” “Do it.” “No.” “Here
do it here.” “No.” “Do it.” “No.”
HIPPOLYTOS
The 2011-12 McGill Classics Play will be a new English version of Euripides’ Hippolytos, directed by Carina de Klerk and Lynn Kozak, translated by McGill Classics students, with original electronic music by Virek. Hippolytos will take place at the La Sala Rossa, 4848 Boulevard Saint Laurent, on the 1, 6 and 7 of February, 2012. Performances 8 pm/ doors 7 pm. 12$/8$ students.
