Is it strange that Calliopeia has been figuring in my dreams? I picture her floating around me, uttering words in different languages. My 21st century muse is darkskinned, quotes Dostoyevsky and Master P, and has a pierced eyebrow. Nothing like the Calliopeia of ancient days. Maybe she's me, circa 1998. There is a resemblance.
I've been re-reading Howl - although I have it memorised I like the shape of the words on the paper. I wonder if Calliopeia visited Ginsberg, and if she did, what form she took.
These days, I'm more in need of a muse for living, one to help me recapture my love for life, one to allow me to look beyond all the bad things in this world. I feel so jaded and world-weary, so pessimistic and cynical.
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1 comment:
hmmm...funny you say this, because i'm looking for my muse, an inspiration of some sort...
yes, jaded...i know that feeling. but a little pessimism and cynicism never hurt nobody...then again, this is coming from PQ - the Pessimism Queen! ;)
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