Saturday Sabado 19 Febrero 2011 61 Winter 17 Moon 54 SpaceAge
History has its rules, though they are not always followed even by professional historians; poetry, too, has its laws. The two are not necessarily irreconcilable. – Marguerite Yourcenar, “Bibliographical Note” from her book: Memoirs of Hadrian.
As for me, finishing her narrative and reading the notes, I am reminded of my own struggles to write about Moctezuma and Cortes.
How many years I have spent not writing about my own life.
Imagine if I had: the day to day compendium of facts that I now look back upon, from sixty years of age, slowly contemplating those distant weeks and months when I was quick: only nineteen and twenty and twenty-one, then twenty-two and twenty-three, my boulevardier years (on or around El Cajon Boulevard, stretching from east San Diego to La Mesa), before I went away to live in Washington D.C.
Later, afternoon. Is it strange, because I cry for a robot? No, I am not crying for a robot. I am crying for a narrative. A narrative of two competitors becoming friends and working together to defeat a powerful villain. This isn’t your mother’s Greek tragedy any more.
Daniel Charles Thomas