Muses, let us begin on the younger men

plato’s apology: adult toddler sentenced to death for being pedantic asshole, asks “why”

the aeneid: man fucks up at every possible opportunity, generally has bad time

the iliad: manchild sulks excessively at slight to honor, hundreds dead as a result

the odyssey: man uses wiles to return home after war, ruins lives of everyone around him

the satyricon: if we could tell you what the hell is going on, we would

medea: loathsome toad abandons wife, ensuing custody battle has body count

herodotus’s histories: the history channel is older than you think it is

commentary on the gallic wars: man speaks in third person about encounters with other cultures and how he mercilessly destroyed them

because we’re all told about how influential the aeneid is and its importance to the history of western literature and how it still wriggles its way into our everyday lives through lines so oft-repeated that one does not have to know vergil to know them, but it’s much rarer that we discuss that one of vergil’s last wishes was that the aeneid be burned. and i really think it’s something we should talk about more than just a kind of offhand mention of it when we learn about the background of the aeneid, because here is one of the most- if not the most- important works of latin literature…and it only comes to us because the dying wish of a sick, anxious man was ignored, his unfinished work published after his death despite his protestations and last-minute attempts to burn it himself. it really makes you think about the relativity of things- i don’t think any of us are really unhappy that the aeneid was ultimately published, but it is at the cost of vergil’s last will that we have the aeneid today. perhaps it doesn’t really matter in the long run. after all, vergil is long dead, and maybe he is little more than dust now, with no spirit left to offend. but i still think it is worth some pause that the fact that this amazing work of latin literature is so widely read would probably distress its author, who saw it as unfinished, imperfect

We can make rationalizations, we can make excuses, but it really can’t be justified. 

We have to face this possibility going in. when we serve the art, it might cost us our soul. We may have to be horrible. Let’s just hope that it’s the best, most forgivable kind of horrible. The most human.

But if you’re an artist, and I’m an artist, we might just have to betray each other for the art to survive us. I will hate you if you betray me, and I know nothing worse than I can do than betray you—but that’s the deal. We serve the art.

but at the same time, i think it’s a more difficult problem than to just say that the betrayal is, at least, somewhat excusable for the sake of the art. (holy shit this ended up being really long so i put it under a cut)