#varmite

Due to Dave's ceaseless campaign of "WRITE SOMETHING" text messages, I'm obliging him begrudgingly. This is transcribed from what will probably wind up in a 'zine when I finish the rest of the art work and written pieces. Take it or leave it, it's something. Shut up.

I've been free-associating for days, likely to preserve sanity and, ironically, usually at my peril. This is not the forum of discussion for what that peril is, make no mistake. Anyway, some "12-year-old-girl" (more on genres of people later) in this coffee shop said something that sounded like "Zaela." I have a friend-of-a-friend named Zaela. Pretty name. Not what I thought of, though. I thought of Leda the Swan. Now, before you go off on that, I know that's not the correct title of the work of art/literature/mythology that may have instantly come to you. I know. It's like a really esoteric instance of the Frankenstein/Frankenstein's monster literary black hole that everyone (yes, EVERYONE) gets sucked into at one point or another before noiselessly being spat back out thinking, "ok, so...?"

So, Leda the Swan, or Leda AND the Swan. I don't exactly remember the story and though I could look it up I'm not going to. Partially this is because I trust my own memory with this, partially because my last wikipedia search is still up and it's on "The Ministry of Magic" (yes, that one) and that's just too funny. As I remember it, this is a bit of Greek mythology wherein some cranky, angst-ridden god can't quite put the moves on some mere mortal lady (!?) (This is the part of the story where ancient Greek construction workers on their coffee break nudge elbows into ribs and say "Ain't that the truth," of their own civilization's women). He then disguises himself as a swan and some damn how manages to rape the poor girl...as a swan. There are paintings of it. The mechanics, the logistics of this, I can't possibly fathom and apparently neither could some of the greatest artists in history. Largely, it has been left up to our imaginations.