Reading Journal on Autobiographies

The two authors portray themselves very differently. The author Benvenuto is trying to impress the reader of his attributes, while the author Aciman is trying to give all of the glory to Rome and not himself. Benvenuto is very conscious of the reader’s presence because of the amount of effort he goes to boast his every attribute. Everything from his family lineage, skill on the flute, skills in the other arts and courage are just a few of the things he repeats over and over again. There is no part in Benvenuto’s story as of yet that isn’t shameless gloating. Aciman is more convincing because it is a humble story, and Rome is as he describes (very beautifully I might add). Benvenuto’s stories often seem either exaggerated or down right fabricated.

First Person Fable

I never throw parties. There are too many things that can go wrong. It is not worth it. It is always better to go to a party hosted by a proven host than one hosted by an unknown. Parties are thrown all of the time, often better than not, but to throw a good party there are a few key elements that you need.

Firstly, a party will need people, both girls and guys of an appropriate age level. Depending on the size of the party, there are different types of people you invite. For big parties, you invite everyone. For small parties, you invite a few choice friends (sort of like a dinner party) that you know will be down for a good time.

Secondly you will need music. The music can vary however you want, but for any larger party you will want something loud with a lot of bass, like hip hop. For smaller parties, any background music will do. If you want dancing, you will need dance music.

Thirdly you need refreshments. This can be any form of beverages, from soda to alcohol. Of course, most wouldn’t think of partying without alcohol, so if you aren’t inclined to spending a lot on alcohol, you can either charge or have the guests bring their own beverages. Food isn’t necessary, and most likely will be gone before most of the guests arrive, so be wary.

So, all things considered, I thought I had it all. I was going to have a birthday party for myself. I was going to have the party on the weekend following my birthday, but complications had arisen, and I set it for a couple weeks later. I had a ton of beer, leftovers from a previous engagement of which everyone drank wine. I had the music, and a great sound system with a huge subwoofer. I also had the people. I had invited around thirty people, as I wanted a smaller party, and I only had so much booze. Further, I wanted it to be a barbeque, so I didn’t want to buy too much food. With the date set, I counted down the days until that Saturday.

Saturday came, and I woke to the most beautiful day. Clear skies, sunny, and a high of seventy eight degrees were the conditions. I couldn’t have asked for a better day. Well, I could have because the day I set happened to be a three day weekend, and ten people canceled the night before because they were out traveling. But, no problem, twenty people is still a pretty good number.

My cousin came by early to help set up the place and get the meat ready for the barbeque. It was just past noon when I started making calls to check to see if everyone else could still make it. I called one girl, who was taking three other girls with her to my house. As fortune goes, her sister was having a baby early, so she cancelled and couldn’t take the rest of the girls. I panicked, and called some of the other people who were coming to see if they could pick up the girls, but they canceled too.

Meanwhile, whilst confirming, or rather not confirming guests, I was drinking the beer with my cousin and snacking on potato chips with French onion dip. I was a little tipsy off the beer, so I decided to make myself a hamburger when one of my mates called me and said his car had broken down. I thought “whatever” as I downed another beer. I grilled some burgers for me and my cousin, who hadn’t invited anyone on account that I wanted to invite everyone myself. But I, being slightly drunk and wanting someone to show up, I asked him to make some calls.

He called a bunch of people to no avail. I was very pissed off at this point, so I drank more beer and had another hamburger when about six of my friends showed up, all guys. They didn’t seem to mind that no one was there, and they all ate a bunch of hamburgers and drank a ton of beer.

One of my friends decided we should go back to his cabana and go swimming. I abandoned my house and crammed into the only two cars driven by the only two sober people. We arrived at the cabana and drank more and more beer. I thought to myself that this wasn’t such a bad party. After that thought, I dove into the pool. I didn’t dive into the deep end though, but rather the shallow end, and smacked my face at the bottom. But after several beers, I didn’t feel the impact of my face smashing into concrete, with a bit of water to slow me down.

When I got out of the pool, my friends said I had a big gash on my upper lip. I said I didn’t care, drank some more beer, and passed out in the sauna. I woke the next day, without a hangover, but with a large gash above my upper lip. This wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have a job interview on Tuesday, which I coincidentally didn’t get. THE END.

- I learned that writing a first person fable is much more difficult than not, and I still don’t really like the format of fables. In conclusion structured writing is very difficult and not very interesting. Sure, the format is easier for the reader, but

Ferrari

The oh so beautiful Ferrari F360 Challenge Stradale parked near the Ferrari museum which was the best museum in the world.

Il Colosseo: On the Politics and Propaganda that Persisted Past Previous Periods in the Colosseum

It is impossible to understand why people act the way they do across cultures, let alone millennia. However, given the evidence historians, archaeologists, anthropologists, etc. have been able to conjure up, it is now understood that there existed a time in Roman history where people were popularly and successfully entertained with various forms of murder. These forms included gladiatorial games, animal hunts, and prisoner executions. Granted it is beyond the scope of this paper to completely account for these activities, but this paper will provide some insight as to why the games were put on and why the audiences were so hooked. The murderous activities being discussed all took place at the Colosseum, possibly the greatest living monument in all of ancient history. Though gladiatorial games took place in other locations before the Colosseum’s construction, none were of equal or greater scale than those that were carried out in this centerpiece of Rome. General knowledge about the Colosseum and Gladiator games comes from popular media and commonly held myths that may be misleading or outright false. The historical evidence we do have consists of theories that may or may not be true. Even written records dating back to the time of the operational Colosseum tend to embellish or exaggerate what was possible at the time. This is not to discredit the amazing feats of the Romans (achieved with a lot of slave labor), but to portray the most accurate representation of the Colosseum’s history that science can offer.

First, it is important to understand the conditions in which the Colosseum’s creation came about. Rome was on the verge of a civil war. The hated emperor Nero had built a palace for himself, called the Golden House, after a fire raged through Rome in AD 64. Circumstances worsened for Nero in AD 68 when the Senate stripped him of his powers; which eventually caused Nero to flee and commit suicide. Then, Civil War broke out in the year 69, the ‘Year of the Four Emperors’. One of those emperors, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, commonly known as Vespasian, became victorious.

In AD 70, Vespasian and his son Titus sacked Jerusalem and returned to Rome victors with huge riches. Though the Golden House of Nero was quite hated, part of it was put to use by Vespasian and Titus for Imperial needs. A huge private lake that Nero had built became site of the, now and then famous, Colosseum. As stated by a poem by Martial:

Where the stupendious theatre’s vast Pile

Is rear’d, then Nero’s Fish-ponds were e’er while

…

Rome’s to it self restor’d; in Ceasar’s Reign

The Prince’s Pleasures now the People gain.

Facts about the Colosseum that are known for sure are that it was built for the people, ordered by Vespasian, funded by taxes and the spoils of war with Jerusalem; however, the artist or architect remains unknown. One theory that exists is that Virgil (who died many decades prior to construction of the Colosseum), Rome’s greatest poet, is the creator, but this and other theories are unfounded. No knowledge of the author or architect survives. Historians know that Vespasian died before the completion of the Colosseum in AD 80, but his son Titus saw its completion.

The name of the monument we use today, Colosseum, is an adopted name. At the time, it was known as the Flavian Amphitheatre, after Vespasian’s family name. Vespasian preserved the statue of Nero, ‘The Colossus’ that stood outside of the Colosseum. To further confuse this issue (as the statue of The Colossus no longer exists), the eighth century scholar Bede stated, “So long as the Colisaeus stands, Rome also stands, when the Colisaeus falls, Rome will fall too” that is commonly attributed to the Colosseum, but it actually refers to the statue of the Colossus. Rome fell not long after the actual Colossus fell, which made it a better prediction of Rome’s fate.

The Colosseum is quite an architectural spectacle; it amazes people today as it did nearly 2000 years ago. The Colosseum stands 157 feet tall, 615 feet long and 510 feet wide. An inherently immense structure, it is considered even more impressive since it was not built into a hillside or a depression just like other amphitheatres of the time , but on a level surface. Because a lot of the Colosseum was lost, pillaged, rebuilt and maintained, it is difficult to ascertain specific details about the Colosseum. Archeologists cannot accurately date the various parts of the Colosseum, since what remains today isn’t exactly the same as when it was first built. There was a major rebuild in the third century when lightning struck the Colosseum and burned it. Half of the outer wall is destroyed. The marble facings, paintings, decorations, the floor and the seating no longer exist. Nevertheless, as much of the outer structure remains as it once was.

There are four arcaded stories; the first three are open archways, each with their own distinct architecture. On the ground floor are columns of the Doric order, the first floor colomns of Ionic, and on the second, columns of Corinthian. The third story also has Corinthian columns, but there are windows instead of arches. This was both traditional and innovative in using multiple established types of column; this is something that came to be copied by many generations. Then, on the roof are sockets that are said to have held up the roof of the Colosseum. The most probable theory is that there was a large mast and boom construction (similar to that of sail ships of that time period and it is probable that sailors operated this), which allowed the raising and lowering of the roof, as well as the retracting of the roof in order to keep it from being destroyed during storms.

There are eighty entrances to the Colosseum that allowed easy access for a great number of people. All but four of these entrances are numbered; the ones not numbered lie on the four ‘corners’ of the stadium that was reserved for performers, emperors, and those presenting the shows. Upon entering, the seats are ranked hierarchically (even though seats were to be free). The ringside seats (like today) went to the richest, from Senators, to Knights, and then to normal citizens, and lastly to slaves and women (except the Vestal Virgins). The Emperor and the Vestal Virgins had special box seats. The capacity of the stadium has been argued to have held as high 90,000 people, to a more realistically 40,000. The rich could easily leave their seats from the lower levels, avoiding the people from the upper level who had to funnel into a tight area, so as to let the rich out first and alone. The floor was covered with sand (Latin word for sand is arena), which was used to soak up blood and other remains. Surrounding the arena was a wall to protect spectators (though the action might get very close with a rampaging elephant).

Below ground is even more complicated than above ground. There are many passageways, tunnels and storerooms. There were trapdoors and elevators to bring scenery or exotic animals into view. These underground structures are probably not part of the original plan, and were most likely built under Titus’ successor Domitian.

When the Colosseum opened in AD 80 under the emperor Titus,, a hundred days of gladiator games, executions and beast hunts commenced. The beasts were not only local, but wild exotics, including lions and tigers and bears, elephants, rhinos and hippos. Women were even involved in these beast hunts. The executions themselves were extravagant, often portraying famous or mythological people in a play that resulted in their death. All of this was for the entertainment of the citizens of Rome.

The extent of the bloodshed seems to be over exaggerated by the poets who recounted the events, or within the records of the officials putting on the shows. An example of this would be the depiction the expense involved in putting on shows, the capture and transport of wild and dangerous animals from great distances, the training and purchase of Gladiators, as well as the famous mock sea battles where the entire stadium was flooded (this is much disputed on how many times this occurred, or even if it occurred in the stadium).

Within a short period time of history, thousands of gladiators were said to have fought and died in the Colosseum; however, the lives of the Gladiators wern’t as bad as it has been made out (though it was no cakewalk either ). The average Gladiator possibly fought twice a year, which entailed a few dozen matches in his lifetime. His lifespan sometimes exceeded that of the peasants (aside from untimely deaths). The Gladiators achieved a celebrity status (though were still shunned as slaves), received gifts, food, and women.

Pollice Verso (1872) by Jean-Léon Gérôme (Phoenix Art Museum)

There were supposedly many different types of fighters, each with their own unique fight style (either from their native country or given to them by their trainers). They were at the mercy of the Emperor or those putting on the show, such as senators. The thumbs turned meant death, though it has been thought that thumbs down means death, thumbs up is life; or thumbs up and in meant death, down and out and (and away) meant life, or thumbs turned (pointed towards the chest meant death) and a closed fist meant life. Most of these details come from the painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, who gathered as many facts as he could about the Colosseum. There is no undisputable evidence about the gladiators at the Colosseum, other than the fact that many Gladiators fought there. Today there are visible ruins of a training camp with an underground passageway next door to the Colosseum.

The spectators themselves were involved in the happenings of the Colosseum. It was a place to gather and speak with each other, and to see the many stratifications of Roman society. Though the seats were ‘free’ for citizens, the tickets were probably handed out by elites, for favors or money. Since the majority of tickets were probably given to the more wealthy first, there wouldn’t have been a mishmash of the super elite and the dirt poor. This is because the stadium held nearly 50,000 people at any given time, and the adult male population (which were the primary attendees) in Rome totaled approximately 250,000; this meant that no more than a fifth of the population was present at any given time.

Vespasian, the original patron’s goal was to have the people forget about Nero, and to have a place to go when there was downtime all the while being fixated on a given spectacle (this was to prevent the mob from gathering on their own). Further, this large gathering of people allowed them to voice their opinions to the emperor. The original patron’s goals were not achieved with respect to Nero, because Nero became immortal because of the name Colosseum. Vespasian succeeded dearly with the second goal. The games went on for hundreds of years after their inauguration, keeping the public’s attention on entertainment, showing them the power and might of Rome.

Later emperors used the Colosseum to gain respect or love from the citizens. They would put on lavish shows, and shower their audience with gifts, sometimes food, gold or other surprises. They were attentive to the games, never busying themselves with their imperial duties. On the contrary, bad emperors would do terrible things. Either throwing spectators into the ring when no more prisoners were left to be executed, or join the ring as a gladiator themselves; Commodus most famously did this. Commodus would kill animals and other gladiators himself to boast his skill. The emperors didn’t want to be surpassed by the games they put on, so they tried to suppress this in their own ways. The Colosseum was to show the image of the Emperor to its citizens, and what he could do for them.

The citizens loved the bloodshed, and there is little indication (besides from abject Christians and the first century philosopher, Seneca) that there were objections. The costs of the games led to their eventual downfall (also linked to the fall of Rome). Damages to the Colosseum and upkeep were very expensive, as well as the shows that were put on. The games became fewer and fewer, and the end of the Colosseum, as the Romans knew it, ended.

However, this was not the end of the Colosseum and its many uses throughout history. It became home to the homeless, vendors, and even a dumping ground. The Colosseum also became a great supplier for builders pillaging marble, stone and iron. Considering the amount of spolia gathered, much of Rome may have some of the Colosseum in it. Eventually the Christians took over the Colosseum, making it a holy site and home to the many Christian martyrs (there is no evidence supporting this, just myth and speculation). It became a Christian symbol nevertheless, and a small church was erected. Eventually Christians lost power over the Colosseum and archaeologists won in their pursuits to begin excavating the area.

After the Church had nearly permanently left the Colosseum, Mussolini took over, sponsoring excavations, and built a road right next to it. Mussolini put up a cross that still stands today, praising Pope Pius XI, King Victor Emmanuel II, and himself. Mussolini used this site as a tool of propaganda, and put up the cross to appease the Catholics.

Though the structure as it stands today is in poor condition, and much of it is gone and is unlike its original form, it still is influential to current amphitheatres. It also stands among existing amphitheatres as one of the biggest and most extravagant ever constructed. The style of the Colosseum was mostly influential to other Roman architects and artists of the time. The use of Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns within the same façade was a style that was repeated due to its influence. What most amazes people today, is the sheer size, beauty and workmanship put into the Colosseum. It has survived for nearly two thousand years, and remains intact even after all iron supports were removed, thanks to a huge foundation underneath. The Romans planned well for the Colosseum survival to this day.

What most surprised me about the Colosseum when I researched is not only little we know about the ancient workings of the Colosseum, but also how much was made up much later than when the games took place or exaggerated (or misinterpreted later) of the content of the games. I learned so much about gladiators, far more than the extent that this paper provided, and their lives were quite interesting. I was amazed at how much was put into a single game, and how much these games must have cost. I still can’t figure out how they captured and maintained these wild exotic animals, and brought them back live enough to fight. The ingenuity of the Romans is only eclipsed by the brutality of the games. As much as we shun the games, I wonder if we would have been caught in the spectacle as so many of the Romans did. Sure, we watch movies with insane amounts of violence and gore, but real life is so much different. Still, the wonders of Rome will never cease to amaze the world or me.

Bibliography

Benko and O’Rourke. The Catacombs and the Colosseum. Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press 1971.

Coarelli, Filippo. The Colosseum. Los Angeles : J. Paul Getty Museum, 2001

Hopkins and Beard. The Colosseum. Great Britain: Profile Books Ltd, 2005.

Luciani, Roberto. The Colosseum : architecture, history, and entertainment in the
Flavian amphitheatre, ancient Rome's most famous building. Novara : Istituto geografico De Agostini, c1990

Winkler, Martin. Gladiator Film and History. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2004.

“The Colosseum.” History Channel.

“Unsolved History Roman Colosseum” Discovery Channel.

“Secrets of Lost Empires Colosseum” Nova.

Morgan, Geoffrey. The Rise And Fall Of The Colosseum.

Fable

There is a tale seldom told, for it starts happily enough, and that is where these tales normally end. The tale takes place at a wedding, which is both the end of stories, and the beginning of a new life. This wedding did not end as planned, and the couple did not live happily ever after. It is because of one man, Johnny Francobolli a sniveling red fox. Johnny is an interesting man, but he is not someone you want at a wedding. He is loud and obnoxious. He always likes things his way and he will never try anything new. The bride hates him with all of her heart, as does Johnny hate her; but the Groom loves Johnny, and they are best friends. That is the only reason Johnny went to the wedding, even after numerous petitions.

First Johnny was to be the best man, but the bride had convinced the groom that it wouldn’t work. Attention would have been drawn to Johnny, who would make weird faces and noises during the wedding. The groom agreed, and asked if he could be an usher. The bride disagreed and said he would be flirting too much with all of the guests as he would escort them. Finally the groom convinced his fiancé that he could come, merely as a guest. Johnny would be out of the way, sitting in the back. There is nothing that he could do to interfere with the wedding, or so the bride and groom thought.

And so the wedding began on March third, in the year AD 333. The wedding was outdoors, in an open meadow in southern France. The bride thought this would be a good location because Johnny hated traveling, and would have a long walk from northern Germany. The bride was mistaken, and Johnny arrived, on time no less. He seemed pleasant enough, so the bride and her maids went of preparing for the wedding, for it was just about to begin.

The groom, a handsome wolf from northern Italy by the name of Brutto, greeted Johnny Francobolli. “How goes it my brother,” said Brutto shaking paws with Johnny. “Ay, what is with all this French food? Neither beer nor bratwurst lines the tables,” Johnny growled in disgust. “At least it is all free, now enjoy yourself, the wedding is about to begin!” Brutto said, as he galloped off as he was needed.

Everyone went to their positions. Guests were seated in the meadow. Brutto was up front with his groomsmen on one side, while the other side was reserved for the bride and her maids. A cocktail sang a song as the bride entered the meadow with a veil over her face. As much as Johnny hated the bride, he found her to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was a snow leopard by the name of Virginia. When the ceremony began, Johnny slowly walked in circles and fell asleep. His loud snoring bothered everyone, but they ignored him and continued with the wedding.

“JOHNNY!” Brutto barked, “Get up before I beat you up!” Johnny growled “Five more minutes…” Brutto was biting Johnny’s ear until he got up. “The reception has started, you can eat now,” Brutto said as he walked off to his wife Virginia. Johnny Francobolli looked over all of the foods, all very French, none very appetizing. Johnny eyed a crepe filled with some gravy and assorted meats, and took a quick bite. Johnny was expecting the worst but got the best. Johnny was in heaven. The food was actually good, even delicious. Johnny finished the crepes, and ate at least half of everything else.

But Johnny Francobolli was not finished. He needed something to wash it down. He wanted beer. There was no beer at this wedding reception though, only the finest champagne. Johnny only like beer, but he thought since the food was so good, then maybe the champagne would be also. He tried a small glass, and it was delicious, but the small glasses were not sufficient. Johnny found the waiter, a lobster, and asked him where they kept the bottles of champagne. The lobster, not knowing any better, pointed to a tree off in the distance. Johnny found the stash, drinking bottle after bottle. After he finished three bottles, he stumbled back to the party.

Dessert was being served. The very best chocolates, candies and of course cake were on display. Johnny, usually hating sweets, but after having so much good food already, and being a little drunk, couldn’t resist the desserts. He stuffed his face in everything, and ate until his stomach couldn’t fit another bite.

And that is when it hit Johnny. He was sick to his stomach. His head was spinning and his stomach was growling. He tried to run off to the forest, but his coordination was heavily altered. He ran into a couple tables on his way out, and just made it to the tree line as he threw up. Johnny felt much better, and turned around a couple of time before sitting down to take a nap.

No one but Virginia had noticed the incident. She had hated Johnny so much before, but today Johnny was different. He had been out of the way most of the day, not bothering anyone sans the snoring. Virginia both felt sorry for him and was proud of him for not being his usual obnoxious self. Virginia decided to head over to Johnny.

Virginia waltzed over to Johnny as her husband entertained guests. Johnny was awoken to a soothing purr “Wake up Johnny.” Johnny woke up and smiled when he saw Virginia. “Sorry about the mess…” Johnny said, but was cut off by Virginia. “Don’t worry about it, let’s go for a walk.” Virginia purred. Johnny agreed and walked with Virginia. They made small talk as they got further and further from the wedding reception.

The two found their way to a Cliffside and sat down watching the sun set. Neither spoke to the other as the sun sunk into the horizon and the stars became visible above. In the cool night, Johnny and Virginia looked into each others eyes and then cuddled together, interlocked. Virginia made the first move, and they were kissing in a way that only felines and foxes can.

A few hours later, as Virginia and Johnny slept under the stars, a search party was formed to find Virginia, with Brutto at the lead. Brutto with the best nose known to all animals quickly found the trail of Virginia, along with another familiar scent. Brutto raced as fast as he could, leaping over all obstacles.

Brutto arrived at the scene with Virginia and Johnny Francobolli sleeping with each other. Brutto was furious and ran over to Johnny and bit Johnny’s neck, breaking it and instantly killing him. Brutto tossed Johnny over the Cliffside and barked at Virginia. Virginia tried to plead with Brutto to no avail, so Brutto threw Virginia off the cliff where she perished instantly. Brutto cried and howled to the night, and jumped off the cliff with the others.

Questions Answered

The process involved in narrowing the anecdotes was easy because there are just three main types of foods, and they would make him sick. And the other was the stages of falling in love. The first resolution is positive, the second is negative. There are many morals in this story, from “everything in moderation” to “don’t invite obnoxious friends to your wedding” and many in between. I think both reversals might surprise the reader, but I think careful readers will see it coming. I didn’t reread Belfagor, but I thought about in detail before starting the fable and during it. The most challenging part of this fable was the strict way of building a fable. I feel this would help me write another fable, but not any type of story because of the strict way the fable is constructed.

Belfagor Fable

Three Context Elements:

People in Hell complain that their wives corrupted them.

Pluto sends Belfagor, a devil, to take a wife.

Belfagor marries a wife and is very prominent.

Turning Point:

“But the opposite occurred, for in addition to these crushing expenses, Onesta’s arrogant nature brought him countless problems.

Actions:

Belfagor flees his creditors and hides at with Gianmatteo. Belfagor promises him riches in return for saving his life. When a women would become possessed (by Belfagor) Gianmatteo would call out his name, and the women would be free. Gianmatteo frees one woman, and then frees another, the daughter of a king. Belfagor says Gianmatteo can never bother him again. Belfagor possesses another king’s daughter. Gianmatteo is forced into freeing her. Belfagor says Gianmatteo will be hanged. Gianmatteo tricks Belfagor by saying his wife had returned, and frees the woman.

The explicit moral is that wives are the cause of man’s downfall which is pretty explicit, but there is an underlying moral of money management or money is the root of all evil.

One reversal is that Belfagor gets angry at Gianmatteo.

The resolution is that Gianmatteo tricks Belfagor into thinking that his wife is returning home so that he runs back to Hell while Gianmatteo understood women and was happy.

Modern Myth

It was late summer, just on the verge of fall. The heat had had not yet subsided, and clothes were at a minimum deep in the south. One particular lady, clad in a bikini, was particularly exhausted. The heat had taken its tool on her, and she was no where near any shade. She was waiting for some friends to pick here up and take her to the beach, but they were no where in sight. She wished for rain, a wish that had been heard up on Mount Olympus.

Zeus curiosity was particularly piqued by this female. She was beautiful, and in need of something only he could give her. Zeus decided he would conjure up a storm, cooling her down, and also exciting her with some lightning and thunder. Zeus considered this plan flawless, and made the several thousand mile journey to the girl’s destination.

Apollo was amusing himself with his lyre when he saw Zeus leaving the mountain. Apollo had also seen the girl, but decided against pursuing her. When he saw Zeus pursuing her, he had to as well. He wasn’t going to sit idly while his father seduced some innocent mortal with a meager storm. Apollo decided that if he seduced her first the girl would be safe. Apollo had to hurry, for his father was swift as lightning.

Meanwhile, back in the south, the girl that was waiting for her friends found some sanctuary under a dying tree. The ambient heat was still excruciating, so she decided to sleep until night. What she didn’t see as she fell into a deep sleep were the many clouds that were forming overhead. The bright day had dim and dark. The sun was blocked by the clouds, but the air was still very hot. Zeus was working his magic.

Apollo saw this, and increased his speed tenfold. When Apollo came closer to the girl, he was awe struck. No longer was only trying to defend this innocent girl from the power of his father, but also he had fallen in love with her when he first laid his eyes on her. He had to have her, and if it meant fighting his father, he would have no qualm with that.

Zeus was busy conjuring his storm so he had not yet noticed his son. Zeus wanted to create the most magnificent storm he possibly could. Zeus had envisioned a symphony of lighting. The crash of a tree cracking in the wind, the deep rumble of thunder, and the steady rhythm of the torrential downpour were only a few of the elements of the storm that Zeus planned. So as Zeus mixed the elements to make the storm, Apollo swooped down to the girl.

“Wake from your sleep my princess. You shall be with me on top of Mount Olympus, and I will be your servant, your slave” Apollo said. The young girl had not heard these words over the rumble of the clouds and the brewing of the storm. The girl had awoken though, much to Apollo’s delight, but not to his words. When she saw Apollo finally, she became terrified and ran to a rocky hillside.

Apollo chased her, yelling at her to slow, if only for a minute to hear his pleas. Zeus, ready to unleash his master storm, finally had noticed this, and became very angry. For his son to interfere with his affairs was a terrible action. Zeus decided that his storm would no longer be a splendid symphony but a cacophonous catastrophe.

The girl, as all mortals do, had begun to tire of the chase, and stopped and sat down. Apollo spoke to her “Please let me play my lyre for you, for after hearing its sweet melody, you shall grow to love me as I already love you.” Apollo brought out his lyre, and began playing a sweet melody, but the girl could not hear the tune over the roar of the storm.

Zeus didn’t know that the girl wasn’t interested in Apollo, so he started shooting his bow of lightning at Apollo. He missed a few times, hitting massive boulders that split into little rocks. The rocks rolled down mountain at a dangerous pace. Zeus drew his bow one more time, taking careful aim of Apollo, and struck. Zeus missed Apollo, but hit his lyre, electrifying it. In all of the confusion, the girl was crushed by a rolling rock, every imprinted into the mountain. Apollo wailed on his lyre in sadness, and Zeus shook the world with thunder of pain. And they played in harmony that late summer day, in the birth of Rock and Roll.

Writing Journal Questions Answered

I chose my characters for myth because Apollo is the god of music, and Zeus is his father and I thought I could create some interesting interaction between them. I found the employment of the metaphor a bit challenging as I wanted it to be more direct in the way I accounted for a modern truth. I wanted the point of view to be third person impersonal to give the story more weight as a myth. I didn’t have dialogue between the characters because that would have not fit with the theme of the story, as I wanted it to be constructed almost like a song would develop. There isn’t much dialogue in music, but there are plenty of monologues. The most challenging part of this assignment was starting it. At first I wanted to write it in the style of Ovid, but I found that to be way too challenging. Then I didn’t think I could make a metaphor for rock and roll, but after a few tries, I think it came out pretty well.

Journal on Ovid and Pomegranate myth for Creative Writing

Journal on Ovid and Pomegranate myth

The theme of transformation in the two stories is envisioned differently in that in Ovid Metamorphoses, there is a physical change to a person (or deity) ; whereas in Calvino the transformations are not happening physically, but metaphorically through changed perceptions of the same city. In Metamorphoses one character turns into a wolf, another into a tree, and another into a mountain. In Invisible Cities we often see contradictions between the different ‘cities’ but also contradictions within cities, that is in effect a transformation from, say good to evil. This is repeated ad nauseam.

As far as similarities, each story in each of the works there is a theme that ends with some sort of pushed moral value. They are a bit more subtle in Calvino, but there are definite moral endings and overall theme.

In Metamorphoses the Gods used the humans as a means of playing trickery, or other mischievous happenings that were mean spirited. Still, the humans revered the Gods. The Gods though, are a reflection of the humans, with their own vices as well. When the humans were in warfare, so were the Gods (and in peace, peace etc.).

The beginning of Metamorphoses was almost the exactly the same as the creation myth in the Torah, the old testament, The Bible. I actually thought I was reading that when I started. The whole thing with light not being in the land, and in the Bible, god said let there be light (I am paraphrasing).

Ovid’s tone is very earnest in displaying the authenticity of the individual myths. It is both poetic and serious, without satire.

The Homeric Hymn to Demeter was in a poetic style while the other by Hawthorne was in a modern traditional narrative form. Homer wrote this a long time ago, for a different audience than a 19^th century AD author had. The modern story has more details and more back story, such as with the sea nymphs or details of the underground lair.

The figures are drawn in a different light, primarily in Persephone and Hades/Pluto. Their relationship is more complex in the Hawthorne version. Persephone has mixed feelings, and wants to stay a bit, which after eating the pomegranate; it is not such a bad deal. Pluto cares for her, but has no heart. This is a bit of a contradiction; he has a heart, but can’t express himself in any other way.

VERDI

This is probably my best picture yet, it is of the Vittoro Emmanuele building just a block from our appartment.

Invisible Cities - 4 More Stories

Traveling is part of the Destination

Arriving in Miura is no easy task. There is only one road into the city, and only one road out of the city. All of the inhabitants use this road everyday, as they all either work in the city and live abroad, or work abroad and live in the city. The vehicles zigzag between each other, never advancing more than a car length ahead, and more often than not they fall behind. This is where the joy of the town lays, the commute. As each driver, never with a passenger, makes his trip, every emotion is displayed. From the burst of anger when one is cut-off by an unwary citizen, or the happiness achieved when a large gap is opened by an exiting semi to get all the speed they can from their automobile shows the most pleasure I have ever seen in a human. Of course this speed never lasts, and it is a wonder why no one walks, when the speed most definitely falls lower than that. The subtle dance of traffic is an intriguing one, but I have not yet acquired the taste for it.

As one nears the city, viewing the beautiful landscape, I begin to understand this slow pace. From the gorgeous skyline of skyscrapers, to the mountain filled ranges circling the city, it is a wonder if anyone watches the road for more than a minute, possibly out of the corner of their eye, as their gaze is always drawn up, never forward. The closer I neared the city, the less I wanted to enter. This was not unusual, as many seemed to share my idea. I continued to look at the surroundings, absorbing what I could before having to make a decision of where I should land. I could have continued following the rest of the crowd at the ever slow pace, or I could take any of the numbered unnamed exits.

Decisions don’t need to be made quickly, and that can’t be more stressed. All of the exits also allow you to turn around. Those that did decide to exit all went back up the other way, stuck in the muddled flow. I too chose to do this, never entering the city as I never found an entrance in all of the exits.

Polar Opposites

I stumbled upon Ascari in my travels in the early morning. The sun baked my face, while my arms grew hot. I disrobed down to my last piece of clothing, stuffing my sack with all of them. I passed a fresh fruit market, with two young boys’ lips stained by blackberries, who then ran away when they spotted me. The vendor gave me an evil eye, and then refused to acknowledge my presence. More and more faces appeared, shunning and avoiding me. All were cloaked as if in a mass religious precession. But it couldn’t have been religious, as they were adorned with all of the colors, but dulled. The cloaks were yellow, black, brown, orange and blue to name a few. It looked painful for those clothed to the toe, as the sweat was visible inside and out. The sweat was even dripping off the jackets, pants and hats. Everyone was miserable, visibly in pain and in personal anguish. I couldn’t understand it. This was possibly the most beautiful day I had ever seen, not a cloud in the sky, the sun bright and warm, and the city was as clean as if it had just taken a bath.

And then it rained. No, it poured, drenching the country side, and flooding the streets. I along with everything else was invited to a community shower. I scrambled to clothe myself in anything that appeared water proof, as everything else was soaking wet in this aquatic realm. And then I saw something I did not when I arrived. Smiles, laughter and a grand old time were had. Women were dancing with umbrellas, men skipping in the streams, and children splashing each other in the faces. I couldn’t help but be sucked into the event, trotting down the embankments as I was cooled from the harsh sun that felt like a distant past.

But no more than five minutes had passed before the sun came out again. Doom and gloom was on everyone’s mind. I wondered if this small storm was what everyone had been waiting for all day, as if they had some foresight into the future that such a clear and sunny day could bring also so much rain. I removed my clothing once more, but I was mistaken. A new storm came, and along with it, happiness.

Undistinguishable

I had been traveling through the countryside for many days when I nearly ran into a sign giving directions to a city by the name of Cuda. As I left a forest, the city finally came into view. Massive buildings arranged perfectly, sitting just beneath the clouds. Outside of this central district were the many homes, all neatly arranged to exact mathematical squares. And outside these homes was the road I was taking. The road was perfectly straight and pointed right towards the center of town. Along the road were the trees, meticulously pruned and clipped, giving just the right amount of shade, and no branch hung so low as to knock my hat off. The city continued to grow in size as I neared it, and I got a better look at this marvelous city.

I first passed through the suburbia, all homes were perfectly arranged; lawns clipped at no higher or no lower than an inch off the ground. The homes themselves were painted a deep blue, like the ocean I had walked along in so many of my travels. The roofs were all a perfect forty five degree slope, forming a perfect right triangle. Men and women were leaving their homes headed to work in their pressed suits, straight from the dry cleaners. The men all wore fedoras that fit there head perfectly, all angled to the side as was the fashion at the time. The young ladies with white parasols carried over their left shoulders headed off with their men.

I was carried in town with this fantastic spectacle, a river of people flowing in almost militaristic form, as if we marched toward the city to conquer it. I felt completely out of place with my sun faded clothes with its pungent stench of the outdoors. I walked a little slower than everyone else and a bit to the side, trotting through their immaculate lawns. The city was so large in the distance that I couldn’t make out how far it was, especially with no point of reference. The homes vanished at the horizon, and the city seemed to appear from the curve of the earth. These people were at the top of the world, mathematically perfect. But I didn’t belong with them, nor could I appreciate their form, so I turned and headed back as fast as I could.

Without a Theme

The town of Ghini is neither very large nor very small, but very distinct in its own way. When I entered the city I was greeted by a distinct smoky smell of barbequed meat and spices. As I was hungry from my travels, I stopped at the first of the many barbeque stands that lined the streets. I ordered the first the thing on the menu and received a large slab of meat wrapped in paper. The sauce was so very tasty, the meat tender and juicy. I couldn’t believe I had never heard of this place, as for destinations for food, this was among the best, and most certainly the best for meat lovers, this after only my first of many bites. I booked the first hotel I could and went to rest as the meal had consumed me, and I was dead tired.

I awoke to the sound of frying, boiling and all other varieties of cooking. My mouth salivated at what was available for breakfast. Thick strips of bacon, crispy but not too crispy, and lightly peppered, rich and chewy bread with a light crisp crust, and a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice were just a few of the dishes I received for breakfast. The people in the streets were not very big considering how much they ate, and they always cleaned their plate. Everyone was about with their business, and I was lollygagging, counting the time to lunch.

As the sun rose to its highest point, I chose a spot to chow down. I ordered my meal and my mouth was already watering at the food that others around me were eating in delight, looking at me occasionally, in delight as well. It had been but a day here, and I already wanted to end my travels and stay here for the rest of my life. Food to me is the greatest gift to give yourself, and I had never tried anything remotely as good as in Ghini, nor even tasted anything like what I had tried. I asked the host of the restaurant where they got their meat, and she gave me directions to the countryside just outside of town.

I made my way out of town, enjoying the beautiful landscape, but I did not see the cattle, pigs, or sheep I had expected to see. Instead I saw people, lulling about in small cages. I became terrified, and ran back to town to find the police, but they found me first, and I was knocked unconscious by a billy club.

I awoke in a cage, crammed with men of all ages. There were women too, but in a separate area. I asked my cellmate where we were and he answered that we were awaiting execution. I asked why and he answered in one word; meat.

Questions Answered

The easiest theme was “Polar Opposites” because I already had a great idea in my head that would fit that theme. I think it was easier to write without the themes, because I had an idea (probably not the most original) that really fit the invisible cities stories. The most difficult part of the assignment was starting it, but once I start, I couldn’t stop. Calvino’s language appealed to me, but I definitely have my own voice and can’t really emulate anyone else with any skill. Rome seems like an imaginary city because it is so distinct, different and the same. It is perhaps beyond imagination. To write about Rome no one theme could describe it, but if I had to choose one, I would have chosen “Persistence in Change.”

Trevi

Creative Writing Assignment One

Anthony Arpin

Assignment One

Invisible Cities

City name; favorite word or phrase; theme.

Diomira; crystal theatre; repetition.

Isidora; bloody brawls among the bettors; wants came too late.

Dorothea; walls flanking seven gates; materials have meaning.

Zaira; hanged usurper’s feet; the walls speak.

Anastasia; golden pheasant; work is love.

Tamara; the city says everything you must think; a picture is a thousand words, a city many more.

Zora; a musical score where not a note can be altered or displaced; unity.

Despina; an embroidered saddle with glittering fring between two spotted humps; from where you come is the opposite of where you go.

Zirma; puma on a leash; déjà vu.

Isaura; windlasses of the norias; rising city.

Maurilia; young ladies with white parasols; same name, different story.

Fedora; avenue reserved for elephants; failed projections.

Zoe; leprosarium; undistinguishable.

Zenobia; cone-roofed belvederes; unnecessary wants.

Euphemia; junks rocking; shared memory.

Zobeide; dreamed chase; one persons dreams don’t translate for others.

Hypatia; amorous trepidation; traded places.

Armilla; acquatic realm; water as aphrodisiac.

Chloe; ostrich-plume fan; sexually repressed.

Valdrada; murdering of the images; distorted perception.

Olivia; mullioned windows; no truth in things.

Sophronia; the shout suspended from the cart of the headlong roller coaster; city as a circus.

Eutropia; they open alternate mouths in identical yawns; continuously changing but never different.

Zemrude; ill-humor of the day before; perception not easily changed.

Aglaura; what was bizarre has become usual; words fail to account for anything.

Octavia; spider-web city; nothing good lasts forever.

Ersilia; relationship of blood; complexities will collapse.

Baucis; pierced, angular shadow that falls on the foliage; inhabitant’s intentions unknown.

Leandra; not infrequently they quarrel; dogs and rats.

Melania; disinherited; city a ply; inhabitants actors.

Esmeralda; zigzag; traveling is part of the destination.

Phyllis; tracery balustrades; when travel becomes primary, rest is ignored.

Pyrrha; this air in which a yellowish dust flies; thoughts don’t materialize.

Adelma; alien faces will appear; rebirth.

Eudoxia; symmetrical motives; reflection.

Moriana; coral columns; polar opposites.

Clarice; chicken runs; transition.

Eusapia; mezzosopranos; imitation.

Beersheba; ephemeral excesses; mistaken virtue.

Leonia; porcelain dinner services; retribution.

Irene; shadows of gardens; identity is in the eye of the beholder.

Argia; worm tunnels; burial grounds.

Thekla; the metal armatures; inspiration.

Trude; goblets; consistency across space and time.

Olinda; new quarters sprawl around them like a loosened belt; rebirth.

Laudomia; ants’ eggs; finite future.

Perinthia; harmony of the firmament; misunderstood memory.

Procopia; lips stained by blackberries; unstable growth.

Raissa; general grim gaze; glimmer of hope.

Andria; nova’s explosion; calculated prominence.

Cecilia; mangy goats; nature lost.

Marozia; transparent as a dragonfly; persistence in change.

Penthesilea; opaque polyhedrons; scattered center.

Theodora; lethargy; impossible elimination.

Berenice; sycophants; all things that will be are now.

Marco Polo is the narrator in Calvino’s work. Marco Polo was a great explorer of the lands in the east not set foot in by westerners. Calvino use’s Marco Polo as one who described unknown cities to describe a much known city, so as to give it perspective from a foreigner. Calvino tells the tales from first person, but this changed to third person, probably because once it is known that all the cities are one and the same, Venice, (and that if he speaks of Venice, it will disappear), he switches to third person temporarily, using a morbid voice, killing himself so that he does not kill Venice.

The Departed

I was supposed to post this before I left for Italy, but amidst the confusion, I was unable to check my email, or whatever. So, the best I can do is think about what I would have said if were not yet in Italy. I was most looking forward to speaking Italian, and I dreaded the flight (not that I am scared, but rather motion sickness that accompanies it).