Aggie and Cassie’s house
I’m writing to you here because I’m sort of a bit worried about you, and if your mother doesn’t know where you are, then nobody does. Nobody has seen you around for a while, are you OK? There was some rumour that you were really sick and didn’t want to be seen. Whatever is wrong, it is out of character and I have a funny feeling that you may actually be in trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I used to hate you more that I hated that little squirt that raped me, but time does funny things to you and I find myself remembering the good times we had; those intellectual fireworks, that easy laughter, that sense of camaraderie. I never fancied you, but you could have been a good friend. I’m just not sure you ever understood the concept of friendship, and that is a pity. Still, here I am offering you a hand of friendship and if you are in trouble and want someone to talk to, you know where I am.
You see, perhaps the world was a better place when you were obviously around. You blazed through both the Renaissance and the Enlightement when you had a lot of fun, and men were so confident and inspired by your ideal. Naturally, you were terrified by the Reign of Terror and its aftermath and seemed to become much more involved in science and medicine after that, and much less involved in the arts. Public works programmes and philanthropy brought out a caring, mature side to your personality. You grew in stature during the Industrial Revolution, though I’d say your sense of style wavered a little. Your last big triumph was penicillin. What a breakthrough! Now, it is said you have been laid low by an antibiotic resistant strain of some unmentionable disease caught from one of your later conquests. Didn’t see that one coming , did you? ;-p
Sorry, that was below the belt. I hope you take it as a joke between friends. Well, dear Apollo, it is my view that you really should have never spat in my mouth that time. I’ve forgiven you for that vile act and I’ve had plenty to time to be reconciled to my fate. Indeed, had you not done that, I’d never have met Aggie, and we are actually blissfully happy together down here for eternity. He’s a good bloke, I do prefer older men. When you gods act out of spite it invariably does you more harm than the creature you are trying to punish, I think it weakened you. I’m just not sure women ever found you attractive. You used to flatter yourself with those Muses of yours, but they're really just projections of your own self-love. Let’s face it, it is men that want you. You are their role model; all that learning, culture and healing of the sick, all those conquests, and all wrapped up in a body to die for. It is men that think you can give them something. It is men that are missing you. There is so little culture now; so few great works of art, so little refinement, so little taste. Tempt yourself away from your mum’s home baking and rescue men from their carpet slippers, novelty jumpers and Lady Gaga on the TV. Give men some inspiration to be extravagant and think big. Go on, inspire the world, turn yourself on again, big man!
Or is it that you too have grown a bit fat and lethargic and are feeling a bit empty and a bit depressed. Is it that Mount Olympus has become a naff gated community? Are you all worried about intruders? Are you paranoid that the modern world, whilst craving you, seems to have forgotten you and wouldn’t recognise you if you did make yourselves known? Do you despise the modern world in all its blandness and insensitivity? Are you frightened and feeling unloved?
Well, I don’t think you ever understood love, and that is your problem. Inspire all those great things in so many souls down the ages, but do it without love and sooner or later it all falls apart. Even the finest palace can start to look like an out of season theme park.
Still, if you do decide to roam abroad at all and your wanderings take you down this way, do pop in for a drink, we’d love to see you,
Best wishes and fond regards,