Medieval Lit--13 February 2009

This manuscript was in need of illuminating.

Just Call Me "Agave the Blest"

It's finals week, with all that entails. I just finished a paper on Euripides' Bacchae, and was inspired to create short comic version of the climactic scene at the end, when Agave, still in the throes of Dionysiac madness, presents the severed head of her son Pentheus to her Cadmus, her father:

Agave: Now, father,
ours can be the proudest boast of living men.
For you are now the father of the bravest daughters
in the word. All of your daughters are brave,
but I above the rest. I have left my shuttle
at the loom; I raised my sight to higher things--
to hunting animals with my bare hands.
You see?
Here in my hands I hold the quarry of my chase,
a trophy for our house. Take it, Father, take it.
Glory in my kill and invite your friends to share
the feast of triumph. For you are blest, Father,
by this great deed I have done.

Cadmus: This is a grief
so great it knows no size. I cannot look.
This is the awful murder your hands have done.
This, this is the noble victim you have slaughtered
to the gods. And to share a feast like this
you now invite all Thebes and me?
O gods,
how terribly I pity you and then myself.
Justly--too, too justly--has lord Bromius,
this god of our own blood, destroyed us all,
every one.
(Bacchae of Euripides, Arrowsmith trans. 1960)

Here is my take on the scene:



Moral of the story: do not fuck with Dionysus.

I Aten't Dead. No, Seriously.

Well, that took longer than anticipated. I meant to start posting again as soon as I replaced the batteries in my camera, but in my usual procrastinatory fashion, I've only just now gotten around to it. So, without further ado, here are a couple of doodles for your perusal:

This here is a very strange Wolverine. He appears to have lost a fight with Picasso, or possibly Dali. As you might expect, he is not too pleased about this, and is taking out his bestial rage on my math notes.


This is how they got babies back in the days of Queen Victoria. Ladies would just be sitting around, thinking pious thoughts, when --POOF! Baby! This is the sort of thing I learn in my Charlotte Bronte class.


Anyway, I have no idea if anyone even reads this anymore, but I hope to get back into posting doodles at something resembling regular intervals. They will doubtless be interspersed with Cat Stories and fangirling, but I beg my readers' indulgence...

Q: What do you get

when you cross Anthony Ainley and a root vegetable?

A: This.

Seriously, you guys! "Radish" really does come from the Latin "radix", so CLEARLY a pun on "the root of all evil" needed to be made! I'm just doing my duty as an English/Classics major!

...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

We Are Living in an Age of Marvels

Technology is truly amazing, no? A show airs in London on saturday night, and thanks to the wonders of the International Date Line and internet video hosting, I can watch it a few hours later! Afterwards, I can read discussion and reaction posts from fans all over the globe who have done likewise. Such is the nature of the World Wide Web.

But I'm not here to talk about that. No, internet TV and its dubious legality pale in comparison to what else this modern age has produced. Millenia of human achievements have brought us to this point. That's right:

Virtual Bubble Wrap.

Rome and Teh Intarwebz

It's days like this that remind me why I've stuck with Latin. Going over Amphitryon in today's class, the following exchange

Mercurius: Ain vero?
Sosia: Aio enim vero.

was translated thus:

Mercurius: O RLY?
Sosia: YA RLY.

In the same spirit, I made an icon for my nonexistent livejournal:

...Have I mentioned how psyched I am about season 4?

I mean, seriously. Agatha Christie! Pompeii! Giant Bees! A finale that promises to be even more cracktacular than Last of the Time Lords! Man, this is gonna be epic.

...Yeah, that's pretty much it. Back at school, woo.