.i“ * ^ / . . . . . ` `~

Looked up Ca n’en finit plus (“it never ends) looked up ‘mk‘ (internet slang), article on involvement of lightning strikes in producing life on earth. (Lightning strikes can create phosphorous, which is vital to life, and rare on Earth.) Proposition: that as Pentheus was to Dionysius you have been to Materialism — curb your ways, pick up your thyrsus, do honor to the new great god! Earbuds circling forehead like a tiara. Energy drinks, smart phones galore… Chorus: “people don’t want to be rich, people want things that are nice, a nice middle class existence, is all people want, the case worldwide, would you really quarrel with this and tell us we do wrong?” Pentheus: “does it make sense to entirely remodel a perfectly functional kitchen, redo the floors and the bathrooms while you’re at it? Where do all the new things come from and where do all the old things go to?” [Pentheus leaves stage to sound of hammering, drilling and the Latino station, hands to ears, comically pestered. Agave, Pentheus’ mother, enters the stage shortly after, carrying his severed head in one hand and samples for the backsplash in the other.] Why the desire to write a book? It feels more virtuous than simply to “leave something behind you” or Faulkner’s “kilroy was here.” It is to make material and solid all that usually passes us as an apparently unseizable ether or fluid. Menelaus seizing Proteus, our own mortal life. “One might well question the necessity of that,” is thought, “but it would be better to do it in light of having written one’s book.”

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