μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος

οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε, …

(Homer)

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus,

that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans …

(Samuel Butler)

——-

(Preamble or some proleptical remarks about the art of having fun with writing and sharing it with our scribbling lot.)

Let your conscience stream!  It’s  easy and you don’t need to read the Iliad by maybe  Homer or Joyce’s Ulysees ‘ Molly Bloom’s inner monologue, although I highly recommend both, to know how to scribble like that. Writer’s block? Never in my universe – or to be fair to you and to minimize my bragging  – not anymore, because … dammit! Now I forgot why but anyway: here goes………….

a lil epopoe

starting with

part I:

 On the edge

(the joy of making up lifes)

At seven o’clock I sit on a park bench. According to the weather report, Alex, the guy who runs the tobacco store around my corner informs me, it will not rain today

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