Today was long. Work was a bit of a long uphill trek - with a lot of heat and nearly no cooling air to take the edge off - and I lugged around heavy cases of books for most of the afternoon, re-arranging stock in the back room and trying to make things more organized for moving forward. I felt a little like Sisyphus - I never quite made it to the last piles of books, and I know there'll be more to handle tomorrow.
Normally, I love a myth retold. Today? I wasn't feeling it.
That said, things are progressing - back room boulder uphill notwithstanding - and I'm starting to feel like I'm getting my groove back. It's always a little humbling to walk into a new place. You never know how confident you're going to feel, or how much you'll be able to affect a place.
Humble is good. After all, a humble Sisyphus might not have ended up so punished, no?
"Gay Orpheus," by Gregory L. Norris
As I said, I love a myth retold. This is exactly that - the Orpheus myth retold with a gay lens - and a modern edge - about a man rescued first from a rough encounter, and then from giving up. I liked the parallels drawn from the myth: lovers parted too soon, though in this case from a violent act and a perilous job, and the journey back from the underworld, this time more of a desperate run, a sensation of time running out, and the reality of a brain dying inside a body that breathed, but would never move again.
And, I admit it, I'm a sucker for a retold myth that gives me more of a happy ending than the original might have done.