Mythology Is a Soap Opera

As I was reading Agamemnon's fate, in Edith Hamilton's Mythology, I realized Mythology is a soap opera. I've read the Norse and the Greek, and I see it now. Someone is raping someone, someone is killing someone, someone is committing patricide or filicide to accomplish arcane magic. Nor do I believe that Agamemnon actually died this way. I tend to think of him as Nebuchadnezzar, and the Sack of Troy was the Sack of Tyre. Maybe some Bibliomancy was done to create it. As there is a verse in the Bible, "Behold, I will put a spirit in him, so that he shall hear a rumor and return to his own land, and I will make him fall by the sword in his own land.'" Perhaps that's just an overreaching theme in old literature, is the king returning from battle, and being slain. Perhaps because it is true. Maybe the peoples hate the war, and that is why there is regicide after coming home from a war.

The mythologies of the world were soap operas. They followed the ill reputed gods, who boasted omniscience and omnibenevolence, as they destroyed, and left wakes of ruin behind them. Setting an example to their people to follow. To rape those of lower status, to murder beloved children for magic---only, to expect recompense from the dharma of fate. For, every evil act must return an evil act. Which, is why I believe Agamemnon was Nebuchadnezzar is because that form of belief seems more consistent with the Babylonians.

That's the whole story. The gods in their dramatic wars with mortals and with one another, frolic without consequences, bringing upon the wrath of mortal and god alike. Sometimes there is a mortal who hates a god. Sometimes there is a god who hates a mortal. Whether because of rape, or because of infidelity, they seek retribution, destroying temples, bodies, while committing sodomy at times to accomplish the deed.

I see all of this, and now know what makes it interesting. I cannot write it. I know of humanity's bad nature, but I only know it from the outside. I know it from watching it, and feeling it oppress me. I know it on a crude, Global scale. I know it not intimately, anymore. When I read Ovid, I am reminded of my youth, chasing the girls around on the playground in boyish lust, like Pan and Syrinx, but that's over. That person died a long time ago. He died when I found Christ, and when I fell in love with Jorgia. An idea of love captivates me. Love actually saved me. Though it was love with a phantom, the idea of peace. What I write, I wish to capture peace. For, I tried writing my mythology, and I found it lacking the soap operatic feel and texture of a true mythology. I do not wish to make characters, populate my worlds---that author is dead, too. The imagination I had as a boy is cultured into a prosaic mind, wishing to merely find meaning. 

The King of Assyria heard a voice telling him of a rumor, I can only hope the same happens to Putin. And this war ends. Yet, I wish not to write the soap opera of kings and queens, of Putin and Elizabeth. I wish not to write the soap opera of history. My ability is waning---if I push, I might bring about another delusion. For somewhere does the material come, and I hope to comfort you with my arcane stories, and poems. I wish to give you peace with them. The waking up from a dream. But, my creative spring is tapped.