Source: me, 2020 or 2021.
Finally got some sleep.
Today I have resumed a long-dormant project. This project has to do with the greek story of Hippolytus and has historically served me as a kind of madness sink (image related). I’ve been sort of resisting it but, as the text of the story ironically reveals, this is futile. So if you’ve ever wondered why I’ve been burdened with Pasiphaë’s curse: this is it.
My first contact with Hyppolytus was the Euripides version, back in 2014. At the time I was still extremely repressed, so any story or piece of media that managed to connect with my authentic self I perceived as enigmatic and entrancing. These used to become lodged in my psyche as objects to be endlessly reexamined and pored over. In retrospect I can see this was a “safe” way to introspect, without too much risk of piercing the veil of repression that kept me alive(-ish) for so long.
Now, after I have crossed that threshold, reengaging with these kinds of works allows me to experience them without my mind blocking the way. It’s immensely frustrating to read or watch a work and feel enchanted by it, but not be able to shake off the certainty that you are missing something important. What I was missing was myself, so I could not fully understand the relationship between the work and myself. Nowadays, going back to these works gives me a very satisfying sense of closure.
My previous attempts at finishing this project were ill-timed, but now I feel just stable enough to open the Cursed Bag of Madness— that is, the bag with the primary sources that I stuffed some lexapro into just in case, and threw in the back of a closet. Unfortunately some versions of this story are either lost or in german, so equally inaccessible to me, but thoroughness is not really the point either. It’s going to take a while but I’m excited to finish this. I’ll post about it here as I get through it.
that’s it stay gay everybody
