March 27, 2004
Here on this palace of earth, the spinning of the fabric of the lives of men, the telling of ancient tales forged anew. Behold – the goddess Athena has fallen from the summit of Mt. Olympus and lies ranting in the gutter, her hands clutching the tattered rags that are the sum of her earthly possessions. Agamemnon has wandered far from Troy, shuffling between cars on a Bronx Bound 9 train, shaking a cup of change and singing old blues songs in a raspy, untrained voice; he who elicited terror from Trojan princes can only hope for pity and a dime.