Erato’s Misadventures – Prologue

So, I haven’t been to see the family since we all came back to Earth.

I mean, there are reasons.

Mostly, I’m just not that into drama. I love them all (I mean, how could I not?) but really, who do they think I am, Calliope? Though frankly, the way things are going, I have a feeling Melpomene is hanging around. Dad has always been more for the enthusiasm than the planning – they don’t call it Greek tragedy for nothing.

And now he’s talking about war? Cool, is this a war, a police action, a war on drugs, what?? I look forward to his clarifications about how precisely this will achieve anything.

Zeus decided we should make ourselves relevant – no problem. Zeus said jump, I jumped. And so far, it’s been pretty fun. I could have waited until he said how high, but if you haven’t figured out by now how often erotic inspiration is a matter of spontenaiety, you haven’t been listening. Not that planning isn’t a pretty good thing, too. 

I mean, there isn’t a wrong way to do erotic. As long as everyone involved is into it. I just inspire, the details aren’t up to me (and take it from me, the spectrum of erotic desire goes well beyond the visible colours of the rainbow, if you know what I’m saying). 

I’d also like to be very clear, if everyone involved isn’t into it, it’s not erotic. It’s not sex. There are plenty of other words for it, use one of them. Need a clear analogy? I can hit you with a frying pan, but that doesn’t make it cooking.

Anyway, I’ve always found the best way to handle Zeus is visible, provable compliance with his precise instructions, and if that takes you out of earshot of further instructions, oh well. Quiet time is nice.

Frankly, I’m not sure the other gods know where I am. I’m sure they could find me if they tried, but clearly, nobody has thought of it yet, which is fine by me. I have some things to work out first. I’m sure Hermes will turn up eventually. It’s uncanny how good he is at finding us.

I’m also…putting off visiting. I’m waiting for things over there to either settle down or explode first. Though I do like a good passionate fit, that many gods in one building are dangerous. And not just for the reasons you’d think.

I’ve got a bunch of this mortal stuff worked out now. I mean, being the muse of erotic and romantic poetry meant I was pretty familiar with eating, drinking, bathing and so on, I just hadn’t realised that food was the main point of eating. Same with getting clean. I had assumed they were all just foreplay.

I mean, technically, everything’s foreplay if you are an immortal. Really explains a lot when you think about it. 

The other reason I haven’t gone to that giant monument to Olympian ego* is…I have a problem. It seems like I’m starting to inspire everyone around me, all the time. Generally, it means that people around me get passionate and pour their entangled desires on the page. 

But when they don’t have poetic ability, things get a bit intense. It can be hard to predict what will happen. Turns out the college director is very much present in her body, if you know what I mean, and she was insistent I was also present in her body for three hours last night! I had to hide under my desk this morning.

It’s nice enough when I inspire someone whose chosen method of self-expression is dance (where do you think pole dancing came from? I was very happy with that one, just don’t tell Terpsichore I was standing behind her), but a number of the Olympians have some – issues – and methods of expression – that are a bit big for the mortal world.  They’re a passionate bunch to start with, and I’m always careful at family gatherings. It doesn’t take much for the stabbing, the shouting, the lightning bolts, and so on.

It was easier when I was disembodied. I could reach out and inspire one mind in a room. Now? Seems like I leak it out like a pheromone. Except pheromones don’t go through brick walls. Or do they? I don’t know! I’m the god of talking about fucking! I’m not qualified for this!

I have to do more research. I scrawled a note to Urania and convinced a pigeon to deliver it (they don’t take much convincing). I have a mortal phone, I just don’t really know how to use it.

But I need to clear my head before I talk to anyone. I feel like I’m bursting and I don’t know why. I’m going to go for a walk. * I’m the muse of erotic and romantic poetry. I appreciate a good bit of phallic symbolism significantly more than the next person. So trust me on this one.

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Erato (The Poet)

Erato (The Poet)

Staff Writer
Erato is currently manifesting as a sexy wordsmith and voice artist from down under. You can read (or listen) to more of his work on his website, and be sure to follow him on twitter.
Erato (The Poet)

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12 Comments

  1. Oh Brother,

    Is that why our siblings are blowing up our breakroom with nonstop goo goo eyes and sexy talk? I should have known your influence was behind it! Well, at least it will rub off eventually.

    XXOO,
    Athena Parthenos

    P.S.: See what I did there?

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