Who exactly was this guy, how did he mysteriously die, and why do we find hundreds of portraits of him throughout the Roman Empire?
We don’t actually know a lot about Antinous as a person himself. We do know that he was a Greek from western Asia Minor, but it remains unclear as to whether he was even a slave, or free. Roman emperor Hadrian probably meet Antinous when he toured the region in 123 AD -if this is the case, then their relationship probably lasted for several years.
With a lack of historical information to record, I now move to the death of Antinous. His death essentially remains a mystery to us, and has become shrouded in imaginative myth, but we do have a few historical leads. During the year 130, Hadrian and his entourage spent a considerable about of time in Egypt, and at one point, traveled up the Nile to Hermpolis. The Egyptians celebrated the traditional festival of the Nile on the 22nd of October, and then, a few days later, they commemorated the death (by drowning in the river), and subsequent rebirth of the Egyptian god Osiris. This is possibly the day that Antinous died.
It is mostly agreed upon that Antinous drowned. However, the nature of this drowning remains ambiguous. Roman historian Cassius Dio (155-235 AD) reports the following on the matter:
“[Antinous] had been a favourite of the emperor and had died in Egypt, either by falling into the Nile, as Hadrian writes, or, as the truth is, by being offered in sacrifice. For Hadrian, as I have stated, was always very curious and employed divinations and incantations of all kinds.” (Book LXIX, translation via uchicago)
Dio here curiously suggests that Hadrian, under some strange superstitious belief, either forced, or persuaded, Antinous to cut his life short, in order to prolong his own. We will probably never know exactly what happened to Antinous, except for the fact that it left Hadrian in all-consuming grief.
After his death, Hadrian deified Antinous, elevating him to a god, constructed multiple temples and shrines to him, and founded the centre of the new cult, the city of Antinouspolis, next to the Nile, near where he had died. Throughout the Empire at this time, we see huge numbers of portraits of Antinous, and at least 10 marble images of him have been found at Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli. Often in these images, Antinous will be given attributes of one of the Olympian deities, in the example at the top of this post, for example, he is shown in a syncretic Dionysus-Osiris pose. This colossal statue is titled the Braschi Antinous, and is thought to be from the villa of Hadrian at Praeneste. This sculpture dates to the years immediately after the death of Antinous. On his head we can see a crown of ivy berries and leaves. Although the diadem on top of his head has been restored to (what appears to be) a pine cone of sorts, it would originally have displayed either a lotus flower or a cobra (uraeus).
Shown sculpture courtesy of & can be viewed at the Vatican Museums: Museo Pio-Clementino, inv. 256. Photos taken by Jastrow via the Wiki Commons. When writing up this post, James Morwood’s publication Hadrian (Bloomsbury 2013) was of use.
The doctoral program means that I'm over-saturated with academic writing and fiction has turned into a reward, so I'm trying to get back into it, little by little. Baby steps. (After a really long hiatus.)
Title: So There's Nothing to Lose
Rating: G
Word Count: ~1,000
Were you looking for me?
It’s not like Kurt hadn’t known that Blaine had needed him when he’d flown into the choir room earlier that night. Kurt had eyed Blaine’s outfit with surgical awareness and, in the span of one second, had seen everything he’d needed to. Blaine missed him. Blaine was a mess in his head about the kiss, and Blaine was reaching a breaking point, and they probably really needed to talk about this soon, and Kurt was terrified.
Seeing Blaine in the choir room, in yellow and plaid and the same bow tie he wore when he proposed— Outside of sweatpants and Kurt’s t-shirts, these were Blaine’s comfort clothes and he was ready, and Kurt was paralyzed into politeness at the fact that maybe he wasn’t ready. After all of his grand declarations and the earth-shattering kiss in the elevator— and the utterly devastating shock of the kiss after Rachel’s party— maybe he, Kurt Hummel, had talked a big game and had convinced Blaine to give them another shot and now what if Kurt couldn’t follow through? To disappoint Blaine again, to break his heart like that—
He hears himself laugh at the right spot in Walter’s joke and feels Walter’s hand squeeze his knee, a little more tightly than usual, but all Kurt can see is a couple on a date across the way. They’re leaning toward each other over the single candle their table with their terrible Breadstix breadsticks vase and they look incandescently in love and Kurt doesn’t feel like he’s in his body anymore and that’s that.
He pats Walter’s hand on his knee. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Walter lets him go with a last squeeze and a furrowed brow and Kurt slides out of the booth. “Two seconds,” he says, while Rachel and Sam look at him quizzically, and then he’s slipping out toward the doors. He gives an apologetic grimace to Walter when he sees Walter watching him, then ducks out into the parking lot.
He goes around the side of the building, steps carefully between the bushes, heels sinking into the soft mulch, and takes refuge in the shadows by the dumpsters. He fishes his phone out of his slim jacket pocket, takes a deep breath, and dials the number by heart.
“Hey, Kurt,” his dad says on the second ring. “What’s up? Thought you were out with your friends.”
That’s the closest he’s come to mentioning Walter to his dad— which is not at all. He can tell himself it’s because he doesn’t want to bother his dad with trivialities while his dad’s in session, but he’s trying not to lie to himself so much these days.
“They’re fighting about the Tonys. I left before I accidentally spilled my wine in Rachel’s lap,” he mutters, and leans his head back against the brick of the building. “Dad, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot, kid.”
Kurt’s tired. He’s tired of making the effort to be normal, he’s tired of things being hard. He’s tired of trying to put up a front with Blaine when all he still wants to do is turn off the damn boom box and confess his undying love and kiss Blaine with every ounce of energy he has.
“You told me once that being given a choice means you have to make one. Is that really just what life is? Making the choice that feels right in the moment? Weighing it and looking at it from all the angles and then just— choosing? Is it that easy?”
“Well, the choices aren’t always easy, but that’s the general gist, yeah. You gotta keep moving your feet, Kurt. Stuck isn’t a good life for anyone.”
Kurt closes his eyes because they’re stinging. All that does, without the competition of the neon glare of the McDonald's next door, is bring the memory of Blaine’s wounded face into sharper relief. He takes a deep breath, feels like he can’t catch it. His chest hurts.
“And Kurt?” His dad sounds steady. Familiar. Full of love. Kurt tries another breath. Then another. “Whatever it is you’re wondering about, I know you. You sound like you’ve already made your mind up about this one. You’re growing up, kiddo. You don’t need to ask my permission, you know.”
The tears splash down Kurt’s cheeks and he laughs, congested. He doesn’t feel grown up, he feels young and unsure and scared shitless and then— he doesn't. In the shadows by the dumpsters that smell like pickled garlic and the weekend crowd's vomit, there is a moment. A revelation. Whatever. His whole body feels looser. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting your blessing, Dad.”
“Well, you’ve got it. Whatever it is. Unless this is about wanting to drop out of school and join a drug cartel or something— because, I gotta say, as not only your dad but your congressman, I’d have to tell you to think a little harder on that one.”
Kurt nods. His knees are weak and he shoves his head harder against the brick, feels it bite into his scalp, doesn’t even care about his hair. “Well, damn. There goes that plan.”
“This about a boy?” his dad says.
“I wish you weren’t in Washington.” Kurt wipes his eyes, pushes off the wall, tries to get his shit together. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Kurt. You’ll work this out. I know you. You’ve always known what you want, even when it scares you.”
Sondheim whips through Kurt’s mind: I’ll be better off there where there’s nothing to choose so there’s nothing to lose—
“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, kiddo. Call any time, you hear?”
“Will do,” Kurt promises. “Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Kurt. Just move your feet.”
Kurt hangs up and begins to pick his way through the bushes. He wonders if this is what growing up means: not so much a progression of years but of changing perspectives. In the span of a five-minute phone call, he doesn’t feel young anymore— he doesn’t feel exhausted or uncertain or hesitant. He feels determined. And ready.
“Everything okay?” Walter asks when Kurt slides back into the booth. He reaches out to rub a hand up and down Kurt’s spine.
Kurt takes another deep breath and feels a calm settle through him. “I’m so, so sorry, but I have to go.”
I find it strange that one gets the Weird Looks if one has the audacity to read a book while walking, but no one bats an eye if someone texts or reads a phone while walking. Same concept, different vehicle, and I've been doing the former since I could read.
So I'll be moving to Boston in August to pursue a doctorate! Things happen quickly and are very surreal. That said, excitement doesn't magically make me any more knowledgeable about Boston, and my wigging out is kicking into overdrive. I need an apartment, and a desk, and a roommate, and a bed (farewell, couch!), and... and... And probably also friends. Because, if anything, this stint in Ohio has taught me that I'm a social creature who does not do well in isolation unless it is voluntary. Any moving tips are much appreciated, as well as Boston tips and suggestions on how to find apartments, because evidently the Craigslist culture in Boston is not nearly what it is in New York... (Bueller?)
There are too many Droid puns to pick from, so I'll just dive in.
Help. Phone broke last night; was due an upgrade anyway. Remembered old Droid X with such fondness, and was so, so frustrated with the old 8G iPhone 4. So I went for the HTC One m8, but STEEP LEARNING CURVE AHEAD.
The Droid X had a ledge on the back that prevented the phone from slipping when I swyped because it was PERFECT to tick my forefinger up under while I pounded NYC pavement. Is there another phone on the market now like it? I’m at&t now instead of Verizon.
Do I go for the LG G2, which was my first instinct aside from what he did was a scrappy camera, because it seemed moderately smaller? Just go in for another iPhone?
Features I use a lot: Gmail, camera, music. Have a semi-small handspan. Remembered living Swype, but perhaps that was just due to surgical coffee attached to one hand riding the subway….
Thank you, God, for Cracker Barrel bathrooms. Have driven to and from Cincinnati in one day (6 hours). Time for one game of checkers before the final push home.
Some days you feel like you can’t write another word. You feel as flat and useless as road kill. Your writing is as dull as toothache and just as painful to endure. No amount of coffee and staring out the window is helping to summon the muse. You consider becoming a religious recluse or marrying for money. This is not a good state of mind, especially if you have a looming deadline.
Now I’m not going to go all self-help/Dr Phil in this blog, because you’d probably want to bludgeon me to death. I’m just going to say what has worked for me in the past. Sometimes, it is a cure to those mean writing blues. Sometimes, the muse will show up, even if she is wearing her tracksuit and hasn’t combed her hair.
Tidy up your working space. Take a few minutes to sharpen pencils, sort out your files, or spray some lemon furniture polish around. If you’re not too suicidal or broke, spring for some flowers and a vase.
Read the newspaper. Try to get away from your computer or TV and read a printed newspaper. See if you can find a story that grabs your imagination, cut it out and keep it. It doesn’t have to be related to what you’re writing, just something that stands out as compelling, funny or sad.
Pets are a great way to cheer you up. Taking a walk or playing fetch with the dog will get you out the house and into the fresh air.
Take care of the basics. Make sure you’re eating decently, having enough water and resting well. When your creativity has the flu, you need to pamper it the way you would a sick child.
Just put words on a page. This may sound counter-intuitive, but just start writing even if the worst junk in the world, just to feel dis-empowered. You can throw the page away afterwards if you like.
Writing is not adding up numbers or hanging curtains or programming your PVR. There is a certain mystery to the creative process. We can sometimes find a way to short hand the process or trick ourselves into writing—but we must also not be too hard on ourselves if it doesn’t work. Just trust that it will come back to you.
I am actually so, so busy that for once writing feels like a reward rather than a chore. There's a lesson in here somewhere, I think. (Wish I had enough free time to look at it. Post-it note for later...)
The Rumblr’s in-house astrologer, Madame Clairevoyant, presents her latest dispatch from the stars:
Aries: This week, your days will be clear and bright and your heart will feel so new and alive in your chest. Take walks all through your town, or drive out to the country, or take a bus somewhere far away, somewhere the trees are different, somewhere the landscape can surprise you. It’s a week for movement in your body and movement in your head. It’s a week for dreams that you wake up from feeling rested, feeling new. Take care of your plants, take care of your friends. Think about what you need to nurture your own life.
Taurus: This is a week for moving through your world like you know where you’re going, like you know where you’ve been, like you know yourself so truly and so well. It’s a week for being as honest as you can about the bright glowing things that you want, honest about the love that you need, honest about what you can give the world. Call someone you haven’t talked to for so long, call someone you miss, call someone you can trust with your honesty. Talk to strangers on the bus. Eat the ripest fruit you can find.
Gemini: Think about water, this week. Think about rain, think about lakes, think about floating on your back, lazy and slow and looking up at the sky. It’s a week for feeling your own softness, a week feeling your own best quietness, a week for dreaminess so sweet you could live inside it forever. Get as much sunlight as you can. Get as much kindness as you can and hold on to it in your pockets, in your skin. Sleep until you’re rested and ready to move. Dream about new worlds. Dream about summertime.
Cancer: This is a week for letting yourself feel fragile, for letting yourself feel scared, for letting the world feel very big all around you. Spend your days in places that’ll respect your fragility; spend your days with people who will respect your wobbly heart. Let this week make you gentle, when you can be. Listen to the songs that make you feel most alive; listen to the songs that make your tenderness feel like a gift. Wear clothes that feel soft on your skin, clothes that make you feel safe, clothes that make you feel like yourself.
Leo: This is a week for loving your own self, it’s a week for spending whole afternoons just looking at the shadows on your own face, the way you move, the way you smile. It’s a week for finding for all the different selves you could be, if you wanted to, if you tried. Think of all the different ways you could live in the world. Think of all the things you could do. Think of all the ways your world could open up, all the possibilities you haven’t yet even seen. Listen to songs that make you feel free.
Virgo: Even when it’s hazy outside, even when your dreams seem loopy and strange, you’re going to be able to see so clearly this week. You’re going to be able to move through the world with your eyes open, able to see your world as it really is, able to see with a clarity and a sharpness that can surprise even you. It can thrill you, it can move you, it can change it can make you question everything you know. Read wild stories about magic. Read quiet stories about learning how to live.
Libra: This is a week for small bright moments of recklessness, for being careless in the best ways you can, for throwing your hands up and seeing where the world can carry you. This is a week for trusting that the world knows things that you do not. This is a week for believing in joys that you won’t even be able to imagine until they happen, gifts too wild to dream of until they appear. Drive all over town without a plan and without a map. Listen to songs about leaving and songs about staying.
Scorpio: This week is for sorting through the moments of your life, through all of your history, through all the clothes and dishes and papers in your house. This week is for clearing out your garden, for cleaning your room, for trimming away everything that makes it hard for your dreams to grow, everything that could keep you from living. Nurture the green at your core, this week; nurture whatever is most alive inside of you. Work on getting the things you need this week, food or kindness or sunlight or sleep.
Sagittarius: This is a week for doing things that make you a little scared, for doing things that will make you a little embarrassed, for doing things that will make your life full and strange and good. This is a week for holding on to the desires that make you wake up in the morning, holding on to the desires that make you shake. It’s a week for traveling, for flying, for standing so close to the sun that it makes you lightheaded. Read books about journeys, books about quests, books where everything works out in the end.
Capricorn: This week is going to feel full of good luck, full of weird coincidences, full of shining love echoing all through your heart, through your guts, through your dreams. The streets and the stars will bright and alive all around you, this week, and the world can feel full of patterns too big to understand, and it will feel good, it will feel like magic. Carry whatever you can in your pockets for good luck. Let your favorite songs get stuck in your head, and carry them with you through your days.
Aquarius: This is going to be a week for doing the work, for doing the hard stuff, for moving until you sweat, until your legs are sore and your sleep is sweet. This week is going to show you surprises, it’s going to show you miracles, but only if you do the work, only if you get out of bed, only if you believe in your own ability to work magic. Eat breakfast, do your laundry, return your old library books. Listen to loud songs, listen to wild songs, listen to songs that make you dance.
Pisces: Days will move fast and strange around you this week, and it might feel too wild, it might feel like it’s too much. Think of every moment as a sign, as a gift, as a story. Think about the smells, colors, all the different ways the world can talk to you. You’ll find moments you can hold on to and moments you can leave behind and none of them will be wasted, all of them will matter, all of them can help you live. Spend your days outside. Spend your nights watching the moon.
Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.
prguitarman
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
snowghoul
stormborns
dailybridgerton
