Missing Gilgamesh

What is this? A writing that isn’t sappy and teenager in its emotional immaturity? Alas, I have found something to write about aside from my emotional stunting. But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be back at it by tomorrow.

I saw a friend asking about inspiration. I commented, too, of course. I had something similar in the past couple weeks as well, and it may have been her, in which case I’m wasting my breath on her. But still, she deserves a name drop. Moving on.

I suggested to her finding inspiration in the classics. Not Moby Dick, or anything so recent, but I’m talking mythology. And in doing so, I recalled Gilgamesh. Who doesn’t love Gilgamesh with his rippling body and wildly attractive side kick Enkidu? Though Enkidu did receive some sort of STD from a prostitute. This could be a deal breaker. I digress.

After the suggestion of classics, I had a yearning to read one of my favorite stories and realized, in all honesty, I’ve forgotten much of it. This is a blessing and curse of my memory. On the one hand, I forget things easily and the inspiration isn’t easily drawn upon at whim. On the other, if I give anything enough time, it regains all its charm and magic.

In my head, this was a far more impressive post. Take it as you will. If you’ve learned anything here, you should read Gilgamesh because Enkidu sleeps with a prostitute and gets an STD, and that’s why the animals don’t like him anymore. So if you want to bring Snow White low, give her herpes.

One Comment on “Missing Gilgamesh

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