Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Wee hours nonsense.

Wooooooooo up at all hours of the night!

What I mean to say is:

I like to think that if C.S. Lewis were alive today, we would have been bestest friends. I have been getting into him again lately. Not long ago I discovered this very precious Victorian poem (and by "precious" and "Victorian," I mean "suspiciously gay") that he wrote about Angus the God. ("Swift, naked, eager, pitilessly fair"? That's right, Lewis. Every night in our dreams.) He also mentions the Dagda in Ballade Mystique. It's odd - it seems like Lewis is always presented to us as an Englishman, when he was born in Ireland and was even invested in the Celtic Revival for a time, in addition to his Norse and Classical interests.

But seriously, look at that collection of poems. They're all to do with pagan heroes and defying God and sorcerers and witches and Satan. I learned recently that he stated openly in his letters that if there had been a Satanic cabal in his neighborhood, he would have joined it in a heartbeat. But he could never find one, so he stayed a Christian. He was on our side. I know it.

(Extra credit: They're wizards. I know it.)