The Man Without a Muse

This piece was originally published at 52/250 on February 21, my daughter's birthday.

The Man Without a Muse

Exiled in Paris, Meriwether Gorse, a romantic vagabond, whose self-importance grossly outweighed his accomplishment, began the theoretical obliteration of the muses. He intended to demonstrate that the forms of creation that they embodied were illusory. There was no Calliope from whose breast he could suckle inspiration; the mysteries hidden in literature and between a woman’s legs did not coincide. The essential difference of function between Meriwether’s movements of creation and that which he rebuked was a question of intaking versus outpouring; that which was freely given over against that which was coaxed out.

As he wrote, the nine grew anxious. They could not afford Meriwether’s attack on the slender threads of devotion they yet had. In a brief, but heated, conclave it was determined that Erato would be sent to distract this man from his work.

When she appeared to him in all her glory, he addressed her with contempt. “I thought one of you might try to interfere.”

“Meriwether Gorse do not speak to me so disdainfully. I am not a mortal to be disregarded, not when I bring pleasures you cannot imagine.”

“Don’t speak to me of your pleasures. I cannot take them; I have found the higher. With one four letter word I can destroy you. The similarity it has to what you offer is merely coincidence. There never have been muses.”

Erato left defeated. Melpomene thought to do better, but it was too late. A thought was born, the knife on which inspirations balance.

Bios

One of the things I love about submitting my work to magazines and e-zines is coming up with silly third person bios. The whole idea of the fifty word max bio is ridiculous, but when that is embraced it's wonderful. Here are a few of the bios I have come up with:

Erik Knutsen is a writer who does not enjoy writing about himself in the third person, so he didn't he dictated. In this sense, he is trying to be the new Milton. His life seems to constantly be sucked back to Vancouver, BC.

Erik Knutsen was too squeamish to become a doctor. The only thing left, it seems, was this.

Erik Knutsen doesn't really care who he is, so long as someone is there to remind him.

Erik Knutsen is a twenty-two year old born and raised Vancouverite. He just dropped out of Portland Community College due to lack of funds. His life consists of writing, eating, and sleeping.

Erik Knutsen dreams of being a magpie. His attraction to shiny things would be more acceptable. He lives in Vancouver, BC but loves in Portland, OR.

Erik Knutsen is not available to come to the phone right now. Please leave a message with your name and number and he will get back to you as soon as possible.

Erik Knutsen was born in Vancouver, BC, lives in Portland, OR. He is unsure where he will die.

Erik Knutsen has only ever read one book. But he read it a lot!

Erik Knutsen lives in a small town. He has never tried this before. It makes him regret ever saying, “I’ll try anything once.”

Erik Knutsen is reformatting his computer for the nth time. He wishes that he could solve all of life's problems by reformatting.

Erik Knutsen lives, but does not work, in Fortuna, CA. He has been published here and there. He hopes to be published more here and less there.

Erik Knutsen is feeling faint due to the raw food diet. He wants to be healthy, but he's not sure if it's worth it. He dreams of burgers and bacon.

Erik Knutsen longs to be free. Like in the sentence: "the land of the free and the home of the brave." But, living in the United States of America, nobody can really tell him what being free means.

Erik Knutsen has never met a trustworthy fox. He won't keep the company of wolves, and his dogs are cowards. Thus he has no canine companion to join him in his adventures.

Erik Knutsen is looking for a land to call home. If you know of a good one, write down the address on a piece of parchment and send it via bottle delivery.

Erik Knutsen has being trying to live and act without acknowledging his own existence. It seems it might be impossible.

Erik Knutsen hopes someday to grow up somewhere other than Vancouver, BC or Portland, OR. Maybe it'll be in Humboldt county that he'll finally find himself some maturity.

Erik Knutsen was a good friend to himself, until he had a falling out. Now he spends his time trying to recover from the heartbreak of having been rejected by one so dear and near.

Erik Knutsen doesn't do much; he hopes that qualifies him to be a good writer. His life centers completely around the written word; he sometimes forgets that reality is out here and not in there, or the other way around?