An Interview With Athena

As I’ve pointed out, The Athenaeum is not living up to its Mission Statement. Yes, we have a mission statement. Please don’t mock our mission statement. It took us four days at a mountain retreat and six bottles of peppermint schnapps to come up with it. It reads:

The Athenaeum is committed to providing cutting-edge, best-in-class, researched based, artisinal blog posts, journal entries, hippo-splatter, speculative fiction, and fantasy… “things”… for the purpose of entertainment, justice, equality, lulz, centerdness, healing, and, most importantly, recommends. We’re all about the recommends. We’re not above exchanging sex for recommends.

So, you see, the sex for recommends is really part of our mission statement. You thought I was kidding when I told you that at the Medium picnic last year, didn’t you?

Anyway, as I pointed out in my previous whiny statement about stats, pieces published in the Athenaeum get fewer views than stuff I just publish myself. Placing blog posts in the Athenaeum is like dropping bricks in a well.

I thought there might be someone who could help. Maybe the goddess herself. The publication is named after her, right? She gave Athens the olive tree in exchange for naming rights, that was a pretty good leg up for an emerging city-state. She helped out Odysseus, drove the chariot for Diomedes during his arestia, and probably helped out Rick Riordian… because there is no way those books could be as big as they are without some help from the gods.

So, I kind of know how this works. I went to McDonalds and I bought five of their new pico-guacamole burgers and then went to Market Basket and got a tub of olives. Since there are no olive trees here at the Mill, I set up under a maple tree next to a stream that ran down to the sea. I took the fatty portions of the burgers and burned them in the ashtray of my truck. Then I ate the burgers, made some libations with my patera, and killed the rest of the bottle of St. George myself. Then I gorged on olives and asked for help three times before passing out.

Right on cue, she arrived. I would describe her to you, but I averted my eyes. I’m no dope.

The Interview

Athena: Gutbloom, I have heard your prayer. I might consider helping you if you could do a small favor for me.

Gutbloom: Oh, my lady, I would if I could, but, you know…

Athena: You don’t have to call me “my lady”, that’s some neo-classical construction from the turn of the last century, and you can look at me. It’s 2017, kid.

Gutbloom: *Careful not to take in too much of the goddess’s beauty all in one shot.* Hubba, hubba! Oooops! Shit. I meant no offense. Athena Ambulia!

Athena: The epithet I would like you to keep in mind is Athena Parthenos.

Gutbloom: Got it. No problem. I’ll mind my manners. Your eyes really are bright, and very grey! Is that a kevlar helmet you have on your head?

Athena: Yes, it’s a lot lighter than bronze.

Gutbloom: Where is Nike? I thought she was supposed to be with you.

Athena: I don’t know. She might be talking to LaVar Ball or something. She has been doing very well for herself lately.

Gutbloom: Yea, her and Wonder Woman.

Athena: Fuck Wonder Woman.

Gutbloom: What?

Athena: I said fuck Wonder Woman. Greek goddess… pfffft. More like the bondage fetish of a self-help author.

Gutbloom: That’s a bit harsh.

[At this point the goddess looked at me. Her grey eyes grew dim. She became huge in stature. She had the most imperious mein, and I was reminded that hubris could get me killed, or worse, turned into a tree or slug or something.]

Athena: Look, Gutbloom, there is no reason for me to help you. If I want to help a publication on Medium, I’m much more inclined to help out Athena Talks or Eidolon, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that my cult has hit a rough patch. I am not getting the sacrifices or libations I deserve. In short I am…

Gutbloom: The Gutbloom of the gods.

Athena: I would not say that. You should not think that.

Gutbloom: Understood. Sorry. I apologize. I’ll never say anything that stupid again.

Athena: A slug. If I have to turn you into anything I’m going to turn you into a slug.

Gutbloom: Why a slug?

Athena: First because you thought it, so it is obviously a fear of yours, and I’m not above leveraging your fear to keep you in line. Secondly, and this gets into metaphysics, but it’s not much of a stretch. Like Circe turning men into pigs. It’s not hard to do. Turning a super-competent young woman into a spider, or a maiden into Medusa, that’s some grade-A god powers, but turning you into a slug… I think even Nike could do that.

Gutbloom: So, what is it that you want me to do?

Athena: I need a movie. An Athena movie.

Gutbloom: I’m not the guy, goddess.

Athena: I can help you.

Gutbloom: You don’t understand. I can’t get views on Medium. I can’t get you a movie.

Athena: Theseus didn’t think he could kill the Minotaur. Perseus didn’t think he could even find Medusa.

Gutbloom: My hero’s journey short circuited four decades ago. It’s like asking Nestor to go out and fight Hector.

Athena: I’m a couple thousand years old. 60 is the new 19. I’ll teach you how to do yoga.

Gutbloom: There is no way I can help you get your own movie. It would be easier for me to fly to the moon.

Athena: I can fly to the moon myself. What I need is a movie. Really, It would kick ass. My birth! Tell me my birth wouldn’t make the best cold open ever! Then Hephaestus’s attempted rape, the birth of Erichthonius, how I helped Diomedes take out Aphrodite and Ares… etc., etc. I can see the trailer now!

Gutbloom: What about your uber-victim blaming of Medusa? She was raped by Poseidon in your temple, so you turned her into a monster and then sent Perseus to cut off her head.

Athena: Fake news.

Gutbloom: Really?

Athena: Yea, fuck Ovid. I forgot to mention owls. Owls are kind of hot right now. How come nobody thinks of me when they think of owls? They think of Harry Fucking Potter. Harry Potter? Who the fuck is Harry Potter?

Gutbloom: Maybe you should visit JK Rowling or Neil Gaiman. They could help you much more than I could.

Athena: Remember, Gutbloom… slug. Slug if you fail me. I picked you. I’m wise. I know things. Sewing is coming back. It’s going to be hip again some time real soon, as is strategic warfare. I just need to get my name out there a bit more.

Gutbloom: When you say “slug”, my lady, are you thinking like a sea slug, giant slug, or garden slug?

Others in This Series:

Interview With a Cuttlefish Interview With a Pig An Interview With Procrustes An Interview With the Minotaur