(no subject)
I ended up naming the parrot Cicero. At the time it had seemed a good idea and now the both of us were stuck. The parrot with an inappropriate name, and me with the parrot. It wasn't really that bad though. If nothing else the bird seemed to be one of the few people in the area with a fine appreciation of the great Roman poets. And if I just happened to miss taking care of an ever-changing array of animals back in Rome (my family included), well, I wasn't about to go around advertising the fact to the island at large.
At the moment I was busy attempting to teach Cicero some of my own pieces. The Aglaia sequence seemed to be the best place to start since it was, after all, some of my earliest work, though trying to get a bird to repeat rhymes in praise of a woman was bringing Helena unpleasantly to the front of my mind. For a moment I wondered what she would do if she were here. Probably go at me for a bit for lying on the beach all day in indolent splendor, then set about putting the rest of the place to rights as only a fine Roman noblewoman could.
I attempted to start the second stanza. Cicero squawked unappreciatively causing me to chuck a grape at his head. He caught and ate it, looking smugly at me all the while before starting on some mangled Ovid. Gods above, but I do hate critics. I knew my poetry wasn't exactly the best, but trying to compare it to Ovid was just low.
[OOC: s/lt are awesome]
At the moment I was busy attempting to teach Cicero some of my own pieces. The Aglaia sequence seemed to be the best place to start since it was, after all, some of my earliest work, though trying to get a bird to repeat rhymes in praise of a woman was bringing Helena unpleasantly to the front of my mind. For a moment I wondered what she would do if she were here. Probably go at me for a bit for lying on the beach all day in indolent splendor, then set about putting the rest of the place to rights as only a fine Roman noblewoman could.
I attempted to start the second stanza. Cicero squawked unappreciatively causing me to chuck a grape at his head. He caught and ate it, looking smugly at me all the while before starting on some mangled Ovid. Gods above, but I do hate critics. I knew my poetry wasn't exactly the best, but trying to compare it to Ovid was just low.
[OOC: s/lt are awesome]