I've been intrigued by the idea of mythologizing as of late. As a literary tool and in real life. Yesterday, as I pretended to write, I was watching Little Ashes, a film very loosely based on the younger years and relationship of Salvador Dalí and Federico García Lorca. This was followed by a re-watching of Cloud Atlas, where the concept of mythologizing is central. At least amongst latinos, Dalí and Lorca are the stuff of myth. Their lives are knowingly portrayed over and again in ever larger terms, brighter colors, more beautiful actors, exquisitely perfect dialogue. Their portrayal has been expanded and also reduced to an essence of what they were and also of what they never were. They are myths. The Beat writers of the U.S. are the same, for me. Those who love them read their work, or witness their portrayal, and travel back through decades most never lived and wallow in what the Portuguese call saudade. We pick our most beautiful actors to play them (James Franko playing Ginsberg in Howl) when they themselves were not necessarily physically beautiful. I look at pictures of Peter Orlovsky and his doomed brother, Lafcadio, shirtless, in the apartment that Peter and Allen shared in San Francisco, and I feel l am looking at beings who are not quite human. They are something more. Is there room still in this pragmatic, ever more contrived and plastic world for new myths to arise, or are these the last of their kind?