I Have Now Become Queen of the Night

What you wear at night is much more important than what you wear during the daytime. We become truly more ourselves when we sleep. When a person sleeps, that person comes to where I truly preside—the realm of the imagination.

Maybe this is why Hades really wanted me. Maybe he needed someone to preside over what we could think of as the double-night. If the underworld is to the world up above as night is to day, then the night of the underworld is like the day of the world up above. This—I admit—is all kind of confusing, but it explains phrases like “darkness visible” and why the night is so important down here, just like the day is important up above.

On a level of logic, I really don’t understand it myself, but what I do know—what is true for me—is that I am Queen of Hades’ night and my light—the light of my night—provides the iridescence that has become my life’s purpose and the light that lightens the eternal existential essences of my people down here.

When people began to understand what Hades had brought me down here to do, I became known not just as Persephone, Queen of Hades, but also as Persephone, Queen of the Night.

So as Persephone, Queen of Hades and Queen of Hell, I have now become the Queen of the Night.

I Have to Prepare to Sleep

The leadership and motivation that I provide comes from my dreams, and to dream, I must sleep.

When I’m down here, I sleep, and when I sleep, I dream, and the things that I dream become my creations. Thinking about it now even makes me sleepy.

But I can’t sleep now because I have to prepare to sleep. Sleep is almost like a sacrament.

Part of the preparation is to wear the right clothes—if you’re thinking in religious terms, you could call them garments.

Azurite, my favorite salesperson at Lethe, always calls me as soon as the night wear designers bring in their new collections, and she arranges a special early showing for me and my friends.

The Black Russians begin to flow.

I Keep Things Warm

How I dress is important. I need to provide our people with an image that will inspire them—to take care of themselves and TO SHOP.

After all, how else would the economy of hell thrive? It’s hard work keeping the fires of desires flaming perpetually. Somebody called Frost once wrote something like “Some way the world will end in fire, some, ice” and then something about how “ice will suffice.” What silly rhyming.

Without me, everything would be pretty icy. I keep things warm.

He Refers to Them As His Tribute to Me

One of the wonderful things about living with Hades is the jewelry he brings me. We’re in the underworld and so what that means is that he has first choice of everything that is down below.

He’ll bring me the particularly large stones and in the darkness here, they’re luminescent, glowing.

He refers to them as his tribute to me.

“Thanks for playing along with my game of abducting you. I needed someone to reign with me here in Hell. Who else can inspire everyone down below here?”

What I can’t figure out is how Hades really feels about me. He really doesn’t want me around here all the time. In a sense my eating the six pomegranate seeds truly was my “fortunate fall”—at least from his point of view. He wants me while I’m here but then he wants me to go.

If that’s not ambivalence, I don’t know what is.

When I’m here, I have a job to do—the one that Hades de facto hired me to do—to preside and to be the chief of inspiration.

Do I Have Any Power at All?

I wonder what Hades does when I’m up above? Sometimes I think I’d like it if he spent more time with Marilyn and Helen—Helen of Troy is here too now—and their friends.

I guess I wouldn’t like it really if he were unfaithful to me, but AT THE SAME TIME, I wish he’d lose control—at least once. When Hades makes love to me, I am overwhelmed and my desire makes us both warm, but he is always in control and ultimately, essentially cold. That’s what I hate about him.

Ultimately, I must come to him and give myself to him. Do I have any power at all? Not in saying no to Hades because he will always maneuver things so I never have the opportunity to say no. But I suppose I have the ability to say no by just not caring. But if I don’t care I become cold and the cold in Hell would become exponential.

I wonder what it’s like to be here when I’m not here. Hades needs my warmth. I wonder if that’s why he had to have me.

I shiver before going to bed.

I don’t know why I love Hades so much.

Marilyn Promptly Invited Them All

Part of our success with people when they arrive here is due to the orientation program that we’ve organized. As each person steps off one of Chiron’s boats, he—or she—is greeted by a committee of three or four people, who are to become the person’s first friends in the afterlife.

We put particular care into choosing people for the welcoming committees. For example, when Marilyn Monroe joined us here, Jack Kennedy was part of her committee along with “Bertie,” later known as Edward VII of England, and Sigmund Freud. She was thrilled to see Jack again, Bertie was entranced, and Sigmund was engrossed.

Marilyn promptly invited them all to go with her to the elegant, Hollywood-style bungalow that we’d prepared for her. I never did hear the end of that story, but she is now one of our delights down here. Some even refer to her as the Aphrodite of the Underworld, but they don’t say that too often for fear of the real Aphrodite up above.

Everyone Gets Here at Last

Do you know what happens if someone is ready to get on a boat to go down the River Styx but there isn’t room for him and he has to wait for the next one?

That’s the primary reason why death throes can be so prolonged and painful on earth.
I’m really very glad that the operations research analysts are working on this problem of forecasting the number of boat seats for passengers going down the River Styx. Sparing people lengthy agonized death throes is truly a humanitarian act.

People think that “modern science” and enlightened hospice care may be making death more gentle and less painful, but the reality is as I’ve described it here. If you can’t get a seat on the boat to go down the River Styx, you have to wait for the next boat. And then you may get bumped if someone else has a priority ticket.

Priority tickets go to small blameless children, some royalty, people who die in battle—heroes—and other assorted martyrs and lucky bureaucrats who know how to navigate the system to get what they need when they need it.

But everyone gets here at last—except for the gods who come and go as they please—and we welcome our new residents.

The Trip Along the River Styx Can Be Somewhat Rough

Let me tell you more about some of our customs. When people arrive here, they are usually somewhat confused and perhaps even surprised at how comfortable they are.

Since people are going to be here for eternity, we want to provide for them in a way where they will be reasonably content versus rebellious or dissatisfied. I know that runs counter to the conventional view of Hell but that’s the way it really is….

I’m particularly concerned that people adjust well to being here. The trip along the River Styx can sometimes be somewhat rough and the boat that people ride in could be more comfortable. I’ve been talking with Chiron—who’s in charge of these things—and he’s working on some estimates for what it will take to upgrade the boats.

As the population has grown, we’ve developed a fleet of boats and demand for them goes straight up during pandemics and plagues and other natural disasters along with the unnatural ones like atomic bombs and other monstrosities. Some of the operations research analysts who’ve come down here are working right now on a model that we can use to forecast the demand more accurately so that our supply of boats can be at a equilibrium point relative to the demand.

I Wonder What Hades Will be Like as a Father

Hades is really grumpy about my having a baby.

“What’s going to happen when you go up above? You know what the rules are. You’re the only one that goes back and forth. The baby will have to stay here.”

He harrumphs with disgust.

That makes me really sad. Although I’ll be glad to see my mother—at least at first—now I’ll have to be away from my little one. That’s no good. I can’t trust Hades to help. He really REALLY doesn’t like children. I wonder who I can get to help. Mother can’t help because she wouldn’t want to be down here when I’m up there.

Maybe part of the problem is that Hades knows that the baby isn’t his. The fact that the baby isn’t mine doesn’t seem to bother him.

I wonder what Hades will be like as a father….

Knowing Too Much Could Be Bad Karma

Last night was so strange. I woke up in the middle of the night crying and crying because I missed my mother. Most of the time, I’m really glad to be away from her. By the time my six months above are over every year, I’m always very glad to get back home to Hell and to Hades.

But I do recognize that there is something special about the mother-daughter connection.

I hope the little one I’m carrying is a girl. I could have found out before I began to carry her—or is it him?—but people warned me that knowing too much could be bad karma.

Hera Never Did Like Me Very Much

Hera never did like me very much. Maybe it was her idea to get Hades to sweep me off to Hell. That’s really plausible. Then she thought she could be rid of me for good.

And she almost succeeded.

Why didn’t Hades let me have more pomegranate seeds? If I’d had twelve, would I be allowed to stay underground forever? What had Hera and Hades planned?

Hera’s really not a very happy person. Maybe she’s the one who needs to see a therapist. Or maybe she and Zeus should be going to a marriage counselor?

I’m determined not to have a marriage as bad as Zeus and Hera’s.

Fortunately for Zeus, I Was Not a Boy

Hera, Zeus’s wife, was naturally angry.

“It’s one thing that you turned yourself into a swan to seduce Leda or that you performed that unnatural act of having Athena jump out of your head instead of making her as a baby the usual way.”

“BUT NOW, NOW, you make your nice sweet sister Demeter pregnant. She’ll probably want child support and expect you to hang around to be a proper father.”

“Then, what’s going to happen if Demeter’s baby is a boy? Will you make him your heir? Then you’ll really irritate the rest of the family.”

“Besides, you really should be with me more often. I know I’m not as fertile as that grain goddess Demeter, but I’m you’re wife.”

Fortunately for Zeus, I was not a boy.

I’m Also the Product of Incest

I’m also the product of incest. Zeus and Demeter are siblings but there was one night when Zeus went out drinking too much with Dionysius, came home, happened to see Demeter who’d fallen asleep on the sofa—no doubt after she’d had a little too much wine herself—and ravaged her.

What I don’t understand about my mother is how placid she can be most of the time. As a goddess of fertility, of course, she got pregnant immediately when Zeus “had his way with her.” And because she was a goddess, she didn’t care that she was an unwed mother and besides the family would take care of her. Not that she needed that much “taking care of” as a goddess.

Therapists in Hell

We have therapists down here in Hell. Making your peace with unreality can be rather difficult at times. The central challenge is accepting that nothing will ever make sense.

The little one within me is getting bigger and bigger. AND that’s good because according to the pomegranate count—the way that time is counted down here—I only have about three more months before I have to go on my annual visit up above to visit mother.

I really don’t want to go. When I’m up above, I just have to fit in with every one else, and the show is more mother’s than mine. Zeus is always glad to see me. He worries about my mother Demeter when I am away. She apparently gets really miserable—worse than when I went off to college and only came home for vacations.

Who Should I Pray to Now?

What does Hades mean by the right kind of life? This is all so distressing. Do I need to learn to think the way he does? I hope not.
When Hades gets angry, I actually do begin to feel a little afraid. I really do want him to like me. And I don’t want him to throw me out.

Hades really is the only one who can dethrone me as the Queen of Hell. But can he really? Perhaps that is the question. If I made up my mind I was going to stay here, could he make me go up above? Or could he prevent me from returning here?

What is going on here? Am I inciting a rebellion against Hades? They say that the devil—Lucifer—another one of Hades’ many names—is a fallen angel—and that he fell because he rebelled against God.

Now I really am confused. I don’t want Hades to make me go home to Mother. I like being Queen of Hell. Who can I pray to save me as Queen of Hell?

When I was little, I learned that if I had a problem I should pray about it and that selecting the right God was important. But who should I pray to now? Who can keep me in Hell?

I Cry When He Says That

Hades doesn’t really get it. It all reminds him too much of—as he puts it—“those customs of the people up above.”

“If I had my way, we wouldn’t give the little ones such places of honor. Don’t you understand I created this place to get away from all of that.”

“This isn’t going to go anywhere. If you don’t watch it, I’m going to send you back to your mother, much sooner than you think.”

I cry when he says that. Sometimes crocodile tears—as they call them up above—but tears nevertheless.

After looking angrily at my tears, Hades continues to bellow. “We’ve got to focus on making the right kind of life for ourselves down here.” He’s so severe that I really begin to cry.

One of the Games We Play

One of the games we play down here is pregnancy. When a particularly young one comes down—a small fetus as they call them up above most of the time—we have our own ways of embracing them within ourselves. Customarily only the women do it, but occasionally the men get tempted and try.

Hades tried to pass legislation against it, but a large faction of “No” nothings objected, and he had to relent. He really felt that since no true differentiation exists between the sexes that it is important to maintain the ritual distinctions.

I have to admit, I agreed with him there but part of the nature of Hell is that you have to agree with people even when you don’t—that is part of the “no” nothingness and “no” ingness of it all.

I love it when I take in one of especially little “little ones.” I develop a radiance. It’s as though I’m filled out and my black looks more stunning than ever. They’ve opened a new department at Lethe, especially for those of us carrying the little ones.

We All Don't Exist

Maybe the solution really would be bringing back limbo. Up above, I gather the Romans finally decided that limbo was a bad thing which explains why we got such an influx of little ones.

I love them all dearly, but they are so much work. Especially the ones that were never quite born up above.

Up above, those little ones are such a source of great debate. Do they exist—are they people—or aren’t they? Down here—of course—it doesn’t matter.

We all don’t exist, and so these precious little ones don’t exist along with us. They start out as a little smaller than the other babies who die after they’ve been born but usually they have heartier appetites, and I love them all so much.

The School of No

I’ve instituted a School of No. We call it “no” ingness.

When small children—especially young girls—come down here, we enroll them almost immediately in our School of No. We don’t want them to be too pliable. We want them to be able to say no. The beginning of wisdom is “no” ingness.

Even the little ones who come here have a jaded character to them—it’s really quite attractive. The phantasms leave them alone most of the time.

There are nights though when I hear them. When their wails make me wish that either the phantasms would leave them alone or that the little ones would learn to dance with them—which is the best way of making the phantasms go away.

Does Saying No Ever Mean Yes?

Being afraid can be fun. If you’re afraid, you have all kinds of excuses not to do something and you can say no. Saying no is fun. But you can’t appear petulant when you do it.

Does saying no ever mean yes? They’ve made such a big deal about that up above. One of the first customs that I initiated here after my coronation as Queen of Hell was the ritual of no. Now some misguided souls—but then we’re all misguided down here—think that it really is the Ritual of Noh and that it has some Buddhist or Zen connotations.

But, the ritual of no is in fact very simple. It merely consists of looking someone very seriously in the eye and saying, no, saying no whenever you feel like it. By saying no, you expunge the negativity. The essence of it is saying no to life. And in so doing, you release a kind of energy. When you let go of all the negativity, you then become alone with yourself. And that is good, very good. You can hear yourself then.

I Still Don't Believe Him

But why am I telling you all of this?

Cointreau or Grand Marnier really improves the champagne.

I let Hades seduce me. He was really very nice He said that he wanted me of my own free will.

As I drank the champagne, I knew that I wanted Hades more than I ever could have imagined. Somehow, I intuitively also knew that pomegranate seeds would be part of my power.

When I was a little girl, I’d always heard some sort of rhyme about the seed of the pomegranate and how it held the power to enter the kingdom of desire.

If my goblet of champagne had held a million pomegranate seeds, I would have eaten them all.

But there were only six and so I ate them and then asked Hades for more. He told me now—they were not for him to give—but I didn’t believe him.

I still don’t believe him. I think he could have given me more. But, by giving me only six, he kept me in a state of perpetual desire. When he finally came to me, I surprised myself. I was no longer afraid.

But perhaps I delude myself. Perhaps I was never afraid.

No Date Rape Drug

Hades wanted everyone to believe that he’d raped me, but he really didn’t.

I screamed as he carried me off—because the theater of the situation demanded it—but once we were down below, he asked me if I wanted some champagne.

As a well brought up young woman, how could I say no, and I took the goblet from him, watching him politely take the first sip—assuring me that he was not poisoning me—this was no date rape drug—he wouldn’t lower himself to that.

I let the champagne touch my lips, letting it twist itself into my being and making the pomegranate seeds too completely irresistible.

Pomegranate Punch

Let me give you my favorite recipe for Pomegranate Punch. After the great determination was made—after Hades negotiated that I would stay with him for six months out of the year—since I had eaten six pomegranate seeds—and get to go up above for the other six months—we can all eat as many pomegranate seeds and as much pomegranate juice as we would like.

You take one pomegranate, open it, and separate the seeds. Crush about one-third of the seeds to extract the juice but leave the rest of them whole.

Open up your best bottle of champagne—down here we stock the champagne that was made in the old way—the way where monks tending the aging cellars would lose their eyes when the corks popped out prematurely and occasionally would die in the process. We’re especially pleased when one of those monks is available to serve us this miraculously wonderful champagne.

So, you open up the champagne, being careful not to lose one of your eyes—and after mixing the pomegranate juice with an equal portion of Grand Marnier or Cointreau, pour the champagne into your best crystal beaker and toss the remaining pomegranate seeds in. Then, let the magic begin.

Now to get real magic, you also need to include some of the extracts of herbs that are only available down here in Hell.

Sometimes There Are Phantasms Here

This is really what it’s like to be in Hell. We go shopping, drink Black Russians, and I preside.

When I’m here, I forget what it’s like to be up above. My role here is to lead and I immerse myself in it.

Sometimes there are phantasms here. Hades will have me in his arms and although I can feel his dominion—that’s the way we talk down here when we’re behaving like the royalty we are—but I see someone else. I see someone else’s eyes that pierce me and take me somewhere else. I went to see my doctor down here recently and as he was examining me, I began seeing the same beings that saw when Hades was within me.

And Dr. James paused—stopping his work for a minute….

“Oh, that’s a phantasm. Nothing to worry about. I’ve heard that a number of them have been flying about lately, trying to make people feel crazy and disembodied—which of course they are—and they’ve been having fun, those phantasms.”

“Don’t take them seriously. They’ll try to tell you that you’re not real and YOU’RE NOT—but that’s no reason to take them seriously.”

Dr. James always hurts me.

What was he trying to tell me about the phantasms?

I guess it’s good for me to go to the doctor. Hades says that I’m so much nicer when I come back but I really don’t understand what happens to me there.

I want to be alone when I am in hell. And if I close my eyes, I hear sights and see sounds. Some people might say I’m confused.

The Latest Thing at Lethe

When my friends and I get together, we ask about what's new in the Department of Damned Dionysian Delights.

I'm almost embarrassed to write about the "latest" from the "Triple D" department--which is what we call it so we don't draw the kind of attention that some would regard as inappropriate.

Dionysius has designed some new boxer shorts for men. What's amazing about them is that they include a patch that's loaded with all kinds of powerful aphrodisiacs that the man who's wearing them absorbs and the effect is completely transformative.

A few models from the "Triple D" department came down to show us how the boxer shorts worked and they were amazing.

But what we wondered about was how our men would react. Would they delight in this new invention of Dionysius or would they be insulted that we thought they needed that kind of help?

My favorite salesperson at Lethe, Azurite, brought me another Black Russian, to help me recover my senses.

Black Is the Theme at Lethe

Black is the theme at Lethe. They serve coffee--black coffee--to everyone and give their special customers Black Russians. I'll call up one of my best friends--especially when Hades has been in one of his most particularly poisonous moods--and we'll agree to meet at Lethe.

Since I'm the Queen of Hades, they'll always greet me at Lethe with pitchers of Black Russians as I step out my Jaguar with my chauffeur--who's black of course--opening the door for me.

By the way, we don't really have racial discrimination down here in Hell. Being a chauffeur here is a really good job because unlike most of the jobs that tend to be in think tanks, as a chauffeur, you actually get to do something. I think people get really frustrated here because they feel like they can't accomplish anything. But accomplishment is what they do on earth or in heaven, not here in Hell.

There's a chair that I like to sit in while I'm here. It's a very elegant black brocade wing chair. I sit, nursing my Black Russian--or if it's still early in the day--my black coffee with just a little Kahlua in it--and wait for my friends to join me, sitting in the two or three chairs that Lethe arranges so that I can hold court.

We talk, but my friends know better than to criticize Hades. I'm never sure whether it makes me feel better for me to revile Hades to my friends, but I love him too much to let other people tell me how bad he is.

The salespeople--fortunately--know their place. They ask us what we'd like to see, and they send their models out, draped in all kinds of things.

Going Shopping in Hell

Sometimes I think my best defense against Hades is to go shopping.

His temper and his rages are well known throughout the universe. When he's in one of those states, his rage reverberates in me and then I really get depressed.

Most people believe that his rage also reverberates throughout the earth and that his rage is the real cause of earthquakes. This is all too theological for me though.... Shopping is better.

If I go shopping, I forget. My favorite store is Lethe. Most of the clothes there are black and they are exquisite. Sort of like the beautiful black Prada clothes that Reese Witherspoon wore when she began working as an intern in Legally Blonde.

Can't Help Lovin' That Man of Mine

Hades. Can't live with him. Can't live without him.

Such a narcissist. Using the same name that he uses for his kingdom for himself. Even though some people still refer to this place as Hell.

He wasn't my first choice as a husband. There was a blond haired boy who was sort of thin and sweet. He played the flute. Or was it the harp? But all of this was so long ago....

Everyone knows the story about how I became the Queen of Hades. How the earth opened up, when I was out enjoying a beautifully bright day, and how Hades, driving his gleaming chariot, grabbed me, made a u-turn, and went down below with me in hand, shrieking to high heavens. My vocal chords felt the pain then and I couldn't speak for over a week.

I NEED TO TELL YOU THOUGH THAT ISN'T WHAT REALLY HAPPENED ALTHOUGH IT MAKES A GOOD STORY.

I don't want to think about the real story right now.

Why am I thinking about that tedious broadcaster that I hear when I'm up above who always ends his radio pronouncements with "And now you know the rest of the story." I think his name is Paul Helmsley. I don't really like him.

Later on, I'll tell you the REST OF THE STORY.

I Will Demand Poetry as My Tribute

I ran into Bill Blake a few days ago, and he was muttering something about making a heaven in hell's despite and a hell in heaven--or was it the other way around?

He offered to show me his etchings, but as Queen of Hell, I didn't really think going up to his room was quite appropriate.

Bill does interesting things. I gather he also wrote some sort of poem about my husband where he called him Satan and made him the hero--the good guy.

I really did want to go up to Bill's room. Maybe I will the next time he asks me.

Just because I'm Queen of Hell shouldn't mean that I don't get the chance to have fun when I feel like it. What would Hades do if he found out I was hanging out with Bill, who by all accounts is a fabulous poet as well as etcher? Could I make Hades jealous...and I wonder if I could get Bill to write poems in my honor?

As Queen, I will demand poetry as my tribute.

Depression is Anger Turned Inward?

The point THAT THE SHRINK MADE--on the talk show that I watched with my mother and her friends--was that people who were depressed WERE DYING INSIDE and that the solution was TO PLAY and in the process of playing, THEY WOULD FIND THEMSELVES again and when they found themselves, THEY WOULDN'T BE DEPRESSED.

She also said that another way to deal with depression was to write--to write until you could find yourself--until you could find what your truth was and THEN YOU WOULD BE FREE.

As the Queen of Hell, I really should start a commission to investigate depression, its causes and the solutions, so that I could help the people who are here.

Perhaps I could set up an organization that will provide seed money for angel funding to start up companies interested in creating new technologies to alleviate depression. Hades always boasts that he has access to secret veins of gold. I wonder if I can get him to help me with the angel funding....

After All, I am Queen of Hades

There's so much to gossip about, but ultimately, it's kind of boring.

No one talks about what they really care about--which is REALLY DEPRESSING.

I'm actually thinking about doing something about it. After all, I am Queen of Hades. I should be responsible for the tone of this place. I'm not a little girl any more.

If people are going to be here forever, we might as well make it a better place to be. Some people might think I'm missing the point. There's this rumor that hell is supposed to be unpleasant. But does it really have to be that way?

Not everyone thinks this way though. In fact when I start talking about making things better down in Hell, Hades gets mad at me and tells me that I've spent too much time with my mother.

Well, maybe I have been with her too much, and maybe that does affect the way I think and what I think, but I can't help but look at things in a different way.

Hell is "DARKNESS VISIBLE"

Well, here I am. Much of the time, I am silent but the last time I was up above--in the real world as some people call it--I was watching a talk show, sitting around with my mother and her friends and someone was talking about depression, calling it "anger towards inward."

That really made me think. A lot of people down here seem depressed. Maybe that's why they call this place hell.

We all look at each other. We're too polite to tell each other that we "look like hell." Instead, we talk earnestly with each other, but not about things that really matter.

How many people will be tossed up to the lions up above? What is the best way to make a lion really hungry so they will devour their prey as quickly as possible and put on a good show for all the rest of us?

How is the River Styx Beautification Campaign going? Will the local politicians succeed in convincing people that their contributions will make things more pleasant for them when they arrive to the Underworld?

This is really a very serious question. Down here what we know is that the contributions that the people up above make to the River Styx campaign will not make any difference in how we treat them when the up above people come down here, but the up above people aren't supposed to know that when they are alive.

And who is my Uncle Zeus seducing now and will the new concubine legislation that Athena and Hera have been lobbying for be passed?

New Beginnings, Old Seeds, New Paradigms

An interesting paradigm.
The paradigm of the day.
Persephone, Queen of Hades
and Persephone, Daughter of Day
and Daughter of Demeter....


We don't have blogs around here. But maybe we should.

What you need to understand about hell is that things that are true are not true.

So with this blog, we have blogs.

This is the first blog of Hades.