Diatripse
Φαῖδρος: (…) συχνὸν γὰρ ἐκεῖ διέτριψα χρόνον καθήμενος ἐξ ἑωθινοῦ. (…)
Phaedrus: (…) For I spent a long time there, sitting since early morning. (…)
Σωκράτης: τίς οὖν δὴ ἦν ἡ διατριβή; ἢ δῆλον ὅτι τῶν λόγων ὑμᾶς Λυσίας εἱστία;
Socrates: So then, what was the spending? Or is it clear that Lysias was feasting you with speeches?
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The spending was διατριβή, diatribe, a word built from dia (through) + tribo (to rub, to rub hard, to grind, thresh, pound, waste, bruise, ravage, wear away, wear out). And so, the meaning of diatribe starts with, to rub hard, wear away, consume, and Phaedrus has been at it with time (χρόνον or chronos) so it means to spend or waste or pass the time, and then sometimes the word comes to mean, to busy oneself (for example, with school work), with an implicit flavor, of rubbing and grinding it out.
So then, what was the spending?
Phaedrus describes a rubbing away of time, sitting, and growing weary enough that he wanted the refreshment of a walk. As if being there was physically exhausting and spiritually cramped, causing a feeling of claustrophobia, compelling him, following a doctor’s advice, to escape the city walls.
Socrates suggests the context for this was Lysias, (a sophist, or teacher-for-pay, a guru from abroad), feasting him with speeches, τῶν λόγων εἱστία, ton logon heistia. Ton logon is logos, it means a lot (here, accounts, speeches, arguments, words..). And heistia (as in Hestia, goddess of the hearth) means to receive at one’s house, to host or entertain, often as a celebration. Here, we note the back and forth. For what Phaedrus has given (being coy, it will soon be revealed) as a wasteful exhaustion, Socrates offers an alternative account, as a celebration or reward. That it was offered by Lysias for the benefit of Phaedrus, in worshipful adoration (as Socrates flirtatiously suggests) of his youthful beauty.
So then, what was the spending?
Phaedrus and Socrates speak circles around the house of Morychos, (nearby the Olympian temple), and what happened there. Each describes something like the opposite of his perspective, or as the other might like to hear. As lovers would in a fresh encounter, tiptoeing toward pleasure, with promiscuous words and excusable touch, they dance around the truth of things. While we here (being a chorus of gossips, or readers) are hungry for truth. Was Phaedrus given a blessed feast, while entertained by Lysias? Or did he endure a hard rubbing out, a grinding, a pounding, a bruising, a ravaging away, a wearing out?
Let us, for a moment, not be coy. Let us not flirt. Let us speak not in circles, as of the unspeakable, (holy and/or profane), but pierce straight into the heart of things. (The facts of life, without breaking the mood, and how can you break what was already broken?) Let us be shameless and use the words available to us, as we are, and the ones into which we were born. So then, what was the spending?
Was it a sacred celebration of beauty incarnate?
Or a (violent and degrading) fuck?
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