Weblog 161
March 08, 2009~ 12:15am
Tonight, we watched "Walt Whitman" from "The American Experience" series. I've been a lifelong lover of Whitman's poetry, yet I found this attempt to frame his life and the impact of his work 'uneven' at best. First off, there were too many readers-- many of whom were poets themselves, but added little-- and may even have served as distractions from the focus of the piece. And there were too many off-putting cuts from old photos to modern crowds walking New York sidewalks. I suppose the intent was to show the poet's words as having ongoing contemporary relevance, but it just felt jarring and awkward to me.
I believe this particular segment of the American Experience series fell short by having eyes bigger than its stomach-- but in particular while watching this, I absolutely loathed the young Whitman--
a more arrogant, egotistical blowhard you'd be hard-pressed to find. If this is accurate, I know I would have despised him in youth, but after getting through that portion, the real thrust of this 2-hour biography seemed to be the contrast in the writer's life and work from before to after the Civil War: an event that changed him forever. It deepened his work-- and it humbled the man. Taught in ways only pain can teach, the war opened him to the affection for all mankind he'd been writing about all along, though only lived in earnest after his ministrations to the wounded in government hospitals. Pictures of an older Whitman show the care-worn sympathies, the sobered thoughts-- with the cocksure attitude all but vanquished.
That's my favorite picture of him: full beard, with that thousand mile stare that somehow manages to reach the farthest parts of heaven as well as the depths of the person looking back at him.
Then.... there's this old print of him, one year before his death in 1892.
There he is... an old Father Christmas sitting with his 'Leaves' scattered all about, in what has to be one of the messiest rooms imaginable. Whitman may very well be the only person who could possibly tolerate more clutter than yours truly. LOL!!!
All through his life he added and edited "Leaves of Grass", but it was only with the searing addition of 'Drum Taps', his segment written about the war- that the book became the farther-reaching, full-bodied collection read and loved from his time till today.
In the last minutes of the documentary there's one moment in which a scene from modern times is a moving thing to watch: amid the crush and bustle of a New York crowded street, background music swelling and full of life, there is the merest glimpse of a white-bearded Walt Whitman passing through the throng so quickly, it's almost missed. A nice touch.
March 08, 2009~ 12:30am
Thinking about the Whitman presentation, I can't help but reflect on how what we are shown has a profound influence on words read. How in this instance, the early Whitman works became totally transformed, and it was not the words. The words remain the same. Even his declaration that he is a 'cosmos'- never left me feeling his statement was anything other than hyperbole: Whitman making a metaphoric point, but the photos tell a different story. How odd. How very odd. These words ring differently to my ears, from 'Song of Myself'
All I can think of is, "get over it, buddy." LOL.
March 08, 2009~ 2:15pm
The things people do unthinkingly- recklessly, are a constant source of amazement to me. I refer to dumbass things like talking on cellphones while driving, done with a nonchalance that convinces me the talkers are oblivious to the fact that what they are doing is a horrifying hazard not only to themselves, but to those around them. It's blind ignorance- or arrogance - or something worse. Maybe denial. Maybe anger that there's anything at all that should thwart them in doing what they choose to do when they choose it, damn the consequences. All I know is the last two times I had my indictor light on- and well in advance of the turn onto my alley, some fool was right behind me yaking away- one even had his head everted, taking in the sights across the creek bank.
There are situations in life that have "RED LIGHT. STOP!" written all over them, but folks blow through the light, barely noticing. Another driving example is speeding. Or not using a turn signal- or cutting in and out as though the road were part of a virtual game operated by a joystick. People do dumb stuff...
thinking the world is benign. Thinking nothing is gonna bite. They join dating sites and actually meet up with people, knowing only what that person has fed them online. Sometimes it works out, but that's by the grace of God.
In too many instances, that sweet little cub might turn out to be a full-grown GRIZZLY. What to do then? (Oh, I suppose, knowing the type...they'll speed away, talking on the cellphone, texting someone about the incident.)
Lord, protect us from fools... and from foolish things ourselves. Nobody's flesh is immortal. That's just the soul part, so take care. Think ahead....think about others while you're at it, and maybe, if you're lucky, they'll be thinking about you too.
March 10, 2009~ 5:00pm
I was 'noodling around' on my computer at lunch, trying to find directions for a staff member for a nursing facility in the area and happened to try 'Google Maps', searching for my own home-- the 'street view'...and I FOUND IT! My House!
There it is, cheek by jowl to Lou's house on the left, and Margaret's on the right. Close, but both are older folks and very quiet, so the close proximity seems not to exist. I rather like this shot- probably taken last summer just after the grass-cutters were here. It sorta reminds me of a 'gingerbread house', and you can see the height with the full attic under the peaked roof. My yellow sanctuary.
What is exciting to me is that I've tried to find it other times and the weirdest 'blank out' to the Google camera would always happen about a half block to either side of my house-- and it looked for all the world like some sort of paranormal phenomenon. LOL!! Businesses, homes, alleys....blank, foggy white screen....homes, businesses, restaurant.....I thought I was inhabiting a third dimension not to be captured by electronics! Now I know I exist in place and time-- (along with everybody else Google spies on.)
The main Wired Karisma photo at the top of this blog is the view from my front door. (You can just make out the rounded edges of the tops of the two bushes in front, which I like to call the 'tit bushes'...lol...bra-less, they are. Shocking!)- and under that guard rail runs Saw Mill Run Creek, which used to flood my basement half a dozen times a year after heavy rain. Thankfully that's been fixed by the city.
Now it's just a dry little witch's cottage in the middle of traffic. And it's a very very very fine house...and I like it fine.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Tonight, we watched "Walt Whitman" from "The American Experience" series. I've been a lifelong lover of Whitman's poetry, yet I found this attempt to frame his life and the impact of his work 'uneven' at best. First off, there were too many readers-- many of whom were poets themselves, but added little-- and may even have served as distractions from the focus of the piece. And there were too many off-putting cuts from old photos to modern crowds walking New York sidewalks. I suppose the intent was to show the poet's words as having ongoing contemporary relevance, but it just felt jarring and awkward to me.
I believe this particular segment of the American Experience series fell short by having eyes bigger than its stomach-- but in particular while watching this, I absolutely loathed the young Whitman--
a more arrogant, egotistical blowhard you'd be hard-pressed to find. If this is accurate, I know I would have despised him in youth, but after getting through that portion, the real thrust of this 2-hour biography seemed to be the contrast in the writer's life and work from before to after the Civil War: an event that changed him forever. It deepened his work-- and it humbled the man. Taught in ways only pain can teach, the war opened him to the affection for all mankind he'd been writing about all along, though only lived in earnest after his ministrations to the wounded in government hospitals. Pictures of an older Whitman show the care-worn sympathies, the sobered thoughts-- with the cocksure attitude all but vanquished.
That's my favorite picture of him: full beard, with that thousand mile stare that somehow manages to reach the farthest parts of heaven as well as the depths of the person looking back at him.
Then.... there's this old print of him, one year before his death in 1892.
There he is... an old Father Christmas sitting with his 'Leaves' scattered all about, in what has to be one of the messiest rooms imaginable. Whitman may very well be the only person who could possibly tolerate more clutter than yours truly. LOL!!!
All through his life he added and edited "Leaves of Grass", but it was only with the searing addition of 'Drum Taps', his segment written about the war- that the book became the farther-reaching, full-bodied collection read and loved from his time till today.
In the last minutes of the documentary there's one moment in which a scene from modern times is a moving thing to watch: amid the crush and bustle of a New York crowded street, background music swelling and full of life, there is the merest glimpse of a white-bearded Walt Whitman passing through the throng so quickly, it's almost missed. A nice touch.
March 08, 2009~ 12:30am
Thinking about the Whitman presentation, I can't help but reflect on how what we are shown has a profound influence on words read. How in this instance, the early Whitman works became totally transformed, and it was not the words. The words remain the same. Even his declaration that he is a 'cosmos'- never left me feeling his statement was anything other than hyperbole: Whitman making a metaphoric point, but the photos tell a different story. How odd. How very odd. These words ring differently to my ears, from 'Song of Myself'
Walt Whitman, a cosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding...
I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious...
The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer...
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it...
All I can think of is, "get over it, buddy." LOL.
March 08, 2009~ 2:15pm
The things people do unthinkingly- recklessly, are a constant source of amazement to me. I refer to dumbass things like talking on cellphones while driving, done with a nonchalance that convinces me the talkers are oblivious to the fact that what they are doing is a horrifying hazard not only to themselves, but to those around them. It's blind ignorance- or arrogance - or something worse. Maybe denial. Maybe anger that there's anything at all that should thwart them in doing what they choose to do when they choose it, damn the consequences. All I know is the last two times I had my indictor light on- and well in advance of the turn onto my alley, some fool was right behind me yaking away- one even had his head everted, taking in the sights across the creek bank.
There are situations in life that have "RED LIGHT. STOP!" written all over them, but folks blow through the light, barely noticing. Another driving example is speeding. Or not using a turn signal- or cutting in and out as though the road were part of a virtual game operated by a joystick. People do dumb stuff...
thinking the world is benign. Thinking nothing is gonna bite. They join dating sites and actually meet up with people, knowing only what that person has fed them online. Sometimes it works out, but that's by the grace of God.
In too many instances, that sweet little cub might turn out to be a full-grown GRIZZLY. What to do then? (Oh, I suppose, knowing the type...they'll speed away, talking on the cellphone, texting someone about the incident.)
Lord, protect us from fools... and from foolish things ourselves. Nobody's flesh is immortal. That's just the soul part, so take care. Think ahead....think about others while you're at it, and maybe, if you're lucky, they'll be thinking about you too.
March 10, 2009~ 5:00pm
I was 'noodling around' on my computer at lunch, trying to find directions for a staff member for a nursing facility in the area and happened to try 'Google Maps', searching for my own home-- the 'street view'...and I FOUND IT! My House!
There it is, cheek by jowl to Lou's house on the left, and Margaret's on the right. Close, but both are older folks and very quiet, so the close proximity seems not to exist. I rather like this shot- probably taken last summer just after the grass-cutters were here. It sorta reminds me of a 'gingerbread house', and you can see the height with the full attic under the peaked roof. My yellow sanctuary.
What is exciting to me is that I've tried to find it other times and the weirdest 'blank out' to the Google camera would always happen about a half block to either side of my house-- and it looked for all the world like some sort of paranormal phenomenon. LOL!! Businesses, homes, alleys....blank, foggy white screen....homes, businesses, restaurant.....I thought I was inhabiting a third dimension not to be captured by electronics! Now I know I exist in place and time-- (along with everybody else Google spies on.)
The main Wired Karisma photo at the top of this blog is the view from my front door. (You can just make out the rounded edges of the tops of the two bushes in front, which I like to call the 'tit bushes'...lol...bra-less, they are. Shocking!)- and under that guard rail runs Saw Mill Run Creek, which used to flood my basement half a dozen times a year after heavy rain. Thankfully that's been fixed by the city.
Now it's just a dry little witch's cottage in the middle of traffic. And it's a very very very fine house...and I like it fine.
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