walt whitman wrote, in a poem called "beginning my studies":
beginning my studies the first step pleas'd me so much,
the mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,
the least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love,
the first step i say awed me and pleas'd me so much,
i have hardly gone and hardly wish'd to go any farther,
but stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.
when i read this poem last night i felt like whitman was saying what i am always trying to say in this blog, and in pretty much everything that i write: that i am in love with this thing called living. that i am enamored with the breath of it, and blue of it, the being of it. that i love mashed potatos and guitar solos and van gogh's insane art. that i love watching nature shows and sunsets and independent films. that i love eating and sleeping and staying up late and getting up early and playing and working and moving. that i love shrimp. that i love intellectual debate and sentimental agreement. that i love what it is that gets sort of glued together into this thing called life. and, like whitman, i am so enamored by it, i just want to sing it, write it, tell it, collage it, type it, photograph it, say it.
beginning my studies the first step pleas'd me so much,
the mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,
the least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love,
the first step i say awed me and pleas'd me so much,
i have hardly gone and hardly wish'd to go any farther,
but stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.
when i read this poem last night i felt like whitman was saying what i am always trying to say in this blog, and in pretty much everything that i write: that i am in love with this thing called living. that i am enamored with the breath of it, and blue of it, the being of it. that i love mashed potatos and guitar solos and van gogh's insane art. that i love watching nature shows and sunsets and independent films. that i love eating and sleeping and staying up late and getting up early and playing and working and moving. that i love shrimp. that i love intellectual debate and sentimental agreement. that i love what it is that gets sort of glued together into this thing called life. and, like whitman, i am so enamored by it, i just want to sing it, write it, tell it, collage it, type it, photograph it, say it.every day, everything. greg. |
Comments
By the way, your blog is really hopping! I hadn't been here in a week or so and geez, man! Did you see what cousin Steve said on myfamily.com? Some jargon but it's supposed to help your blog...you'll see what I mean. On a random note: Mary is still freaking out about the mice. She hears them.
you are a thankyou nazi
yeah, my blog is a hot spot. i know. what can i say? it's like grand central station up in here!
i tried what steve said, but couldn't make sense of it. i got a book called HTML for dummies, so i'm hoping i can figure it out for myself.
and a variation on your random note: mary needs therapy. seriously. as some very wise sharks say in the classic work of cinema, Finding Nemo, "INTERVENTION!"
thank you SO much for commenting. what a privilege, really. i mean, to have such a grove city college superstar making comments on my little old blog? wow.
and you really need to deal with the mouse issue. seriously, mary, there is so much life in the mouse. the creative spark of life is flickering in there, animating God's little creature. you really ought to think about making peace with the rodents of your apartment.
greg.
ps. thank you for commenting.