Whitman Fly Wice

I missed the Whitman thing on PBS the other night, tho it being PBS tells me I will of course have plenty more chances to see it. It did remind me I ain't read Leaves of Grass in 15 years, so I went to get my copy. Which is fucking missing somehow. Great.

But just now I flashed back to 15 years ago, sitting on the front porch swing at Cherry Hill. Bare feet scraping the wooden planks as I slowly rocked back and forth, Ryan out in the yard doing something. Tumbling? Can't recall. But I remember some poem of Whitman's I stumbled upon, something about Occupation. Song of Occupation? Welcome to the Occupation? Which one's the REM song? Cut me some slack, I'm buzzing on homemade fried rice....

Anyways. I remember being very excited about what I read, the main gist being how no one is better than anyone else, nobody is born into something greater than ourselves. Xmastime = Abraham Lincoln. Of all our possessions, the greatest thing we can offer is ourselves. Without ourselves, there is nothing. It's us that create greatness, and us that appreciates greatness. Also I remember there being something I've found myself saying recently when I hear all this "God said it cause the Bible says so" nonsense: bibles and religions have grown out of us, not vice versa. Couple that thought with Whitman saying that presidents and governments are here for us and not vice versa, also something we seem to have forgotten, and maybe we can all get on the right track again. Without our own breathing, what good is air?

Falling asleep in my wok...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz