Tuesday, 24th of November 2009 at 11:39:29 PMHey Whitmaniacs, I seriously doubted that I would be back on the blog within 3 hours of leaving class. But I couldn’t resist- So Im sitting in my living room with my mom and sister, watching the History Channel special on the history of Thanksgiving…and who signed the proclamation establishing Thanksgiving? Old Abe. I feel […] […]
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It has been nearly impossible for me to categorize Whitman. One week I read a poem and find myself completely overcome by inspiration; the next week I’m totally frustrated and just want to scream, “C’mon, Walt! Get to the point already!” I am beginning to see that it is the confliction that has made Walt […] […] Before I get in to my official post, I’d like to make a quick comment about Longaker’s “The Last Sickness and the Death of Walt Whitman.” First of all, definitely one of the creepiest things I’ve read in awhile. It was so eerie following the process of Whitman’s slow decline. In one passage, it would […] […] This passage occurs in both versions of ‘Song of Myself’- Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Well, have we? I do feel like I, or I guess I should say, we, have been […] […] Whitman and myself have been spending a lot of time together recently. What with a 12+ hour excursion through his old stomping grounds accompanying the usual weekend hours dedicated to him. Although my understanding of Whitman as a man has been illuminated, there’s still one thing that I can’t quite figure out: the Lincoln crush. […] […] Atop over six feet of President Lincoln’s thin body sat what is perhaps his most recognizable feature: a top hat. Besides his other obvious contributions to America’s history, Lincoln also started a major fashion trend. While most top hats of the time were about seven inches tall, Lincoln urged his higher and higher, sometimes wearing […] […] Whitman himself warned an admirer, “You must not construct such an unauthorized and imaginary ideal Figure, and call it W.W. and so devotedly invest your loving nature in it. The actual W.W. is a very plain personage, and entirely unworthy such devotion.” I think that this quote reveals a lot about Whitman and his attitudes […] […] I spent most of this weekend doing research for my oral report, which is on Civil War medicine and hospitals. I browsed through hundreds of images: Creepy ten-types of soldiers with vague expressions and stumps for legs. Dozens of wounded soldiers lying under trees waiting for medical attention, their arms and legs contorted like broken […] […] The first thing I notice that’s different about the 1867 version of Leaves of Grass (for pretty obvious reasons) is the first poem that Whitman chooses to introduce. The deathbed edition features “One’s-Self I Sing” about halfway through the book, under the broader section, “Inscriptions.” In the 1867 version this poem is featured at the […] […] What was Walt Whitman afraid of? WW brazenly tells his readers to hit the road, love freely and explore everything openly. But what road would he have been afraid to take? […] When I first started reading “Children of Adam” I was thinking that this was pretty far out for the 1890s. An excessive amount of literature theory classes have taught me to consider context and time frame when reading a given work, but I still have in my mind this archaic […] […] When Whitman writes about nature, he notices every detail. He reveals the majesty in the simplest of things. Likewise, when he writes about the city, he seems to study every individual. His observations reveal to the reader something familiar, but in an illuminated way. The America that Whitman saw in the bustling crowds of New […] […] As Walt Whitman stares at me nonchalantly from the first page of “Leaves of Grass,” I feel that he is taking subtle revenge on every picture-taker that has forced a smile out of his subjects. I am reminded of picture day at school and I think how much happier I would have been had I […] […] Myself moving forward then and now and forever, Gathering and showing more always with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms. I am most comfortable on the move. Too long in one […] […] |
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