August 30th, 2009:

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 place leaves me with an unsettled feeling that starts in my toes and slowly creeps up until it consumes me.  This is likely due in some part to my upbringing.  The baby of an overly-close and overly-protective family, it has fallen upon me to screw up repeatedly for most of my adolescence.  Now faced with the frightening realization of graduation, a friend offered me some great advice, “Don’t worry too much, you have all year to screw it up.”  

            So here I am, working on a degree filled with everything from business to philosophy, biology to eastern religion, political science and one called “American Rebellion.”  Starting this year I could have basically gone with any major I wanted.  I chose English because; if I have to be studying something it might as well be something I actually like.  I have no idea what I’ll do if I graduate, but I’m overwhelmingly excited about this course.    I know I’ll never again have an opportunity like this.  Who knows what’s I’ll be doing next year, but this year I’m studying Whitman.

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 place leaves me with an unsettled feeling that starts in my toes and slowly creeps up until it consumes me.  This is likely due in some part to my upbringing.  The baby of an overly-close and overly-protective family, it has fallen upon me to screw up repeatedly for most of my adolescence.  Now faced with the frightening realization of graduation, a friend offered me some great advice, “Don’t worry too much, you have all year to screw it up.”  

            So here I am, working on a degree filled with everything from business to philosophy, biology to eastern religion, political science and one called “American Rebellion.”  Starting this year I could have basically gone with any major I wanted.  I chose English because; if I have to be studying something it might as well be something I actually like.  I have no idea what I’ll do if I graduate, but I’m overwhelmingly excited about this course.    I know I’ll never again have an opportunity like this.  Who knows what’s I’ll be doing next year, but this year I’m studying Whitman.

This is the trill of a thousand clear cornets and scream of

the octave flute and strike of triangles

I play not a march for victors only…I play great marches

For conquered and slain persons.

I sound triumphal drums for the dead…I fling through

my embouchures the loudest and gayest music to them,

Vivas to those who have failed, and to those whose war vessels

sank in the sea, and those themselves who sand in the sea,

And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome

heroes, and the numberless unknown heroes equal to

the greatest heroes known.

In his frontispiece, Whitman has a nonchalant, inviting expression. A hand on the hip usually implies a matter-a-fact attitude, almost childlike. Whitman projects an air of casualness with his top button opened and his tipped hat.

This is the trill of a thousand clear cornets and scream of

the octave flute and strike of triangles

I play not a march for victors only…I play great marches

For conquered and slain persons.

I sound triumphal drums for the dead…I fling through

my embouchures the loudest and gayest music to them,

Vivas to those who have failed, and to those whose war vessels

sank in the sea, and those themselves who sand in the sea,

And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome

heroes, and the numberless unknown heroes equal to

the greatest heroes known.

In his frontispiece, Whitman has a nonchalant, inviting expression. A hand on the hip usually implies a matter-a-fact attitude, almost childlike. Whitman projects an air of casualness with his top button opened and his tipped hat.

This is the trill of a thousand clear cornets and scream of

the octave flute and strike of triangles

I play not a march for victors only…I play great marches

For conquered and slain persons.

I sound triumphal drums for the dead…I fling through

my embouchures the loudest and gayest music to them,

Vivas to those who have failed, and to those whose war vessels

sank in the sea, and those themselves who sand in the sea,

And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome

heroes, and the numberless unknown heroes equal to

the greatest heroes known.

In his frontispiece, Whitman has a nonchalant, inviting expression. A hand on the hip usually implies a matter-a-fact attitude, almost childlike. Whitman projects an air of casualness with his top button opened and his tipped hat.