So It's Sunday Again

Thanks for your comment on yesterday’s post, Alice. I haven’t checked out the video Bill Moyers aired – Torturing Democracy – yet, but plan to. Meanwhile, for a never ending stream of despicable and delusional Dickishess there is always the Dick Cheney page on the Huffington Post. I glance at it occasionally in the hope that something bad will have happened to him.

But it’s Sunday — a day for, if not loftier thoughts, at least not the kind of bitterness that Cheney brings to mind. I’m gonna shift gears entirely, first, with the sad news that the Cavs were eliminated last night by the Magic. While a Lebron versus Kobe finals would have been fun, I can now happily root for the underdog Magic almost as if they were a Philly team! Speaking of Philly teams, the Phillies moved back into first place with a win (and a Mets loss). Sadly the Red Sox were unable to duplicate that feat and slipped a little further into second place with another loss to the Blue Jays yesterday.

On the WPS front the LA Sol won again, defeating the Athletica two to nothing. Come on guys somebody needs to beat the Sol so the Breakers can gain some ground! The Freedom play FC Gold Pride this afternoon before the Breakers tee it off against FC Sky-Blue for the 6 PM, televised game.

Last night I saw “Sugar” at the Red River Theatres in Concord. Excellent movie about (oversimplification) trying to make it in baseball — I highly recommend it. After the movie, its star Algenis Perez Soto answered questions from the audience. The star appeared to be much like the character he played — refreshingly grounded, open, and sincere — as well as quite talented. On a day when Susan Boyle came in second (to her relief, I have to think), it was nice to see another “unknown” get a chance.

What else?

I think I’m going to join the Ironweed Film Club — something that I stumbled upon while checking out the Air America site and looking at their blog roll. It looks a cool idea. They take independent films — sounds like quite often it’ll be a documentary — mix in a couple of related short films (also independent) and create a monthly DVD which then gets shipped to members. Seems like a great way to support independent film, and have a way of sharing these films that might be otherwise inaccessible (especially for us non-urban types), with friends and family.

Finally, I’d like to share the poem excerpt that appeared on The Writer’s Almanac this morning. “Song of Myself” was, I am convinced, a literary lifesaver for me when I was in high school. My first real extended experience of unabashed self regard and self nurturing — it was a fascinating revelation for someone who needed a bit of self regard right about then! I wonder how many others have stumbled upon “Song of Myself” in the nick of time — that surely was the case for me. Thanks Walt!

Song of Myself (excerpt)

by Walt Whitman

This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,
It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make
appointments with all,
I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;
There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of
hair,

This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,
This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.
Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica
on the side of a rock has.

Do you take it I would astonish?
Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering
through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

20

Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?

All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.

I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids,
conformity goes to the fourth-remov’d,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.

Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?

Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair,
counsel’d with doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is
myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or
ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can
wait.

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