What Will Your Verse Be?
And how can I make this about me?
General News
Last week was great. If only I could focus on good news every week. Alas. We’re starting off strong with this detailed report on how unattainable and unaffordable housing is across the entire United States. Really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? “The city is great…if you have money.” Yes, that’s literally true everywhere at this point. Some places are relatively more affordable than others, but would I really want to live in Arkansas or Oklahoma or Alabama or either of the Dakotas? Fat chance. Here’s a crazy, controversial idea: Perhaps taxes are good if you want to live in a developed society. [Insert nuanced argument about how taxes aren’t used in the most effective and democratic way in Blue States, which are also failing their populations in different ways than low-tax Red States.] Truly insane to me that Massachusetts is right behind New York state when there’s literally nothing to do there. Y’all are literally paying so much money to suffer.
Well, my personal “boycott” of LinkedIn will be continuing…indefinitely. It’s really embarrassing and sad to see how many will throw trans people under the bus for federal funds. This also applies to the health care industry. First, it was Lurie Children’s, then Rush, and now UChicago Medicine. If this kind of capitulation is possible under Based Billionaire Daddy Pritzker’s governorship, I can’t imagine how bad it is elsewhere. Oh, wait…(see Personal News for parallels). While trans people remain the scapegoat for our country’s problems, the media will also bombard us with incredibly unworthy “news.” Man, I wonder why we suddenly care so much about some no-name CEO of a no-name company at a fucking Cold Play concert in Foxborough, Massive-Two-Shits. I wonder what could possibly be going on that would warrant every news outlet covering the most no-news shit ever. Hm…hard to say!
Stay distracted! No use in thinking about the literal humanitarian crisis happening between the Orange Cumrag’s Administration and the Global South. Pay no mind to the concentration camp in the Everglades! If you think things are bad, just remember that at least you weren’t caught having an affair on a Jumbotron at a Cold Play concert in Massive-Huge-Tits. And whatever happened to privacy? Can a guy have an affair in peace? “Can’t have a private affair anymore because of Woke…” or something. The world’s smallest violin goes on playing for whoever the fuck that guy was. Alright, I’m tired. What else is floating out there? Oh! Who could forget the fascist decision to cut funding to public radio? Yeah…looking forward to when the only news sources will be Fox and Friends.
I usually put this kind of news in the Personal section, but we’re doing discourse (again) this week. Instead, I’ll announce Lord Huron’s new album The Cosmic Selector Vol. 1 in this section. I’ve spent the past weekend with it and even placed an order for the vinyl record. Generally, this album makes me feel the same way that their previous album Long Lost (2021) made me feel. I like that it’s different from that album in many ways, but still has the texture and feeling that makes it their music, you know? I remember when Lord Huron and Still Corners released albums around the same time in 2021, during my first Boston winter. ‘Twas a cold and lonely time. Those albums were truly the soundtrack of my life at that time and I do feel like are “time capsules” for me. My life in Chicago doesn’t feel nearly as cold or lonely, but I definitely relate to a lot of the lyrics in the songs on The Cosmic Selector Vol. 1. “Digging up the past and dreaming of what might’ve been…”
Personal News
On Wednesday last week, I had the opportunity to visit The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939 at the Wrightwood 659 with my colleagues. One of our HR people organized the outing for us, which was super sweet. It was a spectacular exhibition with over 300 pieces of art showcasing the deep history of queer existence across cultures. Fun fact: the word “homosexual” was created by a German (of course) physician in the late 19th century as he was examining and understanding human sexuality. Before then, people didn’t have a word for it. They were just fuckin’ and suckin’ whomever! This realization has caused a profound internal examination of the role of identity labels. The exhibition ends at 1939, right around the time when the Nazi’s were rising in power in Germany. It’s a somber conclusion to an otherwise exciting and tantalizing display of queerness. Let us not forget that the first people that the Nazi’s eradicated from public life were transgender and queer people via book burnings and bans on certain medical practices. (See General News for parallels)
While some argue that “identity labels” force people into boxes, I tend to argue that living without them can also force people into boxes, but in a more controlled and deterministic way. For example: Prior to the word “homosexual” existing, there were plenty of “homosexuals” around to be fuckin’ and suckin’, right? However, because of the societies that these people lived in, they were forced into relationship dynamics that weren’t true to who they were. Sometimes this was an adaptive dynamic, like gay men agreeing to marry lesbians in order for them to exist within proper society while continuing to fuck and suck whomever else. Often was the case of coercive dynamics, like…have you seen Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) or The World to Come (2020) or like...idk, but the point is that many a queer person was expected to marry someone that they didn’t really love because those were just the rules of proper society. Both of these dynamics are antithetical to autonomy and self-determination.
Having labels to describe our sexuality and gender identity allow us to determine who we are. They help us relate to the world and assist in others’ relation to us. It’s about recognition on an ontological and dialectical level, not just “putting oneself into a box.” Anyway, before I rant too much, I want to revisit the portrait of Whitman. When it first caught my eye, I ran to it like a moth to a flame. I stood and admired it for some time before moving forward with the other pieces. The further I strayed away, the more I found myself turning my head to catch glances of it. Once I had moved through the entire exhibit, I made a quick dash back up to his portrait. I stood by it for some time, observing and reflecting. I found myself thinking of the poem I wrote titled “I Sing of Transcendence” (which you can find in this journal), which is in dialogue with his poem “Song of Myself.” At the end of his poem, he says, “Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, / Missing me one place search another, / I stop somewhere waiting for you.” At the end of my poem, I say, “You stop and wait, brother, and I am right behind you.” In that moment, I felt as if I had been following him my entire life. It filled me with a profound sense of determination and present-awareness, as if I were meant to live this life.
Poetry
It “don don” me that I have yet to share a Whitman poem in any of these newsletters. It’s time. And how discursive, to share a poem after having visited that exhibition? I believe that I started to draft an essay on my relationship with Whitman’s work over on no comment after I returned home. The post isn’t up yet. Will I finish it? Should it only be a blurb in this newsletter? Who is to say? I first encountered the work of Walt Whitman on a day like any other. In my seventh grade language arts classroom, my teacher put on the 1989 coming-of-age drama Dead Poets Society. She skipped over the part that I would later witness as the protagonists’ suicide.
Through the animated and thrilling performance of Robin Williams (rest in peace), I was hooked onto Whitman’s verse. I read more. In those lines of verse, I found philosophical gems that reminded me of the ideas we discussed over at the Hindu temple that my parents raised my siblings and I in. It seemed to me that Whitman was attempting to connect the American Christian Ethos with more “eastern” ideas of transcendence and interconnected divinity. I felt as if I had found what I had been looking for. Through age and studies, I have wrestled with the fact that Whitman is, and was, a complicated figure.
During my MFA program, I read an essay by Agha Shahid Ali (rest in peace) titled “A Darkly Defense of Dead White Males.” This essay’s concern is centered around the argument to “abandon the western literary cannon” due to the fact that many of the dominant writers were sexist, racist, not-politically-correct, or condemnable in some way. Towards the end of the essay, he argues, “We who are historically interesting have an even greater responsibility to distinguish subject and content, especially when the subject has an innately powerful nature…We shall not fall into the traps of nationalisms, and if we do let us still not forget artistic concerns, which may even force us by their tensions to lend complexity to the thriving simplicities of nationalisms, their need for perfect enemies…But we must historicize and not see the past as a monolithic arrangement. And as writers we must be on guard in particular against some brands of white liberalism that will, out of condescension, encourage elements of artistic carelessness in us.” He concludes, “I don’t want politics to be a mere convenience. If we are politically engaged, as I always am, let’s make sure we deepen those concerns with content. Otherwise, with an ideology stripped of true artistic commitment, we might find we have the air of poetry and none of almost none of its weight” (159-160, Poet’s Work, Poet’s Play: Essays on the Practice and the Art, edited by Daniel Tobin and Pimone Triplett, The University of Michigan Press, 2008).
Did Whitman harbor racist and sexist sentiments? Yes. He did. Many would argue to never study his work, for it would reinforce or give weight to those sentiments and ideas. I don’t agree with this argument at all. As an anti-racist feminist, I find myself agreeing with Agha Shahid Ali. To ignore the work of Whitman is to disregard on the whole the entire development of free verse poetry in America, as well as those “transcendental” ideas that ignited the Puritan populous with condemning remarks about his work at the time. I also don’t agree with “separating the art from the artist.” The art couldn’t exist without the artist and I think that separation moves toward an alienated view rather than a humanistic view on art. I can’t separate Whitman from his work. I can distinguish his sexist and racist ideas from his contributions to the development of poetic craft and form, that’s just nuance, baby! Haters can stay mad that I actually understand nuance! To throw Whitman’s work out on the whole or “separate the art from the artist” is to bury these necessary conversations on complicated, historical art.
I’m really doing discourse this week, aren’t I? When am I not? Walt Whitman was born on May 31, 1819, and returned to the divine nature of existence on March 26, 1892. During his lifetime, he wrote essays and journalistic pieces for newspapers, as well as two novels. Leaves of Grass was his life’s work, revising and reworking from 1850 up until his death. Though he never articulated a specific sexual preference, many speculate that he was a homosexual. He never married nor had children, but kept very intimate letters with other male artists and writers. One of which was Bram Stoker, who, it is speculated, based the character of Dracula off of an inversion of Whitman’s ideas. If basing a character off of someone doesn’t sound gay enough, go read the letters that they exchanged between one another. Lil’ Abraham had some deep feelings for Whitman. Another was the artist Herbert Gilchrist, who allegedly had a very intimate (read “sexual”) relationship with Whitman. Hence, the 1887 portrait. Damn, according to Wikipedia, Oscar Wilde claims to have kissed Whitman! This guy cannot beat the allegations!
Can you guess how many copies of Leaves of Grass I own? Without further ado, here is a poem by the fag. If you’ve seen Dead Poets Society, then you’ll no doubt recognize this one. It’s had a special place in my heart for nearly two decades. “What will your verse be?”
P.S.
Jimmy Cash: What if we kissed in front of the portraits of Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman at Wrightwood 659’s The First Homosexuals?
Not to go on for too much longer, but I wanted to share this fun little piece of information. If you’re still reading this, thank you! While I was wandering around the farmer’s market, I took some time to explore a local craft fair on the same street. There I ran into an aura photo booth. Despite my desire to “not spend a lot of money,” I asked for a photo. Once I sat down to see what kind of aura developed, I was pleased to se the results. According to the pamphlet they gave me, the aura above ones’ head moves from the physical plane (closest to the body) towards the emotional and spiritual planes (further above). If there are colors to the left, then those colors indicate the energy that one projects outward. Conversely, colors to the right indicate energy that one is receiving from the world. I’ll list the colors from left to right:
Yellow: Inner happiness & balance, playfulness, high self-esteem, spiritual awakening, optimism, friendliness, openness, social/gregarious nature (energy which I am radiating outward).
Orange: Happiness, adventurous/carefree nature, free-spirited, courageous, resourceful, calm under pressure and able to relate to others (energy radiated outward, also close to the physical plane as well).
Red: Passionate, creative, emotionally & physically grounded, strength, loyalty, focused, hardworking, an honest and adventurous nature (in the physical aura plane, as well as energy that seems to be coming into my life from the world).
Pink: Happiness, harmony, gentle, unique, creative, innovative, energetic, open-minded, independent, and spontaneous/free-spirited (in the mental and spiritual aura planes, which seems to be crowned with a general warmth/brightness, I can’t tell if that’s orange/red/yellow/all of the above).
What does this mean? My aura is STRONG. I mean, look at how bright and dense all those colors are? I’m putting out some warm and harmonious energy. Though I don’t necessarily “believe” in chakras and the esoteric energy stuff, I do think that there is truth to my fun-loving, optimistic, and earnest disposition. Imagine hating me and I’m just over here giving off the happiest and most harmonious aura. Haters really don’t want to admit that I’m just a bundle of light and joy fr.
