Whitman
The town of Bolton has a long and powerful connection to America's greatest poet, Walt Whitman. The museum even has Whitman's canary. It's a long story.
In a fit of synchronicitous timing I've had a whole Walt Whitman week. I've been reading about him, writing about him (he features in a forthcoming book, pluggity plug!) and last night I was part of the band who played some tunes for the University of Bolton's section of the Walt Whitman Weekend that's happening in Bolton.
I'm thinking of growing a huge white beard and fancying soldiers now!
Anyway.
I don't write enough poetry. I always feel like I'm doing too many other things to find the time and moving too fast for the inspiration to hit me.
So - on Wednesday evening I went to the starting event of the LRM's psychogeography festival (see the link at the side of the page). On the way back I bought some cider for my beloved and I to share. The thing is that alcohol, endorphins from a 10-mile cycle ride, and a head full of things to do aren't really conducive to a good night's sleep. I'm normally early-to-bed-early-to-rise; this time I collapsed at midnight and woke at 2:30am with weird dreams, reflux pains and an inability to get back to sleep.
Side note: For those who don't know, acid reflux is one of those joys of getting older - abuse your body at 20, pay for it at 40!
Since I had a headful of Whitman and couldn't sleep I decided to write about it and exorcise his spirit at the same time. To whit(!), I wrote a Whitman-inspired poem.
Derivative? Probably. A pale imitation? Certainly. But actually, I quite like it.
So here it is:
I am empty of sleep
Because too full of what is, and is, and will be
And that which is, which opens itself before me.
With all, and of all, and be all resounding
Excludes dream
Until thought and fullness overflowing force escape to ink and paper
And the fluttering, laughing, howling mind pinned,
Folded, forced into
Inadequate shapes of words.
Seán Fitton
May 2008
In other news:
If you can get to the Royal Exchange in Manchester before the end of June, please do so. There's an exhibition on which is part of the LRM's "Get Lost" psychogeography festival (yup, the link's at the side of this post!), which includes 5 paintings by me.
I'm amazed too.
I originally offered one, which is a kind of map crossed with a kind of sigil. The other four are naked cyclists which I painted for the I Bike MCR festival but which, for reasons not fully given, were never displayed. The LRM's organiser, leading light and generally very fabulous person, Morag asked if she could have them in an emergency. The emergency happened!
And finally. . .
World Naked Bike Ride is coming!
Manchester's leg (please excuse the pun!) will start by meeting at 6pm outside the Basement Café on Lever Street, on Friday the 13th June. It's "bare as you dare", which means you aren't expected to strip off completely if you don't want to, just be there and ride.
If you can't ride, please come to watch your local city's ride and support it. Here's a link to the world site where you can find your local ride and take the chance to show your botty in public.
In the middle of all this I'm getting married. I wonder if I've got the time!
Love,
Seán
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