Leaves of Grass

For me, the great thing about facebook is that, through a long a day of driving, when I talk to no one, when all I do is think, when all I do is figure out paths along 95 or 93 or 3 or 495, I can't paint or write or whistle or do yoga. But I can always find ten seconds to let the world know what's going on.

I like radio. I like the intimacy. I like the Clash. I like how their lyrics assumed a distant, solitary, intent, listener, ready at the ring of a phone to take up arms or hit the bars or dream about Jamaican sand beaches and angry walks down Brixton corridors. I like the sense of the future, of prep. How will you go? With you hands on your head or on the trigger of yoru gun?

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I also like that young people feel patriotic in the wake of the election. I sympathize deeply with people who say, listen, we've fought and died for freedom, we've invested ourselves in values beyond our own lives so that these young people can be free to turn their backs. And I think, well, pride is a danger, but it's also involuntary. And when some kid says they're finally proud of America, instead of looking on them as some thankless shit, I wonder if it isn't more valuable to plumb the reasons why. Don't anticipate socialism or racial hysteria. Anticipate young people taking up hammers and rakes and looking to build and help. Mark my words. There are idiots and yahoos on both sides, but strike true to the heart. I hope these aren't empty words, but those that resonate. It's hard for me to do so, but I do my utmost.

This is all to say that patriotism, or cynicism about patriotism, isn't some calculated choice we make. We're not politicians. We're people.

I, for one, have been longing for a progressive yet center leaning, rational, calculating, pragmatist, willing to take up arms and willing to consider that government might be good. Obama is my man. Objectivity be damned. This is history. I have faith. The teacher part of me, the worker part, the part that likes a good fight and the part that believes that in progress, the part what longs for a new Enlightenment, for a new way, all these are drawn to Obama. And frankly, I don't care about race or all the other carrots dangled. I am, however, optimistic, and grateful, and not much can make me feel otherwise.

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We are, it seems, finally, living Whitman's dream, and his poetry rings true to me. Take a few moments out of your busy lives to read or reread "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry." Is there any doubt, now, we've been fighting enemies of democracy for so long?

And this is a little heated, and not what you came here for. But I only offer honesty, and have tried, whatever the consequences, to offer nothing but. Well. That, and style, and passion, and something else.

Those in the know understand.