Thoughts, at oh-dark-thirty

[green_dreams]

Apparently I've gotten *way* too used to waking up to let Sierra out.

Tired, and awake, and sicker of job applications than I could possibly have conceived. Also vaguely hungry, and thinking Whitman's "I Sing the Body Electric" is one of those poems that I suspect is vastly more referenced than read, and that is saddening.

Also cold.

Going to go have tea--something without caffeine--and hopefully then I can get back to sleep.

Comments

[snakey.livejournal.com]

Woah, hope you got back to sleep. *pets*

I have a friend who objects to I Sing The Body Electric because she feels that men are represented in it as the "default humans" - they have arms and legs and backs and stuff, whereas women have breasts and hips ("The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk") and roles, and are the "teeming mother(s) of mothers", the gates of the body and soul, existing to reproduce rather than be.... I can never decide quite how I feel about it. I see her point. And I love parts of the poem, and the spirit behind it.

Um. All of which is to say that there are those of us who read it. Should not comment before coffee, aie.

[torrain.livejournal.com]

I do understand where she's coming from, but damn it is a lovely poem.

--oh, hey, coffee. That's an idea.