I Contain Multitudes (Of Banana Republics)
We're spending a week of part-work, part-vacation out on the eastern end of Long Island this week, and on the way we stopped by the Apple Store in Huntington to buy an iPhone for a friend. Turns out the Apple Store resides in the Walt Whitman Mall, which is rivaled only by the Walt Whitman rest area on the Jersey Turnpike in its rolling-over-in-his-grave quotient. The thing I love is that they've reprinted Leaves of Grass -- in the shape of leaves, mind you -- on the typically barren exterior of the mall.
But every now and then one of the tenants has punched a window through the wall, interrupting the verse. I took this snapshot of Whitman's words dueling it out with a Sbarro chain.
The edited line now reads:
Sing on,
Sing on, you grey-brown
bird. Sing from the swamps,
the recesses, pour your chant
from the bushes. Limitless out of the
pizza, pasta
take out
804-0900
Steven, an absolute gem - - thanks for this.
Posted by: helen hockney | July 28, 2007 at 09:08 AM
There's passage in a book about London called Lights Out For The Territory (quoting Twain) where the author, Iain Sinclair, wanders around the streets and notes down all the writing he sees; it's got that sort of crazy, mock profound, profundity.
First class.
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Sexism is, is not a problem in society
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Today was a complete loss, but oh well. I don't care. So it goes. Nothing going on , but shrug. Not much on my mind these days. Such is life.
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A higher energy price is a sacrifice we have to make for cleaner fuels
Posted by: audi | September 29, 2007 at 09:20 PM
I've just been letting everything pass me by , but so it goes. I just don't have much to say these days. Pfft. I can't be bothered with anything. More or less nothing seems worth doing. I haven't gotten much done recently, but oh well.
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