“Besides, rereading, not reading, is what counts.”*

by chuckofish

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As you know, I am a great re-reader of books and poems and a re-watcher of movies.

The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

–Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 51

When daughter #1 visits, we like to re-listen to music, even old LPs from my parents’ house. But listening to a new Bob album is quite a treat.

I sing the songs of experience like William Blake
I have no apologies to make

Treat yourself.

I’ll keep the path open, the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I’ll play Beethoven’s sonatas, and Chopin’s preludes
I contain multitudes

*Jorge Luis Borges