(Wrote this over a week ago, on the 19th, but never got around to posting it.)<\/p>\n
From the ridiculous to the sublime:<\/p>\n
Had some unusual dreams last night, including one that involved trying to protect a 9-year-old Regis Philbin<\/a> from an angry theatre mob who wanted to kill him because of anti-war comments his character in a stage play had made.<\/p>\n That was just silly, especially because I know pretty much nothing about Regis. I think I've seen him on-camera for a total of about ten minutes, and most of that was in a Mad About You<\/cite> episode with him playing himself.<\/p>\n But it did start me thinking about pacifism and such. And through a chain of thought too tangled to reconstruct, it occurred to me that I had never mentioned in this journal one of my favorite poems.<\/p>\n Some day I'll get around to writing about the draft, financial aid, and conscientious objection. But for now, here's my favorite e.e. cummings poem: \"i sing of Olaf glad and big<\/a>.\"<\/p>\n The first time I encountered it, in a printed book of cummings poetry I think, the words \"fucking\" and \"shit\" were replaced with \"f.ing\" and \"s.\" respectively. I thought that was the way cummings wrote it; I was surprised to find out later that he'd actually written out the words in full.<\/p>\n