Some days, like today, the best way I can describe how I feel is that I feel like Walt Whitman in Allen Ginsburg’ poem A Supermarket in California. I am not a closeted gay poet from the nineteenth century, and Abraham Lincoln doesn’t inspire the same kind of feelings in me as he did for Walt Whitman. However, when Ginsburg describes Whitman as a “childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator” after spying a produce section full of “Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!”, I just can understand that today.
Knightley hid my cell phone this morning while I was taking a shower. It was on my nightstand when I went in and when I came out, it was gone and Knightley was being pretty mischevious. It turns out, it is easier to feel cut-off in our modern technological society than I thought previously.
Knightley’s behavior in turn reminds me of another few lines from another famous eccentric, Ezra Pound –