Be of good cheer…

…for I will not desert you.

It’s a paraphrase from one of my favorite parts of Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. And even though I haven’t been podcasting, I have not abandoned well, the faith, let us say.

The book proceeds. Such arrogance to attempt such a long work, but it goes well. I can’t say that knowing what I know right this minute that I would attempt it again, but I will finish the thing if’n it kills me. Surely, the next one will be easier.

But mostly, what’s been keeping me hopping is paying work. Too much of it in fact. I outsold my ability to do work. And I didn’t have the structure in place to make me more efficient. It is very much a transitional time for me professionally and creatively. And, as exciting as it is, it’s not too conducive to podcasting. What can I say? A couple of things really.

1) Sorry, a man’s gotta eat. And given the current economic climate, this squirrel is going to store as many nuts as possible whilst he can.

2) All this work now, means money hoarded (like nuts, man this analogy just won’t quit) for more writing later.

So, for everybody who’s hanging in there, thanks. For those who aren’t, well, you’re not reading this post now are you?

Here’s the Whitman. I’m knuckling tight.

I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times;
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steam-ship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm;
How he knuckled tight, and gave not back one inch, and was faithful of days and faithful of nights,
And chalk’d in large letters, on a board, Be of good cheer, we will not desert you:
How he follow’d with them, and tack’d with them—and would not give it up;
How he saved the drifting company at last:
How the lank loose-gown’d women look’d when boated from the side of their prepared graves;
How the silent old-faced infants, and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp’d unshaved men:
All this I swallow—it tastes good—I like it well—it becomes mine;
I am the man—I suffer’d—I was there.