[ugh. FINE. you know what, walt's going to read that poem. and...he finds himself channeling gale boetticher as he does it. and it makes him look progressively, noticeably more queasy throughout, with every passing word. till by the end of the thing, he's sick to his stomach.
he can't stop thinking about how gale must've looked, lying there with a bullet through his head.]
When I heard the learn’d astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them, When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
cw: walt whitman
he can't stop thinking about how gale must've looked, lying there with a bullet through his head.]
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide,
and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with
much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.