November 5, 2008

I should be working on a novel right now, but I'm feeling, contradictorily, both woozy and euphoric.

The woozy part can be explained by my attempt to donate blood today. 80 grams below the required amount I got a hematoma and fainted. Fainting is a pretty disorienting experience. Yeah.

I'm also pretty bummed about the Prop 8 results. There is nothing worse than giving people rights and then taking them away. The "yes on 8" people put on a huge advertising campaign which, while composed of mostly lies, seems to have convinced slightly over half of California. We'll have to overturn that shit soon.

However, I couldn't be prouder of the United States today. We manned up and made the right choice, and honestly, I still can't quite believe I'm not dreaming because this seems too good to be true. I feel like I'm living in a fairy tale right now. But what we're really living in is history. November 4, 2008 is going to be a date people remember for a long time, and Barack Obama's upcoming presidency is going to change the fate of not just the nation, but probably the world, in a hugely positive way.

Thanks, everyone. Here's to the new first family.

(Novel excerpts might come up sometime. Maybe. Don't count on anything.)

Super Tuesday

Unresolved tensions buzz out their slogans.
(15 promised hours & I still repent.)
A dog barks lonely in the night. he don't
know who he stand for. &

I sing the Kennedy name in my sleep
I sing the Kennedy curl in my heart
I sing a Kennedy endorsement in my
........young-old idealist soul;

-- & maybe an abstract campaign trumps one
of crocodile tears and desperate lovers
-- & maybe the world will bring back the dollar when
it sees us thinking clear
-- & maybe 100 years in an abstracter war isn't
the quagmire I'm looking for
(-- & maybe those young doomed transplants sink in
the quagmire you're looking for)
-- & he's someone I'll refuse
to regret electing if we don't
neglect electing him.

Now You Know Where I Stand. & Take Your Pick.
Democracy's a fruit I can't quite taste
But you know your ballot could be the drop
That carves the weakened cliff of expectation.