Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Well except for a perfect disagreement on every point, I think that this has the potential to be quite prophetic. I'd love to vote for Lieberman in '08. In fact, a Lieberman and Rice ticket would make me unspeakably happy... Hmmm, now that he knows that people like his ideas more than his party, I wouldn't be at all suprised if he ended up being a sort of dark horse.
"The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud."
- Coco Chanel
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Tsunami drills, what a sensible idea. I hope people on our west coast will take note.
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Snicker. I think most people can relate. Kinda like how everything seems to shrink as you age. Nostalgia is nice every few years, but the idea of anyone else seeing those embarrassing shoes and hairstyles is perhaps better avoided. Some things should never see the light of day again. Shop carefully friends, hideous fashion is everywhere at the moment.
I made the decision to throw away a series of journals from 1976 and 1977, because they’re useless and embarrassing and contain absolutely nothing of interest; a record of attenuated adolescent despair and maladjustment, expressed in the gawps of a stripling who thinks that a Led Zep lyric reference somehow says it all. I know, I know: Lord Byron burned his diaries, and History Wept, but I am not Byron and these books tell me nothing I don’t already remember. The same might go for the juvenilia – reams of poetry and meretricious fiction written in fountain pen on onion-skin paper – but I can’t quite throw that crap away. At least I was trying. I was filtering raw youth through artifice and schemes borrowed from my betters, and the result is less horrifying than the cri de coeurs of the journals.
And they’re not even the real journals. Those began in earnest in 1978 and continued for nine years in identical books. A stupendous quantity of drivel. The plotline was unvarying:
* I need a girlfriend! I am but miserable and worthless protozoa clinging to the gum stuck on a bum’s wretched shoe!
* I have a girlfriend! No one has known love like this before, except for selected poets and musicians whose works speak directly to me with unencumbered connections!
* She has dumped me! Gouge my heart with a spork, I shall never love again!
* She called! She said she wanted her stuff back, but I detected a note of ambivilance, and soon she will realize her mistake and rush back to my arms, unless she doesn’t, like in “Annie Hall,” but if that’s the case I’ll make Art out of it
Occasionally I would mix it up with the Romantic Mistake, which would require me to do the dumping – thereby realizing what a relief it is, an insight that didn’t help at all when contemplating She Who Did You Wrong. There was an interminably attenuated Romantic Mistake that spanned a year or so, and just peeking at those diaries makes me feel heavy and ill and tired. It was also a period of Great Creativity, partly because there was nothing in my inner life I could put into my columns. Then came a smattering of dalliances, post-college life, the move to Uptown into a building of singles (and there’s a tale: the mean-faced scrawny beer-hound homunculus across the hall, the brittle chipper Professional Gal down the hall, the nubile tease whose unit abutted mine, and who used to come over after sunbathing outside and sprawl on the sofa in a bikini and talk about her lousy boyfriend [who later proved her right when she broke up with him, and he embarked on one of those crockery-destruction episodes that brought the cops], the strange secretive fellow in the basement who told Ms. Nubile he was Sean Connery’s bastard son [we all laughed at that one – sure, he was handsome, and you could see the resemblance, but please. Then one day a limo pulled up outside the building and he got inside] ) and the life of a Writer, tapping out my novel on the Leading Edge computer in the summer with the windows open, smoking cigarettes, waiting for the 11 PM train to thunder by and part the night.
Then I met my wife, and the journals stopped. I had better things to do now.
I won’t throw them all away.
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Heh. I never got into fantasy football but this could be loads of fun. I may create a team myself.
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Well, this may just be an early stumble, but I really don't think she's smart enough for the job.
What irony. One of the left's main knocks on President Bush over the years is that he's been too blinded by loyalty and that his administration has suffered from cronyism. Yet here you have the new Speaker of the House, whose drapes haven't even been measured or hung yet, pulling out all the stops to install an ethically-challenged pal for Majority Leader out of blind loyalty and passing over another perfectly competent member (Jane Harman) out of pure pique to turn over the Chairmanship of the Intelligence Committee to a man who was impeached for taking bribes. Not the most auspicious of beginnings, I'd say.By pulling this crap so early and so foolishly, she's making it much easier for the more centrist democrats, (who paid attention to what the voters said,) to take a swift step back from her leadership. This is like leaving Dean as the head of the DNC, it tells me that the people making decisions still aren't serious.
Trent Lott is not adept and suffers from recurring foot in mouth disease. Alcee Hastings should not be sitting on the Intelligence comittee while we're at war, much less running it. How on earth could he even get a security clearance? (Let me add that I am deeply underwhelmed by the basic sense of Florida voters, yet again.)
If you want a functioning government, don't insist that a judge who was indicted for bribery and perjury be put in charge of one of the most important roles of the legislature. He was a JUDGE. He KNEW BETTER. He was freaking removed from office by the senate. He can be bought. He's not sorry. This is a formula for disaster.
(Update: upon further reflection, considering how deadlocked the congress is likely to be, this may be a blessing in disguise. Two years of media coverage as these yahoos bumble may lead to another round of clearing out dead wood in the '08 elections. It's something to hope for anyway.)
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