Love in the Time of Obama

(took this shot of my friend Erica almost 12 years ago)

Byron and Benita came through last night for the sort-of season premiere of LOST. As we'd been waiting for this since last summer it should have been a highlight moment for the first months of the year. But with only eight episodes due to the strike I look at it more as a tease that will undoubtedly piss me off seven weeks from now when I could have as long as a year before I get anymore of the scant answers that the show seems to provide. But still, sitting there with what remains of the den crew, sipping on Prosecco and counting the days until Byron and I will be all that remains of a two-year dynasty. But the show must go on.

Watching LOST meant missing the Hilary/Obama debate, which I guess makes my name mud in certain circles. But as I checked the highlights on CNN what came to mind was something my Pops and I had talked about on his birthday last summer. Despite all the anti-Bush sentiment and the massive support for Obama and Hilary, I can't put it past the abundance of idiots in this country to fuck the cup of coffee that this election could have been for the Democrats. For a country that has proven itself to be both extremely short-sighted and prejudiced on a variety of fronts in the last decade, I can see the liberals splitting themselves down the middle between the black guy and the woman, leaving just enough room for the conservatives to slither in through the back door. Keep in mind I don't want this. But I can see it happening, no different than a number of other tragedies that have gone down in this life.

In my continuing efforts to evolve I dug through my somewhat ample music collection in s earch of albums and singles I hadn't run into the ground via Ipod. The end was result was importing 15 new discs into my Itunes and deleted a whole lot of things on my Pod. Note: Don't put whole albums on your Pod unless you love all the songs, as shuffle can deal you some awful tracks when you need them the least. It's sad that I couldn't remember which album "Trouble Man" was on until I checked this morning.

And as today marks two weeks until Valentine's Day, the Twilight Zone-like vortex that has snatched me into many a heartbreak and misadventure, I woke this morning with a strange sense of accomplishment as I approach two years without any sort of romantic drama whatsoever. When it showed up I cut the cord and watched it plunge into the abyss. When it knocked on my door I didn't answer. And though these choices have left with in an often-awkward state of solitude, it's far bed that getting comfortable in a bed only to have somebody snatch the mattress out from under you around 3am. So while Rich and Wood and Ralph and Jones and Charifa and Kevin and Glass and Mia and everybody else does their thing, I'll be polishing my final draft of this script, working on a documentary treatment and reflecting fondly on an afternoon of group activities with my students. No complaints. No regrets. All wins. No losses. Out.