(or anywhere else, really).
But it's all going swimmingly, isn't it? That's what the man tells us, and that's what we know. Unless, of course, you pay attention.
I'm such an unpredictable seat-of-my-pants voter I should be shot. I read everything I can on the candidates, always have, and like a dog eating catshit, I eventually get sick of it all and vote my unreliable instincts. This year, after voting for George I in '88 (please forgive my youthful indiscretion) and after those straight Libertarian tickets I voted until 2004, when the doo-doo hit the fan and I voted Kerry, I will be voting the Obama ticket. There are no real candidates for me out there. I'm settling. I think a lot of us must feel that way. Where is the pro-gun, pro-abortion, anti-death penalty, anti-fucking-around-in-other-countries, stay-out-of-my-bedroom, small-community-minded candidate? Maybe I just don't pay enough attention, or look in the right places. It's been known to happen.
Anyway. We're all working for a living in our own way. I hope that whatever work you do goes well for you today and tomorrow. In the meantime, sit tight here and wait for a Dennis Mahagin poem later on today or tomorrow, and the Tomato Girl review I promised last week sometime this week. Sorry I didn't get a lot done these last few days, as the family and I drove eight hours across MA and NY and back to show off our new daughter. Not fun. I'm pale by nature, and my window-hanging arm is red like a spanked ass, and I'm sort of sun-sick. In my off moments, though, I'm reading Matt Wray's Not Quite White: White Trash and the Boundaries of Whiteness.
Don't you wish you were me?
Don't answer that.