Last night was fun. The whole Music For America crowd has been in town so we could go up on the mountain, and all the kids came over to our place in the mission to party. We'd been at dinner with plenty of sangria, so we got a little more out of our heads and pretty much just hung out. Some good laughs and crazy plans, run a Music For America campaign to sweep through state-level offices up in Washington, revitalize the Grange, etc. Fun stuff.
I found myself sitting on a couch staring a little too hard at one of Molly's art-school friends at three in the morning, had this little moment of thinking I might do something about that; but then I was fucking tired and I had to get up at 8 to head back to work, so I packed it in and went to sleep. It was good to have that moment though, thinking I might do something. I don't have that moment very often.
If you havn't seen it already, there's this NYT Magazine article about the Dean Campaign that just came out. I was up there when the journalist was doing her work; it's pretty good stuff though a little unkind to my buddy Zack and the irrepressible Clay Johnson. Sure they got into it during choppy times in their lives -- I did the same thing, you know -- but what doesn't come fully accross is that their lack of lives (and mine too) is a choice. We've all more or less decided that at this moment in time there are things worth sacraficing an active social calendar for.
So the article doesn't break ground for me, and the bit about the jiltedness is nicely skewered here, but I think for all the people who don't know much, it's a decent piece.
I discovered about a week ago that by boiling the two largest pots of water that we have here in the household, it was possible to partake in a satisfying hot bath. The valve in our tub/shower is defective somehow, doesn't go all the way to hot. It will get almost hot enough if you push it as far as it will go and hold it there, but as soon as you release pressure it goes back to an unsatisfyingly warm temperature. So the recipe for making a good tub is to sit there and hold the heat on while two pots of water come to a furious boil in the kitchen. I remember my mother doing this when I was a kid, plus my mind is entertained by the thermodynamics. Dump enough kilocalories of natural gas combustion heat into a couple pots of h20, transfer from the stovetop to the bathroom and all of a sudden you've got something to work with. Fascinating.
The story is coming together here. I'm starting to understand my role in all of this. The movement is on, and our only enemies are fear, repression and lies. Everyone can have a hug if they want one. There's enough to go around.
It's been a packed weekend. Tomorrow is monday.
So here's what I look like lately; more angles/less tangles. I think the site needs a new redesign too; too mellow for me. Maybe go back to the hot colors. Special thanks to Kim for doing a bang up job with the chop. It makes me look a bit younger, but I'm getting to a point where I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. Part of the rebirth. All the tension about how seriously to take myself is starting to melt away as resolution increases. No more shrinking violet, eh? Time to be on the roll.