I was driving all day yesterday, but I tuned in to a little Air America AM in th evening to pick up the news that Sen. Clinton came back and beat the polls to edge out Barack Obama in New Hampshire. This is interesting. Here are the takeaways I think are worth noting:

This is a first. I get to live in an airport for two days.

My flight yeseterda was (eventually) canceled and the next for-sure seat is on Monday. So I'm "standing by" all day today.

Hopefully if that doesn't work out they'll comp me a hotel room again.

Update: I snagged the last seat on a stand-by, so have made it back to Portland. Now to find a place to stay here...

Spending a week inside the Robbins Family Nest got me thinking quite a lot about my own rather barren romantic landscape. I'm being screwed by O'Hare Airport (as usual) and have several hours to sit here, so I figured I might try and organize my head a bit about this.

I've come to see my decision to relocate to remote Humboldt County in part as a semi-conscious decision to get away from women. In one way it could be seen as a sort of self-purification or monastic thing. Alternatively, it could be seen as a decision to flee. It's unclear, but all in all the decision was right for me, and I am where I am, so I sort of try to look forward.

It occurs to me lately that sex and love are in some ways skills, requiring energy, attention, and more than anything practice if you want to do well. It's like a bicycle in that you never forget how, sure, but it also really seems like the kind of thing where you can lose your edge; or, to be more specific, where I currently feel dull and edgeless.

So there are flashes of paranoia that, having taken myself out of things, I may not easily find my way back -- that I could end up drifting along nonplussed by the world, libido curled up asleep inside me where I put it to bed. That's an unpleasant thought.

And then, thinking of that mis-attributed quote about how our greatest fear is our own power, I'm immediately struck by the opposite idea, that maybe what troubles me isn't ennui or boredom, but rather a fear of living, of what I might do or be or become.

That would explain this semi-conscious self-divorce. If I made a move to cut myself off from sex, I must have done it for a reason, and that reason probably has something to do with me not being very happy with myself.

And, thinking this, I know immediately that it is true.

One of the better things I ever wrote in the old blue journal book that I lost -- container of all my most personal post-college scribblings -- was the line "life, the adventure of your lifetime."

It is what it is, and all we can really hope for is that we keep giving it 100%, and that the people around us are good ones. The world is impossibly huge, more giant than any of us can comprehend. Forget the goddamn universe, just the planet Earth is so much more vast, varied and wonderfully amazing than anyone can ever possibly conceive. Just don't even worry about it, and dig the fact that the world is always going to present the potential for more.

I feel the pull of exploration again, for the first time in a while. I used to really think of myself as a scout -- indeed, I'm sure that old journal has a series of great long entries on what exactly it means to be "an explorer" -- but lately I've been building and nesting, husbanding my resources even as that took me hither and yon. In 2008, it feels like I might have to get a bit more balsy, risk some chips, try out some new things, ditch the risk-aversion, etc. Sounds good.

The world is huge, like I said. I think I should see more of it. Time to start packing a towel.

Perhaps Fela Kuti won't be the only (symbolic) Black President.

Obama wins pretty big in Iowa, and largely on the back of massive caucus turnout and a very strong showing with "the kids." That's hot. Stoller has more. Also, Johnny Sunshine and his anti-corporate populism also edged out Sen. Clinton's high-functioning campaign, which was not expected to finish third, which (along with Huck's populism) might push other candidates to at least think about biting the hand that feeds them. This is also hot.

On the GOP side, soft-touch Huckabee takes it, surging past Mitt Romney and his high-dollar machine. Huck!. I think the theater on the Right is kind of better, actually. They're more wild and free.

And now it's on to New Hampshire, where there will be an interesting contest between McCain and Obama -- the two candidates considered to have the greatest crossover appeal -- over independent voters (who can only vote in one or the other's primary). If the trends from Iowa continue, they'll likely split along generational lines.

...

Adding: I've been pessimistic about all these mofos, but the truth is they'd also all be massive improvements and massive opportunity to push the country forward. They will also all need to be actively whipped to do anything worthwhile. Crisitunity!

Happy New Year Everybody!

I managed to wing it from Portland to St. Louis without any trouble and even some sleep -- thanks to the "economy plus" seating upgrade and my amazing luxury headphones (thx, mom!). I've landed in the Robbins' budding family nest. It's a cozy brick house in a cute neighborhood with a big basement and a tiny garage built for a model-t ford; very nice.

We had a pretty rad New Years Eve. Laura cooked an amazing rib roast, and a family friend of Frank's parents had given them a big grip of fine wine (now residing in a rack in said basement) of which the Two Hands Shiraz was a perfect compliment. Their good friends Matt and Narcissa came over and we had a great meal and some good well-wishes for 2008.

My winning slogan/resolution: 2008 -- Less Work. More Sex. Flossing.

I also managed to get in on some classic New Years Predictions via phone with LGD and The Girth. It's a tradition in which we venture guesses on things ranging from the stock market and congressional makeup to who among our friends will have a bun in the oven by the next trip round the sun. They're fun to look back on.

After dinner we went out to a hip spot with some quality burlesque dancing and an outdoor fire to count down the new year in public. It was good for people watching, and I did at one point have a woman tear open my shirt (cowboy snaps) and give me a little dancefloor humpin', which is always nice. Bodes well for my slogan. Pregnant Laura was our faithful designated driver, and we didn't really stay out too late, though Frank and I did get into some loud story telling and scotch-bottle-finishing back at the ranch.

I'm headed up to PDX. Been back to the grindstone after enjoying a lovely christmas. I discovered that one excellent way to deal with my money problem is to give people things. This makes me feel good.

I'll spend the weekend in Portland, than fly to St. Louis for New Years. Hopefully closing this big project the week after. Then, Insha'Allah, I will take some actual vacation. Just about out of gas here.

I rolled and rambled over the Santiam pass to the ranchy subdivision outside Bend where my father lives to visit with him, my step-mom, and my step-sister Tara and her two kids. Good times. I hadn't seen Tara in like seven years and it was really fantastic to catch up. She's a bonafide supermom and powerful professional person. She also has some deadly accurate astrology which is online somewhere and I will find a link too, for all y'all star-watchers.

It felt really positive to reconnect with that wing of the fam again. They hosted a dinner party for a bunch of neighbors, and it was fun to mix it up with a crowd of relative strangers for a bit, hear what other people thought of politics, etc.

The drive over was also an adventure in chains and a brief near-blizzard. Driving through the beauty of the cascades, fir tries laid down with snow, craggy peaks swirling out of the clouds; it's some big beautiful country, prime Northwest.

And I'm back in the Euge now, ducking in for a night after closing out some gift buying. There's something deeply unsettling to me about the consumer season. It seems different from when I was young, though I don't really know how much has changed. I do know that I fear and loathe the word "doorbuster."

Oh man, for my drive up to Oregon I downloaded this Radio Open Source interview with Ken Burns by Chris Lydon, one of the great and stately warhorses of public-interest radio. I love listening to Chris do his crazy intellectual thing, and he consistently gets really interesting people to open up in interesting ways. His show is cool.

Anyway, Ken Burns talks about his WWII documentary "The War," which I haven't seen, and it's really an insanely great conversation. They spend minimal time talking about process and other stuff, as Lydon being pushing him on the dangers of nostalgia and sentimentality regarding the horrors of war. In response Burns goes on an improvisational 3-minute solliloquy about the higher emotional states which defy explanation or logic, the necessity of such transcendent forces in art, and the fact that if you want to receive this blessing, you have to risk both abject failure as well as collapse into sentimentality and simple nostalgia. He also has a great -- and vicious! -- attack on the corrosive nature of irony, and calls the History Channel the Hitler Channel. Bravo.

The listening experience left me with my head buzzing about Art with a capital A, and a new respect for Mr. Burns. Worthy.

Prof. Jeffery Feldman is one of the better individuals I've come into contact through politics. He's a thoughtful, eloquent and good-natured individual, with powerful intellect an ultra-keen ear for language. I just recently came across his campaign roundup post. It's a very good read, especially for someone fatigued and frustrated with the political process as I am.

Feldman basically takes a high-level view of how the major campaigns have been conducting themselves, looking at how they frame their appeals to voters. It's both prescient, and also much more engaging than the usual horserace or battle-of-accusations post.

For those wondering what this primary season has been all about, I suggest giving it a read.