"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

My Favorite Soul Songs From The '70s

It's a big long life. As everyone knows, the art of living is a lot like surfing, and the key is remembering that the ocean is in fact bigger than you. Any illusions of control you may entertain are just that, illusions. But, you can catch a wave, and that's a real thing. You can catch a wave and ride it as far as it will take you, all the way to perfect laughter. This is the greatness, the best of all possible worlds. I don't surf myself, but I can imagine what that feels like, to suddenly harness the power of the sea.

Being back in NYC rekindles all sorts of things in me, ambitions, drives, the hero complex. Not that these have been latent or dead, but being here running the mix with this great world-capital metropolis is like dumping white gas on all those fires. It makes me think I could really be somebody, you know?

Last night I danced my face off at the wedding, helped construct a "who's next" pool afterwords -- something that seemed like a good idea at the time, but which in the grey light of morning feels questionable; who feels great being near the top or the bottom of such a list? -- and made an impulsive move to dance my face off again after I got back to Brooklyn.

Curiosity made me stick my head into Union Pool, which has completed its transformation into uber-scene. However, there was a man selling empanadas out of a cooler in the nice back-bar-with-stage space, and more importantly another guy with a huge stack of Soul 45s. Good times.

As I'd heard, the burg has continued on its trajectory without me. New construction is everywhere, quite obvious towers and a startling number of boxy row-house replacements, some with highly questionable "design". The Kellog Diner looks like something straight out of South Beach.

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Worth Repeating: #1 Summer Jam

Pretty soon this will kind of be creepy, I'll bet. But for now, let's enjoy that #1 summer jam...

Hell of a catchy chorus.

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Bachelor Party Headline: Piven Cockblocked

Continuing my tremendously successful run here in the NYC, at the Bachelor celebration for our beloved A-Stock the possible highlight of the evening was that we collectively cock-blocked Jeremy Piven.

(Note, this is meant in the following spirit: To interfere with someone who is getting acquainted with, conversing with, or hooking up with a member of the opposite sex, though actually I think you can cock-block on homosexuals too. In the name of all that is holy and decent, that's all the detail that I'll publicly reveal. Let the rumors and speculation flourish.)

It's better than any other shenanigan I can think of (really, tits are so passé), and gratifying even though I quite like Mr. Piven's acting. In truth, all things being equal would like him to attain whatever naughty fun he sought with his attractive young lady companion -- which, really, he still might have; we just don't know -- but I'm psyched that there's a great PG-13 story from the evening.

Anyway, it's been a week for the ages already, and it's only friggin' Wednesday. Let's keep on rocking in the free world, y'all.

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I Love You America. You're Crazy But I Love You

It's nice to have a bloodless revolution every once and a while. It looks like America's cool with the Black President, wants to smoke pot and uneasy about queers marrying. That last bit is disappointing, but is still just a matter of time.

Still counting ballots in lots of races. I'm pulling for Carolina and Missouri, and I do believe that Merkeley will blow past Smith in Oregon, as it's a few thousand votes and Multnomah and Lane counties are only half in. Those are both the big population centers, and most strongly Democratic areas, so we should be good.

Anyway, working the day away. It was a big party in NYC. Hopefully a big party everywhere else too.

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Pins and Needles

I've been working hard all day w/some on-site meetings, which has kept me from obsessively checking the news. We should start to see some results in the next half hour.

The past two weeks I've felt very confident, but today with the event upon us the irrational emotional fear has crept in. I've never participated in a winning presidential election, and the past two contests have been awful enough that there's a bit of post-traumatic stress associated with the whole thing.

Anyway, we'll know soon. Pins and needles!

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Emancipate America

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Further Annotation

Ensconced now in beautiful Fort Greene Brooklyn, one of the best neighborhoods around; all brownstones and creole glory. It's Monday before election and everyone is a bit nervous, but possibly excitedly nervous. Butterflies before a big event.

I saw some theater and had a moment of gastric nirvana, talked pretty late into the night about the coming new world. Today I'm a bit more weary and my thighs are sore as hell -- an alleged outbreak of dirty dancing back at the party after depositing the sister on Saturday night -- but my thinking is that the only way is to move forward and push on through. Can't stop the machine or the machine breaks down.

While I'm certainly burning the candle from both ends (and melting through the middle) that's sort of the point here, elevating my existence, raising my game. There's just something so irreplaceable about the energy here. I feel confident, stronger, clearer. Gonna have to figure out how to visit a lot more often I think.

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Chant With Me: Day-light. Sav-ings-time!

NYC continues to be a hell of a wild run. I managed a small rally for Halloween after nearly crashing and burning after running our of PlaneSleep energy, made it out into the world. The old neighborhood is indeed changing, though as they say the more things change the more things stay the same.

Bea's diner was closed on health code violations, and the sketchy bar on driggs is shut down -- bricked up the doorway and turned it into an apartment by the looks of things. Fine dining encroaches ever further -- high quality coffee window, beautiful cranberry-haired women slinging cappucino -- and McCarin park is enclosed by highrise condos on two sides now.

Last night I ran with the sister-pal, who's soon to be a Master of the fine arts (I remain a contented Bachelor, natch), and after reliving Pete's Candy Store of most of a bottle of scotch and entertaining a few guests, we went to a party which was literally next door to the house on Humboldt and Devoe where we used to have many friends, held a back-yard Axiom, etc.

It's a good world, here.

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