I don't know if people have been picking up what I've been laying down over the past year and a half, of if I'm just along for the ride. It gives me a funny feeling when I hear people using the language I've been pushing. Freaks me the fuck out truth be told. I'm not quite sure whether it's really working or if we're all just repeating the same things, but it feels to me like something might actually be going on.

My friends in Brooklyn are organizing off-beat sports; kickball and cricket. Local pols are getting up and talking about social networks and the importance of meshing progressive ideals with political realities, about praxis. I'm thinking about how the next few years might look if I can manage to dial it all in, to focus and articulate again. The problem with being a Political Artist -- that's what I think I am, by the way; as opposed to practicing political science -- is that I'm subject to the whims and whiles of the muse. Since I'm also a professional now, this creates some tension.

I want to be able to deliver. I want to be able to come through in the clutch, but I'm too new to this game to have enough of a process to be reliable. I have a degree. I have performed reliably. But here I'm without any assurance that I can make it happen. I don't have any real training to fall back on. It's touchy. I don't know what to do to make the spirit emerge. Impotence of a much more devistating sort. I need some new shaman mojo, and quick. Maybe some dicipline too.

And since I'm watching Pump Up The Volume on cable, I'm thinking about how damn hot Samantha Mathis is. Oh man.

I can't write well lately. I don't know what to tell you. I'm too generally taxed and bound by professional obligation to cut loose. Gotta figure something out or else all that is vital and bouncing around will stagnate and die, and then I'll have terrible psychic gas.