2002-11-07
I'm disgusted though not surprised about all those Republicans getting elected. The good old gal who's going to represent me in the Senate (you know, the one married to the guy who suffers from erectile dysfunction) had the gall to say in her acceptance speech that she cares about waitresses. B and I, lying in bed Wednesday morning listening to the dreary news on the radio, had a similar thought at the same time: what if, when politicians spoke publically, they were hooked up to polygraphs? Great big bullshit meters with lights and bells--can't you see it? Wouldn't that be grand? I mean, we have the technology.
I've been feeling like a big loser because I haven't written any books in a long time. Nor done anything that feels especially creative. There have been changes in my workplace that bode ill--or at least uncertain--for the future. So I find myself re-examining everything, all the choices and stuff.
I wish I felt more optimistic about the world. Am I depressed? Or am I responding reasonably to the reality--the avarice and duplicity and heartlessness--of the corporate-political machine? Are these two things mutually exclusive?
Clay's new thing is the toothbrush. He loves to hold it, chew on it. Doesn't want to let go. At bedtime he lies in my lap, nurses for a few seconds then the toothbrush goes into his mouth. Then back to the breast. Then the toothbrush again. What a weirdo.
Did I mention that we got him shoes? Little (of course) black lace-up boot-type things. They are very cute, though with some outfits he does come off like a bit of a white supremecist thug.
One might think that having a lovely baby--smart and beautiful and healthy except for the occasional sniffles--would mitigate the gloom. And maybe it does, maybe we'd feel gloomier were he not around. I say "we" because B and I seem to be of a mind on many counts lately. In fact, I'd say we're getting along better than ever. For that I am grateful.
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