hello blue monday

Q: Is it possible for me to keep this going three days in a row?
Apparently not; it's 12:48am, Tues, so missed Monday completely. These are my excuses:

• Incipient cold.
• Took a friend to the airport.
• It's raining.
• Nothing of note happening.

Except:

I am finding it harder and harder to actually read the news. During the last administration, as bad as things were, there was something to look forward to: throwing the bastards out. In particular, during the last year, the election provided an undeniable electricity and frisson to it all. A giant horse race of the most vital consequences. It was like watching a year long tennis match being played with scimitars on an island in a shark infested moat.

Plus: reading all the terrible things Bush and Co. were up to gave a name to any inchoate rage. There was a perverse thrill to the righteous indignation of it all.

Now? I just feel sad and scared and worried. Worried I'll be living under an overpass soon, worried there will be hobos again, worried our wonderful president couldn't bring an end to this shit storm even if he actually WERE the messiah.
Maybe I scare easily.
Maybe we really are well and truly FUCKED.
Either way, the New York Times is Just Not Helping.

Of no particular import at all:
What the hell is up with that Saving Grace show? Anyone? Why do all the characters' emotions--rage, fear, lust, indignation, joy, delight, whatever--seem pitched higher than a baroque opera? Are they all manics on crack? What's with all the laughing? These people laugh at anything, hysterically. Really; like hysterics, like mental patients, like Bard freshman after a nice spongy bowl of loamy, pungent weed. And they're all crazy Jesus freaks? Is that what the show is about? Hysterical, over-sexed, Jesus freak cops? Why again? (And incidentally, the oh-so-cleverly named "Grace"--get it? clev-urr--has the sinewy, taut body of a Pilates instructor, but she seems to subsist on beer and fries and Froot Loops? Riiiight.)

Those are my rantings for the day: I may be getting a cold. It's raining. I can't read the paper anymore. And Holly Hunter is officially chapping my ass.