Five Things Worth Noting about 2008 before I Start Getting Ready to Head out the Door:

• On a national level, the main and perhaps only thing that went right was Barack Obama's election. But still: we fucking elected Barack Obama with 52% of the popular vote and an electoral landslide. So if only one thing had to go right, it was a great one, like receiving a single birthday gift but it's a townhouse in the West Village.

• Like all rational beings, I'm deeply saddened by the results of Proposition 8 in California. I'm certain that we'll see gay marriage legalized on a federal level in my lifetime because, eventually, our generation and those younger will ascend to the Supreme Court. I'm not trying to make sweeping generalizations, but on a statistical level, highly educated individuals in said age brackets, especially who also reside in metropolitan areas, favor the legalization of gay marriage. And that, of course, is the pool from which Supreme Court justices are drawn. So I believe that within the next twenty years, we'll see the gay marriage equivalent of Brown vs. Board of Education, i.e. SCOTUS will interpret the Constitution as giving equal rights to gays, straights, bisexuals, and transgenders and, as with Brown, a huge swath of the country still won't be ready for such a decision and there will be upheaval, but in time, most of the nation will become acclimated. Still, and I wish I could find the link but I can't, I agree with a recent Huffington Post essay from a gay male Baby Boomer: the past few decades have proven that a significant heap of folks of all stripes are ill-suited for marriage and the last thing we should do as a country is further romanticize it as an institution.

• If you already have a compromised immune system, say, from CFIDS, do not get pneumonia in January because it will fuck up the first nine months of your year. And just when you think it's done, it will gleefully fuck it up some more.
  

• The last three months of 2008 were pretty damned lively, though, and it's been great, among other things, to congregate with my tribe at arts events, get to parties and shows again, frolic with certain cherished individuals, and go for decent-sized walks almost everyday. Cage door, please stay open.

• The novel is really starting to seem like a novel. I'm not done, obviously, but it's more statue than rock now, and while it still grinds at me constantly and occupies most of my waking thoughts and often my dreams, fuck it: this is what I signed on for and I feel blessed and proud.

Here's to health, joy, love, sex, triumph, and custard bismarcks for all of us in 2009! Best to you and yours!

Or at least the next round of doughnuts at Top Pot:

My best friend and I were discussing something yesterday and he wasn't sure if my conclusion was accurate and then today it turned out I was spot on.

As most sentient adults know, so much of life is varying shades of gray, and unless you're weighing the pros and cons of, say, infanticide, most issues are rarely "right" and "wrong" in a strictly binary sense.

Yet that accurately sums up the current matter and now I wish I'd bet him a thousand dollars or litter box duty for a month.

My Facebook Status Updates from the Evening of November 3rd until the Present that More or Less Bring Us up to Date for Our Purposes Here:

Litsa dedicates John Lennon's "How Do You Sleep?" to Joe Lieberman. Nov. 3, 8:34 p.m.

Litsa has donated her status to remind everyone to vote for Barack Obama today. Donate your status: http://causes.com/election/26596992?m=ad1fd51 b. Nov. 4, 12:30 a.m.

Litsa reminds you to vote TODAY. Find your polling location now: http://apps.facebook.com/obama. Nov. 4, 6:10 a.m.

Litsa decrees that if any state botches things a la Florida, she will personally ear-flick each of its citizens. Nov. 4, 9:00 a.m.

Litsa wonders if Mitt Romney feels like a horse's ass after spending 44 million of his own cash, coming in 3rd behind Huckabee, and still not getting tapped for V.P. Nov. 4, 1:39 pm.

Litsa high fives Massachusetts and New Jersey and thinks, Hey, South Carolina and Kentucky, that was really uncool. Nov. 4, 5:01 p.m.

Litsa wants to make out w/ Pennsylvania. Nov. 4, 5:41 p.m.

Litsa is thrilled Kay Hagan trounced Elizabeth Dole. Who's "godless" now, old lady? Nov. 4, 6:19 p.m.

Litsa does not want to hang out w/ white, Southern, rural voters anytime soon. Nov. 4, 6:34 p.m.

Litsa will share her cookies, forever, w/ Ohio. (O-fucking-hio!!!!) Nov. 4, 6:37 p.m.

Litsa 's whole neighborhood is cheering and she's literally crying she's so happy. Nov. 4, 8:01 p.m.

Litsa 's neighborhood is still partying; it's made national and local news and she can hear the news copters overhead. Nov. 4, 11:17 p.m.

Litsa 's friend just brought over beer folks are handing out in the streets. Signing off! Nov. 5, 12:18 a.m.

Litsa is enjoying her order of hope with a side of change. Nov. 5, 9:32 a.m.

Litsa was touched to hear her uncle in Greece called her folks this morning to congratulate them on Obama's election. Nov. 5, 10:11 p.m.

Litsa heard Rahm Emanuel shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. Nov. 6, 12:02 p.m.

Litsa thinks, now that the election is over, everyone might want to give it a rest with the "Hussein" thing. Nov. 6, 8:56 p.m

Litsa 's new short story, "Pizza Day", is on Monkeybicycle now: http://monkeybicycle.net/archive/Dremousis/pi zza.html. Nov. 7, 11:00 a.m.

Litsa isn't trying to be facetious but is really curious what Bill Clinton will do in his spare time now that the election is over. Nov. 9, 7:53 p.m.

Litsa hopes that, after Obama issues a new executive order overturning W's stem cell policy, he gets someone to bake her some tasty blueberry scones. Nov. 10. 11:27 a.m.

Litsa is pretty sure her neighbor's dogwalker is grappling w/ demonic possession. Or maybe high-grade lead poisoning. Nov. 10, 12:56 p.m.

Litsa has concluded there is no downside to steak fajitas. Nov. 11, 7:59 p.m.

Litsa thinks that if Aztec Camera had launched today instead of 25 years ago they would have been a much bigger deal. Nov. 12, 11:49 a.m.

Litsa fears we're all going to be dead a long time before she forgets the sight of the guy dry humping and then licking the brick wall on Broadway and E. Union today. Nov. 12, 4:18 p.m.

Litsa would like to point out to the kids tagging the neighborhood with pentagrams that actual satanists probably have more interesting stuff to do. Nov. 13, 9:20 a.m.

Litsa is warmed to know the love she has for French toast is, in fact, requited. Nov. 14, 9:39 a.m.

Litsa can't help but wonder if U.S. astronauts are all that excited about NASA's new invention that converts urine to drinking water. Nov. 14, 11:13 a.m.

Litsa thinks that unless gays toss, say, plutonium into the mix, there's no way they're going to screw up marriage worse than straights have. Nov. 15, 10:17 a.m.

Litsa will not take it personally that the deli near her home has stopped carrying organic tzatziki. Nov. 16, 5:47 p.m.

Litsa isn't worried that our president-elect will soon surrender his Blackberry, because he has assured her they will still communicate telepathically. Nov. 17, 10:52 a.m.

Litsa was once, many years ago, friends with someone whose favorite actor was Keanu Reeves. In retrospect, that should have been a tip off. Nov. 18, 11:52 a.m.

Litsa will think about the lasagna w/ bechamel sauce she had at La Spiga last night for the rest of this life and well into the next. Nov. 18, 4:17 p.m.

Litsa understands the prevailing strategy but thinks Joe Lieberman can still eat a dick. Nov. 19, 9:34 a.m.

Litsa 's friend once joked about Top Pot developing an opium donut and given the way the day is going and that it's only 9:15, she really wishes they'd get on that. Nov. 20, 9:19 a.m.

Litsa wants the pencil-chewing half-wits to know that if they decided to spontaneously combust, she'd be okay with it. Nov. 20, 12:58 p.m.

Litsa would like to commend herself for committing neither the murder nor hari kari that the day so clearly warranted. Nov. 20, 6:29 p.m.

Litsa had forgotten how awesome Whitman's Samplers can be until her dad surprised her w/ one yesterday. Yea, nougat! Nov. 21, 7:38 a.m.

Litsa sometimes falls in love with her neighborhood all over again. Nov. 21, 1:32 p.m.

Litsa thinks that if Bill starts acting batshit again during Hillary's SoS tenure, we should all agree to look the other way when she finally tazes him. Nov. 22, 10:06 a.m.

Litsa is disappointed that breakfast isn't responding to her commands and preparing itself because she thought they'd worked through all this. Nov. 23, 9:52 a.m.

Litsa is going to write a sonnet to the au jus sandwich and hand cut fries she had at the Virginia Inn tonight. Nov. 23, 9:07 p.m.

Litsa finished revising another chapter of her novel today. Which, all told, might be a bigger deal than the aforementioned sandwich. Nov. 23, 9:20 p.m.

Litsa 's downstairs neighbor seems to be running headlong into his east-facing bedroom wall repeatedly and for no discernible reason. Nov. 24, 10:22 p.m.

Litsa seems to have a poltergeist situation with her Ipod. Nov. 25, 11:39 a.m.

Litsa has extra family members in case anyone is running low the next few days. Nov. 25, 11:56 a.m.

Litsa has to go to the grocery store now despite her best plans and is psyching herself up as if she's at base camp on K-2. Nov. 26, 1:39 p.m.

Litsa still hasn't ruled out holing up w/ a stash of yam fries and Johnny Cash tunes for the next five weeks. Nov. 26, 7:37 p.m.

Litsa is thankful for her loved ones, the new first family, and that for the second year running, she was assigned Top Pot donuts and didn't have to cook anything. Nov. 27, 9:50 a.m.

Litsa says this as someone who isn't necessarily all "Holidays! Awesome! Yippee!" but yesterday turned out to be pretty damned great. Nov. 28, 11:21 a.m.

Litsa wishes the fanatics of all stripes would instantaneously evaporate and let the rest of us get on w/ things. Nov. 29, 12:10 p.m.

Litsa thinks we all deserve ponies and snowcones today. Nov. 30, 11:26 a.m.

Litsa hopes the fog enveloping the city is normal fog and not horror movie fog b/c she would hate to be eaten by beast-monsters before her novel is completed. Dec. 1, 12:18 a.m.

Litsa is glad it's sunny now and that the aforementioned horror movie fog lifted b/c she did not like worrying about the also aforementioned beast-monsters. Dec. 1, 10:54 a.m.

Litsa thinks this whole thing could be improved by a bowl of pistachio pudding. Dec. 1, 3:12 p.m.

Litsa doesn't get why Maureen Dowd blew so many words on Tina Fey's weight in the new VF cover story when Dowd's subject is one of the best writers working today. Dec. 2, 12:35 p.m.

Litsa just did something almost Chaplin-esque w/ her bowl of lentil soup, minus the grace and nuance. Sorry, kitchen floor. Dec. 2, 1:43 p.m.

Litsa wants to give Georgia a stern talking to. (Saxby Chambliss? For real? Thanks, wankers.) Dec. 2, 6:21 p.m.

Litsa knows to everything there is a season and all that, but still thinks it would be nice to have more than 45 minutes of sunlight a day right now. Dec. 3, 8:03 a.m.

Litsa calls bullshit that the gone but never forgotten Sonic Boom Records in Fremont is now a frozen yogurt place. Dec. 3, 5:52 p.m.

Litsa was trying to return a snowball thing and thinks she might have inadvertantly sent one to everyone on her FB list. Awesome. Dec. 4, 7:03 p.m.

Litsa wants to congratulate the title company w/ whom she's dealing for staffing solely w/ those who have been kicked in the head and recent mental patients. Dec. 5, 12:09 p.m.

Litsa was either sitting behind Dale Chihuly earlier today at the movies or an indigent guy. She's unsure which. Dec. 6, 7:43 p.m.

Litsa spotted two whole roasted chickens in front of the bldg next to hers yesterday; later, a guy asked her for "money for a whole chicken". Curious. Dec. 7, 2:22 p.m.

Litsa is very glad she did not have to go to REI again this year for her friend's birthday gift as displays of dried food kind of skeeve her out. Dec. 8, 12:17 a.m.

Litsa really hopes the riots in Greece finally stop today. Dec. 9, 10:38 a.m.

Litsa thanks Tina Fey for introducing "whittling IHOP monkeys" to the lexicon and will shower her w/ Green and Black's chocolate mint bars should they ever meet. Dec. 9, 1:10 p.m.

Litsa reminds everyone w/ auditory perception that not listening to the Pernice Brothers hastens the apocalypse and indicates you might be kind of a wang. Dec. 10, 1:24 p.m.

Litsa can't figure out why Paula Abdul exists. Dec. 11, 12:23 a.m.

Litsa thinks we should reenact "The Lottery" but instead of a random citizen it should be Blagojevich and instead of rocks we should pelt him w/ flaming garbage. Dec. 11, 11:21 a.m.

Litsa is pretty sure the lunatics are running not just the asylum but also the adjacent lot and the taco stand one block over. Dec. 12, 2:28 a.m.

Litsa is savoring the piercing morning sun. Dec. 13, 10:26 a.m.

Litsa thinks there should be a cash prize for not kicking someone in the shins when that person is so totally asking for it. Dec. 13, 11:41 a.m.

Litsa enjoys peering up the hill at the decorations festooning the bldgs to the east; she hopes her neighbors dig the arrangement of ornaments on her end table. Dec. 13, 3:38 p.m.

Litsa is enamored of the snow-covered birch trees outside her window and is going to traipse around for awhile. But first, a soy mocha. Dec. 14, 11:51 a.m.

Litsa is ridiculously pleased that after an already good day, "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy" is on and will provide the soundtrack while she wraps gifts. Dec. 14, 6:24 p.m.

Litsa has more shoes if that Iraqi journalist wants to try again. Dec. 15, 10:04 a.m.

Litsa 's downstairs neighbor, based on the sound of things, is either continuing his protracted remodel or passing a small live animal. Dec. 15, 12:14 p.m.

Litsa will track down and ear-flick whomever recorded that crapfest version of Dolly Parton's "Hard Candy Christmas". Dec. 15, 8:11 p.m.

Litsa thinks W should spend his final month in office residing at Walter Reed Hospital. Dec. 16, 11:20 a.m.

Litsa wishes there were a way it could snow and still remain a balmy 55 degrees. Dec. 16, 12:43 p.m.

Litsa at this point is convinced the packing tape is out to get her. Dec. 16, 3:35 p.m.

Litsa doesn't know an enormous amount about the internal workings of the SEC, but based on the Madoff case, thinks maybe they need to lay off the long naps. Dec. 16, 7:11 p.m.

Litsa thinks Caroline Kennedy is smart and gracious and sane; still, getting appointed senator to New York seems like jumping several places in line. Dec. 17, 11:13 a.m.

Litsa thinks Rod Blagojevich and Bernard Madoff should be imprisoned together in a lucite box w/ no air holes so we can all watch them slowly expire. Dec. 17, 12:08 p.m.

Litsa wonders if we've been lulled into a false sense of complacency w/ the inaccurate snow forecasts and, like, now a tsunami is going to hit or something. Dec. 17, 9:08 p.m.

Litsa commences w/ the greatest day ever: an americano and maple cruller across the street at Top Pot, then a glorious walk in the snow. Hooray! Also: yippee! Dec. 18, 10:12 a.m.

Litsa still wishes sometimes that Elliott Smith were alive and creating today. Dec. 18, 8:17 p.m.

Litsa , for reasons she won't go into here, is recalling the scene in Groundhog Day where Bill Murray announces, "Morons, your bus is leaving." Dec. 18, 11:05 p.m.

Litsa wishes a whole bunch of her friends and colleagues the happiest of Hannukahs! Dec. 19, 12:00 a.m.

Litsa just realized the 20th is tomorrow and not today, and that she wished her friends Happy Hannukah a day early. Oy vey. Dec. 19, 12:12 a.m.

Litsa thinks y'all should read her friend Eric's hilarious new Vanity Fair piece on Orlando's evangelical theme park: http://tinyurl.com/3o8hzp. Dec. 19, 12:13 p.m.

Litsa is bemused by how many of her artist friends are taking the snow *personally*, totally not dispelling the notion we're all a bunch of solipsistic crybabies. Dec. 19, 11:29 p.m.

Litsa is quite touched two friends have now offered to fetch her groceries from up the icy steep hill. High five, humanity! Dec. 20, 11:22 a.m.

Litsa wants to launch an indie rock "Behind the Music" wherein bands discuss their vegan chili recipes and library fines. Dec. 21, 8:05 p.m.

Litsa is toggling between M. Ward's "To Go Home" and the Mountain Goats' "This Year"; they sum things up perfectly right now. Dec. 22, 11:44 a.m.

Litsa isn't sure if the guy next to her at Half Price Books had roasted many bowls or just rubbed the pot all over himself for the past few days. Dec. 22, 6:13 p.m.

Litsa thinks the drunk sledders outside her window who are still at it five days into this are maybe way too fascinated by gravity. Dec. 23, 1:58 a.m.

Litsa reports the sledders outside her window kept at it until four a.m.; maybe today gravity will beguile them to leap from something tall. Dec. 23, 10:24 a.m.

Litsa got astoundingly good news when she got home! Merry Christmas, indeed! Dec. 23, 5:18 p.m.

Litsa says, Okay, let's do this thing. Merry Christmas and continued Happy Hanukkah to all! Dec. 24, 10:24 a.m.

Litsa has discovered the Williams and Sonoma chocolate-filled peppermint snaps she received as a gift are the earth's most addictive substance. Dec. 25, 10:09 p.m.

Litsa is irked that Sharon Stone, who is only slightly more relevant than Ashlee Simpson or a Kardashian sister, will be attending the inaugural festivities. Dec. 26, 12:33 p.m.

Litsa is pleased to report that someone working in the Broadway QFC's homeware section actually knew the answer to her question and was quite pleasant. Milestone! Dec. 26, 6:59 p.m.

Litsa was cajoled-- both arms totally twisted!--by her friend from college into grabbing donuts at Top Pot then burgers at Dick's. Sorry, life expectancy! Dec. 27, 2:51 p.m.

Litsa just remembered she has more gifts to wrap before today's snow-induced belated Christmas gathering and rallies, as always, for the sake of the children. Dec. 28, 11:16 a.m.

Litsa wonders when novel writing became a communal event. Dec. 28, 8:55 p.m.

Litsa thanks her immediate and extended family for providing so much material. Though she would love them anyway, she's pretty sure. Dec. 29, 12:18 a.m.

Litsa pauses to reflect on the joy that Fuji apple slices and Adam's creamy peanut butter have brought to her life. Dec. 29, 11:29 a.m.