From today's New York Times:

If inclined, please read and forward:

The New York Times > Washington > Negotiators Add Abortion Clause to Spending Bill

Excerpt: "The abortion language would bar federal, state and local agencies from withholding taxpayer money from health care providers that refuse to provide or pay for abortions or refuse to offer abortion counseling or referrals. Current federal law, aimed at protecting Roman Catholic doctors, provides such "conscience protection'' to doctors who do not want to undergo abortion training. The new language would expand that protection to all health care providers, including hospitals, doctors, clinics and insurers."

"I'm going back to New York City/I do believe I've had enough..."--Bob Dylan

I leave for New York in twenty-two hours and not a moment too soon. This past week has been surreal for everyone, though it contained some bright spots, too. A number of my friends and I are even more committed to change and are focusing on the 2006 mid-term elections. I've donated time, money, and/or letter writing skills to progressive causes since I was sixteen and it would be pathetic to succumb to defeatism now. Also, I found out yesterday that McSweeney's has accepted another one of my pieces and that it will run in December. I don't understand why that cocksucker, Karl Rove, should detract from a moment of my joy.

To those who have lost their hearts and heads, I offer the immortal words of Dorothy Parker:

"Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live."

More when I return.

This makes more sense than anything I've read today:

Stand and Fight

To which I add: *We have to fight.* If we quit, we hasten what we're trying to prevent. If we quit, we say that a paltry 51% majority can scare us into inaction. If we quit, we're as guilty as the far right in destroying our country. If we quit, we deserve what we get.

*We have to fight.*

A scintilla of good news (via Drudge):

HoustonChronicle.com - Specter warns Bush on high court nominations

None of us are going to sleep tonight:

As I write this, CNN is projecting 112 electoral votes for John Kerry and 176 for George W. Bush. Election officials in Florida's Miami-Dade County have announced that they won't have their vote total until Thursday afternoon--inept cocksuckers--and Senate Minority Leader, Tom Daschle, might be unseated.

Fuck: Arkansas and Missouri have just been called for Bush, bumping his total to 193.

Best news so far: Barack Obama is the new senator from Illinois. Halle-fucking-lujah.

Thirty-three and a half hours and counting:

I get irked when I hear someone say that she or he will leave the U.S. if Bush wins a second term: it's candy-ass. You can be damned sure Republicans wouldn't talk about abdicating--even as a joke--if the situation were reversed and it's ludicrous when progressives do it. My dad grew up under Nazi occupation and survived the Greek civil war, so I'm confident that I can endure four more years of a president whose policies I loathe. Also, if you love your country, you fight for it. You don't turn tail and run.

All of us agree, though, that the thought of another recount is gut-rupturing. I sometimes think the 2000 election was more heartbreaking than the September 11 attacks--though, obviously, it wasn't--because we did it to ourselves. History's most accomplished democracy imploded and in two days we'll know whether the damage was permanent. Two sequential contested elections would render this country forever altered, something not America. And none of us wants that.

I don't believe that God or divine forces alter elections. But I'm hoping with each synapse that when I open my eyes Wednesday morning, I'll know who the president is. Even if it's Bush.

My friend, Caryn Rose...

...writes the frenetic and essential music blog, Jukebox Graduate. Here she posts the Supersucker's Eddie Spaghetti's analogy wherein he compares the Republicans to Van Halen:

jukeboxgraduate.com: eddie spaghetti on the election

You, too, Mary Beth Cahill:

As everyone knows, John Kerry and George W. Bush are locked in a dead heat. Both parties are flipping out.

My friend and I are particularly concerned. The last thing we said to each other when we got off the phone at midnight on election night 2000 was something like, "Hey! In the morning we'll have a new president." Then, on September 10, 2001, also around midnight, we wrapped up an otherwise ordinary phone conversation by making plans to get together so that I could retrieve a photo that I wanted to use for my MovieMaker bio.

Neither phone call has anything in common with the other except that *both of them inadvertantly triggered disaster.* Neither of us is superstitous, but we're not taking chances, either. Next Monday, November 1, we've agreed to a phone block with regards to the other. Just in case, I won't hit my favorite coffee house--located in his neighborhood--and he won't take his usual route past my place on the way to the gym.

You won't get prescient strategy like this from the DNC. Terry McAuliffe, *call me.*

Hard to say who would be more pissed off, George W. Bush or Al Gore:

The Israeli newspaper, Haaretz, is reporting--via UPI--that Bill Clinton wants to be the next Secretary General of the United Nations:

Haaretz - Israel News

You can email the author, Rebecca Skloot, with suggestions and/or support at rskloot@yahoo.com:

I'm horrified that our country's most sophisticated city, New York, permits wild dogs to attack pets and their owners, but allows the victims no legal recourse. I know that all of us are caught up in the election, but this story is so egregious, so fucking *wrong*, and yet solvable through legal channels (letter writing campaigns, press conferences) or extra-legal ones (poisoned meat). I've emailed Ms. Skloot to let her know that if she's starting an online petition, to count me in and that I'll forward it accordingly. In the meantime, if you love animals, please read her incisive and heartbreaking New York Magazine piece, "When Pets Attack":

When Pets Attack

Of course, nothing compares to the hymm we sang at St. John's Elementary...

..."Peace is Flowing Like a River", wherein we changed "peace" to "piss" and giggled uncontrollably because we were *so* clever:

In Bill Clinton's autobiography, "My Life", he writes that one of his favorite hymns intones, "the darker the night, the sweeter the victory".
That's how I feel about the past six months: I would have enjoyed them anyway, but they've been particularly sweet in light of the excruciating three years that proceeded them. It's with joy, not arrogance, that I post my good news here. The latest:

1) I found out earlier this week that the print and online versions of Kitchen Sink's Issue 10 will run my piece, "50 Questions for God". I wrote it fourteen months ago and I think it fits well with Kitchen Sink's ethos. Said piece hits stands in December. In the meantime, peruse the current issue:

kitchen sink magazine - for people who think too much

2) Yesterday I discovered that my Black Table and Bookslut interviews with Augusten Burroughs have been linked to his official site. Burroughs boasts one of the most comprehensive and best designed author sites around and it's worth checking out if you're a writer or a fan of his work:

# 1 BESTSELLING AUTHOR AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS

Wait 'till you get to the "loofah mitt" on p. 16:

O'Reilly Hit With Sex Harass Suit - October 13, 2004

Merry Christmas, Al Franken!

America's newspaper and sodomy:

My writing continues to advance while my health continues to, well, *not* advance. At this rate, by the time I make the New York Times bestseller list, my lymph nodes will be the size of hubcaps.

Found out today that USA Today's "Hip Clicks" column featured my Paper Magazine profile on Augusten Burroughs and that Salon ran my letter re--god help us all--anal sex memoirist, Toni Bentley.

Enjoy!

USATODAY.com - Beer for club kids; Sarah McLachlan's cheap video

Salon.com Life | Letters

I've always liked John Kerry--I'm a bit of a policy geek--but this sums it up for a lot of folks I know:

JohnKerryIsADoucheBagButImVotingForHimAnyway.com

Good night and God bless:

The New York Times > Arts > Christopher Reeve, 'Superman' Star, Dies at 52

"I refuse to allow a disability to determine how I live my life. I don't mean to be reckless, but setting a goal that seems a bit daunting actually is very helpful toward recovery." --Christopher Reeve, 1952-2004

Stay tuned for more--yea!:

My Black Table essay, "Seizure Sex":
THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO OOOF.

My Paper Magazine profile on Augusten Burroughs:
PAPERMAG PAPERDAILY

My Skirt Magazine essay, "The Not So Great Cookie Offering" (aka "Baking and Fucking"):
Skirt

My Poets and Writers interview with Augusten Burroughs:
Poets&Writers, Inc.

Don't let the title fool you:

My friend, Jade Walker, writes The Blog of Death. Her obituaries for the celebrated, infamous, and everyday folk are eloquent and sharp. What I love most, though, is that in acknowledging death, she celebrates life:

The Blog of Death

Though D-Day was good, too:

Today (now yesterday) my first piece for BlackBook Magazine hit the stands. It's short, but they didn't alter a word. Eight months after I first pitched them, it's fun to hold the tangible results. (I'm reviewing The Long Winters' upcoming disc for BB's Dec/Jan issue, too. Yea!) Also, the new issue contains the winners of their "Hemingway Challenge Contest", wherein readers were asked to submit six-word stories inspired by Hemingway's renowned, "For sale: baby shoes, never used." I didn't know until this evening that I had made the cut ("We removed the wrong eye. Braille?") as did two members of my beloved and freakishly talented writing group. Bono graces the cover--literally--and Tony Bennett's version of "New York State of Mind" piped over the speakers as I paid at the newsstand.

This is, quite possibly, the best day of all time.

Damn it, I'll go over your head if I have to:

How cool would it be if "E.R." had some kind of internal power struggle that manifested itself in the operating room? Then someone could yell something like, "You just exposed this entire hospital to a lawsuit in there!" Then two staff members could have joyless sex . Really, they should look into that.

Of course, I would be The Godmother:

My parents and I went to lunch today at Niko's in Seattle's Magnolia Village. I had a mouth full of souvlaki when a woman approached our table and asked me, "Excuse me, but were you on a blind date about six weeks ago at The Still Life in Fremont? You and a guy were sitting at a table outside?"

"Um, yes. That was me," I replied, a bit startled.

"My friend and I were sitting at the table next to you and I want you to know we felt awful for you. That guy was a jerk. We talked about it after you left. You were all dressed up and funny and asking him questions and he was boring and rude and *then he didn't even pay.* We were mad on your behalf," she explained, genuinely fired up.

"Thanks," I replied. "It's nice to have it coroborated. He was an asshole and I can't understand why he kept emailing me saying he wanted to meet me, because when I got there he made no effort."

"I know," she continued. "He complained about *everything*. Like how his company sent him to London and he hated it? Who hates London?"

"Exactly! And what about when he said he hates New York?"

"That's when I knew he was sunk. Why would you go out with a writer and then say you hate New York? What's wrong with him? I hope you don't think we were eavesdropping, but the tables are so close at The Still Life that we heard everything. By the way, my name is Renee."

"Hey, Renee. I'm Litsa." We shook hands.

"She told me she thought the women at the next table caught on and were sympathetic," Mom said. "Remember, honey? The biotech researcher I told you about who made her pay for her own coffee?" she asked my dad.

"I said it then and I'll say it now: she should have poured it in his lap," Dad added matter-of-factly.

"Guys like that are the worst," the woman at the next table chimed in.

"I know," Renee and I responded simultaneously.

Renee had to get going, but I thanked her for her input and for objectively verifying my take on a crappy evening. The woman at the next table smiled at both of us and returned to her book.

Lately, I've been thinking that there needs to be a Girl Mafia. We wouldn't kill anyone--or even permanently injure them--but, when called, we would burst in and kick dickwad guys in the shins. So they learned a lesson. Behavior modification, as it were.

Of course, the world is full of bitches, too. I love my guy friends and I've seen some of them get their hearts stomped, but it's not funny to joke about kicking women because it happens all the time in real life. However, I've long maintained that a guy can use the "c word" if the object of his affection has crushed him, as long as two other women sign off on it. (Once, my friend, Tony, took a woman to Canlis and the Seattle Opera on a Saturday night. On the way home, she told him, "I hope you don't think this was *a date*. I would never go on *a date* with you." My friend, Eva, and I signed off immediately.)

Anyway, if you see a biotech engineer with an office in Belltown and a hideous dad-man golf shirt wearing shin guards, you can smile, knowing he's a changed man.

Postscript: I know the above examples only apply to breeders. I'm working on solutions to my gay friends' dating snags, too.