People turn scary during elections. There are the ones who vote their pocketbooks, and proudly. There are the spiteful ones, the would-be agents of vengeance against their political betrayers. And then there are the gridlock fans, the ones who think that government is best which governs most paralytically.
It's time to lay things on the table, time to start asking the big questions again. I don't have answers, I just know that there are certain doors I need to thrust my foot in while I think things over. There are possibilities that must be kept alive, other ones that should perhaps be resuscitated.
I'm living like a magazine; my life has a lead time to it now. Turn the wheel to port, and she'll heel round eventually. The time horizon is coming back, I'm projecting outwards and forwards again. I think it happened without my knowledge, but I have that sense again, the psychological contiguity between the me of today and the me a month hence.
I know some perfectly wonderful people, but if I'm going to turn into them, what am I doing here?
Things are pulling closer, too: the here and now has a growing urgency. There's more to do than I have time for; I'm aware of the importance of minutes. I've got things to say, plots in motion, something bubbling on every burner. That's the good china up in the air, gotta be extra-careful here. Lotus-Eaters is about to hit the point of no return -- any day now, I promise -- and that will be that, but that shelf keeps on stretching, mocking me, and this election is inspiring other things, good grief, how to fit them in, too.
And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack, and you may find yourself in another part of the world, and you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile.
Making choices, that's where it's at. That's what I'm doing, really. I'm doing whatever I have to do to make sure I get the right chances to make choices. Day by day, hour by hour: that's how I reassure myself that things are all right. At this instant, I say, I am aware that I have other options than this particular one. I recognize what I am forgoing, and I make this choice of my own free will, so I affirm on the dotted line. That's what it's all about -- it's not about the choices, it's about being able to make them.
Did you ever have that feeling, that maybe somewhere out there there's a bookstore and it's calling your name? Well, what're you going to do about it, whitey?
Buzz. Buzz.