i’m back to normal (ha!). it only took 48 hours. i turned on the TV this morning, got the weather on NYone and turned it off. i didn’t even watch moral orel last night, though the stop-motion claymation show is brilliant. watching an episode, i can’t help but think these are the base republicans that called obama a terrorist. oh, not “all” of them, but there’s a bunch of truth there, wandering around in Moralton. i was disheartened to learn that there will be no more new moral orel episodes. 44, it will be - you can see lots of them right online.
i attempted to watch MSNBC’s countdown with keith olbermann but found my eyes and ears wandering. music is once again playing in my room. i’ve been lost in the magic, but that moment has ended. earlier today i planned my turner classic movies for the night. it’ll be a streetcar named desire. i could watch it or listen to it. it’s that kind of experience. great plays that become film can work that way, especially when they’re well-crafted. i don’t doubt that brando and leigh will eventually pull me away from whatever i’m doing (probably this), but that’s about 5 hours from now. which reminds me - if you like radio and real radio shows and you never heard of Joe Frank, it’s time you did, but that’s for you to do. he’s amazing.
at the moment, i’m listening to a movie called “the mating season”, an early 50’s version of screwball comedy, something more tied to the 1930’s. it starred a beautiful and incredibly talented actress named gene tierny -

there’s a story floating around in hollywoodland about how she and a young jack kennedy “did it” in the senate’s cloakroom in the early 1950’s. that’s so…american.
this morning, somewhere - was it the bodega across the street? - a radio told me we lost 247,000 jobs in the past month and general motors is going bust. GM has been losing a fortune for years. now it’s time to sit down and think about how to re-invent yourself, partner. escalade your ass into the future, GM. i know you can do it. the wall you need to climb to get out of the mess you’re in is constructed of the eight-cylinder engine blocks that you’ve stockpiled since 1967. a big part of america, just like General Motors, is an aging galoot who’s terrified of change. this is the lesson of this past election. change or die, GM. a lot of aging galoots were heroic in their decision to vote for a middle-aged black guy this year. my 78-year-old jewish stepfather was one of my heroes this year. he writes e-mails and listens to music through his i-pod.
on another front, maybe it’s time to start growing hemp again.
it was part of the war effort back in the 40’s. what the heck? here’s where i say something catchy like,
“hey america, got a deficit? legalize weed! your only deficit will be your short-term memory”
- it’s about as much a gateway drug as beer or wine and i’m a believer in leveling the playing field. all that other stuff, well, information, a choice and hope for the best - it’s out there …….plaster a warning on the world we live in a la raoul duke, aka hunter s. thompson;
“when you do the drug, you become the drug.”
then, just below it, add -
“prolonged exposure to yourself in this manner will render you a terrific, one-dimensional bore who just might kill yourself.”
i’ve done as much of everything i shouldn’t have done as i humanly could have.
for this i am grateful. if i were young enough and strong enough to do it all over again, i probably would. that’s the kind of guy i am.
rather this, than a world that wants to do too much for your own good.
it’s like bike lanes - they’re a wonderful thing but they give me a slight case of the willies.
this, no doubt has something to do with my age. i existed in a world where riding in between subway cars was as natural as smoking cigarettes while doing it. i flew on eastern airlinesin the early ’90’s, an airline that was in financial trouble at the time. i think i was flying to atlanta, georgia for the first time. it was the last “smoking” flight i would ever be on. the overhead compartment that corresponded to my seating arrangement read “out of order” and was held closed by duct tape. that put everything into perspective for me back then. imagine, smoking cigarettes on a plane; even more, in movie theater.

cigarettes ruled this country; the airwaves, the television - everywhere.

am i getting off the subject or was i never on one?
maybe it has something to do with not being able to grasp what happened on tuesday. obama’s victory could not be understood by a white person. i thought i understood. seeing jesse jackson weep, hearing the words of john lewis and all of the joy at grant park should have given me the hint. the stream of young black males who walked into GBM late that night seemed almost dumbfounded by the turn of events could only shake hands with us. a few of them stepped on the stage and started to chant “obama” for a few seconds, then walked off the stage, shaking hands with us all over again as they headed out. it was very surreal.
two days later, i headed to ruthie’s for meatloaf, collard greens and yams. i’ve been a steady customer of theirs for about six years or so. ruthie is a wiry, petite, god-fearing seventy-something-year-old woman. a “matriarch,” tough as nails but sweet as sugar. she was one of my proxy-moms when i was getting my strength this past year. dolores was gone about five months at this point and there’s probably a default set in my makeup that ruthie’s kind, christian way switched on. hey, mom….
when i came in to pick up my dinner it was at the tail-end of their business day, so it wasn’t busy. “hi ruthie,” i said. “hi there, darlin’…we’ll have you all set up in another minute or so..” she replied. “whenever you’re ready, i’m ready,” i said.
a moment passed.
being the eloquent master of understatement, i said;
“decompressing from tuesday?”
i thought i tazed her. electrified, she answered, “de-compressing? i can’t!…” - becoming more and more energized - “i couldn’t stop jumpin’ and screamin’. i couldn’t answer the phone - people couldn’t understand what i was sayin’, all i was doin’ was hollerin’ and yellin’ - obama! obama! - it’s a miracle. it’s a miracle” and she found herself where she was almost 48 hours ago, crazy with glee, her young crew around her basking in her glow and myself, feeling the joy of the rerun of the moment, as fresh and true as the initial one. it was here where i acknowledged in my heart of hearts that four hundred years of struggle will put you in a slightly different mindset as to the miracle of nov. 4th, 2008.
go, ruthie!