Distractions

Posted 9:40 PM by Michelle
I got back to my car tonight after a fascinating dinner with my friend Jon (more on that later) and saw a note on my windshield under my wiper. It read "My name is Katherine I think I scratched your car but it's dark please call me". I got out of the car and had Jon shine his lights on the driver's side and sure enough, there is my paint, her paint, a bunch of mud (?) and nice long but shallow dents on the door and the body. I called her, and she was very gracious. but the really sad part is that the repairs are going to cost at least what the car is worth. They'll have to paint both the door and the body. A real shame... but I'm glad I won't be paying for it.

Jon and I had dinner at La Boucane. I have a hard time believing that even a google search will come up with any good info on this place; they aren't even listed in directory service. But what a totally surreal night. We got there 45 minutes after they were supposedly open but found a deadlocked door; we tried to call, but couldn't find a number, and so we knocked. An older man answered the door and ushered us in to a "lover's table" (about which Jon and I, essential brother and sister, couldn't stop giggling) and then he went to the back and reappeared in a chef's coat. This man brought us bread and water, opened our wine, cooked and delivered our food, and entertained us with stories about Napa 25 years ago. Three other tables trickled in, at which point Jon and I were left to our own devices for half hours at a time as our host opened their wine, cooked their meals, and told them stories. He was as fascinating as the old craftsman house that housed this restaurant; the wallpaper was floral and faded, just like grandma's, the ceiling and trim a blue that may once have matched the floral pattern but was now far too bright. The woodwork was probably gorgeous once upon a time but was now shellacked with layers of green-brown baby-poo paint. The most terrifying detail, however, were the etched mirrors that hung on the walls between the pocket doors. More floral motifs, this time with wee bluebirds, reflecting the poo-brown and florals from the facing walls. We sneaked a peek under the white rayon tablecloth to find a plastic-covered 1970's table stolen straight from Denny's. It was truly wonderful. The wine list was an old crusty book that had ten or eleven selections, designated by one label from a bottle of wine on each page. More often than not, though, the vintage had changed, so there was a little corrective sticky over the year. But, my god, the lobster bisque and the creamed spinach were ridiculous... almost as good as the raspberry souffle. Holy god, good stuff.

And we didn't really talk about the election, or politics, even, other than a little ranting before dinner. Instead, we talked about our friends, and our trip to the city tomorrow, wine, women, and song. I don't know if I can stay true to the media blackout I promised myself, not while Bush holds a press conference holding out one generous hand to the Democrats while hiding a dagger behind his back. But what I can do is give myself a little time and breathing room to recover and rebuild.

I ate more at dinner tonight than I ate all of yesterday and the day before. I'm reminded that I hate being this full.

Tell me

Posted 6:36 PM by Michelle
The heavens are weeping here in Napa Valley for the first time this season. We've had a couple of late-night showers, but today was the first day that the sun was blocked by soaked rain clouds. It was sprinkling when I woke up this morning, and the rain still falls heavily.

I'm done weeping, for now. I'm ready for a week-long media blackout, and a four-year long Bush blackout. Don't get me wrong- I will pay attention, I will be informed, but there is no good reason for me to look at his stupid ass-face.

What I am ready to do is act. Tell me where to go, what to do, where to look, who to join, and I'll consider it. Tell me how I personally can start the work towards election 2008, and I'll do it. Tell me how I personally can do something to make sure that women have a right to choose, that the polar ice caps stop melting, and I will do it. Tell me how to change one mind a month for the next 48 months and I will gladly do the work. Tell me how to find a candidate that actually comes close to my own politics, but who can speak to middle America, and I will start his campaign NOW, in my little studio, in the little hamlet of Rutherford. I will do it. But I don't know how.

I am dead serious. If anyone out there has any bright ideas, reasonable ideas, directions, or thoughts, I beg you to send them to me. I can't find anything on the internet, can't quite narrow down the Google search (my last try was "what do I do now?") I will claim utter ignorance, and complete cloudiness- I haven't the foggiest idea where to begin. But I want to begin, so if someone out there has any concrete ideas, I want 'em. And I tell you this: put me to work on the next Democratic campaign for President. Do it. We'll win. He will be brilliant and funny and articulate, but southern or midwestern and appealing. We need to find him, and then he needs me to work on his campaign.

We can have a quiet revolution as the Republicans sit back on their haunches and rest on their majority. We can be worms that slowly devour the Republican stronghold on the center and south of this country. We will invite the Christian Right to stay in the houses of the lord, and draw out the younger voters who just couldn't get excited by Kerry. We will be moles, infiltrating middle American. And the Republicans will do most of the work for us- things are going to get so incredibly awful that it will finally become undeniable and unbearable and American will lust for someone SMART and CAPABLE rather than someone who seems like he'd be fun in a hot tub. The war will drag, our health care costs will skyrocket, our teenagers will not be able to go to college, and finally, finally, something is going to break. We just have to be prepared and have done the groundwork to catch the country when it falls.

Someday, the rest of the world will try to forgive us for being such assholes. But first we have to stop being assholes on an international scale, and that's not going to stop for four more years. We've got work to do.

?

Posted 1:51 AM by Michelle
I might be the last family member awake. It's 1 AM in California, way past my bedtime, and only now did I finally get up off the couch and turn off the TV. When Kerry hit 242 electoral votes, I had spasms of hope, but they are gone. There is still a chance, I know, but the fact that Bush is 5 million ahead in the popular vote, and that he has led this race from the minute the polls opened is telling.

In 2000, I hardly took the election seriously because I thought it laughable that Bush would get elected. I predicted a minor landslide this year in favor of Kerry. And while I know that there are a thousand things more important, I can't help but think about the opinions of people in every other country in the world- what must they think of us, we who had a chance to right a horrible wrong and instead stuck our heads in the sand.

I will try not to despair, I will try to take Sean's advice and be incredibly artistically productive tomorrow. I'm sad, ashamed, demoralized... but mostly I am really, really pissed off that the madman is around for another four years. I'm really pissed off that he's frightened over half of my fellow Americans into voting for him. And now, I'm going to finally go throw up and go to bed, and then wake up and try to figure out what to do.

I mean, seriously, what exactly went wrong?

Musings

Posted 7:20 PM by Michelle
I spoke with an old friend of mine today for over an hour while I was raking crisp, brown leaves into mounds in my itty back yard. I’ve only known this friend for a few years, but now that a year has passed since we lived in the same town, it feels as though she’s from a time before. With how quickly things change, knowing someone for more than a few years at this point grandfathers them in to the “old friend” status. She was telling me about her new job, her challenges and prospects, and then finally admitted that she’s been seeing someone- another mutual “old friend” whom I just adore. He’s sweet, funny, adventurous, an activist, handsome… just lovely, and it’s funny, because there was a time when something between he and I might have been possible. I entertained the notion, but more as just that- entertainment- than anything serious, much like I have treated almost every man I’ve dated in the last four years. Clearly I’ve done plenty of pontificating and wondering and wandering through my love life, but I still need to revisit the patterns to determine where I’ve been and what’s happening now and where I’m going. The point is, I still do not believe that ultimately this guy and I would have been compatible. But the woman I spoke today is deeply in love with him, which is wonderful, but confusing. How can she take him so seriously? But the truth is, I think it was me who was incapable of something serious, not him. I’m thrilled for both of them, and have no pangs of a missed opportunity or anything useless like that. It just has made me look myself over, again.

My friend and I also spoke of a man who is still in my life, one who has been any number of things to me over the past two years: friend, albatross, lover, confidante, boss (whoops!), annoyance, thorn in my side, heartbreaker, idiot, supporter, and back to friend, in no particular order. He really believes that the future holds something deep and meaningful between us; my friend asked if he had a chance. I’m pretty sure the answer is no. He obliterated the trust between us, not by betrayal, per say, but by being an ignoramus, and I find it next to impossible to rebuild bridges once they’ve been razed by indifference. The weird thing is, when we speak on the phone or over email, we have these incredible conversations filled with confidences and hard questions and honest answers and I feel so warmly towards him, so intimate and loving, but the few times he’s been physically in front of me in the last year, those feelings aren’t nearly as prevalent. This is familiar to me, actually- the ease of loving someone who isn’t there- but I’m not really thrilled with that disconnect.

It’s become so clear to me what I want, so specific and true and simple, really. Seems to me that the law of averages will ultimately work in my favor, if only I open the right doors.