Ecstatic

Ecstatic. I am just ecstatic. I just caught the tail-end of his speech. There were tears in my eyes. They might keep coming. I have not been this happy in so, so long.

Now I am crying.

I have waited four years for this. The moment is so large.

God, this is sad.

Madelyn Dunham passed away today. One day before. Sometimes, the universe is so unfair, it just seems spiteful.

Early voting.

I have voted for Barack Obama. It took about an hour, all told.

Stuck on my printer, within my line of sight, there is a sticker that says:

OBAMA
Democrat
U.S. SENATE

When I voted for the man four years ago, I already wanted this. But I never imagined it would come so soon.

Wisom Teeth are, in fact, not very wise, and actually have a tendency to repeat themselves.

It appears that, several years after having my wisdom teeth removed, I have another wisdom tooth growing in in my upper left gum. This sucks. I wonder if my shitty dental plan covers this thing, when it finally pops through my gum.

Seriously, there is something surreal about having a tooth grow in that you had removed several years ago.

The Other Player

I feel great. Last night, after feeling like I was getting nothing out of History of Magic, I set it aside and went back to Colin Wilson's old trust The Occult, which I had never finished, picking up right where I had left my bookmark, (by a description of the Tunguska incident). Later, in the middle of a section trying to explain a theory about the nature of precognition, I set the book down and sat at my computer. I booted up Word, and just sat there for a moment, clearing my mind and letting the story that I had been thinking about form into place. When it was there, when I knew what must happen, I began to write. I kept writing, until I was too tired to keep going. So I went to sleep. And when I woke up, I sat right down and started writing, and didn't stop until I finished the story. Now it is done, and printed off, and I am sitting here enjoying a glass of 1554 Enlightened Black Ale, and feeling good.

I won't read the story yet. I am going to sit on that a bit, and get a bit of a critical perspective on it, before I tackle the task of making changes. But right now it is good to know that I got to the end, and loved doing it.

It was easy. It was also hard, but it was easy. It was like, I realized that the point was not to worry about the words, but so "see" the story, to know it, and just let it flow out of you, onto the page. I knew what came next, because that is what had to come next. It was a wonderful feeling, akin to the descriptions of out-of-body experiences I had just been reading about. There was something truly occult about it. For a time, I felt that I had tapped into forces...not beyond me, but deeper inside me. Every so often, a part of me would correct something, reach in and say that was the wrong word, but for the most part he was just standing by, that editor of me, and let the other me take over the task. Like when I am playing the drums, and feel totally at peace with every beat and bang and clash that I make, and voice is yelling from somewhere, "isn't this wonderful?!" But it is my voice, and I am reveling from a distant, the person who is playing.