Unfortunately all that night I had suffered a wicked bout of insomnia that kept me up till 730 in the morning. I just couldnt get out of bed at 9... though, after my alarm went off I wasnt very sucessful at going back to sleep either.
Really, I just zombied out for a few days pinging off walls and other immovable objects, warping space and time.
But that morning I did have the best of intentions to go and see John Kerry down in Waterfront park with the thousands of other supporters. Bush was in town that day too, but in a private business meeting out in the suburban swank of monied Portland.
Yesterday when I was out running I began to count yard signs and bumperstickers after about the 7th mile. There were 33 for Kerry and one, lone, faded Bush/Cheney 2000 sticker on the back of a rusted out camoflage van. Incidentally, the Bush family was out in the yard hollering at each other in a very unbecoming manner.
I got home and laid out under the fan, woke up to the pouring rain and didnt know what that sound was, felt the sluggish surge of blood in the ventricles of my heart and just couldnt move. It occures to me that I will have a badbadbad case of the blues in the days following the Marathon. Real bad. I might cry. I'll just have to make sure there are more dominoes to knock down.
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- Why You Wont Be Hearing All About H2C Just Yet
- That Morning...
- jin·go : One who vociferously supports one's coun...
- Kerry Caravan
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- Eight Hours Driving For A Fifteen Hour Visit
- Some Things Are Better Left Alone
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