07 November 2008

A Primal Yulp

I cried when Barak Obama gave his victory speech. I won't lie. I had tears streaming down my face. Well, I mean I would have if I had let them stream down my face and then stood under a light to underscore the piquant portrait of a man moved by a historic moment. In reality I just wiped them with my sleve a lot and then talked loudly about allergies.

Will Barak Obama make a difference? I have no idea. But it was moving to cast a ballot for someone who I believed in, not just a set of ideas espoused by someone I wasn't sure about. Am I setting myself up to be disappointed? Of course. That's what politics is about, after all; it's all voting for ideas that are hard to achieve, and therefore, don't always come about.

But good God the man can talk; it's rain on parched plains falling in a soft light.

The district was a fun place to be (well, if you voted for Obama). I was at work the whole night, and everytime Barak won a new state, the shouts from the bar and lounge drowned out the bad techno we listen to (it makes the food tastier if you cook it listening to Eurotrash-pop from 1998). After I got done, all the cars along Pennsylvania Ave were honking their horns and everyone was giving high-fives. And for just a minute, it felt really good to think that maybe everything was going to be alright.