An announcement for the three of you still reading my blog: I'll be writing entries both Tuesday and Wednesday next week. I doubt I'll stay up for the whole thing. I've waited four years to see if Bush would be voted out, I can wait six hours more so I can face the verdict with a nights semi-fresh rest.

Anyway. My Sample Ballot arrived today. Which made me very relieved; I have vague memories of the sample ballots arriving a few weeks before the election, not a week before. My brain was already formulating conspiracies where sample ballots were being purposely withheld to keep non-Republicans from voting. Long live paranoia.

It's amusing. Who knew there were so many Socialist parties. I mean we've got the Socilaist Equality Party, the Socialist Party USA, and the Socialist Workers Party. Rounding up the lsit is the Constitution Party, Nader's "independent" party, the Green Party, and the Libertarian Party. I voted Libertarian in 2000 . . . I rather liked some of their ideas even though I thought they were fiscally bonkers. I remember vaguely reading up on the Constitution Party, but I'll have to refresh my memory because I've forgotten completely what they're up to. And I'm just dying to find out what separates the Socialist Equality Party from the Socialist Worker's Party. (obviously: the workers party works and the equality party equalizes.)

I'm still leaning towards Kerry, but that nagging voice tells me my principles stand a better chance of survival if I don't. I mean, I don't like kerry. I watched him during the debates and the way he went on and on about all the things he's going to get done and I know the man has no way to pay for any of it. So that makes him either an outright liar or even more fiscally irresponsible than Bush.

Rasmussen lists New Jersey as solidly in the Kerry Column, so I'm fairly certain my vote isn't going to matter much in terms of giving Kerry the state. Conversely, if ten thousand voters felt the same way and didn't vote, then Bush could win after all.

That's rather the problem when you play the Voting game. Once voters doesn't mean shit. But the larger the vote, the better larger the affect. One vote, who cares. One hundred votes could cause someone to blink. One thousand votes might cause eyes to widen. Ten thousand votes affect the course of the country for the next four years. (Unless you live in Florida, Ohio, New Mexico, Wiscosin, Nevada, Pennsylvania, etc; then even votes by the hundred are paramount.)

That said, playing the odds means I have the luxury of not voting for Kerry and still having the same chance of Bush leaving office if I do vote for Kerry. So do I play it safe, or do I give them both the finger?

In the fourth season of The West Wing, one of the characters got into a spat with a political lobbyist over the threat of a possible third-party candidate. "He's taking away our votes!" the deputy Chief of Staff exclaimed. Replied the lobbyist: "They're not his votes."

And that's the thing. It shouldn;t be a matter of jockeying for the lesser of two evils, or playing the odds against the Electorial Collage. It's your vote. You get a chance to make a decision that, when stacked up against everyone else who makes a decision, ultimaitely decides who will lead one of the strongest nations on the planet. How the hell can you pass that up? Even at your most jaded, how can you not want to stand up and be counted? Because whether your vote is lost in the m,illions of others, it's still your vote. Don't cast it the way you think you should, cast it the way you want it to.

I've always liked Van Morrison's "Moondance". I can't say for certain when I started liking it . . . high school, obviously, as I doubt I knew any Van Morrison song (beyond 'Brown Eyed Girl") prior to getting into classic rock. Though, now that I think about it, I don't think getting into classic rock exposed me to any great variety of Morrison's music. Dream a Little Dream introduced me to "Into the Mystic" . . . I don't think I heard "Gloria" until college. Don't ask me to name another Van Morrison song beyond those four.

But the point is, of those four, and even with "Into the Mystic" getting a strong sentimental push because of its relation to Dream a Little Dream, "Moondance" is always my favorite. And I always think of it in October . . . "underneath the cover of October skies" goes the song. It also doesn't hurt that I taped the song on Vol 38 of my "Great Songs" mix tapes in October of 1992. So, yeah, "Moodance" = October and vice versa.

The thing is, especially with this blog now weekly rather than somewhat-daily, October has flown by rather quickly. It's the 20th, almost the 21st. I can't even tell you where the month has gone. Yesterday I wrote an e-mail to Matt and Roberto, the Global Supply Chain Manager who was hired back in August, reminding them that I've got two months to go and if there's anything specific they wanted me to do to help with the transitioning we'd better get to it soon.

It's all moving so fast. Daylights Saving is about to end. It's dark when I wake up in the morning. The trees are starting to drop the colors they've been parading about for the last four weeks. Where did October go? Where did this year go. Considering how uneventful the last few years have been, this one has been an amazing roller coaster, certainly the most eventful year I've had in quite some time.

And crunch time is about to set in. The resume is, effectively, ready to go. I'm actually a bit behind in preparing to look for apartments--apartment hunting! November is next week (metaphorically speaking) and it's not like I'll have time to comb the paper and visit potential places in the evening. As I've come to realize: I have to treat this as if I was moving out of state--I'll have one or two days to find an apartment and that's it. And if November moves as quickly as October has (and given how fast the months prior to September raced by there's no reason to think I'll be slowing down in the final stretch) then I'll be moving out and in faster than you can read the rest of this entry.

I'm excited. I'm scared shitless, don't get me wrong. But how thrilling it feels to be leaving. I'm always one for independence. The idea that I am not tied to this area, that I can move away from it, past it, beyond it, ahead of it. . . .

It's like people who honeymoon in Disneyworld. Now, I know a couple that did and it's what they wanted and I know Sean would probably put it on his shortlist of honeymoon spots. But it seems to me (and perhaps only me as most people i know do not share this view) but Disneyland is a symbol of mediocrity. Of middle-of-the-road safe, inoffensive escapism. It's fantasyland, and that's all well and good. But if I'm going to honeymoon somewhere, if I'm going to celebrate the start of my life together with someone, why on earth would I want to go to a land of make believe? marriage is a reality, living together is a reality. Why start it by spending time in an enviornment completely manufactured? When there's so much the world--the "real" world (subjective as that terminology is)--has to offer, so much to explore and discover, why on earth would you want to go to a place that, essentially, offers a candy-coated idealistic simulation of what exists, concretely, elsewhere?

"Moondance" is, admittedly, a love song. And it carries the tropes of that type of song, and I realize that part of my enjoyment of that song is that it fosters the very sort of simulated reality that I just railed against Disney. But when I hear "Moondance" . . . the stady tapping percussion, the jazzy riff on the piano and the way it chreshendoes every so gently in the chorus . . . yes, it makes me wish there was someone to share the Autumn air with--it is a great song to dance to--but that's really secondary to the impulse to simply be out there. Walking out in the October night where it cold enough for a coat but warm enough to keep it open. The smell of turning leaves everywhere you go and enjoying the stillness in the air as the whole world around you prepares to settle in for a long-needed nap.

October is almost over and I haven't had the chance to really appreciate it. The end and the beginning is coming closer, faster, and I know the harder you hold onto a moment the quicker it slips away. But the weekend is coming and it's a light schedule planned. Plenty of time left to head out and enjoy an evening or two.

It's a marvellous night....

I'm thinking maybe I should move "Post Day" to Thursdays. Because it's 11:38 right now and I'd like to get to bed now, so theoretically this could wait until Thursday. Wednesday's seem rather busy lately so this may make sense. Maybe I can change the day each month. October will be Thursday, November will be Friday . . . I might skip Saturday because, well, I'd like some sembalance of a life, and therefore post on Sunday's for the month of December. This would mean January would see new entries on Monday, and I rather like the idea of starting the New Year with posts at the start of each week. (Although, technically, the new week start on Sunday's so I'd be shit out of luck, but when have I ever let that stop me?).

Eh. Anyway.

I've been listening to Tori Amos again. I'm not sure where the impulse started, but I felt like listening. It's very strange. I've still haven't recovered from overdosing on her in 2002 and 2003, so I have a feeling I'll be putting the CD's back on the shelf, but this is my first concentrated listening to her in some time. I started off with her Best Of compilation. Sort of easing back with all the classics. Or some of them. Listening to the songs made me realize I haven't updated MandaTori Amos in waaaay too long. It also brought back some memories . . . hearing 'God" brought me back to January 1994 and the start of the Spring semester of my Freshman year. Hearing "Spark" and "Playboy Mommy" reminds me of 1998, graduating and gettting my first "real" job . . . "Bliss" reminds me of going to Central Park with Chris to see Tori perform on "Good Morning America".

"Me and a Gun" still packs a wallop, and reminds me when this girl sang it during the end-of-year performance of the Fine & Performing Arts program I belonged to my senior year of High School. It was the first time I met someone else who liked her music. (This was 1993, you understand. Tori was just gaining "indie cred". Long before the Ears With Feet concept began, long before the popularization of the Internet brought forth a horde of worshippers. In 1993 I was just glad to know I wasn't the only one who liked her music.)

But the best-of compilation only got one listen-to. It's easy to love the early stuff. Easy to let the nostolgia of "Silent All These Years" and 'Crucify" lull you into complacency. So with one CD down I popped in the B-side collection that came with the recent concert DVD. So I went from her relatively early work to her most recent, and the change is jarring. There's five songs on the CD and they're an interesting mix, but there's still a lot of it that feels like she's playing to the crowd; that she's TORI AMOS and not just a musician named Tori Amos.

I think Tori's at a transition at the moment. Scarlet's Walk, her most recent album (now two years old) had a maturity her other works hadn't had. But it feels like it's the start of a direction rather than a declaration of finding a direction to go in. The B-sides exemplify this. "Bug a Martini" is this light, cheery cheeky diversion. "Tom Bigbee", probably my favorite track, is bombastic in a kinda-sorta-rock-ish way. "Apollo's Frock" is everything wrong with Tori's music. It's full of winding, rolling, reeling turns; vague metaphorical lyrics and trademark Tori cooing; but it doesn't lead anywhere. It reminds me of "Yes, Anastasia" but without the anchor that makes that song so amazing. "Apollo's Frock" wants to be something, but tries too hard to achieve anything.

That I can focus more on the negatives seems to indicate I'm still over-saturated to approach her music clearly. This, of course, is only secondary to the theory that perhaps I've simply moved on from whatever made her music so appealing. But, still. I'm listening to her music. One roatation of the CD's, just to hear what I connected with originally . . . whether the connection still exists or it's just the memory of it . . . the beauty about music is that it doesn't go anywhere. You can put a CD on the shelf and come back to it years later. You may change, but the music stays the same.

11:58. It's still Wednesday.

OK. It's still Wednesday so I'm not out of time yet. I want to do this really long entry about The Once and Future King. It's my faovrite novel, and right now I'm about 40 pages away from finishing it (for the second time) but I've hit a snag.

I didn't want to finish it on Sunday because I was really beat from Pete's wedding (Ooh, I should post pictures. Me, Noah and Pete looked rather dashing in our tuxes.) and I was worried I'd be too tired to focus on printed words. Instead of read Give our Regards to the Atomsmashers, the collection of essays on comicbooks that Sean got me for my birthday. Which is an interesting read. It's interesting, though, as there's definitely an undercurrent of self-loathing to some of the essays. Even for a books that's supposed to celebrate one's love of comics, there's still that problem of people being embarrased for actually liking them. (But, I suppose that's a topic for another blog entry.)

Rigbht now it's finishing TOaFK that's on my brain. I never like reading the end of the story. In any version. I knew the basics of the legend before ever reading Le Morte d'Arthur, so when I finally got to reading that version, I remember being dissapointed when I got to the part where Lancelot rescues Guenivere and kills Gareth, because that really singals the end of Camelot, and everything after that just builds to Arthur's controntation with Mordred.

But Malory, for all his vivid descriptions, is still a dry read. All the losts of who msote who and where they were smoten (smitted?) . . . it's really up to the reader to supply the emotion. But with White and his novel . . . ah, white's a master at humanity. It's emotional not because of the reader's response, but because of the passions that White infuses his characters with. Reading of Gareth's murder via Malory was dissapointing. Reading about it via White practially brought tears to my eyes.

The problem is, really, there's no hope. Lancelot kills Gareth, Gawaine and Mordered swear vengeance, and Arthur is powerless to stop it, even though he's ready to forgive everyone. By then nothing can stop Mordered from siezing power. Lancelot will never arrive at Salsbury in time to aid Arthur. Camelot is destroyed long before the truce Arthur and Mordered agree to is broken by accident. It ends. And not reading the end doesn't change the fact that it has ended.

There's a scene I compeltely forgot about after the first time I read this book . . . which was back in 1991 so I'm surprised, really, that I remembered as much about it as I did . . . but there's a scene where Lancelot and Guenivere return to England under truce, for Lancelot to surrender Gwen and then be banished. It's a gut-wrenching scene, because everyone at cvourt is witness to this--the greatest knight being humiliated by Mordred and Gawaine. The court is dressed in their Sunday's best, it's a twisted pagentry. It could still be saved. The Pope interveneved to restore Guinevere to the throne. Gawaine is only vengeful because he grieves; if he'd only listen to Lancelot, realize Gareth's death--Gareth, who idolized Lancelot, who was knighed by Lancelot, who was adored by Lancelot--was a tragic accident. But Mordred manipulates his half-brother all too well. Arthur's will has been broken by his own guilt. Lancelot's pleadings are ignored. And he's banished from England.

He'll return, of course. Gawaine will hunt him down and they will fight every day until Gawaine is too wounded to continue. But as soon as Gawaine heals enough he'll challange Lancelot and they'll fight until Gawaine is too wounded, and the cycle repeats. But on his deathbed Gawaine recants, and absolves Lancelot. By then Mordered takes over Camelot and so, with Gawaine's forgiveness, Lancelot rallies his army and heads back to England to join Arthur and defeat Mordered once and for all.

But he's too late. He was too late when I read Le Morte D'Arthur, too late when I read The Once and Future King back in 1991. And with 40 pages left to go in 2004, Lance will be late again. He always has been, he always will be.

Ah, but not quite yet. Right now Lancelot--and Guinevere and Arthur and Mordred--are frozen in time, waiting for me to lead them to their conclusion. All good things, etc. etc. But it's worth it. It's sad to see them go, but there's value in it. Endings are good things, they make the lessons you learn have weight and meaning.