Notes on the Personal Front

I knew things had gone too far when I started writing poetry the other night: "We took a swim in a poisoned lake. We took a bite from a rotten steak." These are toxic times, and I've got to find a way to endure. I definitely overdid it last month, writing a script in two weeks and then banging out the contract. The process left me surly and stunned, and I'm only now beginning to see through the fog. It's after 6 a.m. Friday as I write this. Argentina is pounding Serbia 3-0 and it should be 4. One Argentina player was wrongfully called offsides and when he continued on to score they gave him a yellow card. Brazil is always talked about as the essence of South American soccer, but for me Argentina has the same stature. I always feel like I'm seeing the best. The second goal today was the nicest I can remember from this World Cup, with a brilliant build-up followed by a give and go with the pass off the back heel - one of the coolest moves in soccer.
I've got to return to making some cool moves of my own. We are in for the full assault of the White House power machine, a nasty and brutal force that will blow like an arctic wind from now till the mid-term elections. Everything I read speaks of corruption, danger, and sleaze. The beast is on the loose and hell itself has been emptied out for this effort. I think I know what the Big Lie is right now: The ongoing debate on when to leave Iraq. This is a deception. We are building permanent bases in Iraq for a reason, and I believe the Bush/Cheney plan is for an American presence there stretching out to the endless future. All Bush's talk of not staying one day longer than necessary to set up the Iraqi government, is my pick for latest version of the Big Lie. When Bush dropped in on Iraq the other day, it was an unannounced visit from the landlord. Oh well, the Bush Years have been gruesome. Never has government intruded so far into my mood. I'm a musician surviving as a comedy writer, for Christ sake. I don't need this.