Yuk Bon

First things first: the new Decemberists’ single is fucking awesome. Go click that, they will give you the mp3 for free. Which is good, because rakes are broke.

Second things second: this pregnancy thing is harrowing. I’ve gone from stone sleep to dressed and going WHAT in 2 seconds flat. So far no baby yet.

3rd things next: so I’m at the hospital at like fucking ungodly-a.m. or whatever, and the world turns so daylight happens and here comes the inaugural and holy fuck we have a black president. and fucking hell, he’s smart, and capable, and maybe, just maybe, the whole country isn’t going into ruin right this fucking second. Cleolinda Jones said something about holding your breath and being horrified that the last 8 years have been something that the people of the country actually wanted and how horrifyingly terrible the idea of that has been, and honestly I’ve still been holding my breath, worried that it might not happen, that something would fuck up before President-elect Obama became President Obama. My standards are not high: anyone who won’t be a craven whore, intent on just using the flag to whip his flaccid dick all over the constitution and the ideals of what this country should be would be a great improvement.

My father called me up last week, to tell me about a dream he’d had. My father and I have never spoken of dreams. There were french doors and they opened and Abuelo was there, with his big grin — we’ve all got it really it’s the mark of my family name really — and holding a little boy’s hand, he turned to my father and says “mira que se parece a ti cabezon”. My father was too shocked to say anything. Yesterday was all hectic and doctors and driving but in the end, everything was OK, and we got to hear the heartbeat again. tuntun-tuntun-tunun