Why Can’t I Dance

Couldn’t write at all last night. Too riveted to the election results and the end of 12 long years of right-wing Republican domination. As Ginny said about 9 o’clock, “I just want to be less oppressed.” I feel strange today, like the proverbial bird whose cage door is open. A curious silence hangs over my personal e-mail, blog and listserv outlets for political discourse. No one is e-mailing triumphant paeans to freedom, like we gagged and puked after 2000 and 2004. It’s like everyone’s waiting for the Rovians to steal it again, somehow. And I guess the breath has still got to be held on Virginia.
But come on, everybody, let’s dance. We’ll have ethics reform, oversight investigations and real attention paid to getting us out of f—ing Iraq. Rummy’s OUT! Rove is hiding somewhere. Santorum is gone, gone, gone. Delay is a bad memory. Wow! This is great news.
But why can’t I write, why can’t I dance?

I’m re-reading Phineas Redux and I feel like he did when he was supposed to have been all happy and ready to go to his club for a drink after he’d stood trial for murder. We’ve been in the dock for six years. It will take a while to be able to take it all in and stop looking over our shoulders for another assault on the Constitution in the name of “the homeland.”

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