Following up on last night's petulant groanings: I got up this morning and hied myself to the elementary school down the street. Signs of hope: for a midterm election in which the contest for the governship in this state is all but predetermined and the local congressman will be coasting to another two years in office, the place was nevertheless quite bustling with life; I haven't had to wait in line nearly so long in the past. Maybe the turnout in this one won't be quite so dismal.

The room itself is something of an excercise in nostalgia; an primary school gym, constructed in the enduring style of Early Seventies Institutional, with cinderblock walls painted somewhere between daffodil, mustard, and headache. Below various freebie posters of sports icons (Michelle Kwan, Martina Hingis, and several seasons worth of Yankees) have been taped large sheets of paper which itemize, in language which resembles that of a corporate mission statement, the goals of the various PE activities: "Students will learn to manipulate the soccer ball." The particular way the hallway tile accretes dirt and reflects noise seemed particularly timeless; one can hardly imagine going to school in a place without corridors like these.

The voting was what it was -- I'm depressed to feel out of the national action (as I did, a bit, in 2000, when this state was a lock for Gore). I made sure to vote no on the sneaky little ballot issue which both the last mayor and the current one want (the one which strips power away from the Public Advocate), and to only vote for the judges who were listed on both the Democratic and Crazy Out-There-Left-Wing party lines. I pulled the big red lever back with its appealing k-k-k-k-ka-CHUNK and then that was it, it was done, it was over. Not much of a contribution to the perpetuation of freedom and justice, but it's something.

I'm going home to watch the returns. Come, on, Fritzy!