History by wire
Rarely do I get the feeling that I am living a global narrative. Even ten thousand miles from Grant Park, I surveyed the room during Obama’s acceptance speech and saw all my friends getting teary. As far as I can remember, I only mist up during movies and funerals. The latter is too real too ignore, the former too fantastical to trip my hair-trigger cynicism. Obama’s speech, however, dug down to something deep. We all felt that he was speaking to us, all of us, and individually. There was no party politics. There was no fear mongering, no veiled references to divisive hot-button conflicts, no smug vainglory or politiking in general; just the overwhelming desire for America to achieve those ideals which have somehow survived under the tarnish of panic, marketing, hegemonic inertia and paralyzing disappointment that have characterized the last twelve years of American politics. I was activated in a place that hasn’t seen the light of day since, well, since the tooth fairy was debunked. David Foster Wallace plumbed the depths of young America’s political disillusion in his 2000 article on McCain, and for the first time I feel a lever prying at the lid of that disillusion. The echoes are spreading. Already, Iraqi officials have started thawing on a security resolution. The whole world is murmuring. Let’s see what happens.
On another note, I’ve posted an updated draft of my poem True Stories of the Height of Sand. It looks like a couple of my poems will be coming out in the next Voices Israel anthology. I will post them on the thused.poetics site very soon.