Yes, it’s that time of year again. The Native American Day of Mourning. Thanksgiving. Victor R. Venckus hosts what must be his 25th (or 200th) Annual WZBC Pow-Wow. Native American or Native American-inspired music from all possible genres, all day on Thanksgiving, this year being Thursday, November 27, from 1-10pm on WZBC 90.3 FM. You can tune in via the interweb at www.wzbc.org. It’s an awesome show, so as you’re OD’ing on Tryptophan or slicing into your Tofurkey, check him out.

Gray, drizzly morning, fog thick on the harbor, shrouding secret cruise ships, tankers, military vessels – or perhaps something even more sinister. No one knows, in the mysterious, sensuous gloom. But you feel they’re out there, stealthily lurking to and fro with their unknown cargo. Later on in the morning, foghorns cry their mournful song, harmonizing with the seagulls. These are perfect sorts of days for me, standing on my porch with a cup of tea. Thoughtful, wistful, vaguely sad, though I find it does not depress. On the contrary, I welcome it like a comforting shawl that wraps itself securely around me.

How absolutely fantastic that Barack Obama will be our next president. I still can’t believe it, and every time I see or hear “President Elect Barack Obama” I’m just amazed, and tears well up in my eyes, remembering the images from election night, as I sat riveted to CNN and MSNBC. That African American woman at Chicago’s Grant Park, who sunk to the ground with her head in her hands, overcome by emotion. A huge crowd in *Sydney* counting down to that 11pm Eastern Time U.S. hour (”5-4-3-2-1″) like New Year’s Eve, with CNN on a giant screen, and as soon as “Breaking News” appeared and then a picture of Obama, erupting into cheers. People going out into the street and celebrating, all over the world. What an amazing sight. I was completely convinced that Obama would win, but McCain would refuse to concede, citing some bizarre election machine malfunction in Idaho or wherever. Am I so jaded about U.S. politics that I can’t believe that something *good* could actually happen?

Sarah Palin. Whenever I watch or even just listen to that woman talk – about anything – I have this overwhelming desire to put my hair in pigtails and hop around the room to Toni Basil’s “Mickey”. This is a dangerous woman. Someone please keep an eye on her.

The pursuit of happiness feels to me like a game in a carnival. So difficult. So random. So elusive. All those endless floating ducks circling past you, and you know that one – only one – has your dreams, your desires, your hopes, casually revealed on its bottom. So you put your money down, and pluck one up. Nope, not that one. And more money, and again. No. And still more money, more effort, as time slips by, the hours, the days, the years. You try to concentrate, you try not to concentrate. To focus, to not focus. To clear the mind, to meditate, to approach the matter in a Zen-like, irreverent fashion. They’re not ducks, they’re grains of sand, or toy soldiers, or jellybeans. And this isn’t important, this isn’t your happiness at stake, not the purpose of your life, but a child’s fancy. Let it go, release the expectations, release the fears, release the sense of struggle, the sense of anything. But in trying not to try, you’re caught up in that eternal riddle.

After promising earlier this year that I would make a concerted effort to support local bands, finally last night I decided that I was in the mood for some live music. I headed out to a show at The Middle East Upstairs, featuring four Boston-area bands: Left Hand Does, Thick As Thieves, This Car Up & The Shills. I had given them all a quick listen first on MySpace and they sounded very cool and indie rock & pop-ish, with some pretty melodic stuff mixed in – just what I wanted. (more…)