On Ronald Reagan, Meg Ryan, and Urban Hymns (sung daily, near vacant lots, utility closets, driving old folks crazy)

Little House of Savages

It's a beautiful night here in Lewistown. Fifty degrees, overcast, drizzley-mist type rain, and good Walkmen songs in my head. During the day, I swear (if not for the casinos) I could be in Scotland or the Shire. At night, I know with every fiber of my insides that this is wonderful place to spend year 23. But that's not what I want to talk about.

Two self-discoveries made whilst watching television:

I'm in love with the idea of Meg Ryan. Not the person, because I have no idea what the person is like. But the idea -- awkward and witty and Meg Ryanish (even her name is cute -Meg- how can you not adore her?).

It's because I live a pitiful existence. Sure, it's full of life and joy and Montana skies. But it's also full of TBS Superstation showings of You've Got Mail. This is the life of a pseudo-Bohemian, faux-loner, which I want sometimes, but mostly not. Mostly I want things that I'm not ready for. Life things. Like mini-vans.

Last night, I spent an hour watching President Reagan in repose. This is roughly what I saw.

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I started watching at 12:30 MDT, which meant it was 2:30 in Washington. And I couldn't believe how many people were there, at two in the morning, milling through the capital rotunda to catch a 30 second glimpse of a flag draped over a coffin.

I want to feel that way about a president. I'm no fool. And Reagan was no saint. But I want to vote for someone I could wait hours in line to pass their casket, to take my children, to be proud in recounting the story to my grandchildren. I was there. I want that so very much. I want the real deal. I want to vote for a good man or woman, not the lesser of two morons. I want to believe in someone so whole-heartedly that I drop everything, quit my job, volunteer full time, wearing suits to work, rolling up my sleeves and taking off my jacket to canvas the neighborhood, convincing people that a vote for this person could affect their life for the better.

In a perfect world, I would work for that person, and be married to Meg Ryan, and open for the Walkmen someone on the Upper East Side.

In a perfect world, I wouldn't watch this much television.

As Smart As We Are

Finally, I just popped The Verve's Urban Hymns into the computer, and iTunes came back with two possible choices: The Verve - Urban Hymns; or Phillip Boa & The Voodooclub - My Private War.

I think I'm going to pick Phillip Boa. I'm hoping for the best.