Vegas, baby
I am going to Vegas this week, because I will be attending the third and final presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. Just call me de Tocqueville, as I walk around the spin room, observing the minute changes to the facial expressions of the camps therein... Seriously, I am more than a little excited to be going, because this election is a headfuck by any standard, and everyone knows headfucks are much better when viewed up close. I am one month past the mid-way point of my American sojourn, and while I have not seen as much of the country as I would like, the election has given me more to chew on than I could have hoped for. It is one thing to observe the foolishness from across an ocean, buffeted by a sense of political superiority. But this was also the year of Brexit, and a Labour party that seems determined to self-immolate, so I have been knocked from my perch and shaken up a little bit. 2016 has been a bouquet of fuckeries, each new blooming flower more pungent than the last. Why are human beings allowed?
I went to see Beyoncé last week. I am amazed, still. I am confident she is the answer to the last question I just asked: Beyoncé is the reason human beings are allowed. I have never seen a single person delight such a large crowd in quite the same way. And speaking of the crowd, o, the people who came to see her! My word. There were fashions I could only dream about, and there were hairstyles that made me glad I had recently got my hair done. But more than the visual spectacle was the crackling air around that arena. Everyone was walking around with a sense of purpose; backs as straight as they could make them, eyes unblinking. A couple of years back I was in a shop when a Beyoncé track came on the PA system. I saw every single woman in the vicinity sit or stand up a little higher, and watched as their necks became taut with remembered moves from her videos. Some women even began mutter-singing beneath their breath. I don't think they even knew they were doing it, they just...were. Last week in a stadium in Jersey I saw that power, and I felt it: at several points, I was moved to reach across in the dark. And each time, I unerringly found my friend J's hand, because she was doing the same. We clutched each other, overcome by the wonder of it all.
Some personal news: I am winding down pedicure season for 2016. My toes will see you in 2017, after the annual filing down and rehabilitation measures have taken place. Godspeed.