Hey. You might have noticed I'm rarely here during the week these days.

Yes, by design. Trying to keep my focus entirely on my book during the week. Hence the big one-day bursts on Saturdays and Sundays. So look for me then. (Or on Mondays when you get back to trolling the web at the office, while your boss is away. heeheehee.)

OK, better try that bigger:

LOOK FOR ME MOSTLY ON THE WEEKENDS UNTIL THIS BOOK IS DONE!

Occasionally I may stop by in an evening, if I've had a great day and deserve an indulgence, or maybe once in awhile for a quickie. (Like just now. I figured since I was here to let you know this, I could pound out a quick reaction to the Housewives.)

But hopefully you'll see a lot of self-control.

See you Saturday.

OK, I'm a bit behind here, but just watched Howard Dean from last night.

Has the guy been medicated? Wooden was the word that kept coming to mind, but then he ended with his trademark "You have the power, You have the power, You have the power" rant, except that it wasn't a rant. He just recited it, as if he were reading lines in a foreign language where the meaning meant nothing to him.

Interesting to look back on how he brought such life to those words, because he was caught up in the frenzy where he really seemed to believe it. It felt like a revolution, and he was leading it, and possibilities were electric. Now they were just sad words that must have stung: You didn't have the power after all. Or did you?--but used it to reject me.

Every ounce of fire has gone out of that man. I'm sure he'll get it back one day, but he was terribly sad to watch tonight. Last night, for the rest of you.

Why did he do it, I wonder. Couldn't he just have politely refused -- I'm sure they could have used the airtime. No, I guess not. That would have looked like a snub. But this. This was like watching a dead man walking.

Huh. I just realized, I normally despise political conventions, this is the first I ever recall enjoying. But this was the first truly sad note of the proceedings. I feel just awful for the guy.

Update: Larry King's first reaction, "A rousing speach from Howard Dean." Is he on drugs? How deep is his head buried up his ass?

I was thinking it might be time to remove my link to Howard Dean's blog, Dean for America, now named Democracy for America, but his own private lobbying/PAC organization.

So I went there for a peek, and #1, the old url still works. And number two, the bloggers are still running wild. Still posting half a dozen entries a day, still getting several hundred comments per entry. Early this morning, they started an open thread, and by 7 a.m. it was so filled they started a second one devoted to health specifically to healthcare.

I'm not sure who these people are, or what they hope to accomplish, but through the blog and other venues I have access to, there is still a hardcore tribe of true believers going at it. At something.

Interesting.

Hey. I'm breaking my no drinking rule. (No drinking, then posting.) I don't care. I'm really happy. My favorite Denver dj was playing at Amsterdam (the local afterhours club). Kostas. He had been dark, dark, dark for awhile, but he was ever so sweet tonight.

He has amazing control. He extends the pretty parts. You know: those pauses, between the thumper music, when everybody stops dancing and rests for a minute. I don't get that. That's the best part. Don't get me wrong, I love the frenetic music, when it builds and builds, harder and rougher and frantic and you're just pounding, pouding, pounding it out . . .

But then it climaxes, and the sweet, soft, pretty part eases in, and that's all the better. Like sex. I like the holding afterward even better than the sex. Really. It's a close call, I love them both intensely, but the holding . . . That's the sweetest part of life there is. Just to hold another person, a sweet boy, a man you care about, feel some affection for, hold him in your arms, just nestled together, two distant islands nuzzling together and sharing the universe together for a few sweet moments. I like that.

I like dancing, too. Especially the sweet parts. Same thing.

There were nice guys there tonight. They appreciated it. A whole bunch of them.

It started out slowly, it was an off-night at the main danceclub, the one that peaks around midnight, the one that sells alcohol, stays open till 2. They had an out of town dj last week, so apparently it was packed then--I was in Seattle--and this was the inevitable down weekend after.

Amsterdam gets going around 2, though, and it fills up with a lot of the hardcore dancers from the other club who haven't wrenched it all out of their veins yet, but it has its own private crowd, too. It was so, so slow at the start, lots of people on the sidelines, nobody filling the dancefloor, hardly anybody taking their shirt off.

But then it changed. I'm not sure why, maybe it was Kostas lifting the mood skyward with his pitch-perfect inflections. But it happened, it was magical tonight, that's the feeling I live for.

I didn't have to go home with anybody tonight, just a few friends I drove home, it wasn't about that. It was sharing the joy and the ecstasy of life on the dancefloor.

I believe in God. I believe in God because I feel him on the dancefloor. On the sixth day, just before He rested, He looked around, saw something was missed, paused a moment and created the dancefloor.

He'll never top that one. Ever. And I'll be eternally grateful.

So Edwards pulls a surprising threat in Wisconsin.

Of course Kerry is right that a win is a win, but luckily the press goofballs can be counted on to count Edwards' loss as a ressurection.

At best--in the wildest of dreams--we can still dump this stiff. I heard a few moments of Kerry's victory speech and he seems to be regressing. Every sentence still delivered as if he were composing the Declaration of Independence. I may vote for him, but I'll grit my teeth having to listen to the blowhard for four years.

More likely, though, this will just extend the race a bit, giving the goofball more great publicity in the big states next week and possibly even beyond. That will help him beat the far more despicable currently in the white house.

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But will somebody please talk to my man Dean? Does he have an ounce of self-respect. Or good sense? Why is he so intent on destroying every lick of goodwill or admiration he worked so hard to create? How do you explain this sort of behavior? Why would he want to destroy any possible future by making such a jackass of himself?