Buggery is the finest form of flattery.

Persistence is a form of vanity; pushing through obstacles to achieve an end you believe in is the same as believing you deserve it, which is a function of vanity, isn’t it? Anyway, as November rolls around I’m finally in the position I should be in, with the appropriate raise, title change, and feeling of some small victory. The move is underway, and while no move is ever that smooth, I suffer well in the advent of hope that this one does, indeed, have a happy ending. Albeit still several months away (6-8 weeks) but still. I’m getting out of the decaying abyss and moving into something new and fresh and different and concocted with an air of personality. I could ask for more, but this does seem sufficient for the time being. Onwards, upwards, better foots forwards.

To avoid any appearance of slander, I’m going to place a moratorium on any story telling of the move, or items of interest that precipitated any negative (even hostile) feelings around it. Rather, I would allow the story to finish itself out in reality, percolate in my mind, and become the fodder for adventure tales as told by a humble narrator, humble in self-proclamation only. This seems fit, as I rather prefer my retelling of events than a journalistic, in-the-trenches approach. History has a whiff of fiction about it. Let this be not a place of fact or reason, but of treason and less tact. Offense is always intended, on my part, to the world in general. Why should thoughts and feelings be easy? They should require work, and suffering, just like everything else. Except, strangely enough, this season of Smallville: Clark does seem to be breezily taking everything in stride. I think it’s those awful work boots he always wears.

I’m rather overwhelmed, these last few weeks, with local political campaign commercials. They suffer from aping too much their national counterparts, and wind up looking hokey and amateurish. It’s also nearly impossible to distinguish one from another in Rhode Island. It gives you the feeling that voting is an exercise in facility (not futility, as it simply needs to be done in order for the law to be unbroken). The biggest issue (and I promise I’m not delving into politics here, that would be intensely boring…holding any political belief is equitable to holding some religious belief, i.e. it’s pointless and magical thinking) in this state at the moment is the question of whether a casino is needed. Obviously a casino is never needed so I feel that really short circuits the whole process for them, and everyone involved could have saved a lot of money if they’d only reached that epiphany sooner.

I managed to sell a 10 year old television that I absolutely refused to carry anymore. 80 pounds of glass and cathode ray tubing are no longer an appetite whetting combination. Despite the rich colour and picture clarity, I see no need to expose myself to potential injury just to watch the many, many, many hours of childish programming I enjoy. Oh, and the list just flows on and on, I admit it.

Of some note is the new Iron Maiden disc, “A Matter of Life and Death.” It’s a galloping journey, and it only has a whiff of nostalgia about it. Good, too, is the new Cradle of Filth disc, “Thornography.” Their cover of Heaven 17’s “Temptation” is about as inspired as they’re likely to get. At least it’s not another cover of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence.” I’ve heard a pop punk cover, a hardcore cover, and now a power metal cover. Too many. The song only worked the once, anyway. I might as well own up to owning the new Trivium output, “The Crusade.” Yes, it’s plainly a coy clone of Metallica, but Metallica as they were, not are, so I suppose that’s somewhat forgivable.

One final comment: the Opera house in Boston was an amazing venue for the Pet Shop Boys. The sound was like a rapid fire chorus of machine guns blasting out heartfelt disco, with pregnant ricochets of melancholy and ironic devices thrown in for good measure. The look was a gay-dipped uniform of color and black holes from which emerged some sort of anarchist cabaret. Well worth the money, I’ll say.