wo months into the campaign, I decided to change my name
or my slogan to "Sexo Computurasido," but then was
unexpectedly called away on vacation and so missed the
actual voting and don't know if I won or lost.
I'm sure that, whatever happened, it was a hard-fought
election, where, in the end, the voice of the people
spoke loud and clear and, most likely, everybody got
what he (or at least somebody) deserved.
For my vacation, I boarded a train, rode for a while,
then got off and walked a few blocks, without really
knowing where I was going.
Eventually, I realized I was in a 7th Day Avengers
neighborhood, because everybody was out in the street
playing Circle of Control.
A lone Oldsmobile drifted through, and the game was
halted momentarily as the players stepped up on the curb
to let it pass or try to schmooze its passenger -- the
local El Supremo -- when it pulled over at a loading
zone, a few yards away.
This was a town run on tai chi time, and when I wrote a
song here, I found myself doing it at the rate of a note
a month and, then, shooting the film of it at the rate
of a frame a week and writing the book of it, a word a
day and, then, being sewn up after receiving surgery for
it, at about one stitch per hour.