Post NYC

I arrived in New York City last Friday — Halloween. Each time I emailed friends to announce my impending visit, their excitement was paired with the borderline-admonishing reply, "How, then, will you vote?" Once they learned that Oregon votes by mail, all amiability was restored.

I don't like Halloween — at least not the way it's been interpreted as an adult-themed party. All the costumes that look sophisticated and clever around 8 p.m. look ridiculous at 3 a.m., when you're drunk. Not removing the clown makeup or your "Jason from Friday the 13th" mask on the subway ride home in the middle of the night is not dedication; it's creepy. And making a Centipede wear high heels and fishnets and show a little thigh just isn't fair to arthropods.

Then I went to a Saturday Night Live taping and watched "musical guest" David Cook. It was anti-music. It was the California Raisins.

But Halloween and the small prune that is David Cook was last year, wasn't it? A lifetime ago.

I knew that, when I left for the East Coast, I would return home to Portland with a new president-elect. In my head were two plane rides: one long and one insufferable. But last week, when I posed the question about what would constitute the soundtrack of victory, I don't think any of us realized that we wouldn't even need music if Obama won. When I left the election party I attended, the streets were filled with the sounds of honking horns, screams, laughter and the banging of pots and pans. Music, yes, but of our own creation. Once I made it to Union Square, I magically became tolerant of the Bacchanalia I usually associate with drum circles, Hemp Fests and Renaissance Fairs.

A few images from my night:

It's been said that better music is made under Republican administrations, so I do wonder what lies ahead on that front. But, for now, let's just worry about puppies.