Yes, I wept as Kamala Harris and Joe Biden gave their acceptance speeches in a Delaware parking lot.
The networks called the race for president at 11:26 this morning, and the city erupted in cheers.
Meanwhile, we wait for a signal, a 72-point headline or a glossy cable news graphic that cements and formalizes.
Patchy sleep and fever dreams of narrow margins and outstanding ballots. But it’s not much different from waking life right now.
A slow-motion drift in Pennsylvania. Refresh. A lot of places are sold out of nicotine gum.
After so many months of isolation, working the polls for seventeen hours reminded me of something important: New Yorkers are beautiful and insane.
I was mortified by just how childish I’d become, that I would allow any man to crank my lizard-brain into full swing.
The end of Daylight Savings Time is my favorite holiday because it creates more night.
America hit nearly 100,000 new infections yesterday. Britain declared another lockdown tonight, joining Germany and France.
My first understanding of how media hysteria works, the way it creates a dark scoreboard with a record begging to be broken.
“Sometimes I think they are graceful like ballerinas,” he said as we drove. “Other times, I think they are wicked.”
It looks like half the country is burning and the other half is freezing.
