For now, the "hurray for Obama" stuff rings hollow. As Harvey Fierstein wrote, Tuesday's results were "Historic for Some, Same Old Shit for the Rest of Us."

It was ironic, in all of our joking about "moving to Canada" should the election go badly, that the LAW and I actually ended up here on Nov. 5. I'm so incredibly angry and sad right now, it is a type of mourning. In that sense, it's probably good I'm up in the cold hinterlands instead of trying to engage in business-as-usual at work.

Sigh. I had an obsessive interest in the "No on Prop 8" movement before Tuesday's disastrous vote. I maintain that interest, as does the LAW, who last night plowed through the long brief filed in one of the three lawsuits challenging the result. I feel sick and sad, tired, as if my system has turned on the lethargy switch to keep my rage in check. I don't know what to do with this right now, except white-knuckle it through to the next fight for my "humanity."

So I'm not feeling the hope. Instead, as I've posted on my "facebook" page for days on end, I'm "still just an effin' faggot whose status as a human being is up for popular vote."