One year ago today, Tina and I woke at 4:30 in the morning and drove to Georgetown University hospital. There in Labor and Delivery, a department Tina had been admitted to three times before, we started the long process of inducing labor. We would spend thirty-six hours in one of the special delivery rooms, waiting for magic to happen. But labor stalled, and a c-section became the only option.

By the time the girls were surgically extracted from the womb on July 28, Tina was on the road to serious infection and pnemonia, and we were about to embark on a 10-day journey through the depths of hell and despair. With twins, I always expected complications, but what I never expected was for Tina to hover near death. The irony was that the girls were healthy, and before I was ready to become solely responsible for their care, that role was handed to me. As our stay stretched beyond the three day standard, I began to believe that we would be in the hospital for months, and that Tina would never recover. Scenarios played out in my head as I tried to keep myself from unravelling under the stress of it all. What would I do if I lost Tina? How would I take care of my daughters, who I barely knew and whose constant needs and desperate vulnerbility terrified me?

I ate and drank very little, as the days became a blur of feedings and diaper changings and the desperate hope that Tina would recover. Relief came fleetingly — my mother had her own surgical procedure that kept her away for several days, so for much of the experience, I was the only one at Tina’s side who could walk and get up to change the girls. But I wasn’t really alone. There was Eileen, a dear friend of Tina’s who always had a somewhat distant relationship with me, but who I grew to love very much as she was a constant source of companionship and support. I never knew how much I would miss her until she went home to Chile. And my old friend Michael, who came to visit on one of the lowest days, despite having a job interview — a visit that came at just the right time, as I was unsure I could continue. And my creative collaborator and good friend, Jake, whose voicemail message the night before we left for the hospital is perhaps one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. My mother, despite her surgery, was also a source of great help, and when she came down to help while recovering from her own wounds, I felt more grateful than I’d ever felt in my life. Without any of them, I don’t think I would have made it.

In the end, we returned home. Not triumphantly as we had imagined, but tired and half-dead. We limped into the apartment carrying our children late on a Saturday evening, and it was from that low place that we began our family. If only I had known then how fast it would go by. How I would grow to love the quiet moments — the late night feedings, the early smiles, infant Anya’s sleepy involuntary laughter. How everything would start to come together.

I remember sitting in our solarium, watching the sunrise behind Malcom X Park, a cool breeze blowing in through the screened windows and a sense of calm, an understanding that the worst was behind us. And I am nostaligic for all the half-delirious 3:00 AM feedings watching Dave Chappelle on DVD, or a late repeat of Conan O’Brian, the Comicon episode of Entourage, or making fun of the History Detectives. Once, there was even a four-hour documentary on the history of videogames, which I watched straight through, shrugging off the 15-minute naps between feedings. Television, as reviled as it is, provided a relief and escape from all the hardship that had come before. And comedy most of all helped Tina and I make it through those difficult first weeks when we became parents.

But most of all, I remember how my dear little girls took me by the hand and lead me out of the darkness of depression. And how together, as a family, we survived asthma, more pneumonia, two hospitalizations, three stomach flus and so much more in that terrible, beautiful year.

The Washington Post has a great interview with Woody Allen, though it seems to have dropped off their home page mere seconds after I spotted it. You can read it here. Yes, registration is required, sorry.

Match Point is one of the best films I’ve seen in the last year, but ironically, the loathesome Melinda and Melinda is playing on HBO as I type. With a film a year, Allen is pretty hit or miss. Sometimes he hits big, sometimes he fails big. Remember the one with Jason Biggs and Chrstina Ricci? Yeah, I don’t, either. But he made some of my favorite films of all time — namely Annie Hall, Manhattan, Another Woman, Crimes and Misdemeanors, and Husbands and Wives. Of all of them, though, I think Manhattan is still the best. He’s probably one of America’s greatest living filmmakers, although most people remember him now for the bad movies, rather than the good ones. There’s still a contingent that adores his silly comedies, but I prefer it when he’s aping Ingmar Bergman.

But hey, Billy Wilder made bad movies, too. And people still rave about Some Like it Hot and the Apartment. But if quantity was king, objectively speaking, no one could rival Woody Allen for the top director spot.

I have about 3,000 songs on my iPod, and I probably hate two-thirds of them now. Yesterday, I had the bright idea to create a playlist with just the songs I like on them. It brings the number down to just below 600. Put on shuffle, I find a much better experience than shuffling all my songs.

Now, if only I could get up the courage to remove all those songs I don’t actually listen to. Alas, I may not be strong enough to do that. I’m a packrat, even when it comes to digital music. Do I really think I’ll want to listen to all those bad electro records and hip hop hits again? I know I won’t. But there’s that fear that some day I will.

Ah, if only things were as simple as they were back in the days of albums and CD’s. We never had the clutter problem that iPod’s bring. I have perhaps thrice-exponentially more storage capacity on my iPod than on my first Macintosh, yet so much of it is wasted on bad music and alternate recordings of Johnny Cash songs.

I have resisted the urge to post about Joe Lieberman for several reasons — one, this is not a political blog, despite the fact that I sometimes blog about politics, and two, I don’t live in Connecticut and have no personal stake in the election. I really don’t want to come off as one of those out-of-state activists who wants to swing the election. Hell, that’s part of how Dean lost Iowa.

But Joe Lieberman is an exceptional case, and I think I should probably say a few words about him. This morning, NPR covered a rally attended by Bill Clinton and others, the purpose of which was to get across the message that “Joe Lieberman is a real Democrat.”

But the tone of what I heard went further than that. The message also was: “Joe Lieberman is an incumbant, and he should own his seat for life — it’s outrageous that this millionaire cable executive is trying to steal good ol’ Joe’s seat.” As if “good ol’ Joe” isn’t a millionaire himself.

I think this encapsulates everything I despise about the Democratic establishment. Not only are people who diverge greatly from fundamental Democratic views still considered to be “real Democrats,” but somehow their seats belong to them for life, or until a Republican beats them. Apparently, no Democrat has any right to challenge them. To me that reeks of monarchy, aristocarcy and elitism. It’s sickeningly anathema to everything the party is supposed to stand for. And it really sums up just what’s wrong with the party elites.

They expect us to follow their lead — they’ve forgotten that they are in government to represent us.

And that is the core of Lieberman’s problem with Ned Lamont. When he backed Bush and the war in Iraq, he followed his own beliefs, rather than the beliefs of his constituents. When he refused to criticize the false rational behind the invasion, or even the incompetent conduct of the war — while the Democratic voters in Connecticut were actively questioning it — he showed not only a tin ear in regards to the concerns of his constituents, but also the hubris of an elected politician who thought himself born to the office.

Whenever Lieberman mentions his primary opponent, it’s with an incredible sense of outrage, as if some rule had been broken. But it was Joe who broke the rules — he decided to serve in the Senate like a Republican, rather than serve like a Democrat. But alas, he is running as a Democrat. Which means he may very well lose in the primary — and if he follows his loss with an independent bid for his seat, you know he’s counting not on Democrats, but on Republicans to get him into office. Which, in my book, makes him a Republican.

But why, you may ask, should a Democrat like me — a Democrat living in the People’s Republic of the District of Columbia, with no representation in Congress — care about Joe Lieberman? Because his support for Bush’s policies have had a real impact on the lives of people around the world — on the lives of American soliders and Iraqis. And his attacks on free speech in the name of pious morality, have served only to erode our Constitutional freedoms.

And let’s not forget how he famously said: “Freedom of religion does not mean freedom from religion.” Which suggests, at least to me, that religion must somehow be mandatory. Not something that those of us who doubt can choose to opt out of. And the lack of choice again suggests that he is not, as he falsely claims, a “real Democrat.”

(With apologies to The Evens for appropriating the opening line of “All These Governors,” which my iPod just decided to play for me.)

Kelly Link is one of the best writers working in fantasy & horror today (though she leans way more towards fantasy) and is well regarded even in traditional literary circles. I recently came across this excellent interview with her at Maud Newton.com. It’s definitely worth a read if you’re so inclined.

If you’d like to read some of her work, Link’s first collection, Stranger Things Happen, is available as a free and legal download here.

So, we have something of a problem in the District of Columbia — a crime wave has gripped the city, a state of emergency has been declared, and it seems like every weekend someone is killed just a few blocks from my apartment. This in a neighborhood where $600,000 couldn’t buy you an efficiency condo, and an average 1-bedroom apartment costs upwards of $2,000 a month.

It’s hard to understand what’s happening. You have neighborhoods that are now primarily upper middle class (or maybe simply upper class), yet they’re currently under siege from criminals driving in from other neighborhoods, which is extremely unusual for D.C. Of course, I’ve always expected crime, but the really weird thing is that tourists on the mall have been hit — that’s completely unheard of.

The police allegedly are stepping up their efforts, but the police culture in D.C. is to drive around in their cruisers and play janitor — safe inside their cars, they intervene after the fact, to put up crime scene tape and take witness reports. What they need to do, however, is get out of their damn cars and start walking the local beat. This is how cops work all over the world and it works. I remember being in London in 2004, and seeing submachine gun toting policeman patrolling the Thames after someone was murdered near the London Eye. That’s how they need to do things in D.C.

But I guess that’s a little scary. That would mean interacting with real people and not just looking on impassively from behind the wheel of a Ford Crown Victoria. I’m not sure the police in D.C are capable of that.

The “Mac versus PC” commercials are pretty entertaining, but I find the guy playing the Mac to be a bit too swarmy. Like “Look how cool and hip I am.” The PC guy always has the best lines.

This parody is even funnier than the original commercials. And they even get a great dig on Linux.

I can’t even remember how many years I’ve been a regular reader of Ain’t it Cool News — possibly more than any other Web site. So it’s with a great deal of excitement that I report that my comic, The Alberic Heresies, has been reviewed at AICN by Ambush Bug. You can read it by clicking here.

I had high hopes for “Marie Antoinette,” but having struggled to stay awake through the most recent trailer, I am becoming considerably worried about this film. “Lick the Star” was a brilliant short film, “The Virgin Suicides” had big problems, but also great promise, and “Lost in Translation” was nothing short of a masterpiece. Sofia Coppola was fast becoming one of my favorite directors. It pains me to say that “Marie Antoinette” is beginning to look like a disaster, despite its brilliant teaser trailer. Everyone deserves a misfire here and there, but not one as lavish and costly as this stinker.

Filmrot’s recent review doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Have a look.

If you know me and my musical tastes, you know I’m a big fan of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s. “Cheated Hearts” is probably one of the best songs on their latest record, and the video is pretty great. Not quite “Y Control” great, but it is cool to see fans from all over the world impersonating the band in the video. Great stuff.