I actually stayed up last night to watch election results from Indiana.
Part of the reason was that there was really NOTHING on after Hell's Kitchen. Another part had to do with the fact that when I'm doing the 'business' end of writing, I need noise that won't distract me. Music is out because I write to music, and I find the endless drone of news channel anchors boring enough that it almost becomes white noise.
Except for last night.
Now, before anyone gets up in arms here, I am an INDEPENDENT MODERATE. That means I don't really care about the election until November, or mid October at the earliest. But last night, I found myself drawn into the drama of a primary election with two candidates that have really done nothing but annoy me.
When Hillary Clinton went out to give her 'victory' speech, I was struck by two things. First, the overwhelming cheerfulness of the crowd around her. I mean, I knew it was a bad night for her--how could they not figure that out?
The second was the expression on Bill Clinton's face. he looked like he'd been sucking rotten eggs through a straw for the entire day--his face was beet red, his eyes were piggy, his mouth was puckered up like a kewpie doll. In other words, he looked like he knew his wife had lost.
His was the only face in the crowd that reflected this. Everyone else in the building continued on their blithe celebration, but the candidate's husband, the man who ran successfully before, had an expression on his face that let the whole world know what he thought his wife's chances were of pulling out the nomination.
You find character studies in the strangest places, don't you?