Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

And So It Begins...

There are people cheering in the street outside my window, screaming and yelling and tooting car horns up and down street and avenue. Plus millions in Times Square and Grant Park. And I got all teary. I could be happier only if it were Hillary.

How amazing. Maybe this country has finally grown up. Or wised up. Either way.

And now there's a parade from Tompkins Square Park passing by, hundreds of people, with drums and cowbells and candles and screaming WOOOOOO and people coming to the windows and out on the fire escapes and passers-by too to cheer and join in.

And now I really am crying. And yelling out the window myself. I have never seen anything like this down here. Not since the 60's. And that was angry. This is much, much happier. The parade just reached Second Avenue, and it sounds as if it's twice the size. And unplanned, too, since it was unaccompanied by cop cars the way our demonstrations usually are.

ETA: I just got back in from the corner of St Mark's Place and 1st Avenue. It is incredible out there. Cabdrivers flashing the V sign, buses and trucks and cars and even firetrucks flashing lights and blaring horns and yelling "Big O!" out the window. It's out of control. It's wonderful. They're showing no signs of letting up, and are taking it back to the park (where I attended many a demonstration back in the day). Hundreds and hundreds of people, young kids and old hippies like me, white and black and Asian, running around with flags draped over their shoulders, waving banners, banging on bells and drums and what look to be frying pans.

And totally historic. A century and a half ago Abraham Lincoln spoke a few blocks away at Cooper Union, when black people were still slaves. And now, tonight, this.

Even the TV newscasters are all choked up. And I can still hear them cheering out in the street...

1:40. Wow. I went out again for half an hour, just to see how big it was. They finally broke up about five minutes ago, but there must have been a couple thousand people out there. They shut down 1st Avenue and St Mark's Place, and the cops came, and were cheered, and when traffic started flowing again, the traffic was cheered. And now they've all gone up to Union Square, where presumably the party is still going on.

Simply astounding. Go us! Yes we can, and yes he did! And didn't his family and the Bidens look wonderful on the podium in Grant Park? And all those people...Grant Park was the site of violent police riots against demonstrators at the Democratic National Convention in '68, as was Lincoln Park. I wonder if those protesting back then ever imagined a night like this one...


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