Political Party

Attend political party at apartment of friends of Dave's. Friens apparently extremely rich as apartment on nicest street in Tribeca, guarded by doorman who has all guests' names at door and who seems disinclined to let us in. (Privately feel that this is the fault of my shoes, which have suddenly taken an a bedraggled appearance.) Finally gain admittance to party. Immedately run into Hilary who says that I was Funny in my audition. (!?) Would like to press for details, but tongue refuses to work. Thankfully, Hilary squeezes my forearm and says she'd Catch up With Me Later. Both she and I know that this untruthful. Take glass of wine from passing waiter. Become interested in appetizers, extremely small canapes, actually bite sized, very unlike inferior school hors d'ouvres which usually require gnawing meat off a large stick that then must be carried around for rest of party. Eating and drinking is interupted by speaker phone call from a famous political blogger who tells us how to vote and who to sent our money to. All of the candidates we are urged to support are outside of New York. There is an Us and Them dynamic assumed, Them, being Repblicans, and Us, Being Democrats. Am a Democrat, but do feel life-long, and unwelcome, feeling of desire never to be part of a group. Sternly tell self that party in Tribeca nothing like Little League. Woman behind me, in her early thirties, but wearing high heeled boots, black dress, and feathered shrug asks How much can we give out of state candidates? Is it the usual $2,000 limit? Turn around to nod at her and say, to my horror, What a good question! Quickly turn back around again before am called upon to produce checkbook as Federal Election Commission limits unfortunately much higher than own account will allow. Rest of party very pleasant and am glad to be Doing Something politically; but at end of evening, as eat fifth miniscule BLT and reach for chocolate souffle the size of a puffed up nickel, feel that could do more.