So maybe things are all a little less surreal for us now, but it’s still weird.
Long day at work tomorrow & back to work tomorrow morning. Enough time tonight to write a bit, have a beer, chat … listening to Sean Lennon’s album right now. It’s a sweet album. Tender. God, I would pay for a massage right now. I’m not in a mood to read.
Too much coffee! I’m all jittery & I can’t type to save my life. Why did I get so wired so soon on my day off?
We went to bed at about 1.00 am, when it looked like a sure thing for Bush. For the next 35 minutes, I lay there in the dark, listening to the steam in the pipes and trying hard not to breathe. At some point, a burst of firecrackers went off somewhere outside. Then, a bit later, a car drove by honking its horn repeatedly.
“Are you awake?” I asked Andy. “What?” he said groggily. I turned on the TV long enough to hear Tom Brokaw say, “For the first time since 1954, we will have Republicans in control of both Congress and the White House.” Andy groaned. I groaned. Then I turned off the TV and tried to sleep again.
I didn’t sleep well. Got up at 7 for work. Went into work. Found out that Bush wasn’t president yet. Developed sinus pressure & headache; I still can’t really hear out of my right ear. I NEVER get sinus headaches.
This whole deal is still pretty incredible! What a test of patience to our short-attention-span nation that it could be days or even weeks before we know! What was it like 100 years ago? We’re all going to remember this. And maybe we’re all going to take voting a little more seriously from now on. And take a pause before we drink our orange juice in the morning.
O my gosh, this election is close. I really ought to go to bed since I work in the morning, but how can I go to sleep not knowing what’s going to happen? Andy is all stirred up too. Maybe it’s time for another drink to calm down.
It’s all very suspenseful. Vote fraud in Florida? Let’s not forget 1876 …
To quote John Cage: “I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry.”
All morning I was reading & drinking coffee in my pyjamas. Does life get any better? Quiet and sort of grey today. I have to go to work at 3 though. I’ll bring some music. At least I have tomorrow off. Election Day.
I had a certain fantasy about getting up really early tomorrow and being the first one in the neighborhood to vote. People are mobilized to vote. Andy says that he’s been nervous about it for the past week, that Wednesday morning if George W. is president, he’ll be depressed. I’m optimistic, but cynical … a cynical idealist. I’m hopeful that Gore will win, but also confident that if he doesn’t, it won’t matter much. Federal gridlock isn’t going to vanish. Groups of people always move more slowly than individuals. So much is unpredictable.
It’s fitting that we’ll be at the opening of Jessi’s play tomorrow night, “Dimly Perceived Threats To The System.” Afterwards, I imagine us going to a bar to have a drink & watch election results. Either outcome will be reason enough to have more than a few drinks.
I remember my mom saying to me on the phone last week, “I never thought that a son of mine would be voting Democratic!” And, “I tell you, I worry for the future of this country if Gore wins.” A main issue seemed to be taxes. “When you get older and have a house, you’ll understand,” she told me. I still cannot imagine myself wanting to own a house. I do, however, want a cat. I’m really thinking about getting one after Thanksgiving. I think I can handle the responsibility. Works in stages. I want to name my cat Fred. Or, if it’s a lady cat, Grace. After Grace Kelly and Grace Jones.
My head is all scattered. Been online too long. I’m ready to rejoin that analogue world.
We saw a pretty outrageous Joan Crawford movie last night: “Sudden Fear.” It wasn’t great, but it was pretty good. No one curls lips like she can. Her hairdo had this really severe part the whole film that distracted me a lot. Reminded me of grandmothers. If only she could have slapped someone around in the movie, it would have been better.
I scored a coup last night & bought too really great books used: “City of Quartz,” by Mike Davis and “Drink: A Social History Of America,” by Andrew Barn. I’m already past 100 pages into the Davis book. Not quite as good as “Ecology Of Fear” but still fascinating.
I just want to take a nap now that I’m home from work. I’ll eat later. I’ve already put on enough weight for winter. I ought to just fast from now till March. But I know I’ll wake up from that nap & crave a sweet. Just need exercise. I hate sedentary living … but you don’t burn many calories reading, or writing, Sex burns some calories, but not enough.
Got off work today at noon. I don’t mind getting up at 5 am if it means I’m home much earlier. Good tips today. Meeting Andy for lunch before he goes to work; he works 5-9. Had a lot of coffee this morning, but it’s wearing off I think …
Listening to “The Pearl,” by Harold Budd & Brian Eno. It’s so ambient that I could listen to it every day & probably not get tired of it. I play it very quietly. I can sort of see outside through the slats in the window, sitting at the computer at my desk. A sunny, crisp day. Pleasingly cold. Autumn is still here. October passed so quickly & I did so little writing. I haven’t written a good poem in months. If I could write one now, I’d feel tremendously satisfied. I wonder if I’ll rent a movie tonight. No end of things to see. Don’t feel like reading Duras right now.
I just saw a preview screening of “Requiem For A Dream.” Damn! It makes “Trainspotting” look like a Hallmark card. If it was meant to deter heroin use, then it was a successful movie. The audience was bobbing & weaving on their feet afterwards. My friend Rob described the movie as “effective.” I have to agree with that. But, even if it achieved what it set out to do, is it a good movie? It was intensely, viscerally unpleasant, especially in the last third. Everything was black and white, no shades of grey: drug addiction is hell, period. Aronofskly explained in a new preface to the novel that the ‘hero’ of the story is Drug Addiction. It’s the story of drug addiction triumphing over all. I guess knowing that helps me understand the film better. It’s fascinating, but so many sick things unfold. It’s certainly better than the ‘designer angst’ of something like “Fight Club” though. Aranofsky shows us the real thing: these are powerful, creative displays of emotions, but not pretty pictures. There’s no bare-chested, sweaty Brad Pitt on display. Intensely moralistic, not unlike a Brett Easton Ellis novel. It’s one of those films that can’t really have a satisfying ending. You see it coming. This isn’t for weak stomachs. Poor Ellen Burstyn is put through so much! And in the end, the film’s point is this (to quote Neil Young): every junkie’s like the setting sun.
