Loose Cans

Shit twisting cunt kicking fuck rushing dick crunching ass hole son of a bitch.


Rage, bogglement, astonishment, more rage, apoplexy, breathlessness, suffering, hope, hopelessness, tears, wailing and beating of breasts, smashing of walls, turning off of lights to walk around in the somber, sweltering dark, pacing like a cat in a cage, wearing a hood like a flagellant, this distance, ocean, unutterable remoteness, loneliness, fear, fluttering disbelief, belief, finally deep, sinking, overwhelming despair.

Not ready to face Ireland. Haven't even gotten dressed, really. Had Americans here last night, only want to see Americans today. Fuck the Irish today. They don't know. They'll talk, bitch, remonstrate and I will kick, punch and bite. Only the Americans know suffering today. It's been a month of miracles. Would one more be too much to ask?

Polls have begun closing. Ohio, Florida and Pennsylvania are all closed, but are still too close for the networks to call. The venerable Zogby, however, has succumbed, it would seem, to Kerry euphoria, and called the whole shebang already, giving all three to Kerry, and predicting a 311-213 democratic victory, which, if it weren't Zogby saying it, would be completely insane. But it's not insane. It's possible. New Jersey, which, for a moment, was a dead heat, has given its 15 votes to the good guys.

The latest from Salon's War Room:
Current Electoral Vote:
Bush: 66
Kerry: 77

The polls have closed in 25 states. President George W. Bush is projected to win Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, West Virginia, Oklahoma, Tennessee and Alabama. Sen. John Kerry is projected to win Vermont, Illinois, Connecticut, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Maryland, Delaware, the District of Columbia, and three of four electoral votes so far from Maine. Still no projection in these states where polls are now closed: South Carolina, Virginia, Ohio, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Florida and Missouri.

Tea leaf reader alert: With Virginia and North Carolina still too close to call, that could mean a long night for George Bush. New Jersey being called so early for Kerry is a good sign for the Democrat. All eyes are now on Ohio, Pennsylvania and Florida, where news reports say that people are still waiting in line to vote. Senate watch: With a million votes cast in Kentucky, Democrat Daniel Mongiardo is leading Republican Jim Bunning by 4 percent. And, as expected, Democrat Barack Obama is the projected Senate race winner in Illinois.

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The Mongiardo beating Bunning thing is huge; Bunning was originally set to obliterate the Democratic challenger (think Schumer crushing Mills), but then he went completely batshit and now Mongiardo's ahead. Google Bunning to see just how nuts he went.

And Obama. Yes. God bless you, Mr. Future President.

Planned a party for tonight. All-American (mostly). More like an all-night vigil, where we won’t hear from swinging Hawaii till God only knows how late. Some people expect to be crashing here for the night instead of taxiing back out ot Halls. Can’t blame them; none of us want to be alone in Ireland tonight.

But the omens have been thick and fast in coming: “Kerry won’t win till the Red Sox do,” the Redskins losing (for 70 years, a loss in their last home game before an election has presaged a defeat for the incumbent), etc. I believe in omens. Omens are real because there’s no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole.

Sautant du coq a l’ane, but because I’m sure I’ll be too occupied with watching returns and court battles for the next month, here’s a laundry list of the shit that’s happened in the past week. I extracted two things from my department yesterday. One was the breakdown of my exam scores. These are as follows, and they show what has to be the widest range in the department:

CCT: 72
Theatre: 66
Sin (& Redemption): 62
Olde Englishe: 56
The Hero: 42
Literature and Sexualities: 38

That’s a 34-point range. As high as they come and as low as they come. And yes, that’s a failing grade for LitSex. I failed an English exam. Hell of it is, I don’t know what I wrote about. I don’t recall blowing it off at all. I’m thinking maybe they flipped my scores, because there’s no earthly way I deserved a 56 for Old English. The Hero, of course, I blew off completely, writing about The Matrix. I must investigate further. A 38 is really an achievement. I’ve outdone myself.

The other thing I extracted was permission, effectively, to begin a dialogue with the University of Chicago regarding my taking a year abroad there next year. Their stance is, So long as you take Modernism and Shakespeare (such a pain in the tuches, I know), it’s cool with us. So I wrote Ted O’Neill last night, but he’s likely so bogged down with the incoming flood of Earlies that he can’t be arsed replying right now. But it’s going to happen, I think.

Saw Finding Neverland last night with Sadie, her Moms and Caitriona. More schmaltz, can we have more schmaltz over here? All the same, wonderful movie, if seriously sad. Saturday night we saw Saved. Sam, Seema, you’re 100% right. When the hell did Mandy Moore learn how to act? And Jena Malone, well...Rebecca, back me up here...I have to say, she’s neck-and-neck with Keira Knightley--and if Keira Knightley doesn’t get her shit together and rock out in something pronto, she’s slipping to second place. That’s how hard Jena Malone rocked me. Like a hurricane. Seeing Macaulay Culkin, wheelchair-bound, with a sign that says “Will dance for money,” was also pretty damn funny. And yes, Ben, Susan Sarandon’s kid was cool, too.

The Irish Government, those bastards, have helped themselves to 42% of my first paycheck. “Emergency tax,” my ass. €221 for two nights’ work drops to €128. I mean, I get it back as soon as my application for a PPS number goes through (like a Social Security number for Ireland), but it still pisses me off. What a bunch of hard-taxin’ assholes.

I need a haircut. It’s getting just a wee bit shaggy up there.

I have no classes today. Kind of wish I did; I’m going to be a nervous wreck with nothing to do. I’m going to be checking electoral-votes.com all day long. I know there’s not much point, that we won’t know who our next president, or “president,” will be for weeks to come, but still. It’s a way of imagining myself to be involved. It’s like my Neverland.

Some genius (Jimmy Breslin, actually) finally realiized that since a key factor in this election is the surge in first time voter turnout, and most first time voters are young people, and most polls are conducted via landline telephone, and most young people do not have landlines, but rely on their mobile phones, the logical thing to do would be to conduct a mobile phone poll. So the good wonks at Zogby did just that.

Kerry, 55% to 40%. That's the most heartening statistic I've heard this whole election.

Damn. 31 comments. I think that's a record. I've been a bit busy; clearly, you people haven't.

Got home early this morning, 2:30am. But then again, I did start work at 3pm the previous afternoon. Did residents' bar again, but mercifully, there were few residents who needed my attention. A little excitement to be had, though: to begin with, I changed kegs all by myself for the first time. This is always an adventure, because, of course, these things are under tremendous pressure. There are two to four switches to be flipped; forgetting one leads to comedy: I took half a pint's worth of Erdinger in the face. I'd forgotten to turn off the fucking gas. Finally I got it under control and changed the rest of them without incident.

Another thing about this job is that we're more or less trained to handle celebrities unobtrusively. Unfortunately, they don't teach us to recognize them. Only after the unbelievably disshevelled, snaggletoothed Irish gentlemen with the slurred voice had ordered a Harvey Wallbanger (on which I momentarily blanked, embarrassingly) and a Port and White lemonade (gack), and then bought me a drink, was I informed that the gentleman was Shane MacGowan, Ireland's most notorious living drunk. Also the incomparable frontman and founder of The Pogues, Ireland's second-most famous band (second only to U2). Frankly, I'm a much bigger Pogues fan than I am a U2 fan; all U2 songs sound the same to me. Those of you who don't know the Pogues, you probably know The Dropkick Murphys or Flogging Molly. These bands do not exist without the Pogues, progenitors of proto-punk/trad fusion. I didn't really recognize him, but then Louie (who's Chinese) asked me did I know who I'd just served, I figured it out pretty quick. No one else is so famously dissolute. Ireland's most famous drunk. God, that's a terrifying distinction. Anyway, Stephane, the duty manager, was less than thrilled to hear he was in the house; he's got the predictable reputation for hell-raising, difficulty and obstreperousness. Fortunately he was quiet. So the point of the story is a famous rocker bought me a drink. A Smithwick's. I was really thirsty.

I get bought drinks with a fair measure of regularity. Drinking behind the bar is frowned on, though, so usually I'll take the money, tell them I'll have it later, and keep it aside until close, when I either decide to take the money and run, or buy myself the drink. It's kind of better this way; if I drank all the drinks I get bought, I'd be a mess by close.

Going to class today. Very exciting. Also meeting with the head of the Department to talk about my going back to the states next year. Even more exciting.

Rachel, Sadie's mom is here. This is fun. She's a lot like Sadie.

Tomorrow night, Election party. I'm thinking of going as Dr. Doom.