Ella Dade M.

When Molly assigned me november 6th a while back, i didn’t clock that it was the day after the election. I was so hype to share my day, plans to scan my journal which is usually full of cryptic, whimsical one-liners and crude doodles. Hype to include my songs of the day which are usually moody and silly and familiar. When it dawned on me, really, was when molly dm’ed me on the 5th to remind me. I realized I would be sharing different feelings than I had hoped for. Alas.

I’m gonna start a little early, when my handwritten notes start (most of this entry is transcribed directly from my journal, as it was written–i’d just share the pages but im not sure how legible it is).

Tuesday november 5 11:30pm

I leave the bonfire in germantown with my dear samiha, full of love and warmth, to south philly to meet a.

He’s late, bureaucratic bullshit, so i stop by 12 steps to drink, listen to people sing karaoke, hoping it’ll calm my nerves.

2 whiskey gingerales in and im still unwell, more unwell even. Everyone’s drunk and singing kelly clarkson and carrie underwood and the huge tv is showing the election results as they roll in. I stand in line for the bathroom with a face like what the fuck. A girl next to me is like i know right, i wish they’d turn this tv off, and i’m like this is so surreal, and she’s like i know right. The last few measures of before he cheats play out and she turns to me. Im next, she says. Good luck, i say, and go for a contemplative piss. When i exit the bathroom shes scream singing with a friend and they’re having a good time.

Back at the bar a guy asks me if i voted and tells me about the bets he made on the election (they just made that legal last week, which is insane). I eat his tatertots and bounce. I wonder why he chose to talk to me, with my headphones on and  face so clearly miserable and disinterested. 

11:55pm

I find skye on the stoop and bum his CBD cig. He asks me how i’m doing, and i say not good, and he says that makes sense. He says it with real care and concern. We chat about masculinity and the young male vote. Our tone is at once sarcastic and mournful. I feel connected. 

It’s midnight

I help take out the trash at a’s house. It feels good to do some helpful, hollow thing.

To be useful and active.

We say goodnight and skye goes to his room.

A little later

I’m trying not to look at my phone, to look at the bar graph grow redder. 

I fall asleep somehow, at some point.

don’t know the time. Didnt check.

4:43am 

a takes a deep sigh and i stir, mumble that he’s tough (assuming he’s anticipating his forthcoming alarm–more bureaucratic bullshit).

“Not about that” he says and i feel sick.

I turn his phone screen toward me and we both stare at the reporting results. Mich, wis, and pa all 60-90% reported with a trump lead.

I look out the window at the blue glow and wonder if we can just stay in this room forever, build a life in here.

We comfort each other.

Today the weather calls for 78 degrees and clear skies.

4:59am 

I pictured my possible reactions to what is now occurring last night.

I concluded id either have a big sigh or a deep chill.

A sigh like relief maybe, but also preparation, like “here we go”, like being at the bottom of a big mountain, like putting on your boots before sunrise.

A chill, rather like a shock, like being afraid standing still in the woods, a sound you don’t recognize, a familiar and sickly beast.

8am

I wake up in south philly. A’s room is cool and bright and i am alone. I wonder what time it is, check my phone. The day and the news and the truth of the matter settles over me.

I text my friends and family, delete instagram, get dressed to take a walk.

The weather is perfect and the streets are completely silent.

I pass people and we do not greet each other. No hellos or soft smiles, just empty gazes forwards and downwards.

I walk past morning glory diner where i ate on monday morning when things seemed hopeful, maybe. Their democratically cladden exterior is pathetic now, their politically named daily specials gone sour.

nobody speaks.

only children laugh, and i think of gaza.

Israel banned UNRWA two days ago, a relief act trump cut funding from during his presidency (reinstated under biden 3 years ago).

8:27am

I walk past my old work. My boss used to have a huge studio on bainbridge. It's condos now.

I buy a mexican mocha latte and a cheese croissant from chapterhouse and listen to a playlist on spotify called “end times”, which i find by searching for end times, which is what i feel in right now. I don’t ask the barista how she is, but i tip her 30%

Across the street a baby screams, and i think of gaza.

8:44am 

A meets me at the coffee shop. I offer him some of my croissant but hes not hungry. He spent the last few hours driving around for his job and is exhausted. We walk back to his house together to rest before i have to go to work and he has to start working from home.

11:10am

I leave for work, ten minutes past when im supposed to arrive. We got caught up, switching between discussing the current state of affairs (which countries are easiest to move to, why the fuck kamala ran on a conservative platform, the only maybe bright side being that trump doesn’t fuck with foreign affairs and might potentially cut funding to israel even though that probably isnt true because of their public friendship) and distracting ourselves with literally anything (taking online quizzes to find out which lord of the rings character we are, looking at pictures of cats, making up fake names for our fake future children which neither of us probably will have because of the aforementioned state of affairs, climate crisis, economy, etc.)

Anyway, i leave for work late, which is not uncommon for me recently–im working on a mural with a semi-flexible timeline and being paid hourly. I usually justify my lateness because i work alone and am not directly responsible for anything else that happens at the studio. But today i justify it with, you know, general despair.

12:20pm 

i start painting, end times playlist in my headphones, sun pouring in from the window bay.

1:57pm

Im hungry and hope some food will lift my mood. I step outside and choose my lunch spot based on which direction is sunnier–towards market rather than arch.

I love working in old city because it’s an area i would likely never spend so much time in otherwise, aside from going to the movies. 

My favorite spot for lunch or a post work beer is khyber pass pub, but today i decide to get some beef japchae from buk chan.

2:21pm

I sit on a bench to eat. Today feels incredibly long, understandable as i only slept for a cumulative 5 hours or something. It’s so beautiful outside, i know i’ve said that, but it’s like remarkably beautiful. the sky is cerulean and there’s a warm breeze.

I check my phone, go on instagram browser mode and see friends sharing mutual aid posts. I send some money around and close instagram when i start getting sucked into election commentary.

The vendors are setting up in the alley between the park and the church.

There are dozens of kinds of apples. Something about the farmers market brings me close to tears.

2:33pm

I start painting again.

5:45pm

Before i leave work, i find my coworker audrey in the back office. We catch up and talk about our weekend plans, promise to grab a bite to eat together next week since it’ll be my last week at the studio as i wrap up the mural.

As i walk out the door, my mouth instantly starts salivating for a beer. I’ve pavlov’s dogged myself recently after a week or so of post-work brews, so i call up lizzy to see if she wants to hit abyssinia before her date.

I pick her up and we stroll in with the intention of going to the upstairs bar, but i see sam is bartending downstairs so we perch at their bar.

Sam and i met this spring when we were in a play together, and i've always meant to visit them at Aby so it was serendipitous. Sam makes us a couple of their fancy cocktail specials–mine had cachaca and ube, lizzy’s was gin with a concoction of homemade fruit and spice syrups. 

We talk about the election. I tell lizzy and sam about how eerily quiet the streets were this morning, disclaiming that i could’ve been misreading it (maybe that’s how people are in south, i dont live there), but another patron chimes in that they’d felt the same thing and weren’t sure if they were imagining it.

It feels good to affirm each other’s realities.

7:30pm

Lizzy’s date is at 8 in center city, so we step out for a cig while she waits for her ride. Lizzy and i have been friends for 4 years, we were each other’s first roommates when we moved to philly. Our friendship brings me deep joy and peace.

When she leaves, i go back inside to finish my drink and catch up with sam. We talk about love and relationships and allat. Im fresh out of a 2.5 year relationship, practicing friendship and emotional restraint. And sam is craving a romance that’s more intentional and committed. Our journeys of love oscillate.

They give me a beer on the house as the conversation turns back to the state of the word, and we say our goodbyes before i close out and head home.

8:45pm

I arrive home to my roommate ciel making popcorn. I haven’t seen them in a couple days, so we chat about what’s new. They recently decided to move out in december. Our house will be going through a turnover in the new year, as they move to another house in west, i move to rome for a yearlong assistantship, levi moves back into the house from grad school out west, tiye who’s currently living in levi’s room moves into mine or ciel’s room, and a for-now-unknown mystery roommate joins the mix. China has lived here longest, around 2 years. She's the grandfather of the household since jameson moved out in july and i took his room. It’s all very west philly.

At this point, i’m almost 2 hours late to the dinner party laura is hosting, so i tell ciel i’ll catch them later and go upstairs to change out of my paint clothes.

Not sure what to wear to a dinner party in the end times. I throw on a bolo tie and head out. 

9:50pm

When i get to laura’s house in brewerytown, i wait on the sidewalk until someone calls my name and drops a key from the 3rd floor window (you can tell which ones are laura’s because they glow with purple light). I find laura and 7 or 8 friends on the roof deck, chatting and smoking. I was apprehensive about coming, not sure i was up for this kind of social interaction, but i soon feel comforted by the warmth of the people laura has gathered here, most of them familiar faces to me.

Inside, i pour myself a glass of wine and interrupt reece and matt’s boy time. We decided what our big 3 are out of santa, jesus, and george washington (matt says these are american society’s most notorious figureheads). I say that i’m jesus sun, santa rising, jesus moon, but i think im just flattering myself. I don’t really feel convinced about it.

1am or something

The rest of the evening is made up of dancing, laughing, snuggling into one big cuddle puddle, unfurling, drinking passion fruit mustard cocktails (thanks cardi), and placemaking in the designated autonomous zone that is this apartment, a safe haven and nest for all wary lovers. I eventually curl up in the opium den and drift into the most delightful slumber. I’m okay and tomorrow i’ll be okay too, i think. I’m so lucky, i’m so grateful, i’m ready for the fight. I love y’all.

Ella is an artist, writer, and friend traversing earth and excavating truths. Find ella at her job on the days she works, in a very tall tree, at a function you’ve never even heard of, or dancing/singing/running amok. Find ella more easily on Instagram @ellapersona to be friends or see the things they do and make.