The stories of those who lost the election

On Election Day, a little less than 60 percent of eligible voters showed up at the polls, and the electoral college carved the country up into red- and blue-colored states. The eve of Nov. 2 was tense, all over Philadelphia. This is a diary of the people who really lost the election this week.

West Philadelphia, 8:58 p.m. -- In an Ethiopian bar, the bartender is wearing an anti-Bush T-shirt, but all the televisions are tuned to the Pistons-Rockets basketball game. There is no indication that an election is taking place. "'Cuz nobody wants to watch it," the bartender explains curtly, and goes back to flirting with her male patrons at the other end of the bar. One of these men is a 34-year-old Ethiopian named Mossa. He is more interested in the basketball game, since he is ineligible to vote, but says, "My body tells me that Kerry is struggling to cooperate with the world. If I had the chance, I would have chosen Kerry." The Pistons win.

University City, 10 p.m. -- On the second floor of Ware College House in the Quadrangle, there is supposed to be a Votergasm party, according to a post on the Web site. Votergasm activists pledge to have sex with voters and withhold sex from non-voters, culminating in a Nov. 2 party where everyone gets laid. Instead, there is only a room of six or seven freshmen sprawled across the floor and the bunk beds watching The Daily Show. They all voted for John Kerry, but the alleged party host becomes painfully awkward at the mention of his Votergasm affiliation. "Uh, it was a joke, OK," he says, as his friends yell, "Pussy! Pussy!"

South Street, 10:31 p.m. -- There are no televisions in Tattooed Mom's, except for a black-and-white one in the kitchen. Almost everyone in the bar has dyed black hair and multiple tattoos. The heavy-set, 28-year-old bartender wearing a "Dead Meat" sweatshirt voted for the first time in his life today. "It was quicker than the first time I got laid," he says. He voted for Kerry in hopes of ending the war. A pretty girl at the bar named Katie mentions her brother: "He's a captain in the marine corps. Basically a Democratic vote is voting for a pay cut. And he voted for Kerry because he recognizes that people are dying for no reason." The bartender excuses himself to peek into the kitchen, but the TV isn't getting reception.

South Philadelphia, 11:06 p.m. -- At Low Bar, a stocky woman with thick, square glasses and very short hair is buying a single bottle of beer wrapped in a plastic bag to take home. She is 59 years old and gay, and has 28 grandkids and 5 great-grandkids. After dropping out of Temple University in order to cover her medical costs, she is still trying to finish her degree at community college. "I coulda been more," she says dreamily, "but I'm still alive. I had good intentions." She voted for Kerry and firmly believes that he'll win tonight. Before she walks out the door, she hands me an invitation to her young nephew's funeral on Saturday. He died two days before Halloween.

Old City, 11:42 p.m. -- At St. Jacks, Jarrett Melecio sits at the bar doing a crossword puzzle and ignoring his girlfriend, who is angrily text messaging her friends. Jarrett voted at 57th Street for Kerry, in the hopes that more money will go toward education, contributing to making cities like Philly safer. His own brother was stabbed to death on 52nd Street years ago. Now, that brother's son just died a month ago of Hodgkin's Disease.

The television sets in St. Jacks are snowy and silenced, but it becomes apparent that Kerry has taken Pennsylvania. In the end, it doesn't matter.

12:06 p.m. -- I get the hiccups and decide to go home, where I watch Kerry's chances slowly crumble and disintegrate throughout the rest of the night.

Throughout my evening, I didn't meet anyone who voted for Bush. Nevertheless, I woke up on Wednesday, hungover, just 20 minutes after John Kerry's conceding phone call to our president, George W. Bush.

Election Day is all about numbers, so I have a few of my own. I went to five neighborhoods. I had six drinks. I waited 21 years to be eligible to vote for a president. I cast one vote and had zero effect on the outcome of the election. I woke up to one ugly, ugly day in America, where 11 states passed same-sex marriage bans and one man got the country's go-ahead to continue manipulating us for four more years.

Kelly Writers House, Nov. 3, 3:40 p.m. -- The full weight of Kerry's loss is beginning to register. I start to cry in front of my professor and ask to go home.

Jessica Lussenhop is a senior English major from St. Paul, Minn. Textual Revolution appears on Fridays.

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