How to survive election day

Hannah Arendt Style

It’s election day. I was going to write a very serious post contemplating the virtues of public happiness. I was going to tell you all about how Hannah Arendt did not like representative democracy or, how she liked political parties even less. I thought about rehearsing her work on reviving politics through civic participation and revolution. I even thought about waxing poetic about new beginnings, or sharing quotes like this:

Freedom, which only very seldom—in times of crisis or revolution—becomes the direct aim of political action, is actually the reason why such a thing as politics exist in the communal life of man.

But I decided against it. Arendt has been exercised nonstop for the past four years and I’ve decided to take a different route. You’re going to be hammered with political news all day and, in the spirit of friendship, I thought I’d offer you something more lighthearted. So, here is my definitive guide on how to survive election day Hannah Arendt style:

1. Drinks. Hannah Arendt favored Campari and Soda. This is a suitable drink for long conversations about poetry and politics, because it allows for a gentle buzz to build over time. It is both sweet and bitter and can be sipped leisurely as you meditate on the malleability of meaning. One is not at risk for scurvy because there is a hint or even splash of fresh orange juice, and one doesn’t need to worry about hydration because of the club soda or seltzer. I find Campari and Soda is best had in Venice with a cigarette (for show of course, no one smokes these days) or in Paris at a café on the Left Bank but, since we must remain in America wherever you are will have to do. Unless you’re actually in Paris or Venice and then, fuck you. But however you have it, please at least try and cultivate an air of European snobbery? I recommend turning down CNN and turning up TSFJazz. Maybe read a W.H. Auden poem aloud. Or, phone your favorite philosopher friend for a leisurely conversation about the nature of Being. What is time anyway?

2. More drinks. Arendt stocked her bar with champagne, Riesling, Dubonnet, Sherry, and Grand Marnier. This is all fine, but the only honest drink is a dry martini, in my humble opinion. Sorry, Hannah. You’re going to need the stiffer stuff today. And no you cannot make a martini with Vodka. This is not a question. There is only one proper recipe for making a martini and it comes from the film director Luis Buñuel. You can watch him making one here. Unfortunately, though, it’s already too late to make one since you need to put the glasses, gin, and shaker in the refrigerator the day before but, if you’re the kind of person who has glasses, gin, and a shaker in the refrigerator: Will you marry me? If you’re not, you can have a martini tomorrow. When you’re ready, here are the instructions:

   Pour a few drops of Noilly Prat and half a demitasse spoon of Angostura bitters over the ice. Stir it, then pour it out, keeping only the ice, which retains a faint taste of both. Then pour straight gin over the ice, stir it again, and serve.

3. Smoking. Okay, fine. Some people smoke. Arendt smoked Chesterfields, Lucky Strikes, and Camels. She also enjoyed cigars & pipe tobacco. Pipe tobacco is obviously more elegant than burning through a pack of Camels, but to each their own. After Arendt had her first heart attack she switched to Kools at her doctor’s recommendation. So, if you must smoke, none of this “it’s American Spirit it’s organic so it’s okay for you” nonsense. Smoke like a European in exile. Smoke like your every thought depends on it. (But please don’t smoke at all because it will kill you. It killed Hannah Arendt. I have her EKG; it’s not pretty.)

4. Snacks. Who wants to cook when they feel like the world is about to end? Don’t bother. Dishes are hell anyway unless you’re the kind of person who gets joy from cleaning dirt. Here is your complete guide to a Hannah Arendt snack board with all of her favorite foods: Bread (German Rye or a French Baguette), Ham, assorted cold cuts, cold rack of lamb, doughnuts, cheese puffs, Tiparillo cigars. Since you’re likely to stay up all night you should also prepare some eggs, and might want to have anchovy paste, coffee, and grapefruit juice on hand.

   

5. Shopping. Arendt preferred to go shopping in person at Bergdorf Goodman, but you can shop online which is a great way to kill time. Arendt had a fondness for the fine Italian leather of Mark Cross wallets and briefcases. I recommend their “Rear Window” collection and the vintage section is particularly scrumptious. It will only set you back a few months rent. Aside from that you might want to contemplate a brooch, which with the conservative backlash we’re facing, might be a way to tastefully signal one’s political views without having to voice them. She also liked YSL, I’m told. Oh, Hannah…

6. Music. Again, I’d go with jazz, if for no other reason than to honor Arendt by spiting Adorno. Aside from a lingering childhood taste for Mozart and Beethoven, Arendt never wrote about music, which is unfortunate because we know she loved listening to it—she was very excited to receive a record player for her birthday. Anyway, if you don’t like Jazz listen to Meryl Streep singing Bertolt Brecht. That should cure any blues you have.

7. Reading. During the darkest hours of her life Arendt found solace in the detective stories of Georges Simenon, Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, and On War by Carl von Clausewitz. If you can focus on reading any of these today please consider submitting an application to be my personal research assistant. If you’re looking for something more passionate but less committal, why not delight in these poems by: Hölderlin, Rilke, Lowell, and Dickinson. And if that is still too much please watch this live broadcast of Part 3 of Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism here.

8. Solitude. Finally, when you need a break remember the importance of solitude. Inhale let, exhale go. Keep a fainting couch near. Be prepared for the unexpected, but don’t let twisted cynical fantasies obscure your sense of reality. Breathe. I’m not going to tell you everything will be alright. My personal motto is embrace despair (emphasis on the embrace) And if that fails, drink Campari.

   1/4 cup Campari, 3/4 cup club soda or seltzer, chilled

   2 teaspoons fresh orange juice (optional, I leave this out)

   1 strip orange zest (If you want to buy something buy these. I promise they’ll change your life.)

   Pour Campari into a wine glass. Fill the glass with ice (less is more); top with club soda or seltzer, and orange juice if using. Garnish with orange zest. Drink, meditate, call someone and say I love you.

   Bon courage !

   x, Sam