September 11th, 2001

London Bridge is burning down .. burning down .. burning down ...

When I saw the towers fall, I felt the world go up in flames. A burning away of so many illusions that I cradled, that so many of us cradle like miscarried children. I wrote these two entries in my journal ... it seemed appropriate to share with others.

Wake [11Sep2001|12:12pm]
[ mood | I don't know ]
[ music | Tori Amos - Precious Things ]

Is it a wake for the dead? Or waking up? Still the streets are empty; save only dazed and well-meaning phantoms, looking for the nearest Red Cross to donate blood. Outside my building, Tillary street is a temporary moveable garage, public busses commandeered to shuttle overworked firefighters to the 150' pile of rubble that was once one of the hearts of the city.
On my rooftop, the dirty and death coloured smoke, reeking of burnt plastic and asbestos, is beginning to lighten. I'm very afraid. This is the shock before the true reality begins to settle alongside the dust.
Tomorrow frightens me. Nostradamus frightens me. Flatbush avenue, usually bustling with the meaningless chatter of cars, is silent as death. I am as afraid of the madness of our so-called "leaders" as I am afraid of the faceless villains celebrating their victory.
I wonder what will happen. Flatbush's emptiness is littered, sporadically, with scraps of paper, discarded plastic cups from the water relief stations (set up for the thousands of wounded and dust-covered innocents forced to walk across the Manhattan bridge), little monograms and profiles of the latest and greatest local politician. Everything is gray. Gray smoke. Gray lives. As gray as a tombstone, just waiting for an appropriately and cleverly phrased epitaph.
My apartment is still unfinished. So many things are unfinished. I'm unfinished. Hell, I haven't even BEGUN yet!!
I am scared. I my mind, I can fly to the rescue, save the princess and defeat the dragons that threaten us all. Then the rhythmic screams of police sirens wake me to consciousness. I see just how impotent, how powerless we are; ants of glittering and fragile diamond, scrambling for cover under the feet of insane giants. Should I sit on my rooftop, looking for the next attack to come flying over the horizon on nuclear intent? Should I tell Her, whoever she is, how much I loved her? Should I resolve my perceived sins in the hopes of redemption before the end?
I will continue. Anxiety dominates our lives, it bleeds us dry from tears, and we lose those moments of fire, those moments of Love, that remind us of a greater beauty behind it all. I have obsessed too long on meaningless anxiety, will this person do that, will I succeed in this, does that really mean what it appears to mean or, ad inifitum. Thoughts like tar and whipcrack, binding us into painful contortions; obscuring beauty.
Do I allow this fearful conclusion to dominate my life? This anxiety of death by War is a bigger, badder version of my personal fears and challenges. Do I succumb to it, fearful and deluded, or embrace Life?
The world could end tomorrow. It's not just a saying anymore. It's time to start living our lives. There is beauty in the eyes of the blind, there is music in the ears of the deaf. With the arrogance of time taken away, we're shown just how precious, just how tenuous a grip we have on Life. I choose not to waste it.
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Crash and Burn [11Sep2001|12:12pm]
[ mood | anxious ]
[ music | the fucking horns blaring outside my window ]

I saw it.
It was ... it was horrible. We all stood on my rooftop, listening for
another plane. Maybe one carrying a nuclear weapon. The World Trade
Centers crashed to the ground before my eyes. I kept imagining the burning,
liquefying of the innocents trapped inside. Of the rubble and debris
crashing down on the emergency crews beneath it.
I heard from a friend about the plane in the pentagon. Hijacked planes.
With passengers. They're converted Bellevue Hospital into a command
center. This is worse than the oil crisis. Worse than the whole Kuwait
extravaganza. It will spread a layer of fear in the hearts of the world
like the Cold war.
I ... watching the smoke pass, I was convinced that I was watching the
passing of the dream of America. It's a very scary time for everyone. And
to think, I was supposed to be in Brazil :)
... ... there are things that change the way we look at the world, forever.
I was thinking about a numbness, last night, that inched it's way inside of
me. Slowly, but surely. How much I had deadened myself to certain facets
of the world around me.
I wondered how many others were woken up by this. Woken up to the
events happening on the world stage, that so many of the neuroses and
concerns that dominate our lives are just petty and meaningless ... wisps
and distractions that sink up deeper and deeper into fantasies of anxiety.
My friend Mike was in the building. We're still searching for him. My
sister, who usually holds meetings for office furniture within the Trade
centers, wasn't there.
She's usually there at least twice a week.
I stood on the rooftop, near Stephanie, who i've always had a crush on
... thinking about how much I wanted to stop. To hold her. To stand fast
against whatever dark future was coming our way.
About what really matters. It's a cliche, but it's a true one.
I don't know what will happen. I know this is the most terrible act of
War i've seen in my thirty years. I know i'll always remember the black
smoke, the half-imagined images of tortured and dying people, and the crash.
The sound of man's thunder, mocking the beauty of the storms not with
creation, but destruction. Standing on my rooftop, with a bunch of other
artists and students; listening to the roaring sound of jets in the air,
wondering if there was another. My sister told me of people standing in
front of hairdresser stores, huddled around a small television. Even now, I
can hear the screams of the emergency vehicles, running past the police
blockades. I can imagine all those paramedics, and imagine the rest of the
building crashing down on them.
This could be the beginning of World War III. I hope it isn't. I
really do.
  • Current Music
    Tori Amos - Precious Things

Donate Blood

I am a terrible candidate to donate blood. But, the rest of my family is going to do something about it. The best I can do is get out information.

(I have small veins that do not take well to the needle needed)

If you can, I encourage you to help out the victims from today's tragedy.

Santa Clara Red Cross

Palo Alto Red Cross

San Diego Red Cross

Northern California Red Cross

New York Red Cross - Lots of helpful information here

Can't donate blood? How about money.....the Santa Clara Red Cross is taking donations for the Trade Center victims. It costs money to fly blood across the country and keep it fresh!

To find a Red Cross in your area - call - 1-877-REDCROSS
  • jacqui

(no subject)

I'm sick of watching the television, but I can't seem to stop. I feel paralyzed in a way. I can't get myself to move or do anything. I haven't left the house all day. I keep crying and staring agape at the television.

All those dear people. Such horrible, terrible, frightening loss. I want to help. I want to fly to New York and cuddle people and wipe away tears. I just can't stop crying.

My assistant Noemi asked me if I had seen the shots of people jumping out of the windows and I said, "No," then I stupidly took her advice and turned on our biggest Spanish language channel and saw close ups of people jumping to their deaths, their bodies flailing, and flipping, end over end, plummeting to their deaths. I feel so sick. I feel impotent and sick.

I think about those people on the planes who knew they were heading for buildings, what must that have been like for them? I think about people who were trapped in the upper floors of the building yet still in contact with loved ones outside via telephones or computer who suddenly went down when the buildings did. Or the correspondent on Larry King who was talking on her cell phone to her husband as her plane dove into the Pentagon.

I think about that woman I saw in Palestine, laughing and smiling, making victory signs and saying, lulululululul. I want to hate her for her monmumental stupidity, her brutal cruelty, and ignorance in the face of such tragedy, and I know I cannot. How can I know what it feels like to be her, to have lived through years of what we are experiencing only today? Why does she hate us so much when I can't bring myself to hate her.

I'm just so so unbelievably sorry for all of the people affected by this, for the people who have died and are injured, for all of the people who have lost someone they loved, or someone they only knew in passing.

I have to go pick up the kids at school. I wonder what questions they will ask. I wonder how I should handle this for their sake. I am having such a hard time moving, I feel leaden, and sick sick sick.

I love you,
  • nickol

the long road to freedom...

Um, this may sound a bit stupid, but for desert storm they did that yellow ribbon deal, has anyone hear what they are doing for this.
To represent the morning, and peace of our nations etc.

Okay I am going to smoke and be a peacful american, hopefully others will follow my lead.
(in the middle east esp.).

I am very sad of the idea of gas prices rising, I so can not afford this. errr....

I hope every one a safe and calm night,
peace around
  • Current Music
    Black eyed peas

(no subject)

lately I have been convinced the life I am living is a dream- perhaps I died or am in a coma.
I feel like i am lucid living. everything has been too wonderfully beautiful. especially buring man- that is until today. I am ready to wake up.
  • jacqui

(no subject)

My boyfriend bailed on being with me tonight. I feel so alone. I've been crying and crying. So depressed and torn. I couldn't stop myself from watching the coverage on KMEX, the shots of the bodies falling. I want to be in New York or Washington where I can be with people who are closer to this. I want to comfort people and share this grief with someone else.

I'm sick of sitting in my bed, watching the televison, switching channels, blowing my nose. I had to go out to pick up the car pool. I had to hold it together for my son. This is so horrible and hard for anyone, but especially for children to comprehend and to process, so overwhelming and scary. I was looking forward to being able to kind of commune with my partner, to be able to share some of this with someone I love. But he chose to get high and stay home and I'm just so angry and hurt. It reminds me of when I was with my ex, who left us behind during the riots, to fly off to some stupid fencing tournament. The city was burning and we were so alone. It feels similar tonight. I was going to just make myself try to go to sleep but then I thought that maybe if I came here I would feel a little less isolated, frightened and lonesome.

It's hard to go from the powerfully loving, communal nature of Burning Man, to this lonely life I lead here. It's hard when you don't have a community of people to process all of this with. I thought about going to mass and almost got myself to go, but then I thought the people there might just be mean and closed minded about our colorful hair and we would feel shut out or ostracized.

Okay I'm going to browse the journals and see how you're all feeling.

I'm just so so sorry for those poor people.

I saw this on a message board. I wonder if this is an accurate quote from one of the quatrains.

In the City of God there will be a great thunder, two brothers torn
apart by chaos, while the fortress endures, the great leader will
succumb...The third big war will begin when the big city is burning...
on the 11th day of the 9 month that...two metal birds would crash
into two tall the new city... and the world will end soon
after - Nostradamus 1654
  • Current Mood
    sad sad