september 01

++++++++++++

phone home

9/27/01
I'll have to keep this brief, since I'm totally spazzy and have no attention span whatsoever. I got it into my head that I should quit smoking, and it's only been 24 hours and I feel nuts. I didn't realize I had such a problem. I guess I've been smoking about the level I am now (1/2-1 pack a day) since my early 20s which is bad enough, but now that I think about it, I've been smoking period for 14 years. That sounds horrible (and makes me feel like an old hag for real). I don't smoke much during the day (maybe one cigarette on the way to work and one at lunch), it's mostly when I'm on the computer, on the phone or out drinking. I don't know how to write without smoking, I'm totally twitchy at the moment. Tomorrow will be the real test, whether or not I can drink without a cigarette. I didn't go to work today because I was sick, which just gave me more free time think about wanting to smoke. I tried to keep busy doing laundry, walking around and going shopping. I hit the Bay Ridge Century 21 that no one seems to know exists. Now that the downtown Century 21 is history (it was across from the World Trade Center), I figured maybe they'd have more stock. I don't even like the place. Everyone swears by it, and obsessively shops there. It's full of crap like neon orange Dolce & Gabana pumps in size 11, marked down to $250. Things no one really needs or can use. Unless you wear a size 6 or under, there's nothing to be had, especially since it's mostly discounted designer stuff and they don't exactly cater to larger folks. However, if you like polyester pants with elastic waistbands and sweatshirts, you'd love the plus size section. I did not shed a tear when I heard they were using Century 21 as a morgue (which may have been a rumor anyway, it was crazy that first week after the disaster how the news was reporting random word of mouth stuff. I'm always baffled how rumors get started and spread so fast. The Sat. after the 11th, there were these two drunk, homeless type guys walking in front of me and James and they were loudly discussing how some police officer had rolled himself up into a ball and safely drifted down 85 floors with only a sore back to show for it. I was like "what the fuck?!" but they earnestly believed what they were talking about. Then the other day I was reading a story in "The New York Times" about these myths spreading like wild fire, and it actually mentioned a version of that one, about how a police officer supposedly "surfed" 82 falling floors without a scratch. Weird.) I just wanted to check out the Brooklyn Century 21 for socks, underwear and shoes, which they have a decent selection of, but it was closed. I've been trying to be a calmer person lately, which isn't easy since I'm naturally high-strung, but this no smoking thing certainly isn't making me feel peaceful. I couldn't figure out how a terrorist attack in Manhattan would affect a Brooklyn branch of a store, and felt a tinge of annoyance, then tried to supress it, I mean there are thousands dead and I'm here playing hooky from work just to find a cute, discount bra. Anyway, I found a bunch of good stuff at all the low-brow places everyone else eschews like New York & Co. (formerly Lerner). I'm deprived in Sunset Park. In Ridgewood, I lived walking distance to Lerner and Rainbow and would go nuts buying cheap clothes all the time (I even have a NY&Co. gold credit card, every Tues. you'd get 10% for using it, and 15% off the first Tues. of each month). Now I just have fast food and gas stations, which may be better for the budget, but I'm not pleased. There's a Rainbow in Park Slope that sucks ass, don't get me started (they've had their gate down ever since the attack, that seemed the norm for a while, but now there's a handwritten sign saying they're closed till Sept. 28--I wouldn't be surprised if it never re-opened). There's also another New York & Co. in the heart of Sunset Park, at 54th, but the 23 blocks are just far enough to keep me from walking or taking the subway two stops (and not to be racist, but that part of Sunset Park is heavily Mexican, and well, the stores are crappier than in other neighborhoods. Same problem with the nearby Rainbow, it's in "South Slope" which is the less white [though still out of my price range] and suburban part of Park Slope). But Bay Ridge, oh boy, it was the best New York & Co. ever. They were having this 40% off fall sale, and I ended up spending $148 on my store credit card that hadn't seen action in months, and got a million things, like shirts were $10 and actually pretty cute. New York is so obvious and demarcated, all the outer borough, old-school white neighborhoods like Ridgewood (Polish/Italian) and Bay Ridge (Italian) have crystal clean, better stocked versions of the same chains that sorry-ass in other neighborhoods. Anyway, I glanced and scowled at the Century 21 on my way back to the subway and noticed the sign saying they were closed due to "The Jewish Holiday" I suppose that's Yom Kippur. I didn't feel so bad about angering at their closure. I'm not Jewish, and I wanted to shop. You have to understand that there aren't Jewish people in the N.W., the idea that people can close stores and not go to work on these seemingly made up holidays is near ludicrous, it just isn't done there. I remember getting one of those free McDonald's calendars as a kid, and being like that heck is Rosh Hoshanna (and I probably just murdered its spelling), it was at total foreign concept, and still is to a small degree. I just didn't think it was a good enough reason to close the store on the one day I decided to go down there (equal disregard for religions: I don't think it should be closed on a random Thurs. like Thanksgiving either), because it's all about me, see? Oh jeez, I need to go before I have a total conniption fit, I can't sit still anymore.

9/25/01
I guess it's good that they're cracking down on security, I didn't really mind having to open my purse for the guard at the Mets game (they just gave it a cursory glance anyway, I joked under my breath to James that I could've had a box cutter in there and he got all freaked out like they were going cart us off in handcuffs). But I didn't expect a security check to simply see my dr. The wide lobby was roped off and you had to open your bag for the guard, and I was like "oh great." I always end up leaving clothes at James's apt., which isn't a big deal until I need to do laundry and it's impossible to cart them back home in one load, especially since it involves taking them to work with me first. I'm totally down to no underwear so I'd just stuffed all of them into my bag (along with some Serrano ham and brie--nice combo) this morning and figured I'd have to wash the clothes another time. So, I had to open my bag that was filled with seven pairs of dirty underwear for this guy, and this one actually scrutinized the contents. Jesus, is this what the world's come to. Strangers rifling my dirty drawers. I got into trouble because I didn't do my MRA (it's an MRA, not an MRI, whatever the difference, it still involves dye and two IVs), and now I'm all paranoid I'm going to have kidney failure. Granted, I'm a huge hypochondriac, but I swear I really do feel like crap all the time and I can't believe it's all mental like many would like me to believe. I wouldn't be so worried if it weren't for the fact that I've had weird lower back pains for years, and was supposed to have something called an IVT when I was 20 or so, but chickened out since it involved dye injections. If I really had something wrong back then, now my kidneys have had almost 10 years to really go rotten. I know I'll finally give in and get the stupid MRA and nothing will be wrong (well, I'd still have high blood pressure, and then it would be more inexplicable and even freakier for my age) and people will think I'm exaggerating about ailments again. This is real, not imaginary, nothing like thinking I have anthrax poisoning. I'll agree that's delusional, though I was looking up symptoms today: fever and flu-like feelings, but jeez, that's every illness. I just have this annoying sore throat and ear ache, which I'm sure is an ordinary head cold, not the beginnings of small pox (though you never know). Maybe I'd better get myself one of them gas masks.

9/24/01
It got dark all of a sudden. Fall always creeps up like that. It's still light when I get out of work, but it doesn't last for long. I swear just last week, I'd leave work, go to the gym, leave around 7pm and it'd be bright, sunny and warm. Now it's dark when I get out, it's still warm, but dark. It takes a while to get used to, and before you know it they turn the clocks back, making it even darker. (Isn't that coming up really soon? I never can keep track of time changes, I'd be fine with just leaving the clocks alone and letting nature do its thing.) It's eerie, I've been using that word a lot lately, everything's eerie all of a sudden, it is. In many ways, things have reverted to some semblance of normalcy around here, but everyone's spooked, more than I realized. Subway riding is down, places are going out of business, people are scared. Allow me one selfish thought--maybe rents will go down? No one wants to move here anymore, the ecomony was already downright evil, the dotcom kids will be moving back in with their parents in droves, families are running for the suburbs. The '90s Disneyfied NYC isn't so clean and safe anymore. Who's going to cough up for a rotten $2,000 studio now? Tonight I was riding into Manhattan over the Manhattan Bridge and you can see the unreal glow coming up from all the lights used by the rescue workers, a few days ago you it was the glow coupled with plumes of smoke, fires are still burning even now and it'll be two weeks old tomorrow. I've developed this horrible sore throat recently, and while it's probably just a cold, I can't help but wonder about all that ash in the air, asbestos is one thing, but jeez, think of all the pulverized bodies. Sure, it's morbid to think about breathing in body dust, but everything's pretty morbid these days. I'm a stupid procrastinator and had been working on varnishing these pink shelves with fortuned glued on them for weeks. I started varnishing them in July, had two coats on one side, got sidetracked, then flipped them and painted the first coat on the other side and had semi-forgotten them outside. When I went home the first time after Sept. 11, they had been covered in a layer of ash, and then they were rained on. They're sort of ruined now and the fortune text has smeared off. But I suppose that if my biggest loss during this whole thing is just four cheap Ikea shelves, then I'm in pretty good shape. You won't hear any complaining out of me. I've felt fairly tough, and thought most felt the same, but it's not true. Friends are jumpy when planes fly overhead, they're buying gallons of water in case someone poisons the water system, they're planning escape routes involving boats in case we get attacked again, they're buying gas masks. I guess I'm a defeatist, if anthrax starts getting dropped or subways get bombed then I'll just have to take it as it comes, there's nothing I can do about it really. I do know that out of the blue, I've become scared to sleep with my windows open anymore (good thing the weather's cooling off) and I've been having crazy bad dreams like the other night it was like Revelations and God appeared in the sky and the world turned to bloody chaos, and it started raining bullets that were ricocheting off pavement and hitting people. It's like a weird little kid dream, but I woke up feeling incredibly uneasy. Despite the still skittish mood, I had one heck of a Fri. night. I didn't end up going out with a single friend this weekend, which is unusual, everyone just wanted to stay snug at home, I think it's a growing trend. But Fri. James had got Mets tickets from his boss, I'm not the hugest sports fan, though I do like the Mets if I'm going to have to choose a team to root for. However, this was no ordinary game. I had no idea what was in store. It was a huge extravaganza since it was the first sporting even in NYC since the attack, security was tight, lines were long, but Diana Ross sang "God Bless America" and Marc Anthony did the national anthem. That was all good and well, but the icing on the freakin' cake was LIZA, Liza Minelli in some boozed-up stupor belting out "New York, New York" like you've never seen or could ever imagine. The game was actually exciting and we won, but I couldn't wait till the 7th inning when they'd bring Liza out. She was totally nuts, I swear she had no idea where she even was, but that didn't stop her from doing her rollicking rendition complete with an impromptu chorus line of kicking police officers behind her. It was one class act, let me tell you. People were going nuts, well they were going nuts the whole night, waving flags and shouting "U.S.A." especially when prompted by all the hideous patriotic video montages of rescue workers, children, Bush and the stars and stripes, but this was a special kind of nuts. I was laughing so hard, I started tearing up. That woman is over the top. I've never felt so American in my life. No, I've never felt like such a New Yorker. It was a thing of beauty.

9/17/01
Today is supposed to be a back to normal sort of day, though I can't say it really is. It was my first regular work day, and I know this is no time to be annoyed with pointless petty things, but I don't like only having channel 2 on the TV there. I didn't realize that all the channels except 2 are out unless you have cable, and I forget that I sort of have cable, I don't pay for it, but I get all the regular broadcast channels and a few pay stations. It's good to have options, I can't watch any more news, and I think this weekend many went back to regular programming interspersed with reports every so often. So at work it's depressing news and soap operas. Ack. I stayed in the city (I hate when people call Manhattan "the city" like everyone else lives in remote woods, but I couldn't control myself) this weekend and went out Fri. and Sat. nights. It was packed as ever, if not more so, I suppose everyone just wants to have a drink and good time these days. despite all the lingering somberness around here. It doesn't appear that I, or anyone I know, directly knows anyone missing. That's good, I guess, but it felt so weird to be hanging out with friends in usual bars, seeing all the usual faces as if nothing had changed. I almost started feeling dread when asked the inevitable questions by everyone I've encountered all week, "Are you OK?" "Did you know anyone who was hurt?" Yeah, nothing bad happened to me, I don't know why I feel embarrassed over others' concern. I was surprised how many people were worried about James since he works down there, an old enemy (that's a silly word, but it's appropriate enough) even phoned, and the bartender at one of our regular bars had been asking friends about him, he seemed so relieved when he saw us walk in that James got free drinks. So I did some normal things like going to Chinatown for my favorite soft-shell crabs and roast pork wonton soup, buying some fall clothes at Old Navy and redeeming my Sephora birthday gift certificate. It's odd to see Chinatown without cars, but I have to admit it's kind of nice to be able to just walk around minus motorists. I think in the '70s, Jimmy Breslin or someone wanted to ban cars from Manhattan. It seemed like a crackpot idea, and I personally love driving and being driven around, I've been pleased ever since James bought at new car a few months ago. But now it doesn't seem like such a crazy notion. I could do without all the constant honking, loud stereos and maniac maneuvers, the second cars were allowed back below 14th St. they were back to their old tricks, jamming into crosswalks and blowing horns, the only change being their new stars and stripes adornments. And that's one trend I won't give into. If I didn't own a flag before, why would I now? Even Jessica bought a little one for her window, I'm like hell no. Patriotism is one thing, but it's causing bad behavior in the name of America. Today on the news there was all this crap about the proper way to use flags on automobiles (I've been seeing a lot of flag no-nos), how to fold them and how you're not supposed to wear them or use the image on clothing...er, maybe someone ought to give Tommy Hilfiger a talking to. And then Bush is on TV talking about wild west-style wanted dead or alive posters. It's all getting nutty, and not funny nutty like "The Nutty Professor" which was on TV tonight--do they think Eddie Murphy in a fat suit is going to raise our spirits? There's another freaky trend--the rise of fat suit humor. Actors pretending to be obese is hilarious, didn't you know? Bah, I won't even get started on that one, getting to to bed is more important than dwelling on how many huge panties a nation can stand seeing before tiring of the joke.

9/13/01
Ah, finally, I'm able to get online. You never realize how addicted you are to the internet until you can't use it. I went to work for the first time today, but I was the only one there...well, that's not so odd considering at the moment I'm the only full time employee anyway. But it felt weird. I mean who cares about travel right now. Every Thurs. I cull the internet for "Last Minute Specials," hotel deals and the like to post on Fri., but it seemed sort of silly, my heart is never in that stuff as it is, but today it felt even more useless than usual. I had stories to tell about last weekend, how I'm getting fed up with these Rubulad parties in Williamsburg that used to be fun a year or two ago, but are overcrowded, completely lame and suck now. It used to be sort of an impromptu secret thing, and I normally hate hipster exclusionary crap, but the atmosphere was actually mellow and you could watch bands, have pie eating contests, see puppet shows and drink homemade absinthe. Now it's packed to the gills with youngsters showing up in cabs, there's an hour wait for the bathroom, they've raised the admission price and have bouncers (who I got into a fight with out back--you used to be able to go from the roof into the backyard and out the gates to run for beer or whatever and Sat. they had big tough guys who wouldn't let me back in--there was no way I was going back into the huge line out front). Jessica and I had left this time just to go to a bar five blocks away to use the bathroom. By the time we got back (and were turned away in the back parking lot) half our friends had left and we were like let's get out of this shithole. Every single time I go to the Rubulad, I swear I'm never returning (and haven't in a really long time), yet somehow always get sucked into going again in hopes that the hype has died down (no cigar). We went back to the Yabby where we'd just come from, were drinking till closing and next thing I knew some guy sat at our table and started harassing me about my socks! This is not the first time, and it freaked me out. What's wrong with my socks!? A few months ago these guys were giving me a hard time on the subway stairs over my lavender knee high fishnets. This time I'd probably drawn unnecessary attention to myself because I was drunk and ranting about stupid crap like the economy and spoiled overpaid people (in Williamsburg where I was sitting). This guy came over and said he wanted to give me a bear hug (his words, not mine) and then started telling me about how much my socks sucked, and I started joke fighting with him and ripping apart his appearance (he didn't even have on socks, as he was wearing god awful man sandals). I still don't get what's wrong with my socks, they were light and dark pink thick stripes that went a little above my ankle, not quite mid-calf, poking out of red leather tennis shoe things. I was wearing a red and pink striped polo and the whole ensemble was quite fetching, if I do say so myself. We were made to leave (it was after 4am, not because I was behaving badly) and the freak made me give him a hug. What's up with people these days. Well, what's up currently is still minor mayhem. People are all supposed to be banding together, giving blood, donating tube socks (really) and singing "Give Peace a Chance" during candle light vigils, but here in Brooklyn folks are just plain fucked up. Nasty, mean and hateful. I don't know what's going on, but everyone was foul and rotten, I was seriously scared to be out. Fear is starting to turn into anger. I got to work fine, I notice the new trend is Puerto Rican flags replaced by insane displays of the American stars and stripes. Everyone was wearing flag t-shirts, bandanas, mini flags were sticking out of backpacks. Cars (in Brooklyn at least, the roads are still empty in Manhattan) not only had the little flags up front, but huge yard-sized ones propped up out of open windows. I'm afraid all this new found patriotism is going to get out of hand. Yesterday they had police barricades around Atlantic St. in Brooklyn to protect all the Arab restaurants and businesses along that thoroughfare. I worked till about 2pm, then realized I was hungry since I hadn't eaten yet, but I had no money and all the ATMs appeared to be down. It never occurred to me that I couldn't get any cash. Banks here are all weird and close at 3pm (have you ever heard of such a thing anywhere else in the US?) so I called it a day work-wise and went to catch a bus to my bank (sometimes it really sucks not having a bank walking distance to your house). The ATM was down so I went in and their system was also down and since I don't know my account # by heart they couldn't do anything. I almost lost my shit. Just getting there on the bus had been a pain, the buses were crazy packed (not sure if because people are not working and are out more or if they're scared to take subways or what) and people were being all pushy and cutting in front of me (huge pet peeve), the bus driver was yelling at people for no good reason. Luckily, the bank was open till 4, not 3 so I had to go back out and wait for another bus to go the 18 blocks home to get my check book and once again everyone on the bus was all nuts and the driver didn't open the door when I rang the bell and drove off and I got mad and stormed up to the front and was like "let me off" and he wouldn't look at me and acted like he didn't hear me, and I was all fuck all of you freaks (not out loud of course). I mean, I was in a hurry--I needed money for cigarettes! I have plenty of food since I did all that NJ shopping the weekend before last, but cigarettes are important (I've been chain smoking like a fiend all week, I can only imagine what my blood pressure must be doing, my chest starting feeling all weird today and I could feel my heart going too fast). I made it back to the bank in time, took out my $100 all was relatively well with the world. But the last thing I felt like was being out and about, I just wanted my money and to get straight home. I know we're not supposed to be holing up and everyone's encouraged to get out, go shopping, eat out whatever to keep some normalcy, but it just didn't feel right. All day places like Macy's, Grand Central Station, various office buildings and airports were being evacuated due to bomb threats. The atmosphere is still incredibly tense here, no one will make eye contact (not like New Yorkers are known for their warmth) and everyone's edgy. Last I heard, they'd detained people at both La Guardia and JFK, Arabs with knives, fake IDs and pilots' licenses attempting to board planes. I hate to get jump the gun, but that's really scary. I'm wondering when things will calm down, when TV will start broadcasting regular shows instead of 24-7 live disaster news. It's crazy to watch, every 10 min. they have some new insane story that changes with passing time. They keep reporting bomb scares, but I don't think a single one has been legitimate, the big news this afternoon was that they'd found firemen (five, then three, no two) alive in the rubble, but it turned out to just be rescue workers who'd fallen in some hole. Nothing's concrete, everything's sketchy and reactionary. Like these alleged terrorists caught at the airports tonight will end up being ordinary people. OK, enough rambling, I need to take a shower and go to bed.

9/12/01
I came back to Brooklyn this afternoon, and fortunately the subways weren't all crazy as I'd feared. I couldn't get out of Manhattan yesterday so I didn't go to work. I didn't go today either, I don't think most people did since we were told not to go into Manhattan (nevermind that I don't work in Manhattan--I just loosely interpreted that to mean don't go to work at all--who cares that the boroughs are just fine). It's really strange, as far as I know, no one directly related to me was killed or even hurt in the incident, but I still feel sick and anxious. I do know that a coworker of James's was rumored to be at an early morning meeting at Morgan Stanley (in the Trade Center) and still isn't accounted for, no one can get in touch with him. I've never met the guy, I've only heard his name mentioned here and there, but it's still upsetting. I usually make light of stupid tragedies, I remember getting into trouble in 8th grade for joking about the Challenger astronauts the day they died, but this whole thing makes me feel physically, if not emotionally ill. I guess it's not good to watch TV news for 10 hours straight. I can't stand seeing any more people showing photos of loved ones, asking the public if anyone's seen them and giving home #s on the air. You'd think every single person working the Trade Center was a happy newlywed or the father to twin newborns. Today I forced myself to turn the channel and watch "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble" with John Travolta (not that insipid new movie version), and that was a mild diversion. It's morbid, but I can't stop thinking about all the horrific ways people must have died. I hear stories about people jumping out the windows holding hands, a firefighter being killed by the impact of a falling body from a window, an elevator door opening to a man engulfed in flames, free falling elevators filled with screams. I heard an account of someone driving up the BQE across the river from the towers in Brooklyn when the first plane hit, and how faxes and office debris was flying around, and a Far Side comic clipped from a newspaper flew in their window. That's simultaneously funny, (I mean all those silly office anecdotes pinned on cubicle walls are incredibly lame--in college I file clerked in a med. office and there was one that always baffled me--a cartoon duck saying something like, "I'm 80% nice, 20% bitch, don't push me" I can't remember the exact percentages, but you get the idea), and incredibly sad. Manhattan is still eerie, there are police barricades across 14th St. and no cars or non-residents (they're checking IDs) are allowed south of that street. I also hear there's another one at Houston St. James lives at 13th so we were just below the cut off and could walk freely around the east village with empty streets. I couldn't figure out what was so odd, then I realized it was the bikes, so many people were on bikes and you rarely see that (with cell phones glued to their ears of course, it wouldn't be NYC unless people were yakking on cells. It struck me yesterday, that I'm absolutely the only person I know friend-wise, work-wise acquaintance who doesn't have a cell phone. There was stuff on the news about the lines at pay phones, an unusual sight, and I was all "welcome to my world, chumps." The desolate streets everywhere and images of the blown-out Financial Dist. conjured up post-apocolyptic images. As a kid I was obsessed with WWIII, sci-fi, fantasy crap. I don't think I was freaked out about nuclear war so much, but the idea of these make-shift societies springing out of tragic ashes totally fascinated me. The only book that immediately comes to mind was "Z for Zaccariah" about some girl who survives a nuclear blast. Remember "The Day After"? I don't too much, but remember parental warnings before it aired and thinking it'd have to be good. In second grade I was mesmerized by "Beneath the Planet of the Apes" on TV, the one with the mutants who lived underground. I always wondered how it happened, from war and mass destruction to cave dwelling or isolated agrarian communities where everyone has page boy haircuts and wears natural fibers. Of course, there's also the lawless, dusty Mad Max route. The possibilities are endless. But I always wanted to know what happened in between, when did it all go wrong, when did daily routines get thrown off course, when did it become normal to run around in little leather bikinis,not comb your hair and form tribes. I know it's an irrational leap, and this was old-fashioned terrorism, not nuclear war, but this was what I was thinking today. Like the World Trade bombing was just the beginning, people are getting used to the fact that no one can drive around or into Manhattan, that there are police on every corner checking IDs and asking questions, military jets are circling overhead, phone lines are down, power is out, shelves are getting sparse in grocery stores. It doesn't seem too abnormal. Then bomb us again (they're talking about a potential bomb in the Empire State Building this very minute), the numbers may dwindle, but the remaining city'll bounce back in half-assed primitive ways. Next thing you know, wild, mute tribes of survivors will spring up in abandoned subway tunnels wearing Manolo Blahniks and Burburry plaid scarves. It could happen. OK, not, but there's no harm in speculating. Hmmm, the phones have gone weird again. I just called Portland and got through fine, but when I tried James (who I was able to call around 4:30) neither the cell or regular phone # seems to work. I suppose I'll have to resort to email, which seems to be the most reliable thing these days. Unfortunately, my internet connection is unbearably slow. I was just trying to get to Yahoo to double check how Burburry is spelled, but I'm losing my patience. I guess there are bigger things to worry about.

9/11/01
Needless to say, it's pure chaos here at the moment. It's a little after 1pm, and things are still nuts. Unfortunately, I can't upload any of this yet since the phone lines appear to be dead (cell lines are jammed too). I was planning on going to work late today (11am) since I had to get an MRI at 8:30. I headed over there, got annoyed when I was told I was at the wrong office and had to hoof it over to 17th and 1st. I ended up at this creepy little building that was all dark inside with a quiet unhelpful older gent working the desk. After a spell, I was told to put on one of those hideous gowns, which I did. Then I was told about the two IV dye tubes and the 30 min. procedure and was like no way. I left all freaked out. I was told there would be no injection. But anyway, it was only 9am and I didn't want to get to work early since I wasn't expected till 11am so I went back to James's since he lives nearby. He was still in bed, I got bored, goofed around a bit then left at 10am. I got outside and there were crowds looking up at the sky and seeming distressed and I couldn't figure out what was going on. I thought someone was jumping off a building or something. I didn't hang around because I was in a hurry to get to work since the boss was out of town and I knew a temp would be there at 11 sharp and she doesn't have a key and I didn't want her to be locked out. I grabbed a bagel and coffee at Au Bon Pain and people were all worked up and I still didn't know what was going on and asked some frantic guy and he looked at me like I was the stupidist person on earth, "A plane hit the World Trade Center) all duh and I was like "oh." I figured he meant like an accident and didn't realize the severity. I got into the subway station and bought my weekly Metrocard and everyone was yelling how there weren't any subways running and there were lines at all the pay phones so I started running back up the stairs (worried about work still). Outside there were all these ambulances (there are still sirens at the moment) and I still can't figure out why they were at Union Square since it's like 25+ blocks from the Financial District--it seemed like they were pulling injured people off of buses or maybe the buses just happened to be there, but I still didn't have a concept of what was going on, but there was a bloody guy in a ripped shirt about 5 ft. from me and I heard the words "suicide bombers" being mentioned and the creepiness started sinking in. Completely surreal. I ran past blocked-off ambulance area back to James's and by now he was up and had the TV on and I could see what was really going on with the horrific image of the one plane crashing all the way though the first tower, so unbelievable. Then it started crumbling. This is the kind of thing that would give me nightmares if I was a little kid. No one seems to be talking about the dead people. I mean there must be thousands of them. 20,000 people work in the World Trade Center. I kept thinking about the subway station underneath and how people must have been crushed or blown up. My train (and most routes) stop underneath the Trade Center before going into Brooklyn. I'm sure the odds that I would actually be on one of the trains at the Cortlandt St. stop when it got hit, is small. But if I hadn't gone to my stupid dr. appt. I would've been on that subway line at the crucial time. So maybe the thwarted MRI was for the best. About an hour ago, James and I went outside to look around and there was still huge smoke plumes coming from downtown and the streets were thick with people being evacuated, many had on masks and were covered with ash. Guiliani is telling everyone to "walk north" er, great, but to where? Last I heard the subways weren't running, and the bridges and tunnels are all closed. I don't know how anyone (including myself) is supposed to get out of Manhattan into the buroughs. Downtown is a completely empty ghost town. It's eerie. Gruesome as it may be, I still want to hear about the people that didn't get out. I mean people were jumping out windows and escapees were trampling fallen people. Scary stuff. Ah, I think the phones are working again...

9/6/01
On the way to work this morning I needed to mail two semi-important letters. I stopped to drop them into the mailbox in front of the school around the corner, pulled open the chute (what do you call that thing--a door? chute?) and "FUCK YOU" was staring out at me in a childish scrawl. I always forget it's there. The past couple times I've used the mailbox, it cracked me up, but this morning it seemed abusive. Sometimes you just don't feel like being anonymously told to fuck off first thing in the morning. I hope that wasn't a bad omen. Speaking of graffiti, there's all that silly "die yuppie" stuff around my work neighborhood that I don't even notice anymore, but the recently painted "No more yuppies, please" amused me. Politeness and proper grammar (yeah, I know I don't pay tight attention to grammar here--that's what work's for) go a long way with me. Jumpy people bother me, and I hate to admit I'm turning into one. At the rate I'm going, a heart attack is imminent before 40. Last night I attempted a peaceful night's sleep since I was at home in my own bed (when I'm not, I always end up staying up too late, sleeping weird and waking up tired), it was nice enough to sleep with just the window open, no fan or air conditioner (not that I ever gave in to that luxury more than two or three times during the height of summer), calm and relaxing. Around 3am I woke up with a start, sweaty and my heart was racing like I seriously thought I was going to have a stroke or something. I just laid (or lay, or lied? ack, the grammar) still and tried to get my bearings, when I started hearing all sorts of noise in the backyard just on the other side of my window. It was like rustling and footsteps and I totally panicked thinking it was a person, but rationally there shouldn't be a human out there. I get a little nervous sometimes sleeping with the window open (there is a screen) since I'm on ground level and the window is large and accessible, it goes from about knee level up to the ceiling and spans about five feet in width, and my bed is right next to it (whatever you do, don't go getting wise ideas about pulling pranks on me. I've had friends joke about hiding in my weeds and popping out at me, which isn't funny at all unless you get a kick out of cardiac arrests). Whatever, I was scared shitless. As I woke up more, it made more sense that it was an animal. A damn loud and hefty animal. Whatever it was, was rifling though a garbage bag I'd stupidly left out on Sunday full of bbq refuse (what's even stupider is that this past Sunday I had to deal with a foul garbage bag left out from my bbq in July?! And you wonder why I have a vermin problem). I could hear bottles knocking around and lots of scuffling. It was really horrifying, but I was too scared to look out the window. I don't know what I expected, some horrible gnome-like creature? (starving undead?--I do live half a block from a cemetery). I like to imagine it was a mangy but cute alley cat or lost raccoon (in Brooklyn?), though a big fat rat is more the likely culprit. I kept waiting for a 20 pound rat to start gnawing on my screen trying to get in, but eventually the ruckus subsided. After work, I checked out the damage and found the garbage bag had been ripped or chewed open in a number of spots and the trash was spewing out. And yes, I did gather it up and dispose of it properly in the bins out front. Who knows what horrors tonight holds in store.

9/4/01
I had a wonderful suburban-style Saturday complete with lots of driving, strip malls and the requisite chain restaurant experience. The main point was to go to Trader Joe's, in Westwood, NJ. It's about 25 miles from the city, but it's worth a trip every three months or so. It's insane, I can stock up on enough food to last for an entire month and spend like $65. I always think back to that $2.50 nectarine I bought at a regular non-gourmet Manhattan grocery store and cringe. It's out of control. I absolutely refuse to buy food in Manhattan, which isn't a big problem since I live and work in Brooklyn. Though, that's a whole other headache since I don't have a grocery store walking distance to my apt. It's always this ordeal where I buy groceries at lunch and then have to tote them around all day, and it seems a little freaky to stash a bag with raw chicken in a gym locker (though it's never stopped me). I don't know what I'll do when I eventually get a new job that will inevitably be in Manhattan. But jeez, why stress on that now. I have the day off today, which is sort of nice and lazy. I'm trying to decide on a restaurant to celebrate my second anniversary tonight--Mooza sounds good, but their selling point is their garden and it just started raining--now I'm stumped. So, Trader Joe's was great. Then I hit the strip mall in Edgewater, NJ with the Target and Outback Steakhouse. Outback is nuts, there was (and always is) at least an hour wait. Why not just go back into the city and eat "real" food? I don't know, I get dead set on the place and don't even mind sitting in the waiting area with my tv tray, beer watching football. Sunday I had a bbq at my apt., one last chance to use the backyard before it turns crisp and fall-ish (which I'm very excited about--the light's starting to change, the shadows are getting long and I've started seeing brown leaves--I can't wait to stop sweating, and drag out the sweaters and knee socks). I was in a frenzy trying to get the house cleaned up and food prepared before people showed up. I'd managed to most of the groceries put away before I noticed the dead mouse on my counter next to my coffee maker. Of course I spazzed and started screaming. Yikes. I thought I'd gotten rid of the little beasts. I swear it wasn't there fri., the last time I'd been home, but who knows. It took me like 20 min. to notice it Sun. so maybe it didn't catch my eye before. I debated whether or not I should tell people a dead mouse had been on the counter, and decided to wait until they'd made their food before letting the mouse out of the bag. It turned out alright and the bbq was still a success despite the temporary setback with the dead rodent body. There was tons of food: hotdogs (yuck), bratwurst, chicken, gardenburgers, eggplant, portabello mushrooms, corn on the cob, bourbon biscuits, spinach dip, and assorted flotsam and jetsam. I contributed pitchers of mojitos (and went crazy with the mint--each batch calls for 3 cups which is a lot so I bought a ton, enough to fill my salad spinner to the top with. Even after downing two pitchers, I still have tons leftover--what do you do with heaping handfuls of mint anyway? It's only a matter of days before it rots and I hate to waste it) and a pretty purple potato, edamame and haricot vert salad. My nerves have calmed a bit, but I'll admit I'm still a little jumpy around the house--you never know where a lifeless mouse may turn up.