9.11.2002 I wish you all a safe and peaceful September 11th. I have had trouble writing about this day. What follows was just written. I'm not sure what it is and I apologize for thrusting it on to you like this. May we all have the courage to find peace. I. When I walked into work a year ago, today, I was angry. The guys in the shop were having fun at my expense. The new guy. So I ignored them as they stood in my bosses office, surrounding the TV. Who the hell cares why. Sat down and started work. "Holy Shit", these Brooklyn family men shouted from the glass office. Holy fucking Shit. A river of sirens flew past the street. Cruisers speeding by that had destinies with crushing mangled fallen steel waiting for them downtown. The second plane comes out of nowhere. The second plane comes out of nowhere. The second plane comes out of nowhere. Suddenly, I'm very calm. Phone calls, nobody can get through C'mon, C'mon. Are you alright On my screen: "THEY JUST HIT THE PENTAGON!!!" "Holy fuck, what's happening dude!" I race back to the office and there's more smoke, more smoke than you can ever imagine. I wonder how long those holes will be in the towers. They're going to look so weird, all blackened up by the smoke. Will they leave the second tower standing, ya think, without its twin? After the second tower falls, I call the studio to confirm they won't be shooting today. "No, I don't think so." "Kevin, are we still on for lunch?" It had been two years since we last saw each other and today we had planned a reunion. "Sure, I'll be right over." The 65th Street Pier is thronged with people. Kevin and I sit and talk over cigarettes, as we watch the towers burn. I don't remember the rest of the day too well. I left work and my boss told me he'd dock my pay. I ate at some point. Lots of voicemails. Yes, I 'm still alive. I honestly needed reminding. II. Wednesday I'm the only one at work. The tunnels and bridges are down New York with no traffic. I don't know how to convey the terror of absence No jet arcs trace the sky We all used to talk about what we'd do if ever we had to escape the city in the event a summer blockbuster comes true; The answer is you don't. You wait and you suddenly fall in love with Rudolph Gulliani Thursday I get into a big fight with my boss about going home for the weekend. He says he's going to have a talk with his boss and runs off. I pack up most of my desk before I leave. I get home and see on the news that they are taking volunteers at the Javitts Center. As I wait in line, I'm offered sandwiches. At first, I refuse. 'No really, please, there are more than enough.' They need welders. Friday I go home. Saturday I play miniature golf. Sunday I go back and there's smoke rising as the train swerves in through Queens. Monday I come in to work. I've been fired. Ok. Tuesdsay I sublet my apartment out to a friend Wednesday I go downtown My NYU ID gets me to Houston St. and the West Side Highway My eyes sting from the fumes, the smoke boiling over in reds and pinks across the jaundiced sky and they come they come from the site in trucks with city seals and trucks with camo painted on they come on foot and the girls hand them Dansani and Snickers they come in scrubs and orange vests they come out of hell No Orphean urge to look back and we look into their eyes and we begin applaud a rhythmic clapping Thank you thank you They look away or they smile or they burst into tears and furiously I scribble into my notebook: "I'm on Christopher Street now- A huge plume of smoke just went up- A crowd makeshift signs applaud those inside the disaster zone. The vehicles that pass have tires rimmed in soot. Two men in hard hats- their faces black from soot march through us- a gauntlet of applause. There's a plane- the first one I've seen- slicing the sky w/ a fine thread of white smoke There is no World Trade Center. A few spectators are now a throng of New York. The SALVATION Army rolls by, the red cross rolls by. This is a parade like no other. These men, these women are heroes. There is no question- there is no moral ambiguity. There is evil- and they are conquering it. Here. Here there is hope. Thursday I hang out with Kevin His friend came up to him covered in ash and blood The friend was downtown when it happened. He was young and able so they put him to work for thirty-six hours. He needed someplace to shower after walking the twenty blocks uptown. Do you know that the pulverized cement had reformed into pinkish black sludge as it soaked up blood? Did you hear the story about the firefighter coming out of the building, carrying a woman to safety and how they were both struck dead by a falling body? Somebody said, "Well, if it bothers you so much, shut off the TV." Kevin, chugging a cig, replied over the long distance connection "Yeah, I'd do that, but then I'd have to focus my attention on the smell of burning bodies and smoke that fills up my room." We both agree, that for the moment we hate anyone who doesn't live in New York. Later I will recognize it not as hate, but jealousy. III. The days dissolved into a slide show of Missing Posters. And Blood drive posters. And flags on every car. I was riding the subway at one point, and oh the smell really got in there, I'll tell you and everyone was silent, New York should never be silent and a woman, pink skirt on, starts to cry and one by one each person in the subway begins to cry but me. I don't cry till September 24th. While watching NY1 A girl comes on showin’ her Daddy's picture. I've seen this before. The girl about 11 or so is very composed as she repeats, for the millionth time I'm sure that her father's name is David, that he has a big tatoo of a snake all across his shoulders and if anyone's seen my dad please tell me anyone please if you've seen him please bring him back to me please that's all I want just anyone anywhere please please find him for me I miss him so very very much bring my daddy back. The television reporter holds her tight and her mother scoops up the sobbing child and I go to the bathroom and cry for two hours. III. You're going to have beautiful sunsets every night and be completely miserable. Kevin's parting advice to me as I left for New Mexico was, if nothing else, definitive. I saw a little bit of the country. I had a few panic attacks. I got angry at my parents and threatened to join the National Guard. I worked at Applebee's and found the honest simplicity of bartenders marrying their sweethearts of the lesbian waitress hitting on the papi manager and of giving guys directions to the nearest titty bar. I also went to casinos a lot. And then, two train rides later, like a lemming I was home. IV. There's more. V. Healing and rebirth are like plastic flamingoes to me. Yeah, I'm going to live and dance and cry and get drunk and love and verb my way into old age when I'll look back on this whatever-it-is with nostalgic embarrassment. But I am not a fool anymore. I will not ignore the twin holes in my heart cauterized by the searing blue September sky. I yell out to those who say this moment will fade. My screams have no end. You, you who call this 'any other day' Time to move on. I am your enemy. History will not muffle this pain. We who live Must now live For those who can not.

posted by Japhy at 9/10/2002 03:40:00 PM || #