and the waters rolled back
Sep. 12th, 2001 12:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabSo I'm in a good mood, considering. 3 hours of sleep and hungover, but I had a tasty omelet for breakfast at L cafe with Shana, and everyone was reading the Village Voice, with the huge banner headline superimposed over a shot of the WTC: "THE BASTARDS!"
I can't really get into town to do anything today, and most of the companies I need to woo for jobs and money are down at ground zero, below 14th street which is a crime scene now and all businesses are closed. which is fine too, because I'm not sure I could get out of the city once I got in, I think the bridges up to my parents' house are still closed, and they're calling Manhattan a "walled city."
so, you know. I'll stay in Brooklyn today, figure out what to do with myself. I'll send some pleading job e-mails. I'll check the classifieds, heh, I might have a good shot, if I manage to call the one person who needs to hire someone TODAY when everyone else is stuck with train lines that aren't running. *g*
"life goes on," says mom. "get over it," says dad. "I'm thirsty," says me.
(and of course it's entirely possible I'm too close to it still, and it's too immediate, and all the papers say WAR WAR WAR, but it's still New York and it's still rock'n'roll to me.)
I can't really get into town to do anything today, and most of the companies I need to woo for jobs and money are down at ground zero, below 14th street which is a crime scene now and all businesses are closed. which is fine too, because I'm not sure I could get out of the city once I got in, I think the bridges up to my parents' house are still closed, and they're calling Manhattan a "walled city."
so, you know. I'll stay in Brooklyn today, figure out what to do with myself. I'll send some pleading job e-mails. I'll check the classifieds, heh, I might have a good shot, if I manage to call the one person who needs to hire someone TODAY when everyone else is stuck with train lines that aren't running. *g*
"life goes on," says mom. "get over it," says dad. "I'm thirsty," says me.
(and of course it's entirely possible I'm too close to it still, and it's too immediate, and all the papers say WAR WAR WAR, but it's still New York and it's still rock'n'roll to me.)
