Friday, September 14

14:13 :: Falling

What I worry about: My people who will be my descendents. Even me. The theory that we are not the same. The idea that we're of a different kind, from a different place. I've been adapting since Day 1. That was July of 1990. I'm the same, you know. I am.

Thursday, September 13

04:31 :: Explained

As I sit here past 4AM, in a city that's quieter than it's ever been, on the corner of 113rd and Broadway, in a Columbia University dorm because my own has been evacuated and probably will not open at the earliest until the weekend, not only am I homeless, I'm also confused, paranoid, saddened, shocked and weaker, if only because I'm losing more in humanity by the second. And yah, I currently do not give a fuck about run-on sentences.

Five blocks from the World Trade Center: Around 8:30AM, my roommate leaves the room, so I figure, "Hey! Let's turn up the music!" The volume turned up, bass thumping to The Brilliant Green, around 8:45AM, I hear a loud thumping from upstairs, such that I can feel the tremors caused by it. "Uh oh!" I think. My upstairs neighbours don't like my loud music! So, I turn it down, and since I had a class at 9:30AM, I head out the door.

Go outside and wait for the bus. "Yo, look at that!" Looking up, I see crazy amounts of smoke mixed with paper flying outward toward the Hudson. A friend of mine tells me, "Supposedly a helicopter crashed into the World Trade Center." I take it with a grain of salt. "Maybe just a floor on fire?" I get on the bus, standing due to overcrowding. Our bus goes down John Street toward the River, but before we have a chance to circle back and head towards Chinatown (as our route goes), we suddenly feel a sonic boom: "Wow, another explosion?" The students on the bus start to get crazy: "Stop the fucking bus! Stop it now!" In the middle of the road, the bus is stopped, as students get the hell out of the bus. I get out, look up and see that the second World Trade Center has been hit.

OH SHIT.

I'm going to get some sleep now. Very tired. Trying to recollect my memories and thoughts of the day is a much harder task that I would have imagined. There's so much to tell, yet the stamina for storytelling just isn't there. Until next time: Good Night.

Tuesday, September 11

18:21 :: Connected

I just wanted to (somewhat) publicly thank each and every one of you who has either called me, emailed me or instant messaged me. I appreciate that more than you can imagine. Alas, I'm fine. So, please don't worry.

Location Status: Water Street Dorm > Stern/Tisch Hall on 4th Street > Weinstein Food Court on University Place > Third North Residence Hall on 11th Street and Third Avenue > Back to Tisch Hall > Heading now to Coles Sports Center on Mercer and what technically would be about "2nd Street." My floormates are there, as NYU has set up a sort of a 24-hour shelter. That places us a 15-25 minute walk from the World Trade Center. Yes, we can still see the smoke.

Currently mass efforts are underway to help people out (obviously). Many of my friends have gone to give blood. The city is staying strong, much stronger than one would have imagined. And I suddenly have the song "It's a Beautiful Morning" stuck in my head — Ironic, no? Indeed.

17:00 :: More

Lots of my colleagues are leaving the city. My dorm has been evacuated and supposedly will be closed down for the next three days. I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to stay for the next few days. If I wasn't stressed enough already due to other stuff in my life, this has certainly clinched it.

12:01 :: Waiting

I live about five blocks from the World Trade Center. At around 8:45AM, I felt the explosions. Right now, I cannot leave Manhattan. All bridges, tunnels, subways and every other way of getting off this island is closed. I'm currently staying put at Tisch Hall at 40 West 4th Street. We were about to go eat Chinese food, heading down LaGuardia Place toward Bleeker, when we encountered a mob running toward us: Apparently the explosions had spurned chemical gas leaks.

Update: The supposed "chemical gas" scare has turned into an "anthrax" scare. It seems that some people are suspicious of the chemical makeup of the bomb that exploded along with the planes at the World Trade Center. As I was just walking up Broadway toward 8th Street, the continuous billowing smoke had started to release a bit of a pungent smell. Any which way, this is not official, but rather paranoid speculation.

The world is too busy redefining the term Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

11:14 :: Boom

I'm OKAY.

01:15 :: Tradition

One hundred and fifty buffalo wings from Domino's Pizza. A thirty-two inch big screen television with rather big arse speakers. A room filled with eleven testosterone filled males: Nine of whom are supporting the local New York Giants — Myself excluded.

And the Denver Broncos defeating the Giants 31-20.

Yes, Virginia, Monday Night Football owns you.

Sunday, September 9

15:59 :: Leash

It would be perfectly normal and accurate for me to state that I feel quite impotent when I lack access to my cell phone.

Accessibility is the pinnacle of today's information technology. What's the point of having a phone if it's at home, collecting dust? Moreover, what's the point if you leave your cell phone's charger in a state two thousand miles away? (Yes, I need to have it FedEx-ed to NYC from Houston). For the past three days, without the aid of my phone, I have felt without direction, disconnected to the world and, in short, weaker by a few inches.

I have regained access to it today due to a messiah who has let me use his charger. Alas, all is well.