email50.xml

email50.xml

born-digital

email

unknown

yes

2002-03-10

I'm going crazy. I can't believe all of this. It's been sitting in me all day, festering and I've been listening to the radio and watching the smoke and wondering what this means for me. I feel like it's normal, too. Normal in that I've seen these images before. But then I was on Ave A in a big group of people at 9:30 this morning, staring and a big hole in the side of one tower, and flames leaping out of the other, wondering with one man why we saw flashes of lights (emergency lights? electrical fires?). I felt like crying. And then I went to the roof with my roommate with all our neighbors and we saw the first one collapse. Everyone was screaming "Oh my god!" from all the rooftops. And I'm realizing that I've just been numb all day. I not comprehending. And now I'm beginning to realize what's going on. Every time I begin to feel better, I go on the roof or outside and I see that cloud hanging overhead. I went up at sunset and it was beautiful in a cruel way. The sun was making it pink. Everything was pink. And there was another guy on the roof, just sitting in silence, watching the pink cloud moving over the river to Brooklyn. If you didn't know what it was, it would be very pretty. Like the cloud coming from the incinerators at Auschwitz. I need to cry and sob and drink heavily. It's all so surreal. The city is shut down completely. I need an ID to get onto my block since they don't want people walking down here. They want to keep the Williamsburg Bridge clear for emergency vehicles. The city is horribly silent, except for sirens. People walking, people standing in groups on the sidewalk talking, glancing at the cloud. The only cloud in the sky on a beautiful fall day. We all talk in whispers. Businesses south of 14th St are closed tomorrow so I doubt we'll have classes. I'm going to try to give blood tomorrow, go over to St. Vincent's. They say they only want type O- tonight, which I'm not. I hear the wait to give blood is several hours. I need to do SOMETHING. But I'm unskilled. School and theater and art seem so inconsequential. How can I even think about Tosca? Dumb Tosca. Tosca must be now set in some war torn World Trade Center to have any meaning. Why did I pick this self-centered business? Or is art therapeutic? can I use it to help me understand? to help someone recover? Needless to say, I am not getting any work done. But no one is. Concentration levels are nil.
I also wish I could turn to religion or some other higher power for comfort. If only I believed in something. One of my friends emailed that we were in his prayers. If it works for him, that's fine.
Jojo has been emailing me all day. She sounds worse than me. I called Al and made sure that Nana was alive for Jojo. Al couldn't really understand the concern but I made him tell me that she was fine so I could tell Jojo that.
Michael and I are going to make some cookies. Comfort time. And I've turned off the radio and tv. Billie Holiday is going to be my friend now. I'd like to go out to a bar or go dancing.
Thanks for writing. I'm sure your friend is fine. I'd only be concerned if he worked at the World Trade Center or is a policeman or firefighter. (Apparently whole fire units are missing, over 200 people.) Ok. We have to go buy some butter. Keep in touch; it's good to hear from those outside New York (you especially).
Eliza

9/11/01 8:46pm

Re: disaster in New York