Had one of those origin of the Universe/philosophy of life conversations with my parents over the better part of a bottle of scotch. Hell of a way to spend a Friday night. Mom called me a prophet. Dad got all mad told me to fuck off.

Me: Let me know how I did. I’m not sure I did that right.
Boss: I will. Don’t worry. Estimating’s easy. It’s not an exact science… it’s more like… throwin’ crap at a wall and seein’ what sticks.
Me: … wow… that’s a really great analogy.

I was reading through some of my archives this morning and realized I can actually feel my world getting smaller. When I started this little blogy-thingy I could see so much around me and I seemed to have so much to say about it that I had to spit it out periodically just to stay sane [fat-lota good that did]. I was constantly inspired by everything around me. How is it that I used to be able to write paragraphs about a moment, seeing birds on the way to work? Now I’m focused, driven, goal-oriented… in short… completely self-centered. How inexcusably dull.

US: ok, you can play… but you have to be on our team and these are the rules…
Iraq: ok.
US: what kinda toys d’ya got?
Iraq: not tellin’
US: but… hey guys, I don’t want them in our game anymore. Lets kick them out.
UN: I don’t know. They haven’t really broken any of the rules.
US: you guys are a buncha jerks too. You suck at this game. Fine I’ll kick ‘em out myself.
Iraq: ok, fine. we’ll tell you what kinda toys we got.
US: oh, yeah, sure, right… like we’re supposed to believe you. You can’t play anymore. Get out!
Iraq: make me.
US: you better get out, or else… cuz I could beat you up.
Iraq: nu-uuh
US: oh huh, and I could get all my friends to beat you up too.
Russia: I don’t want to beat them up. They said we could see their toys.
US: Come-eer… shhh… if you help me beat them up I’ll make them give you money.

I’m not really describing it like this to be funny. It’s terrifying, actually. The verbiage is different, but the meaning is the same. Minus the nuclear and biochemical weapons, this could be a playground quarrel for 6 year olds. I can’t believe we have to let these little boys play God with the lives of millions.

So, what I’ve been remembering today is the very little things of just being in New York. How easy it was to wake up at 5:45am to the alarm on my cell phone. Never even hit snooze, not once. Take my shower, mess up my hair, pull on a pair of jeans and that green shirt that I bought on Amsterdam and scuff across the floor into the kitchen to heat some water for a cup of tea. I’d turn off the air conditioner and listen to the traffic on West End. I remember the color and the feel of the light reflecting off of the Ethan Allen building across the street. I would read a few snippets from yesterday’s paper… then I’d quietly slip out the door and down the stairs. I’d catch a bus cross-town at about 6:30. I’d do my people-watching out of the corner of my eye while reading my book. The regulars on the bus knew each other. They’d say hello and ask about each others’ children. Another bus took me up-town to 89th where I’d buy a cup of coffee that never seemed to have the right amount of sugar in it. They’d always put the cup in a paper bag and fold over the top for me to carry. Outside the Gugg I’d open the little bag, light a cigarette, and chat idly with Charles.

I don’t trust the memories of what I saw that day. They get all mixed up with the instant replays on TV. What I remember least is probably what I actually saw. What I trust is the memory of sound and feeling, like when the fire-trucks went rumbling and screaming down 5th Ave… and the silence that followed. I remember feeling out of place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. All there was, was to stand on the sidewalk with a hundred other people, all listening to the same little radio, and gape at this flaming open wound in the sky. I would come to realize, slowly, in the days that followed, that almost every person on that sidewalk, was watching someone they love die. And still they stood there. Just watching. There was nothing else to do.