9/18: Timing
The days drag on. The warmth of Septmeber contradicts a city that has suddenly turned cold.
In the blur of unreasonable times, grief is the counter point of the rah, rah, rah of patriotism. Red white and blue is the new black -- the color scheme of tragedy. Candles set up in makeship altars burn in every doorway. Melted wax covers the sidewalks. Pushcart vendors sell liberty in every form and fashion: tee shirts, baseball caps, umbrellas, scarves, pictures of the former World Trade Center. Enamal replicas of Old glory are worn proudly on the lapels of men in suits.Their gaits are more lumbering then strutting as they disppear into office towers, now amped up with more security guards, asking for thier identification cards, and their mother's maiden name at the gate. Everyone is suspect now.
Flowers shamelessly wilt on the street corners like tired whores. Photographs of missing persons, letters and notes, are posted on every conceivable surface: Buidlings, fences, trees, lampposts and meeting my eyes, every step of the way as I walk through the mournful surrealism of the New York.
At home, white candles sitting on my mantle offer a flicker of hope. I study the globe and imagine where my family and I might go to live. The Caribbean? My neighbor suggests New Zealand as such a place. This is surreal. My minds spins back to WTC which I've seen more of in recent months since Adger and I have become an item. His studio in Tri-beca is not far from there. Like many, I have never admired the architectural design of those buildings. Recently I walked by them and said to myself, "God they should tear those things down!" The power of words.
Where are ubiquitous disembodied "They' we speak of who we think can solve our problems, when we are actually the ones we are looking for (say the Hopi Elders).
It was about six months ago. I was at the WTC to attended a black and white tie event at Windows On The World. I wore a black dress. Bag. Shoes. The affair was in honor of famous people who were born in the Bronx. Malik couldn't make it due to having to film "New York Undercover." I went to represent him. I was seated between two sons of the borough: Regis and Bronx Borough President Freddy Ferrer, whose a mayoral contender now. Regis chidded me for being too young to have a son so old. Funny guy. Ferrer was politically polite.
On Tuesday 9/11 at 9 AM , Malik and were scheduled to be at the WTC. The women we were to meet with was busy, and rescheduled our meeting for the next day.
Timing.
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