|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
to all that've emailed or called, many thanks. my phone is working sporadically, and my company's server crashed, so i'm not able to respond to either, but i'm fine and the least of my worries right now.
this morning the smoke drifted over to the east village, filling avenue a with acrid, foul-smelling hazy air that distorted the sunlight on an otherwise beautiful day as we walked out of odessa. 14th and canal streets are both barricaded, and the open restaurants are all packed; as maurice put it, we're on lockdown.
then later today, we decided that happy hour was called for and got a window seat at 7a. we were nursing our brooklyn lagers and pilsners and then a ton of people started running in from 7th street and someone yelled he's got a gun! there's a shooting! people everywhere, that panic that you feel right in your temples, everyone hit the floor, i thought i saw things falling and windows rattling and are we gonna fucking get shot up here? then the cops came and ended it and we were too freaked out to stick around for details. for the first time this week i wondered about my own safety; not that i'm all saintly and altruistic and shit, but this event hasn't seemed like someone that threatened me, even though i'm in new york, until this evening. we're all cooped up on this island and, i guess, starting to crack.
posted September 12, 2001 in delivery.