The streets were buzzing yet strangely quiet. A lot of people huddled around van radios or TV sets in stores, trying to comprehend what was going on. The weather was beautiful, and the juxtaposition of the strange goings-on downtown with the placid confusion in midtown was very strange. En route i noticed all the subway stations were being closed down, and i wondered just how i was going to get home. I arrived to Robin’s office on the 28th floor, where i sat, anxiety filled, watching big dark gray plumes of smoke mingle with the bright blue sky from just behind the Empire State Building, now once again the tallest building in the city. Robin was eating a lot: noodles with beets, an apple. She kept offering me a bite of her apple, saying it was the “best ever,” but i didn’t want to eat; i just wanted to leave. She asked how we were going to get home, and i said i didn’t know, but i didn’t want to stay there, so we left. While waiting for the elevator we hugged, and she told me she cried when she saw what was going on outside her office window.

We got downstairs and held hands and wondered what to do next. We were very glad to have each other right then, and i didn’t regret going into the city at that point. We walked north, stopping at a Duane Reed so she could get saline solution and a bag of pretzels. I bought a bottle of water. We walked uptown and she wondered what we should do until we were able to get home, and i mentioned that maybe we could donate blood; my co-worker Mikki suggested we do that earlier. About 5 minutes later we saw signs for blood donation by the Citibank at 51st and Lexington. There was a very long line there, around the block, but we started waiting. I initially thought it was a line to use the ATM, but sure enough, there were that many potential donors. That was a nice thing to see. People with type O negative blood were being rushed to the front of the line. Robin doesn’t know her blood type, and i’m pretty sure mine is B, so we waited out and filled out a form. The line was moving fairly quickly, but we were still in for a long wait, so when it was announced that Lenox Hill Hospital on 77th was also accepting donations, and that there was “no lines”, we decided to start walking up that way.

About a half-hour later, we arrived to Lenox Hill, only to be informed that the wait to donate blood was 4 to 5 hours, and we were both disappointed. So, we decided to go to a nearby diner for lunch, as it was almost 2 pm at that point. A lot of walking. I got a cheeseburger, plain, and a coke, and Robin opted for the “Parthenon Burger” or something like that, a burger served in a pita, with feta cheese. We enjoyed our lunch and talked and looked out the window. Robin and i both wondered what our lives were going to be like from this point on. She fears losing her job, as her company, already in financial straits, may lose a lot of money as a result of what happened today. I wondered what was going to happen to all the companies and the lost information. I guess sometimes you worry about the damnedest things in situations such as this. Robin and i even discussed our respective love lives at one point. As it is, no one yet knows what exactly happened, who the people were, how many people have died, or why whoever did what they did did it for.

After our long lunch, we walked back down 2nd Avenue, past another long line of potential blood donors, to the Queensboro Bridge, which was open to out-going pedestrian traffic. We walked first on the actual roadway, then cut over to the bike path, not saying much. I mostly looked toward the north half, and how, in the bright sky, the car-less FDR looked as calm as the East River at that moment. Then i would look at the south half, to see gray and black smoke where the WTC towers used to be. Robin pointed out how people were just “doing what they had to do.” Everyone was calm, some quietly cracking jokes as they walked the long stretch of the Queensboro. Most of the time, New Yorkers complain about having to walk 2 blocks to the deli. Maybe it was the beautiful weather. Maybe they don’t know anyone who died. Maybe they were doing what they had to do.

We got into Queens and we were both quite weary. There were a lot of people crowded at the Queens side of the bridge, milling around like a concert had just gotten out. The trains had just started running again - we could hear them overhead - but the police were still not letting anyone walk into the city. It was kind of odd to be in the Queens Plaza section, which looks fairly war-torn on a good day. Light posts knocked over, trash everywhere, the occasional vandalized store-front. We cut through some side streets towards Queens’ majestic Citibank tower, a glass tower shining singularly WTC-like amid the much-shorter neighboring buildings. I left Robin to catch the B61 bus, which was running at that point. I continued down to the 7 train stop, where i had left my bike that morning. I calmly rode home, getting in around 3:30. The first person who called was James, who was amused to learn when he called earlier that, in spite of all that was transpiring, Jeff was still asleep and i had gone in to work anyway.

Incidentally, it’s 4:30 and Jeff still hasn’t gotten out of bed.

I’m glad i’m okay, and i’m glad Robin is okay.

5:30pm - I was at the Onel’s, the very nice local bodega two blocks from my house, buying alcoholic cider of all things. I heard Onel verbally sparring with some fat meathead who thinks “we” should “just turn their country into a puddle.” Onel, being the smart man and the lawyer that he is, asked “who’s country? You know who did it? Who is it?!” and i walked out at that point. I wouldn’t want to argue with Onel. I walked back to the house and was feeling even more aware of the stunned quietness of the whole city. A very hushed tone. Anyone raising their voice at all seems boomingly loud. I noticed that earlier while we were walking around the city and two bicycle couriers behind us were laughing about something.

When i returned from the deli, i decided to wake Jeff up. I asked Roy where his pillow was. He giggled and asked if i was going to wake Jeff up, and i said i was. I busted into Jeff’s room after two loud knocks, and yelled "Jeff, wake up! The World Trade Center is gone", and threated to clobber him with the pillow. He woke up, headed out to the fire escape and just then realized how severe the situation was. It was weird to see someone see what exactly was going on for the first time. He sat and watched the TV for about 10 or 15 minutes without saying anything. I was talking to James; we debated the merits of playing and doing the scheduled Girl Harbor show on Thursday. What an unfortunate time to be in a band named Girl Harbor. Me, being one of those “the show must go on” types, said that we should still do it, unless the Giraffes and the Vitamen don’t want to. I also said we should practice tonite, maybe running the set once for routine, then go to the Greenpoint Tavern and get some drinks and just be glad we have each other. Seems like a good idea to me, although, i’ll admit music seems pretty insignificant right now.

Another building just collapsed.

1:30 am - I took a nap around 7, thinking we might practice tonight. I woke up at 10:30. Apparently, no practice. Makes sense to me. Jeff made popcorn - he loves making popcorn - and we’ve all been watching TV ever since. I was just out on the roof. Smoke is still coming from downtown. The night is clear, and cold if you are wearing a t-shirt and shorts like i am. It was too cold to stay up for long. I noticed more stars than usual, the regular summer stars, Fomalhaut (the eye of the Southern Fish), and some of the winter stars rising. The crescent moon was big and close to the ground. The World Trade Center is gone. How strange.

One of the more unusual transactions from today, but first, a quick preface: i went shopping a couple of days ago, and picked up my new favorite t-shirt for $2 (pictured to the side). I wore it to a show that night, and saw Tris McCall and Hilary there. After patiently wearing the shirt all day without anyone saying a thing, i finally broke down and complained to Hilary that no one had said a thing about my t-shirt. “Look” i shouted, “it has the name of the lady who discovered radiation, and a beaver with a three-digit number on his jersey! There’s not even a number on the back! There’s no explanation whatsoever!!” I was pretty proud of my t-shirt, and now so were Tris and Hilary. An admittedly dumb thing to obsess over, but i’m allowed.

Anyway, were back to Tuesday, and Robin and i are in the Upper East Side, walking toward the Queensboro Bridge. A lady in her late 40s stopped me as we were walking down Lexington Ave. She said “hey” as if she recognized me, but she quickly pointed out she recognized my “Marie Curie” shirt as being the Junior HS in Bayridge where she and her brothers attended back in the early 70s. Apparently, it’s IS 158, the number the beaver is wearing on his jersey. She said she could hardly wait to tell her brothers she saw that today. This seemed like a strange, overly-pleasant conversation to have in lieu of what was transpiring downtown. She then wandered off without saying goodbye.

I was also talking to Vitamen/Cover Me Badd guitarist Jesse Blockton, and asked him about whether his band still wanted to do the show on Thursday. He mentioned he knew someone who was on the 77th floor when the first hit occurred, and they ran down all 77 flights of stairs out into the street and they were okay. I still don’t know of anyone who knows anyone who died, but i bet that changes tomorrow.

I think i’m going to bed now.

September 12 - Life goes on. I was woken up this morning around 7:15 by the sound of copulating birds. I looked outside and the sky was as blue and bright as it was yesterday, only with more gray smoke where the WTC used to be. I lay in bed for a while, finally mustering the energy to get out of bed around 9, even though i was still quite tired. There was a message on the answering machine from Robin. She’s feeling not well, and in need of human interaction, so she’s on her way over as i write this.

No one is going to work today in the city - certainly not me - but in good old Brooklyn, nothing seems that different. Construction is still taking place on the two apartment buildings that are going up nearby, and Con Ed workers are still slicing up Freeman St., right outside my stoop where i accidentally left my bike out all night. Onel’s was open, and i ordered an egg sandwich and got soy milk for Robin’s tea when she gets here. I picked up a Daily News, and was going to get the Times, but there weren’t any there. My egg sandwich was good. My attention was drawn to my paper, with firsthand accounts of deaths, escapes and a picture of a severed hand; reactionary, pro-Bush crap coming from the Fox News channel, featuring a puzzling interview with Newt Gingrich; and an attractive, dark-haired young woman talking on the payphone outside, in ratty jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt. A strange time to be noticing things like girls, i’ll admit. Alas, i am in Brooklyn, and not in the city, and no one can get me here. Except other Brooklyners.

8:00 pm - Robin made a realization today that the reason it’s been so quiet around here is that you don’t hear any horns honking. I decided to go into the city today just to see how quiet it was, and though it was pretty serene, it was more like a Sunday than anything eerie or unusual. I miss the horns. I made a similar realization today while wandering around in Union Square. A Jamaican man and three of his kids were perched by the subway entrance, while scores of people milled about signing big construction paper banners that were rolled out on the sidewalk, including their thoughts on what happened yesterday. The man had an acoustic guitar and his kids all had percussive instruments. He was sitting there in the shade of the pavilion for a while, smiling, before he and his kids played a song, the Beatles’ “We Can Work It Out.” Normally, as you know, i would find this sort of thing cringe-inducingly cheesy, but i realized this had been the first music i’d heard since the attacks. I went to a payphone to try (unsuccessfully) to find my friend Jenni, and when i got back, he and his kids were playing a Sugar Ray (!) song, and a large crowd had gathered around and they were all smiling.

We still haven’t decided if we’re doing the Girl Harbor show tomorrow (it was cancelled the next night - ed.). I ran into everyone from Dopamine on Bedford Ave. today. They were running around with spray adhesive hanging flyers for their upcoming shows. They were in good moods, and we all laughed as their drummer Maze successfully eluded the watchful eyes of the many nearby cops to hang a flyer on a dumpster, only to hang it upside down. At this same time, James and Jeff wandered by, and they were off to go look at what appears to be the new Girl Harbor van. It’s huge too, a big gray Dodge Ram with room for 3 benches in back. I also ran into James’ roommates, Rachel Warren from Palomar (who said i seemed overly “serious” ... i wonder why), and The Negatones’ J. Braun, who was going to get a free lunch from the restaurant his girlfriend waits tables at. It was nice to see so many people out.

This is quite a change from earlier today, when Robin was over and not feeling well, and i was either tired or depressed, or both. I lied on the couch until about 1 pm, intermittently sleeping and watching CNN, before deciding i really needed to be outside. Another beautiful day, from a weather standpoint. I’ve spent the last 6 or 7 hours outside, and i feel much better. My body has quit aching.

2:30 am - I just got back from Enid’s, of all places. Enid’s is a crummy Williamsburg hipster bar where all the annoying, thrift-store t-shirt wearing ironic artists go to drink and listen to 70s country music (a near-perfect description of myself, sadly). I’m not sure why we were meeting there, but i was thrilled to discover that the place has an old Gauntlet machine. In fact, that’s what kept me there until the remainder of my friends arrived. I played the Valkyrie. It was actually very nice to be there, commiserating and discussing foreign policy. James is heading to Virginia after our show tomorrow and invited me along; Jeff is going to Connecticut and Rachel and Melissa are going to Pennsylvania. Everyone is going home to their families. I’m not going anywhere. I said i was staying put, and everyone invited me along to where they were going. I said thanks but no thanks. I’m not leaving the city. I’m not leaving Brooklyn if i can help it. I’m not leaving Robin.

At one point, Zach joined me at Gauntlet. He played the Elf, until deciding the Elf "sucked," and switched to the Warrior.

I’m listening to Steely Dan’s Can’t Buy A Thrill, skipping “Reelin’ in the Years.” It’s the first music i’ve put on in quite a while. The air outside smells of burning plastic. I’m probably going to work tomorrow, but i don’t know what i’m going to accomplish. I’m certainly in no mood to write jokes right now. I spoke to some co-workers and former co-workers tonight. My streak of not knowing anyone who knows anyone who died in the disaster continues. I guess Girl Harbor is going to play that show tomorrow nite, as many people we spoke to thought it would be a good idea, a respite from the strangeness and intensity and TV watching. I was amused to be at the Greenpoint Tavern earlier and watch them switch the station from CNN to an airing of “The Elephant Man.” I think people are ready for a break.

Many fear the worst. Especially our bass player Rachel and her roommate Melissa. I’m surprised those two aren’t wearing army helmets. I hypothesized to them that as far as the US is concerned, the worst is over. All that lies ahead is the slaughter of millions of people in Afghanistan in the name of retribution. I sure won’t be cheering.

I never mentioned this yesterday but i killed a gigantic water bug on our bathroom floor, the first time i’ve ever seen a bug in my apartment in the 4 years i’ve lived here.

It’s been an eventful couple of days.

NOTE: I was planning on updating the website the day the WTC disaster happened. I had two recent shows - one with Girl Harbor at Don Hill's, and the bi-annual Denver Zest gig at Greenpoint's aptly-named Green Lounge - and some other recent adventures. But rather than go into those details, i'll just post some pictures and be glad to have my friends. A quick 'tip of the lens' to Martin (not pictured), who took the action rock photos ...

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