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September 16, 2001
You know, it hadn't even

You know, it hadn't even occured to me that it could happen again. There are people who thin it will happen again, soon. Of course, it had crossed my mind that it could, but this is the kind of thing that is just so horrible and outside of the realm of our normal reality, that you don't consider that a week from now, or a month, another fireball could come crashing down. Who knows? It's horrible to think about, but it's real.

The assumption is that there are already many, possibly many hundreds or thousands, of people both in this country and outisde of it, who are happy about this, and who are planning, or have already planned to do things like it. And when we inevitably start some kind of military action (against who, I'm still waiting to see, along with everyone else), these people will have all the more reason to carry these things out. I guess what hit me was that this isn't over. I mean, I knew it wasn't over, but I think like a lot of people I was thinking (or not thinking) that we would strike back and they would learn their lesson. Even me, who argues so strongly that war doesn't stop war, killing doesn't stop killing, I wasn't even really thinking about how true it is, and that it may very well be demonstrated much to all of our horror. I sincerely hope I'm wrong.

There is the morbid curiosity. I think most people have it. There's a certain thing about having been here when it happened. This one is a big one, and I was there, I saw it from my rooftop. People are complex, and the range of emotions and thoughts is overwhelming. It's not hypocrisy or evil, it's just human.

Catch up:
Saturday I needed to buy a knee brace, so I met Denyse in Union Square. Union Square is a different place these days. The two times I've been there in the past few days, it was packed with people. There are signs everywhere, flags everywhere. Huge circles of candles and flowers with hand written notes, drawings, posters. Huge piles of stuff. Every vertical surface has missing person signs on it, crowds gathering around them, it seems, not to really look for people they know, a thought too horrible to allow, but just to look. To try to feel it.

I've been thinking a lot about the events there Friday night. It hurt me and scared me to argue with people with those views. People so blindly calling for someone's blood. I'm angry too, and I think we have to do something, but I just think we have to be careful what we do. The potential consequences are just so great. But on the other hand, the arguments I got into are what makes this country so great. And likely part of what so offends those who would try to control people's minds. We can do that, we can debate these things, even in the direct aftermath. And we should. Things were a little heated that night, but I didn't fear for my safety. It was discourse, and discourse is what we need. In the end, though I was shaking with anger and fear at the time, I walked away with a sense that it had been important, that if some of their words rang around inside my head, some of mine did in theirs. And ever so slightly, we may each examine or beliefs and perspectives. And now, looking back, it wasn't a fight, it was an expression of what this country is, of what we believe in, and that the terrorists haven't touched that spirit. Hopefully, they've just awoken it.

I cried standing around one of the poles. It was just too intense, all the flowers and faces and candles. Hundreds of photographs being taken, people videotaping it. It was like one of those dizzy sequences in a movie, everything swirling around, just too much to hold on to. Okay, maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but it was, well, it was just really, really sad.

Then on the southeast corner, volunteers are collecting donations for the rescue workers. We still call them rescue workers. I bought a box of Power Bars and gave them to them, feeling ridiculous with my tiny gesture. Densye and I went to Duane Reade and bought a bunch of stuff; saline, cigarettes, advil, band aids. It felt a little better the second time, but it still wasn't enough. There's so much more I could be doing, or so it feels. Most people say the volunteer oranizations are fully staffed, and more people is just making things harder. Donate, that helps. And I've done that, but it feels like so little.

Today we played volleyball, which was lots of fun, as usual. I thought after that we should have started out by saying something about why we were there. Not just to play volleyball, though that was of course integral, but that we were trying to feel normal, trying to be unafraid. That we were so happy just to be together on such a beautiful day.

Airplanes flying overhead have taken on a new character. They look so much more dangerous. I can't help but just stare at them as they fly over.

I want to say something funny, but it's not coming out. I can say that I've had a good couple of days, in many ways. I've spent a lot of time with my friends, and thought and talked about a lot of important things. I've laughed and smiled and felt good.

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