My best friend
I haven't heard from Ken since this started, really. I know his apartment hasn't been destroyed because the server that houses my old email account is located in it and the email is still working last I checked; that's it. Everything is so maddeningly spotty is the thin; sometimes I think I'd prefer that everything was melted down, rather than all this "sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, cell phones no, land lines yes, email yes, wireless no, power yes, cable no" shit. You just get so frazzled, never knowing what the hell is up with this or that, how long it will last, what's going on. The upside is that thre is an upside, really--things still seem to be getting better. And I'm getting more and more anxious to try to go see my parents. We've talked to them on the phone now and then--except yesterday, when a crew actually took out a whole utility pole as they were getting chased down by a rev; they're never going to finish finding all the ones from the funeral home; but miracle of miracles they fixed it by noon today, working through the night, which takes more courage than I'll probably ever have. IT workers are the firemen of this whole disaster, I mean, just keeping Blogger up and running must take a small army of civilians who are literally willing to die to maintain it. Anyway, yeah, no idea if the roads are clear for that long, but we are running low on food and we're going to have to try at some point.
This was extremely disjointed. I'm sorry. But then, why am I apologizing, who cares about this sort of thing now? The other day I actually wrote "spoiler alert" in a post. Can you believe that?
This was extremely disjointed. I'm sorry. But then, why am I apologizing, who cares about this sort of thing now? The other day I actually wrote "spoiler alert" in a post. Can you believe that?
posted by Sean T. Collins at 1:51 PM
1 Comments:
Sean (and Dave, and whomever else). It's Ken. I'm safe now. Now. The first few days were something else entirely. And the last week I really don't remember that well. I was on Long Island when it started - heard something on the radio about the Canal Street. . . riot? I'm not sure what to call it. Outbreak is as good a word as any. Figured it wasn't such a good idea to come back into the city for a little bit, because what could happen out in the suburbs? Ha.
Remember when we used to say that if anything catastrophic happened, my house would be the place you'd want to be? We weren't wrong. Dad and I were taking the hard top off the car the first time we saw one. It was down the street, about a block away. A man, wearing a suit. At first I thought it was a child molestor who couldn't keep it in anymore, smothering the arm of a screaming girl with kisses, until the arm came off. The window of the hard top hit the ground and shattered at exactly the same time the girl did. Dad disappeared into the house, and I just stared. Watched the man strip the bone, and watched the girl pick herself off the ground. She fell once. When Dad came out, he shot the guy first, and that brought more out.
Mom's dead. Cleanly, though. Didn't have to die twice, and we didn't have to kill her. It's odd how much of a comfort that is now. Have you really looked at one yet? There's nothing there except hunger. No love, certainly, but no hate either. That would almost be as good. You have to be human to feel either of those things. That was the second day. It's kind of the last thing I remember seeing clearly until just a little while ago. I'm safe, but not OK. But I suppose that's all I can ask for right now.
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