TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
My flight to California tomorrow is still officially on. The wedding is in San Diego, near LA, and I am booked on a non-stop out of Newark. Today at 5pm they apprehended men trying to hijack another plane out of Newark. My friends in Massachusetts are cancelling their trips out. Their families were twisted in knots when they heard that my friends were thinking of travelling.
I'll decide tomorrow morning.
I'm tired of thinking grim thoughts.
I've added an e-mail address for the blog, so people who read it can send a note if they want. If I can figure out how to add a guest book of some kind, or a guest map, I'll do that too.
Those guest maps are cool. You get a better picture of what they are by seeing them at another site, like this one. I have no idea who Beverage Girl is, but it shows off what these guest maps are pretty well.
I think I can probably name every single person who has visited this little blog, so this isn't exactly a mass broadcast... but if someone happens onto this web site and is wondering about being helpful in light of the attacks on NY and Washington, charity.com has a succinct, useful site. You can also click here do donate money directly to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund via Amazon.com.
It's the second day now and so far it looks like none of my family or friends are missing.
But people "once removed" are.
Lots of people have e-mailed or called, worried about me. I didn't realize how many people would worry. It's good to feel connected.
I haven't heard from Naomi yet. I can't imagine that she was down there. The phones are working sporadically for most NYC area-codes. I did get through and leave her a message. One or two others I haven't heard from too, but I am guessing they were out of the city.
My friends Chris and Erin are getting married on Saturday. I don't even know if I'll be able to fly out to the wedding.
People in my neighborhood went out to watch the skyline last night. I live on a hill in New Jersey and you used to be able to see the World Trade Center from the top. Yesterday it was just smoke. I didn't say anything when someone said how it was always the Arabs that do this kind of thing.
It's 10:01am on Tuesday morning. I was on my way to work, driving towards New York City, when the news of the World Trade Center explosion hit the airwaves.
While they were describing it, trying to figure out whether it was a bomb or an airplane crashing into the tower, a second plane crashed into the other one of the twin towers.
It's 10:16am ... the Pentagon has been hit too. Now they are saying there was another explosion on capitol hill.
I've made it in to work now. We're in an office tower in Fort Lee, NJ. We're about five minutes from the George Washington Bridge into New York. You can see the skyline from the windows, but all it is is smoke.
They showed the collapse of one of the two World Trade Center towers on television. The top two thirds of the building looked like they just crumbled and slid down into the street. When we look out the window now all you can see is one tower, and smoke.
Someone is attacking the U.S. and all I can think about and worry about is that it was a Palestinian. All I do is sit here and hope and hope that anyone else is responsible.
Everything is chaos here. The phones are only working sporadically. We're going to shut down the office. People are all tuned in to radios or gathered in one room in the office next door to watch the TV coverage. Every phone call is to see if someone is safe or to tell someone not to go into NYC. Almost everyone has friends or family in New York, including me.
Every airport in the country has been shut down, every plane grounded. International flights are being diverted to Canada. This is the first time such an order has been given in the country's history.
It's 10:30am ... We're shutting down the office and everyone is going home.
There is still no news on who is responsible. Just rumor. An old lady in the office next door says she got a call from a friend in Israel and that over there they are reporting that an Arab group has claimed responsibility. I don't know what to say or do. I want to defend the Palestinians. I want to say that they are living under military occupation there. That what Americans are experiencing now is a daily occurence for Palestinians. That it is American guns and tanks and missles and helicopters that are doing this to them and that they are human beings and they can only live like cornered animals for so long.
But it could have been me in the World Trade Center too. Innocent people. Like the ones I keep defending in Palestine.
It's 10:43am ... The second tower collapsed too. There's no World Trade Center anymore.
People are talking about how the U.S. will "bomb the shit" out of whoever is responsible. I guess we will.
When I look out the window at Route 4 East -- the highway I take to work -- all the cars are going the wrong way. Instead of heading into the bridge and New York, all the traffic is heading back to New Jersey. It's a very simple sight, but it is earie. I've lived here so long and it just isn't supposed to look that way.
________________________________________
What is that incredibly cool thing, you ask? Why, it's The Road to Springfield. The voting is over, but you will enjoy just reading the commentary. Skeptical are you? Well read this and then tell me you're skeptical. You damned punks.
Results: Final Four (3) Ralph 2551, (4) Barney 1850 Frank LaRosa: Call me a Big Baby, but I can't stand to see Barney lose to Ralph. Barney, Homer's oldest friend? At once his partner in Barbershop and his arch-nemesis in the snowplow business? Losing to Ralph Wiggum, this nobody, this throwaway sub-Millhouse schoolyard extra? I mourned the day Apu was defeated, but at least he lost to a worthy opponent. To see Barney fall to a paste-eating kid who's done little more than dream about being a Viking and mistake Miss Hoover for his mother... it's not just a disaster, it is, I am convinced, a conspiracy aimed at making a mockery of this election.
Results: Regional Final (4) Barney 3075, (3) Troy McClure 2578 Andrew Zinner: The uglier side of Springfield rears its deviant head. I have to vote for Troy, because of the time he did the infomercial with the self-help doctor. When Doc drew a circle and said this represented Troy, McClure exclaimed, "My God! It's like you've known me all my life." Well, that circle is me. It's all of us. Excuse me, I think I have something in my eye.
Plus you have to go to the web site to find out who won, and what the hell I am talking about. posted by Jim Somewhen | Link | Guestbook | Add Comment
I got tickets to the U.S. Open after all! We went last night for the Agassi - Sampras quarterfinal match (which you'd know if you were a faithful blog reader). Our seats were the second-furthest row from the court. Way up there. But it was great.
It was an amazing match, even though Agassi lost.
Agassi has won 35 and Sampras has won 37 hard court titles. They are far and away the best hard court tennis players (the next best is at a mere 27 titles).
There was not one single break of serve. The match lasted for three and a half hours--48 games--and there was not one single break of serve.
It was a four set match and every set went to a tie-break.
Best part was the first set tie-break. Sampras was ahead 6-3--one point from winning the set. Then Andre hits a winner into the corner. 6-4. Then a service winner. Then a passing shot. 6-6! And then Sampras, rattled, hits the next volley into the net. Agassi comes back from 6-3 to win the tie-break 7-6.
And the crowd was alive the whole night. The stadium was packed and nobody left even when it was after midnight. The wave actually went around the stadium twice, and when Andre and Pete got to their fourth tie-break they got a standing ovation. It was loud for a tennis match, with cheers of "Go Andre!" and "Go Pete!" but also more interesting ones: "He's quaking in his little black shoes!" (they were /both/ wearing black sneakers).
A fun time was had by all. I got home after 2am and managed to drag my butt in to work before noon this morning. ;)
And to top it all off I find out that after the finals, Jimmy Connors will be playing in a charity match. Sweet. posted by Jim Somewhen | Link | Guestbook | Add Comment
Tuesday, September 04, 2001
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One foot in the hole
One foot gettin' deeper
Crank it to eleven and blow another speaker
And I ain't got, I ain't got much to lose
Cuz I've seen better days
Been the star of many plays
I've seen better days
(And the bottom drops out)
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The new watch (see blog #1, August 28, 2001) is silver. The face is silver, the band is silver. It's analog and I paid $95 for it. There were two other contenders at $150 each. They were cooler for having oblong faces (not square, not round, but oblong) but the color of one was green (nope) and the other had a band I didn't like.
Our winner has a round inner face with a more oblong outer face. It's basically round. Not going to turn any heads. More of a typical watch. Pretty standard, really. Summers in rangoon. Luge lessons.
Now that I mention it, I do think Dr. Evil should go down in history as one of the best comic villains of all time. Maybe the #1 best. posted by Jim Somewhen | Link | Guestbook | Add Comment
Andre is my favorite active tennis player (I have to say 'active' because Jimmy Connors is the man).
Pete is no slouch, of course. He wins when he does because he has an amazing serve and is otherwise a very efficient player (few unforced errors, great shot placement). His game versus Rafter this weekend was a good example of that. When Andre wins, it's because he is a smart player. His game varies for his opponent and for how his opponent is playing that day. It sometimes takes him a while to get a read on someone, so Andre might do poorly in early sets and then come back with flawless play.
Overall, Agassi is just more fun to watch. He varies his strokes more, he relies more on the volley to score points.
Both of these guys are 31, but Andre has the edge in physical fitness and will probably win if it is a long match. The danger is that Pete comes out strong in the beginning and puts Andre away before endurance can become a factor.
________________________________________ An all-too-characteristic excerpt from the real life of Jim:
The Scene The family room at 123 Not Our Real Address Drive. It is mid-afternoon and our hero [Jim] is on the couch, reading while the television plays in the background--though it is the foreground to his brother Tom, who is watching something, maybe a tennis match.
Our modern idyl is disturbed by the arrival of Mom from upstairs.
* - * - * - * - Mom (opening the closet to get her purse, speaking to her children from an actual distance of 15 feet and a perceived distance of three miles, as evidenced by the volume of her voice): Boys! I'M GOING TO THE SUPERMARKET! I'll be BACK in HALF an HOUR!
Tom (not looking up from the match): OK.
Jim (in a demonstration of observational power that will go down in history): Hi Dad. posted by Jim Somewhen | Link | Guestbook | Add Comment
Yellow Silk, the on-line magazine where this poem was published, is more or less defunct now. If you visit the site you'll find a store with very little merchandise, and no hint of what used to be.
My Methodist
grandmother said
that dancing
was adultery
set to music
how right
she was
in that sweet sway
breast to breast and
leg to leg
sin comes into its own
if you have never
waltzed
you can not imagine
the sheer voluptuousness
of it
the light touch
palm to palm
wool and silk
mixed below the waist
the warm breath
of your partner
on your neck
coming quicker
and quicker
the strength of the man
the yielding of the woman
so incorrect
so atavistic
so unspeakably sweet
he moves toward you
and you back away
he pursues you
and with the faintest
pressure
you encourage him
and watch the blood
rush to his face
not a word is spoken
no one sees this
although it's done in public
in full sight of everyone
you touch
and retreat
meet
and touch again
in time to the
music
saying yes
no
yes
no
yes
no
yes
you dance
in a place outside of time
without thinking of your body
in that gentle
rhythmic
careless
almost copulation
Objectionable Content 
Friday, September 14, 2001