Thursday, March 24, 2011

3.20.11

Remembered the moon. Just three of us, telling stories, holding big wine glasses with both hands. It was supposed to be the biggest, the brightest, the closest we would ever see our whole lives. Ran outside to catch it. First morning of spring. Stood by the river barefoot, wondered what it felt like to be up there, all alone.

Sat with a family by the beach, wrapped up in hats and scarves and mittens. Full up on kale soup and fireside conversations. The moon rose up from behind the cliffs, we listened to waves, breathed in the coldest air. First night of spring. Stood with crowds of moon-watchers, wondered what it felt like to be up there, always whole but always changing.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Reflections on tragedy

Never thought an earthquake all the way across the world could shake me up so bad. I was quietly obsessed for hours, until I knew he was okay. I was relieved, then felt bad for feeling relieved. 10,000 people the world just swallowed up. I sat in a cafe that afternoon, watching everyone bustle around me, wondering what used to make me feel so invincible, so untouchable.

Staying in a city this week, nights in hotel rooms, mornings in traffic. I'm already used to sirens and shouting; how quickly I've grown deaf. You know one of my biggest fears? Genovese Syndrome. Not being a victim, but being indifferent, cold. I used to think the word "pacifist" was "passivist." I never could tell if it had a negative or positive connotation.

Called 9-1-1 the other night when I saw a car flipped upside-down on the side of the highway. Black ice and sleet, late night on I89. I couldn't pull over, or I'd go off the road too. But I wanted to feel like I could help something, change a tragedy just a little bit. The operator on the other end of the line thanked me, said they didn't know.