I woke up today, at 0700 without breakfast in my home office... Brushed my teeth, and showered. However, I had to scan a few of my pictures for the Photoshop class.
I've....
I've...
Oh, screw this! I went to college, and I saw order - a urgent, sped-up order trying to finish the classes and coffee. The TV & Radio department pulled up monitors with cable connections, receiving the latest news on the last building standing, in a silent praying mass in front the eye of the now. I see meditations from the actors, in the expanse of the large classroom lies women in the lotus position amidst this chaos.
The coffee guy at noon closes up shop, with the Jewish girls still talking with the guys on and on. I've met my share of buddies and co-workers, in a rush moving out of the campus.
I went back home on foot because the buses were full. With each step, I called my only friends in Manhattan - my cabaret buddies. One of them was Meyer, Betty Buckley's publicist, who works in the city. Well, as I was walking to home a few blocks away, he was home right outside the college campus.
At home, I called Jamie deRoy. Granted she lives far up north, I still am worried because her friends (Karen Mason, et al.) are in the city too. Paul Rolnick, Karen's husband called Jamie before, so I have half-confidence that she's okay.
I dreamt of blood, and I see Hermetic's death - and this too!? What kind of God is this who let this happen?