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Ok, So I'm a shitty noder, it's been a long time since I've written, and I need to get some things off my chest. So I have these neighbors, about my age, 24 or so, and we're all in the same boat, the same place in our lives. One, worked for MTV as a cameraman for a while. His roommate was also a pretty cool guy. As I learned shortly after he moved in, he had a problem with alcohol, and I was to make sure that he didn't come down when I had a party so we would be sure he'd stay okay. They decided to make a film together, and went on a two week excursion in the south, interviewing folks looking for a Big Nasty guy. They had investors, a budget, and a great idea. They left on their search with wide eyes and full pockets.

Cut to their return, the good roommate returns alone, with a sad story, the bad roomate having spent all their money on booze, coke, and whores. He conned his ex-girlfriend into giving him $1000 for a ticket to the Cayman islands, where his father lives, and up and left. He took a month's leave from work, and called the good roommate to tell him that he should sell all his stuff to pay for the rent, since he wasn't coming back. While in the Caymans, his father supplied him with copious amounts of prescription drugs, supposedly to deal with his bipolar disorder, but didn't stop his son from drinking.

Fast forward to September 10th, 2001, bad roommate decides to return, and he and his father threaten legal action against good roommate. good roommate changes the locks, and waits for him to return, preparing to call the police on his arrival. His mother arrives to give him moral support, and I send him waves of the best energy I can through the floor that separates us. It gets late, his mother has to go home, and sensibly, he goes home with her, trying to get as far from his problem as possible, hoping to come back the next day, to call the police and talk to bad roommate.

dissolve to sleep....

Harsh cut to blaring noises from my television that I left on because I don't have a sleep function. I look and think "Oh, No! NOT AGAIN!, not like looking out my Stuyvesant High School window oh so many years ago. I wake quickly, and frantically call my family, knowing that none of them were in manhattan. I sigh. They're safe. I call friends and family. As I slowly wake I realize that good roommate will not be able to return, from his mother's and that bad roommate had returned. Bad roommate had passed out outside his door, waiting for his roommate to arrive. About 10 minutes after the second tower fell, I get a call from good roommate, who asks me to go up and check on bad roommate, and give him the phone... I walk out the door to a snow that comes from nowhere but Hell, raining down soot and ash, and papers on my quiet Carroll gardens neighborhood. The fumes are too much to handle. I cough when I get inside upstairs to hand over the phone. Bad roommate is barely coherent... I need not smell him to sense his stupor. His incredulity at the lack of a World Trade Center was matched equally by his incredulity at being awoken. He describes his state as confused, and slurs his words liberally. I haven't heard from many people yet, and I need that phone. Being a generally good person, I can't force him to go anywhere through this rain of fire, and regretfully invite him to my house so he can sober up a bit and come to grips with the situation.

When he stumbles through the door, he immediately begins to drink, having bought some beer at the local deli. His casual attitude offends me, and I try to ignore it as much as possible. My real hesitation for inviting bad roommate into the apartment was my fear that he would attempt to enter his apartment through the backyard. He did. I went up to check on him, and then decided to stay, because with their cable, I could see more than the one channel available to me from my apartment. I know that I'm postponing bad roommate's departure by staying, but cannot remove my eyes from the television as I rapidly change channels.

Montage of phone calls with family, friends and the good roommate. He finally convinces bad roommate to go home. He walks out the door, and grabs, without my notice, the 4 month old kitten there. I run after him, begging him to leave behind the cat. He gets on the train, against my advice.

And sense has utterly left me, and left my world.

/me mourns the innocent.