11/07/2001
Last night met Claude over in Brooklyn Heights at his new place, unbelievable a block or two away from his shitty digs at Henry St's St George Hotel where I crashed during my first ever visit to the city in Septemebr 98, for the Independent Feature Film Market. Suffice to say, it's a big improvement. Moving gone up as Lem Sportsinterviews said. It was great to see him, just like old times, the same old Claude presense (spastic, funny, comforting).
We noshed and Guinness-ed. Lisa joined us, good to see her too, and Jared showed up from picking up the van in Newark, just before the early last call at midnight (dismal business, the barkeep said, due to it being election day. People staying home).
On the way back to their place, the four of us went by a fire station that had lost 8 members during September 11th. Many flowers and candles outside, plus a big banner thanking the neighborhood for its support. Through the windows Lisa pointed out the canvases of photographs of the guys , all who probably made about 40,000 a year, that died working that day, or, are missing. Chilling, that and the cold.
We walked along the promenade. Claude said he had taken the pictures on his web site from the same spot. I tried to figure out how tall the towers had been. Apparently there's a star in the sky that's now visible, that was formerly covered up by the two massive buildings. Lisa pointed out the worklights, and the smoke rising from the 18 fires still burning at the site.
On the walk home, the distinct acrid scent of burning plastic wafted through the air.
At Claude & Lisa's, we drank some more, and had left-over halloween candy. Alize with cranberry is yummy, like hooch punch from FSU I told Claude.
It was soon 3 am, and Jared and I realized we should beat it if we were to get up and meet Lauren at the Met the next morning. On the trains home, we took funny pictures.
[Those trains were: the A or C from High to 8th, the L from 8th & 14th to Bedford Ave).
We noshed and Guinness-ed. Lisa joined us, good to see her too, and Jared showed up from picking up the van in Newark, just before the early last call at midnight (dismal business, the barkeep said, due to it being election day. People staying home).
On the way back to their place, the four of us went by a fire station that had lost 8 members during September 11th. Many flowers and candles outside, plus a big banner thanking the neighborhood for its support. Through the windows Lisa pointed out the canvases of photographs of the guys , all who probably made about 40,000 a year, that died working that day, or, are missing. Chilling, that and the cold.
We walked along the promenade. Claude said he had taken the pictures on his web site from the same spot. I tried to figure out how tall the towers had been. Apparently there's a star in the sky that's now visible, that was formerly covered up by the two massive buildings. Lisa pointed out the worklights, and the smoke rising from the 18 fires still burning at the site.
On the walk home, the distinct acrid scent of burning plastic wafted through the air.
At Claude & Lisa's, we drank some more, and had left-over halloween candy. Alize with cranberry is yummy, like hooch punch from FSU I told Claude.
It was soon 3 am, and Jared and I realized we should beat it if we were to get up and meet Lauren at the Met the next morning. On the trains home, we took funny pictures.
[Those trains were: the A or C from High to 8th, the L from 8th & 14th to Bedford Ave).
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