Dies Irae

[Such horrifying images from New York. John and I have spent the morning alternately watching in the living room or returning to bed, trying to find a way to block out, process, watch, and understand. My school, in the midst of S.F.'s closed down Civic Center, can't tell me whether classes will proceed. I don't think I could concentrate on Torts today anyway.]

[Peace. Please.]

[Later: We just can't keep from turning on the TV to check...for what? There's been no good news all day. The latest tonight is of the preliminary numbers of missing cops, paramedics, and firefighters, and that people are calling from inside the rubble on their cell phones. John and I have gotten out of the house a couple of times today, just to pretend to get away from it, but the haunted looks on the few fellow wanderers thru downtown S.F. provide no distraction. Back home, we amble thru the apartment, trying to think of anything else to do other than turn the damn TV back on. "John, is there anything you want to do?" "Yeah, go to sleep, and wake up to find that none of this ever happened."]

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