(the sky at my house, Tuesday)
The Atlantic had a piece the other day about how there are three New Yorks now-the one underwater, the one in the dark, and the one where it seems like nothing happened. (Of course, there has always been more than one New York-the one for the very rich, the one for the very poor, and the one for folks who don’t fall into either of those categories-yet.)
I live in the third New York. We have power, water, internet, and food. There are some big trees down, the subway has yellow tape around the entrance, some signs are on the ground. I left the house for real today (yesterday was basically a glorified kale and beer run), did an interview for a piece I’m writing, and came to the coffee shop, where everyone seems to be, seemingly nonplussed. The internet isn’t even working right now, it’s probably just our need to leave our houses and see other humans that’s led us here.
I maintain that we’re only equipped to handle so much before it kills us, and sometimes it looks like we don’t care, or that we’re all just narcissists (Occupy Sandy Relief NYC is organizing folks to help each other; capitalism can’t pretend to have its shit together anymore.) Everyone is freaked out, and it’s not just because we can’t use the subway, although that’s part of it, the reality of being stuck indefinitely. Nothing is normal, but we will fake it until we make it.