6 posts

Wednesday Morning Headlines

In 1977 Joe Strummer sang that hate and war are the only things we got today and it’s hard not to think that, man, how some things never change. Although, then he goes on to sing about “wops” and “kebab greeks” and  the song seems to be about “wars” between different ethnic groups in England and it sounds as though Joe doesn’t like foreigners at all. He could have been saying that stuff as parody, though, who knows. Have a listen for yourself as you read today’s headlines which happen to have a lot of war in them. Continue reading

The Roof, the Roof, the Roof is on Fire!

Well, not my roof, but someone’s. Someone precariously close to my apartment. I came out of the subway last week and stepped into a scene from “Backdraft.” There were eight or nine fire trucks blocking off streets and professionals scrambling up ladders a few buildings away, trying to get on the roof.

I don’t think the fire was all that serious, since the people in the building were amusedly watching the show from the windows. And at one nearby intersection, a woman meandered through the crosswalk as a fire truck tried to back up. Bitch, you’re gonna get us all killed.

When she was finished, the driver asked me if it was safe to back up. Seriously? This is the method you’re going with? I’m suddenly in charge of saving lives?

You should know about me that it’s my greatest urban fear to have to use my fire escape for something other than drinking. (Safety first!) I was walking around a few weeks ago and there was a big puff of white smoke that emerged from the top of this building, like a magician had just finished a trick. I had the 9 and the first 1 dialed quicker than you could say, “Habemus Papam.”

And I know that if there were a fire, I’d panic and try to save random stuff.

Laptop. Logical enough. My coat. Practical, no problem there. Photos. Aw, memories.

But I know the firemen (sorry, fire-people. Girls can be anything they want to be!) would find my charred self in the shower with my fingers still around the shower curtain rings, mid-unfastening. I love my shower curtain. It’s periwinkle, which is a harder color to find than you might imagine. It brings joy and sunshine to my showers, even when the hot water decides to not make an appearance.

(Sidebar: The last time the hot water flew south, the super came up and all but scolded us for wasting his time. “What you want hot water for? It’s not even winter yet.”)

So, here are just a few of the things I would throw down to New York’s Bravest while flames lapped at me:

  • Shower curtain. Aforementioned great color.
  • Various favorite dresses and sweaters. I’m be damned if I’m wearing burned clothes to work.
  • Favorite books (including but not limited to: “America, the Book,” “The Know-It-All” and “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.” I’ll want to stay literate as I begin my new life on the mean streets. (And I have to say that I love the image of me not just trying to save random books, but frantically combing through my bookshelf amidst a housefire for specific ones.)
  • Marshmallows. For roasting. I’ll be the hero of the fire.
  • My TV. Out of spite, because I’ll probably be angry and not handling it well.