Rain Rain Rain

(9 / 10) / 2001 = 0.000449775112 September 10, 2001 was a rainy day in New York. The Weather Channel predicted precipitation throughout the afternoon. I exited from my East 10th Street apartment a little past 9am. Breakfast at Velseka's on 2nd Avenue was a bagel and coffee. The bill came to less than $2. I gave the waiter a dollar tip. My funds were low, but it was one thing to be broke and another to act broke. Tony thanked my generosity and refilled my cup to the brink. At least someone was happy to have me back in New York after a six-month stay in Pattaya. My friends were busy setting up autumn projects or putting their children in school. They answered my phone call with trepidation. Few were in a position to lend me more than $20 and I had a few hundred dollars in the bank. It would go fast in New York or anywhere else in the world. I needed work, but my boss at the diamond exchange didn't have a spot behind the counter for me. Manny read my soul like a comic book. New York wasn't my city any more. Manhattan was overrun by Wall Street bankers and admirers of instant wealth spun from the roulette wheel of hedge funds and derivatives. Artists and writers were second-class citizens in this New World. The nouveau-riche scorned our dedication to the arts. If I would have turned myself into Dorothy Gale and clicked the heels of my ruby slippers for instant transportation to Thailand. The Last Babylon along the Gulf of Siam was my kind of town. I exited from Velselka's Diner and watched the NYU co-eds run through the rain. Innocent smiles suited their young faces. Their lives were before them. I hated their future. They would never be revolutionaries, punks, beatniks, or hippies. Their dreams featured superstar lives jet setting between the money capitols of the world. Wall Street, the City in London, Le Bourse is Paris, Zurich banks, Singapore investment firms, Chinese state corporations, and Japanese monopolies. I wanted to rail against their fantasies of money more money and most money, but the driving rain drenched me before I could get out a single word of protest. It was raining hard on September 10, 2001 and I didn't expect much from such a miserable day. Tomorrow was another story. It would be 9/11