I haven't even written my 9/11 story, and now a flood wedges itself within the queue. What am I to do? And though I grant that 9/11 made a bigger splash, the transformative muddy baptism of recent days, has shown itself to be a sort of personal 9/11, with only the chosen few marked for dunking, and the concomitant traumas.
9/11 was about decay, and its removal, at least according to the I Ching...which makes me think of a line by Wallace Stevens which says that Life is the elimination of what is Dead. Not sure yet what messages I will take from the undinal songs of this minor inundation...although several have already presented themselves.
In progress...
