Blood Red Circle on the Cold Dark Ground
I hadn’t listened to Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising in a long time – then last week when I was reodering the CD shelf (well, shelves, stacks and bendy free standing holder thing), I decided to put it on again.
While some part of my mind registered the 911 anniversary bit, I was struck with emotion hearing it again – of all the post-911 stuff I have, The Rising speaks directly to the heart of the matter, “tears on the pillow darlin' where we slept”. The prosaic agonies of loss – “your house is waiting for you to walk in”, those left behind when their loved ones act on honour - “I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher somewhere up the stairs into the fire”, the sense of a shifting centre “God's drifting in heaven, devil's in the mailbox I got dust on my shoes, nothing but teardrops” .
While on holidays in New York in May (and following a particularly disastrous experience of American baseball), I took the subway back into Manhattan from Yankee stadium. Standing beside me was a tall well built guy, chatting to his friends about his job as some sort of financial analyst. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but I just can’t help it – he spoke about his best friend who was lost in the WTC and how this was the 1st subway ride he taken since 911 – he just wasn’t comfortable with the subway since.
While reading the plaques around ground zero a random business man approached us – he was from Chicago and everytime he came to NYC he came to appreciate the “nothingness” where “everything once was”.
I’m one of the few who supported, and supports various wars on terror and damning of evil axes, but regardless of where you stand, things were “forever changed in a misty cloud of pink vapour”.
While some part of my mind registered the 911 anniversary bit, I was struck with emotion hearing it again – of all the post-911 stuff I have, The Rising speaks directly to the heart of the matter, “tears on the pillow darlin' where we slept”. The prosaic agonies of loss – “your house is waiting for you to walk in”, those left behind when their loved ones act on honour - “I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher somewhere up the stairs into the fire”, the sense of a shifting centre “God's drifting in heaven, devil's in the mailbox I got dust on my shoes, nothing but teardrops” .
While on holidays in New York in May (and following a particularly disastrous experience of American baseball), I took the subway back into Manhattan from Yankee stadium. Standing beside me was a tall well built guy, chatting to his friends about his job as some sort of financial analyst. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but I just can’t help it – he spoke about his best friend who was lost in the WTC and how this was the 1st subway ride he taken since 911 – he just wasn’t comfortable with the subway since.
While reading the plaques around ground zero a random business man approached us – he was from Chicago and everytime he came to NYC he came to appreciate the “nothingness” where “everything once was”.
I’m one of the few who supported, and supports various wars on terror and damning of evil axes, but regardless of where you stand, things were “forever changed in a misty cloud of pink vapour”.
Labels: Music
posted by Auds | 23:32
5 Comments:
Glad you're still alive, Auds, but you should get to sleep earlier!! :)
I played The Rising on Sunday, but not because of the proximity of the anniversary. I'd actually forgotten how close we were (I'm always a few days behind). He did a fantastic job with that record.
Having said that, I'm tired of the "nothingness" downtown. It's well past time for something to be built there.
Not to worry next July will come before you know it, and you'll be a SHO. With respect to doctors it only lasts a year, lots of people work those sort of hours too.
SHOs work the same hours, only their call involves admitting patients from A&E - the first doctor from the team to admit them or to do emergency ops - and most of them never get any sleep on call.
Fair enough lots of people may work those hours - 80 hours a week - but not many work 36hours on their feet and are officially not expected to get any sleep at all.
And then are expected to make serious decisions that potentially have an enormous impact on patients lives and health. It's a crazy system. Didn't they ban it in Oz after a study showed that going that long without sleep meant that doctors were as incapable of making decisions as intoxicated people? The idea of being treated by doctors who are that exhausted terrifies me!
Move to Australia!
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