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Ruhige Tage, Ausgeh-Amateure und 9/11: Marc Spitz schreibt aus New York

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I wrote these first few words before I saw my shrink today: disc won't eject, career probably over, where does the dust keep coming from, new york city apartments are unclean-able... too much coffee, need more coffee look like hell. Dog disappointed in length of morning walk through east village. Wants to sit and bask in the sun. No time for that. Career almost certainly over. I'm writing these next words now: pretty calm, half a glass of some kind of zinfandel in my stomach. I don't know if any of you reading this are in therapy but my girlfriend and I spend thousands of dollars on it, and occasionally it works. Or should I say ultimately it works. On thursdays it works, but not until later in the day. Do you know how some days are calmer than others. Thursdays and sundays seem to be so. And friday too. In a city like New York, friday is the domain of tourists, bridge and tunnel maruaders and other nightlife amateurs so unless there's a seriously good party or show, most of the hipster types I know (myself included) opt to use that day to catch up on normal stuff. Sunday or tuesday or weds, when the rest of the east coast is doing the "easybeats friday on my mind thing", we're out partying. We can, if calibrated well, pretend that they simply don't exist. I'm saying this that's when it's best in the city, when it feels sort of empty, and peaceful and above all, manageable (on a tuesday, you can get a cab home, no problem at 4 am, on a friday, you're competing with girls and dudes who don't usually drink that much and have for one reason or another, tied one on... loud people... hate them... they don't buy my books either, I'm sure of it). Right now in NYC we are reminded of the chaos and the pain of 9/11. It's on the cover of local magazines. On the local news. 5 years on. And it makes those rare, peaceful, manageable moments in NYC seem even more sweet and rare. I was here. I didn't lose anyone, but I was only about three subway stops away and saw it all clearly, smelled it all, watched people flood in and out of St. Vincents hospital where Dylan Thomas died... even closer to my apartment (then, I've since moved to the east village)...

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„Meist schweißt es die Partner eher zusammen, wenn sie gemeinsam die Depression überstehen”, sagt Dr. Gabriele Pitschel-Walz.

Illustration: Julia Schubert

I remember everything in my neighborhood was open, although the streets were closed and lined with people with cameras, and binoculars, watching the smoke fly up. I remember I went to the grocery store on 7th and bought a frozen microwaveable dinner, took it home and ate it while watching the news. It seems silly to do something normal like that but I, and a lot of the people I saw walking around that day and the days after, were doing much of the same, following routine for comfort. I used to look up at the lit towers on my way west to east, crossing 7th Avenue South on Bleecker Street... they were so high and cooly illuminated and comforting. I loved that view. One of the first things I thought, which is natural, I think, especially before you realize the gravity of what happened... you're in shock, and you're numb and you wanna make jokes in those situations, I thought, or maybe told my friend Damien, who took my photo for the back of the Never book (and who I used to drink with a lot more than I do now), I told him "I loved that view." 9/11/01 was a tuesday, not a thursday or a sunday, calmer days in manhattan. I wonder sometimes how being here when it happened really affected those like me who were lucky enough not to lose anyone. I definitely spend more on therapy (and I should say, value my freakin' therapist) a lot more than I used to. I write less bawdy farces for the lower Manhattan stage (this is a joke, by the way. But also true). I think I value life more, and my city more, but I'm also more protective of it, and more irked by intruders, even if they're american intruders from long island looking for nothing more than a hipster bartender who will make them a long island ice tea without vomiting with their eyes (oh, and even if 20 years ago, I was one of them, looking for kicks on the weekend... I think I drank a lot of bailey's irish cream at the time cause I was soft). I meant to write at least something about music here. so I will in closing. I remember the song I played the evening of 9/11 in my apartment was radiohead's "you and whose army." For whatever that's worth. And the Shins were good last night in Williamsburg. Natalie Portman says they will change your life but what do you listen to when you don't want your life changed no more? Hall and Oates probably. Bild: Cody Smyth

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