Sunday, September 12, 2010
Home Invasion
We woke up at 6:30 this morning to head over to the Brooklyn Book Festival, where Mark was to read with Tracy K. Smith and Terrance Hayes at ten. We'd been up for a half hour (I'd already taken my shower) when Mark couldn't find his laptop. I looked for my laptop, and--didn't I leave it out on the coffee table last night? Mark's laptop gone, my laptop gone. And all at once the story plays out: kitchen window open, dirty shoe print on the windowsill, and the battered fire escape, formerly useless device marring the front of the building, suddenly seems sinister. And within a half hour five police officers are crowding our one-bedroom apartment, fingerprinting us (a messier, more extended procedure than you'd think), dusting the window frame and refrigerator for fingerprints. The cops were all very kind and funny, and their hour-and-a-half in the apartment was not without its comic moments: Ned nipping at one of the officers trousers, Ned carrying off the fingerprinting brush, chewing it, mauling it. But I haven't been able to shake off the words of one of the detectives, whose voice took on a more serious tone just as he was getting ready to leave --it was very lucky you all slept through it, because it would have been a different situation if one of you had woken up. And I wasn't thinking then about my lost music library, which I'd never bothered to back up, or the photos and letters, or any of the drafts I hadn't backed up this summer, and thought of a stranger creeping within two feet of the bedroom, while the three of us--Mark on the left side, me on the right, Ned in the middle--slept peaceably, as if danger were very far.
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32 comments:
That's really scary. But I'm glad it wasn't worse (v. surprised btw that the dog didn't go crazy & where would that have led?).
It's a terrible feeling, to be broken into. The same thing happened to a friend - he said that all it was really possible to take from the experience was a sense of how impermanent the material world is, even, upsettingly, those materials we have poured meaning into. Glad that you are all (physically) unscathed.
I am so sorry, Paul, but so glad that you all are safe.
I had a hard drive fail on me earlier this year, and since then, in addition to backing up on an external HD, I also use Dropbox. It's free (or you can pay for an upgrade, but free seems to suffice for me), and it's highly intuitive. Literally open the Dropbox folder and drop your documents in. Can be public, can be private. I don't mean to evangelize. I don't know anything about the company or if there are better storage places out there. I just have lots of (much techier) friends who use it, and it's ease of use means that I use it readily. I hope it can be of help to you too.
Now, if you'll DM me your email address, I'll help you rebuild that lost music library. :)
xo
Hi Russel,
I think we were all worn out--Ned had played hard at the dog run at least twice, I'd gone to the beach where I'd gotten a lot of sun, we'd taken Ned to an outdoor cafe on Greenwich, which had turned out to be more stressful and noisy than relaxing--a big day for the three of us. Maybe that saved things.
Thanks, Sophie. We're feeling better than earlier--it helped that there was more on the external drive than I'd thought. (At least I have half of my song library. And lots of pictures.) Still the apartment's not going to feel quite the same ever again, though we will get past that. Interesting that the break-in happens when the formerly dismissible, indistinct neighborhood gets recast, for whatever reason, as desirable neighborhood.
Hi Ayse,
That's so sweet of you--evangelize away, much appreciated. It's quite clear that we haven't taken advantage of all those systems, google.doc, etc. that make sure your documents still have a home if the bad thing happens.
I'll DM that address! Thanks.
P.
Holy shit, Paul! That is such a frightening story. Glad you, Mark and Ned are okay. I've started making double back-ups of all my writing. I even email copies to myself and keep them stored that way -- just in case. I really do need to back up my music, though.
Thanks very much, Collin. I saw the external drive just before the weekend and thought, this is probably the weekend to back up. But did I listen? Probably best to go with a format like Dropbox, which ayse recommends. I, too, have been in the habit of emailing important written documents to myself. Luckily, there's a copy of the new memoir in email, phew.
I'll probably be sleeping with my laptop close to my bedside from the here on out.
As of tonight, I have half of my music library back, but not the best stuff. Alas.
So sorry this happened. So glad this is "all" that happened.
Thanks, Elizabeth. Everything feels a lot saner right now, front windows locked, apartment swept and put together. I think routine life can resume. It sounds like you enjoyed your time in Brooklyn today.
Sadly, I know how this feels. My apartment in SF was broken into, and for reasons I cannot explain here, the Police believed the person lived in my building! Despite living on the fourth floor, I went out and bought trowels for the windows, etc. I was glad to move in with Jacob not long afterward.
Thanks, C.D. One wouldn't think anyone would bother scaling a fire escape--the jump from the sidewalk to the ladder is about ten feet--then climbing up the rickety thing to open a kitchen window. Nothing has ever happened here in the nine years we've lived in this apartment, but I guess we're living in a different world now. Last night there was a lot of strange energy on our block, raucous energy, which seemed to be exacerbated, I think, by the Sept 11 anniversary, which everyone was trying to ignore. But you couldn't ignore it once you turned south onto Sixth Ave; those two bright white memorial piercing the sky over downtown. --Thank you again.
oh. so sorry this happened to you both.
Thank you, kyana.
So sorry that this happened -- the losses and the feelings, awful. Your song collection. Your drafts. Glad that you're okay.
I'm in Long Island for a funeral (beloved friend's mother). The world has so many places that grate. And sing.
It's such a cruel violation. And to lose your writing and photos and music even worse, but as you say, no other harm done.
Insurance can only carry you so far. The fantasies of what could have been might haunt you for a while longer, but hopefully they'll pass.
Our place on Bleecker St---third floor, back of the building, has been broken into a couple of times, but we never lost anything of soul stripping value (like a whole summer's worth of writing) Once we started to rent it out we reluctantly put heavy gates on the two fire escape windows. I hate them, they clang shut like the prison doors in some bad lesbian- phobic film from 1967, but we have never been broken into since. Sorry you guys have to go thru this...
Oh, dear. Glad you are okay. Have you gotten shiny new laptops yet? On the bright side, now your keyboards light up? xo
It's almost (but luckily not exactly) like having your house burn down, to lose so much. My photos are so important to me that I do back them up on an external drive, but I have been worrying lately that it's not enough, especially since all those houses literally blew up across the bay last week. When I was collecting my MFT hours, I backed up all my signed-off hours online, and kept copies in a couple of places. I'm still loath to throw them out, event though I can't imagine what I'll need them for.
We build houses and hard drives and everything else to protect our illusion that our lives have any permanancy. They don't really.
Still, I am glad your draft is intact!
Hi Susan, Thanks for your good wishes. Grate and sing: beautifully put. And here's to your friend's mother. xoxo
Thank you so much, Elisabeth. As I might have already said, I think my music library took the biggest hit--I don't know why I didn't back more of that up. But as I just said to a former student, I don't think music's meant to be owned anyway. I can find most of it on-line if I want. I hope your leg is healing and that you're up and about soon.
Hi Bill, Thanks for the good wishes. There are units across the street that have those bars, and I always thought they looked paranoid, but now I get it: they're all on windows that abut fire escapes. I think we're just going to invest in an alarm system, but we'll see. Tonight the windows are locked, locked.
Hey Laura,
I never knew how much I wanted a light-up keyboard--you're absolutely right. It does make a difference!
Hope you're well.
Thanks, Gwynne. Yes, the draft is intact. That's all that matters right now. Strangely, the first nine pages--the section I've been givingsreadings from--was never backed up anywhere, and thank God I have a hard copy. Time to turn my sights to Dropbox, I think.
That catastrophe across the bay--I know what you mean. It seems unfathomable. All those houses, and people still missing.
You're exactly right about permanency: None.
The feeling of impermanence is threatening until you really dive into it. Then it can be invigorating, can't it, dear? WTF.
I am so grateful for sleep and that you all slept well that night. I hope this person is caught: I'd like a word with him.
You're right: a confrontation with impermanence does slap one awake, and if you can survive it, all the better.
I'd *love* to see you have a word with him. Robber: beware.
Oh my! This is super Scary. If these people came in the middle of the night they knew someone was home and sleeping. The officer was certainly right, the robbers probably came prepared to handle the situation had someone woken up.
Glad you're ok!!
Thanks for the kind words, SY.
Deeply grateful the three of you slept through it.
Once again- as with your experience of being stranded on Nantucket, it strikes me this is 'Lisicky country' to be mined for more powerful writing.
It is my experience that this is usually also an occasion for new seeing, new engagement with the architecture & details of our lives.
I hope Mark's archive fared as well as yours. The sad thing is that, that desperate individual didn't have any idea just what he/she was messing with.
But the two of you will overcome this inconvenient anoyance, just have you done others in the past- and make something out of it which has larger and lasting worth.
Be well dear Paul. Mark & Ned- trust your grace. I do.
Thanks, David. I'm sure this episode will end up somewhere, though sleeping through potential catastrophe--hmmm. What meaning can I make of *that?"* It actually could work as a brief epilogue to the new book. We survived, pretty much intact; maybe that's the point to glean from it.
Mark's archive didn't fare as well as mine, but he seems all right with it. If the burglar had any idea of what was in that laptop he'd get real money.
I've found that there's a way to load an iPod's contents back into the music library, so that's one less thing to think about. The real annoyance right now: the loss of my earthlink address book. I can't get in touch with anyone now who doesn't write to me first.
Hope you're enjoying September so far.
So sorry to hear this happened to you guys... happy you were spared anything worse.
My apartment was burglarized once years back and the elaborate ritual with the police and the million questions and the messy fingerprint dusting all seemed to me then like a big waste of time. Months later I got a call from a female DA who informed me that there'd been a match on the one mystery finger print the cops had found! It was a big fat thumb print that showed up beautifully in the black print powder on my white plastic revolving pen organizer.
I had to testify before a grand jury and the sorry guy actually ended up with a conviction and a sentence. I didn't get back anything that had been stolen of course. The burglar had a long rap sheet & was also a drug dealer. A detective told me they'd been trying to get him on something for a while. I wondered if he was just saying that. I ended up ambivalent about the outcome, but impressed and sort of comforted that the whole drawn out criminal justice process had actually played out as it was meant to.
Glad you like your new computer. It's a good thing, at least, that Ned doesn't use a laptop — yet.
Hey John,
Thank you. I wouldn't be exactly surprised if our story played out like that in a couple of months--I know what you mean about the ambivalence of dealing with the grand jury, the conviction, etc. I hope you didn't lose too many precious things in that burglary.
Ned has already leapt onto my new keyboard, and I suppose it will only be a matter of time before he's putting up a tantrum and demanding one of his own.
Thanks again,
P.
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