The Hairy Eyeball

It's 1:02am in New York City, as I write this. September 12. Just another day. 11 is still lingering here though on the Westrn fringe. I've dona an admirable job of avoiding the main topic of the day, like a seasoned boxer ducking a clumsy jab. That's not to say that I didn't remember. I remember most days. For me it will always be the begining of a very dark time. When F.D.R.'s admonision that "The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself", was tossed aside for a fundamentalist junta, so preoccupied with feeding it's own ravenous appetite, while wallowing so deep in fear-mongering tactics, and slowly disintegrating everything I ever thought his country stood for.

I can still tell you where I was, but my location is irrelevant to the event, so I see no reason to dredge it up. For some this mourning seems to be theraputic, but I suspect that it does a job on the old psyche, how these people can even find the strength to get up in the morning. The way they somberly recount the errata of their relationship to the events of that day, regardless of how absolutely disconnected from them they might be truly disturbs me.

Still people deal with the events of the day in their own ways, and I certainly offer no magic words to get to the other side. I'll just try and keep things in my own perspective, try and not sound too paranoid, and pray that greatness returns to our society in a way that does not involve jack boots.
go and tell me all about it