Well, it's That Day, and I have no idea what to think. I got up a little later this morning, as I planned to go into work late. Spoke to my dad, watched a bit of the Ground Zero memorial, and then watched the tail end of an episode of "Little House on the Prairie."
Work was normal. Manhattan seemed normal, or the little of it I saw, anyway. On the way home early, I decided I needed a little Funk, so I stopped off at Virgin Records to buy the Kinky album (hot hot hot). The record store was normal. Union Square had some people in it: normal. The bridge was normal. I didn't get blown up, nor was I really afraid that I was going to get blown up.
~ ~ ~
I'm awash with so many questions about the world's violent history, and how I fit into everything, and whether it's selfish to want to know how I fit into everything. There are so many things I'd like to know. How hate works. Why it lasts so long. How my country can promote itself as being so humanitarian and also drop nuclear bombs on a country. Whether war is ever necessary.
September 11 was neither the first nor the last mass murder in humankind's history. And one of the things that bothers me the most is the self-righteous pain that some people exhibit: "This attack was like no other in the history of the world." "No other people have felt the way we feel now." New Yorkers, Americans, are prone to embarrassing exaggeration.
How do we bring ourselves to this point?
I'm sure I'll ask these questions for the rest of my life, without any satisfactory answers. But what do I know?
"That which does not kill you makes you stronger." Or "As we live, we live through everything."
Work was normal. Manhattan seemed normal, or the little of it I saw, anyway. On the way home early, I decided I needed a little Funk, so I stopped off at Virgin Records to buy the Kinky album (hot hot hot). The record store was normal. Union Square had some people in it: normal. The bridge was normal. I didn't get blown up, nor was I really afraid that I was going to get blown up.
~ ~ ~
I'm awash with so many questions about the world's violent history, and how I fit into everything, and whether it's selfish to want to know how I fit into everything. There are so many things I'd like to know. How hate works. Why it lasts so long. How my country can promote itself as being so humanitarian and also drop nuclear bombs on a country. Whether war is ever necessary.
September 11 was neither the first nor the last mass murder in humankind's history. And one of the things that bothers me the most is the self-righteous pain that some people exhibit: "This attack was like no other in the history of the world." "No other people have felt the way we feel now." New Yorkers, Americans, are prone to embarrassing exaggeration.
How do we bring ourselves to this point?
I'm sure I'll ask these questions for the rest of my life, without any satisfactory answers. But what do I know?
"That which does not kill you makes you stronger." Or "As we live, we live through everything."
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Date: 2002-09-11 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
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