novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- slippage everything feels like it is holding its breath. i get emails from friends in new york assuring me of their liveliness. phone calls from my father mumbling telling me we should bomb everybody in the "dirty middle east" and to take advantage of my grief by not eating so i'll lose a couple of pounds. "we could all stand to be anorexic for a while. those people live longer, you know." dan rather has strange hair. he looks more tired than usual, staring at me through my television screen, lidded eyes, telling me that more people have been arrested for attempting to bring knives and fake pilots licenses on board aircrafts. my television is a black hole of tears. every channel has broadcast the "attack on america" for the past four days. i don't know what to do when i'm not watching the news or going to class. if i watch a movie i forget what happened until it's over and the news are back on. i don't know what to do except sit. i lit candles and checked up on the wait to give blood. sitting on my porch next to my cheap tribute, occasionally re-lighting a wick, talking to my grandmother about the japanese internment camps. "i hope they don't do that again. everybody's just so scared." war. war is coming and more people are gonna die and my mother is going to have surgery and david fell off his scooter and my parents found a rat in the kitchen. people dressed as rescue workers are looting the world trade center wreckage. and i'm just sitting here. 9:24 pm - 09.14.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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