I would like to relate, if I could, the entirety of my thoughts involving the World Trade Center...what? bombing? incident? tragedy? does it matter?

I promise to be as brief as possible, given the somewhat convoluted way my thoughts travel when I'm upset. I would also like to apologize in advance - I think this is in advance - for posting yet another daylog on this tragic day, and it is my sincerest hope that I'm actually typing up something worthwhile, and not exercising pure redundancy and futilty in the aforementioned relating of thoughts. With that unnecessary wordiness out of the way, I'll begin.

First, my totally true and sincere condolences to all the people affected - that's right, all the people affected - by this. If a loved one has died, or is feared to have died, I wish you well, and am sorry for your loss, and I'll say a prayer for that family member: I probably already have. I apologize to the whole world that had to witness this. I am sorry that our planet is so fucked up, the people so insane that this occurred. My best wishes for your present and continuing safety go out to all of you.

I was awaked at roughly 8:00 AM this morning, forcibly, by my significant other. She opened the door, hysterically happy - she later broke down in tears. She told me, through her grief-induced laughter that the World Trade Center buildings had been attacked. At the precise moment I was coherent enough to reach for a cigarette, Building Number Two fell. I was flabbergasted. I am not ashamed to admit that I burst into peals of laughter. "Fucking Americans, how do you like that!" Now, don't misunderstand: I was roughly twenty percent awake, and thought I was watching the best special effects ever. I don't have personal issues with Americans, but I sometimes have feelings of amusement regarding the strangely attractive patriotism, let's-blow'shit-up mentality you see in the media. (Having known - truly known - very few Americans, I haven't been able to build much of a rapport. I was sarcastically commenting on what I'm seeing.

Friends, and neighbors, it wasn't a joke. It wasn't funny. It wasn't the best special effects ever. My smile turned to mush, and my hand went to my face. I was in shock. My cigarette, unlit and forgotten, fell to the floor.

"Jesus H. Christ." I do say that in real life. "This is real, isn't it?"

Significant other: "You're damn right it is. That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

My sleepily jovial attitude vanished, and I immediately hopped on E2. I'll be honest. After getting partially down my smoke, I found everyone was okay on E2. Thank god for that. I don't know what I'd have done, if I'd lost more friends due to the attack, right after Hermetic died.

/me misses Hermetic

Right about the time that #coverage went up on SlashNET, I was well into posting whatever I heard in #everything about the Canadian happenings and info related to the World Trade Center.

I hadn't felt it yet.

After a time, I started to obsess about things. I'm very good at that, I'll tell you.

For example, ever since I saw the shot of the plane hitting the building, the second one that is, I've been....how have I been? Angry? Sad? Hurt? Happy? Depressed? Who knows? I am unsettled, there, that's a good word. Unsettled. And that's understating the emotion too severely for my taste. But at least you've got an idea. To this very moment, even though I'm happily smoking and chatting away like a fool in #everything, I'm still not sure what I'm feeling. I know that I've been playing the thought in my head about shedding the blood of the people responsible, that I'd feel completely remorseless and even righteous if I had their blood pooling about my feet, drenching my clothes and hair. That'd been there for the last few hours. Would I be like them, I wonder? Would that turn me into a bad person? Or a just one? I haven't decided. And I never will decide.

I've also felt immense, immense sorrow for the people who have died in this tragedy. I keep imagining the lives lost - just as I do Hermetic. I keep thinking about the two people who plummeted a billion, trillion feet - as it must have seemed to them - to their deaths, holding hands. I keep thinking about what must have went through their heads. Well, we're going to die anyway. Let's jump. Take my hand. It's been a pleasure knowing you. And of course, I don't deign to know their thoughts - that's just what pops up in my head. And then I think about the lives, the little existences that we take for granted, that have been lost. There was probably a single mother of two, who had just dropped her kids off to day care, thinking about how annoying her kids were, badgering her the whole way in the care about how they wanted grilled cheese sandwiches for supper. There may have been an old janitor who was thinking about retirement when he heard a loud, horrifying sound and a significant rumble. There was probably a fiftyish man with a dark brown beard in the bathroom, fixing his tie, wondering if his toupee was as bad as he thought it looked. There was probably a man standing at the window, going over what the fuck he was going to do about the IRS on his ass, when a 200 ton piece of flying metal cleaved his office like a knife through creamy cheese, separating him from his tax problems in the most fatal, horrible, terrible, inexcusable way. I wonder if this man turned to look in the pilot's diseased, emptily crazy eyes before he parted this world, and went on to the next. And I wonder if his final thought, before he came face to face with the afterlife, was: I hope I see you in hell, cocksucker. It's you and me, bottom of the ninth, and I've got one SMOKING fucking fastball, pal.

I wonder at the fairness of this world. After the saddening events of today, I find myself absolutely certain that the people who have died have gone on to a better place. That's probably the unkindest cut of all. That is, barring the use of commercial aircraft with dozens of innocent people aboard as a gigantic bomb which is used to take the lives of people I haven't had a chance to fall in love with yet.

I am a person who sees beauty in all things. In humans, I see the potential for great things, the potential to create an idyllic, beautiful existence. I am able to notice the simple architecture of a tree, and to feel warmed by the rough touch of its bark. I like cities, I like how they are, I like the people within. But when I'm dealt such a substantial blow as this, I find my confidence in the world shaken. I find that I am scared that none of us will live to the next chapter.

I cry today. I cry for the kisses that won't be had, the jokes that won't be shared, the books unread and unwritten. I cry for the relationships I no longer have the chance to make. I cry for the lives that have been taken, and I cry for the people that were so misled and controlled by others that they saw it as a good idea to kill untold thousands of people. I cry for the foods left untasted, the cigarettes unsmoked, and the joy unfelt. I cry for all of this, and more.

I cry for everyone, everything today.

The tears have stopped for today; I hope I never have to feel this way again. I hope none of us do.

Tomorrow is another day. Who knows what's going to happen? Maybe George W. Bush will find someone guilty, and delare war. I don't even want to think of any of that. Fuck, I'm having enough trouble sorting out the ramifications of what's already happened, as you can see.

I want to thank you all for reading this, for attempting to understand. I thank you for being there when I needed you. If I kiss you on the way out of here, it's only because I love you, to paraphrase a guy I read once. I apologize again if I've offended anyone with the things I've said. None was meant offensively, I'm ust not always good at the tact thing.

So, be well, everyone, be well, New York City, and everywhere else, try to get some sleep. I love you, and I'm saying prayers for you.