all over again

In a few minutes they will stop the Tower clock, and everywhere across this country I suppose there will be frozen moments. Me, I am sitting in the apartment with the shades drawn closed because I'm not sure I can face the sun just yet.

When I was younger, I wanted to live through some generation-defining moment, that I could speak about the way my mother does now and then about Kent State or the Kennedy assasination. Human, I suppose. This longing to feel connected to others no matter what, in faith or blood.

For me, the single most horrifying thought to come out of September 11th centers around the planes. Not just that ordinary flights were turned into weapons, but the passengers. There were dozens of people, probably people not unlike myself on those planes. The image of those people, trapped and hurtling towards the World Trade Center, towards the Pentagon, towards a Pennsylvania field... it is quite frankly, one of the most awful things I can imagine. Every time I've flown in the past year, I think about that.

I wish I had something profound to say, something brilliant, something that would make all the politics of this moment fall behind. I'm not sure there is anything to say. If there was, all the terror in this world surely would have brought it out by now, right? But I'm not feeling very political at this moment.

I remember last year. I remember how I sat on the edge of the coffee table, wearing only my bedspread clutched tight around my chest, how I had the television turned up to maximum volume because the maintenance men were cleaning out our leaky air conditioner. I remember the horror-stricken faces of the newspeople as the towers came down, and the dusty grey twilight that descended on those streets. I remember watching all day, until I couldn't stand it and I drove to Metro, crying the entire way. I wanted to see my friends, and know that the whole world wasn't on fire.

I really didn't cry until half an hour ago

I did it. I stayed far from the televisions, the media, everything. The only thng I did was attend the memorial/anti-war rally sponsored by some student groups on the West Mall today. Bob Jensen, journalism professor and professional troublemaker, gave an excellent speech, about the chance America had to profoundly change the way it relates to the world, and how that had all but slipped through our fingers by the end of this day last year. By the end, he was visibily fighting back tears. I wanted to hug the man, and I regret a bit now that I didn't.

The Green Party's governor hopeful spoke, while the military helicopters circled overhead. It was profoundly strange. I would forget, and look up at the tower to check the time.

I feel strange. I suppose that is the side effect of spending twelve hours in Metro, drinking coffee and smoking. Haven't had a proper meal all day. But I did see Miss Natalie, met a nice fellow named Kenneth who went to my high school and I never knew, exchanged lots of silly text messages with Elisa, and survived a riot of moods. Upside down and back to front... gods, I'm tired.