Thursday, September 11, 2003

Well here I sit on 9/11 catching up on paperwork and listening to Morissey. Ah the glamour of it all.

Why is it that every song on bona drag seems an appropriate one to post the lyrics for right now? I was seriously considering putting up “last of the famous international playboys” with like a picture of Osama bin Laden at the top, and don’t ask me why but sinead’s torn up pope line “know the real enemy” came to mind. Why does that line keep going through my head? Anyway, the Osama playboy reference seemed much more than mildly insensitive and, shit, I don’t want to make myself the real enemy, so I shelved the idea. For the moment. I don’t think Osama has been canonized in the states, obviously, but I saw in Time magazine some guy in Pakistan or wherever selling t-shirts with his picture and supposedly there are pro-bin laden posters up here & there in London, and, I don’t know, I thought it might have said something deep about the depraved nature of humanity to make murderers into heroes. I mean shit we wanna make the terminator governor of California right? Of course Arnold isn’t a real murderer, yadda yadda yadda, I don’t care if his dad’s a nazi, sins of the father should not come down the chain, etcetera, I’m foaming at the mouth a verbal diorama. Stop me. Thanks.

Every day is like Sunday. Every day is silent and gray. Hmmm, that seems appropriate as well. Did I just see that somewhere in blogville yesterday?? Maybe. If I could think of where I’d link them. But, actually, today isn’t about plugging compatriots in the struggle, it’s about serious reflection.

Ah whatever I’m over reflecting. Or maybe not. I’ve been noticing that the subject (you know, THE subject) is a lot less sensitive this year than it was last, and I’m all for it. I mean time heals all wounds, yeah.

Shit what the hell do I know, I’m out here in the pacific. Wonder what it’s like to be in NYC right now? My sister’s out there, wonder how she’s doing. She’s an LA transplant though, and wasn’t there for 9/11. well I mean, THE 9/11. wonder how that affects the experience, everyone around you like recollecting what they were doing, and she’s like, “well I woke up in seal beach and saw it on the news,” hmmm, this is going nowhere.

And I said I wasn’t gonna go into it. or did I?

I’m feeling guilty today cuz it was my dad’s birthday yesterday and I forgot to call him. I am a total pile. Yes, of donkey shit. sorry dad. Promise I’ll call you later today. I have no excuse except I came home and watched the dodger game and then less than zero on vh1 and then went to the gym and then came home and did some dishes and around 9:30 or so I was like “oh shit” and by then it’s 12:30 at night in la-la land and papa pennyworth don’t stay up that late be it Tuesday Thursday Wednesday or Friday. Or Saturday. Even on the Sabbath he’s in bed by 9:30, and I ain’t talking Hawaii time.

Is this appropriate subject matter? Oh well.

So yeah, I remember on the day before THE 9/11, I did remember to call my dad. Wished him a happy birthday, all the best, aloha, and then the next morning we woke up to visions of the towers collapsing. And dad called. And it was comforting. Thanks dad, that meant a lot, to know you were ok, that mom was ok, that the girls were ok. I mean, why wouldn’t they be, but it was still nice to know. And we were ok, me & Mrs. P, but we were freaking out, like everyone was, and…

Arghhh, enough.

The dodgers choked like chickens yesterday, coughing up a 4 run lead late in the game. Ishii pitched his heart out and then the relievers gave away the farm.

But that’s just a game, and this is life, and life is good.

Right? Right.