finished freaking out
Hey Terrorists: FUCK YOU!
I have to admit, in the midst of all the unrest in the world, I have always played the part of the spectator. I've never owned any of the fear. Yes, the days after September 11th were difficult, but surreal. I had never been to NY, so I didn't feel connected. The London transit attacks actually hit a little closer to home-I can better relate to being blown up on a train on my way to work. In fact, there have been times during my commute that I have felt uneasy. But this time, man, it's personal. Rossy was booked on a British airways flight from London to NY today. Now he's stuck in Rome (God, what a miserable fate-Adam is having a hard time mustering up sympathy for you, kiddo) with no clear departure date in sight. So, he's safe and sound, probably a little annoyed and inconvenienced, but hey dude, you're alive. These mother fucking fuckers would rather he weren't. They were plotting to straight out murder my brother and a number of other people, too, and I am PISSED. And sort of ashamed-I should have felt this same anger rising in 2001 and 2005 and every time a suicide bomber blows up in Israel and Iraq. But I didn't. Maybe this is really the true problem-I can sing peace and love and tolerance and "Hey Palestine-build SCHOOLS, not weapons!" when it's other peoples' brothers who are dying. But one threat to harm one hair on my brother's head and I want to kick some ass. Or maybe I'm ashamed that I am so angry now that it's become personal. That I'll have a much harder time singing peace now.
I have to admit, in the midst of all the unrest in the world, I have always played the part of the spectator. I've never owned any of the fear. Yes, the days after September 11th were difficult, but surreal. I had never been to NY, so I didn't feel connected. The London transit attacks actually hit a little closer to home-I can better relate to being blown up on a train on my way to work. In fact, there have been times during my commute that I have felt uneasy. But this time, man, it's personal. Rossy was booked on a British airways flight from London to NY today. Now he's stuck in Rome (God, what a miserable fate-Adam is having a hard time mustering up sympathy for you, kiddo) with no clear departure date in sight. So, he's safe and sound, probably a little annoyed and inconvenienced, but hey dude, you're alive. These mother fucking fuckers would rather he weren't. They were plotting to straight out murder my brother and a number of other people, too, and I am PISSED. And sort of ashamed-I should have felt this same anger rising in 2001 and 2005 and every time a suicide bomber blows up in Israel and Iraq. But I didn't. Maybe this is really the true problem-I can sing peace and love and tolerance and "Hey Palestine-build SCHOOLS, not weapons!" when it's other peoples' brothers who are dying. But one threat to harm one hair on my brother's head and I want to kick some ass. Or maybe I'm ashamed that I am so angry now that it's become personal. That I'll have a much harder time singing peace now.