mbarrick | My Rememberance

I've heard now of more than one person confused about how they should feel. You shouldn't feel any particular way. You can feel any way you like.

I didn't know I would lose my job. I had my trip booked before it happened. So I went anyway. I smelled the smoke with a hint of death on it and saw the rubble. I watched people in Battery Park City walking their dogs, going to work and just going on with their lives while the dust still clung to the torn awnings in front of their apartments. I went clubbing. Had Sunday brunch. Giggled on the top of the Empire State Building because I was enjoying my life. Later

bdallaway and I had a coversation at Steve's birthday party last year about how perhaps the good of this might be a gerneration waking up and learning some hard lessions about the world like our parents learned during WWII. But no. We've just got another push-button murder-factory war run by a trained chimp, idiots like Reptard, his intrepid reporter Carey Wong and the like blaming it all on aliens and death-rays, and freaked out sheep willing to throw away their rights, accept lies and forego freedoms to in the name of paying ironic lip-service to justice, truth and freedom. How about a popular movement to impeach Bush on the grounds of incompetence and a real, tasteful, and meaningful memorial (not just another damn post-modern slab-with-names-on-it peice of crap) sitting in a small park surrounded by a collection of brand-spanking-new towers? Get rid of the moron, give the dead their honours, and get on with the living. There is 3.8 million square feet of office space missing from lower Manhattan and a crap load of living people who need jobs and space to work.

Today I avoided most of the crap, but of course it was ultimately unavoidable. There was the conversation in the elevator about cheap air-fares today. There was the coffee-room discussion about retarded airport security. There was the discarded special edition of the Vancouver Sun I looked at in the Seabus terminal (and then put down in disgust). There was the really excellent and factual show freaturing the structural engineer who built the towers that I let myself get sucked into for a while. But I avoided all the prefabricated whipping-up-support-for-daddy's-war schlock.

So here is my rememberance. Yesterday I said happy birthday to

flashman. Today let me say a big fat fuck you to the cowardly weasels at HSBC. And tomorrow I'll get on with my life.