Sign of the times that something as simple as Twin Peaks nerds mailing in non-perishable food items can be construed as a threat.
As if I had a second's spare time to start with...
Phone's ringing. Now every time I wonder if it will be "them."
What. A. Loser.
But you should know, you are reading the journal of a changed woman. Pleased to meet you.
(Oh. And um. I'm going to see Bjork live at Radio City Music Hall in NYC in 10 days. So, if you don't already: Believe in miracles.)
turn the page
the end of irony as we know it?
One publication, the Chaser, has turned out some humorous copy anyway. While some of it borders on tacky, I had to laugh at this headline:
Here is an interesting thread about headlines and the journalistic integrity. (It is impossible for me not to analyze the way in which we recieve the most devestating and crucial information of all of our lives. The landscape of journalism itself is changing before my eyes.)
While I wouldn't dare point any fingers, this I find a little surprising.
By now everyone has heard about what a big, dumb, heartless jackass Jerry Falwell is. I have to agree with fellow Metafilter member: I can't wait to go to hell, so I can kick his ass.
when I get past the tears, maybe then...
I can't think about the imminent war this world faces. I have to ignore the reports of hundreds of Afghanis streaming out of the capitol for fear of our inevitable retaliation.
When I try to focus, on any of it, I am overwhelmed by grief. Perhaps when I get past the tears, then maybe I can internalize the facts. For now, it's all feeling.
I find myself getting choked up on a regular basis. The televisions in the bar at work constantly flicker horrendous images, casting a glow on the downtrodden beer swillers. Images of crying widowers burn my brain and hot tears brim in my eyes.
But yesterday, viewing images (link no longer available) of the world's reaction, I finally sobbed. Maybe it was that I needed some distance from the situation. Some validation of my emotions. What is the scope of this tragedy and how should I feel about it? A picture of 6 Belgiun firefighters--their hats positioned over their hearts, their heads hanging, their faces desloate, paying their respects--that showed me exactly that:
(P.S. As a follow up to my last entry about the devil face in the smoke. Apparently, I did not offer enough commentary. No, I don't think there were supernatural evils at work here. Just found it freaky.)