9/11

It only occurred to me that tomorrow is 9/11 due to an email I received about some sort of "general strike." I didn't go read it because it was on Facebook and I don't think I'm even signed up there. No disrespect, but I have very little to say about 9/11 and probably will think about the events of six years ago only once or twice tomorrow. It actually seems like it happened longer ago than that. I remember the day well--we were living in an apartment again for the first time in a few years while our new home was in escrow; we watched the news in the morning and at work, and ate pizza at a mediocre family restaurant near our apartment, the kind with checked vinyl tablecloths and lots of plaques on the wood-paneled walls of the youth baseball and soccer teams they'd sponsored. A good place to think about family and what that means, in fact. Plus, cheap pitchers of beer. I'm pretty sure we didn't make love to remind us what life was about, or anything like that. It was probably one of those rare times in my life that no other media was an adequate escape from the news. Or if it would have been, it didn't even occur to me to try it, to play a comforting album or watch an inconsequential TV show. There was just too many images and rehashing pounded into you and all you wanted was silence.

I guess I did have a little something to say about it, but tomorrow I don't think I will.