we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

15 September 2001

It's weird, one of the conversations we had last night was about how the passengers on Flight 93-- the one that crashed in rural PA-- fought back against the hijackers. We rused on how they got everybody to the back of the plane, which would shift the weight, make it go straight up, stall, and go straight back down again, which was what witnesses said they saw.

The first thing that worried us was how easy that was, and even if the cockpit is supposed to be locked, it's made so that in an emergency it's easily knocked down. So then how would we prevent this from happening again?

My first thought, as silly as it sounds, to have bouncers on the planes, watching out for the crew. I know how that sounds, but think about it. They're trained not to take shit from anybody, their really big guys anyway, and they'll get to travel and hang out with cute female flight attendants. Seriously though, would you really want to fuck with a big fucker just sitting there, looking out for something to happen? It sounds a little Big Brother-ish, but I've never felt completely safe in airplanes myself, and that's just one little paranoia in the greater scheme of things.

Finally, if you, rulers respect and cherish the blood of your peoples, why do you find it easy to shed the blood of others including the blood of Arabs and Muslims? If you respect your values, why don't you respect the values of Arabs and Muslims?

America needs wisdom, not power. It has used power, along with the West, to its extreme extent, only to find out latter that it doesn't achieve what they wanted. Will the rulers of America try wisdom just for once so that their people can live in security and stability?

And this is coming from an Arab, one we bombed-- Saddam Hussein.

...they shall eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices. For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them.... Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.

And that's come from the most famous book of all, in Proverbs 1-3.

.the girl who is not very 1:11 PM [+].

I don't want to be afraid, but I still am. I had a little gathering last night, and Tuesday was all we could talk about.

The worst thing for me is that I feel like everything's out of control and there's nothing I can do about it. After I came home from England, I used to sit sometimes and actually think about the bigger scope of things, how we live in such a huge world and yet we trust each other almost unconditionally; and then planes are crashing into buildings and I think about the alternate reality of it just being an "unfortunate accident" and how we'd still be going on about our business today-- a little sadder, maybe-- letting things carry on like they always have.

Ventured into the Wow store yesterday, immersing myself in CDs for an hour and a half. Brody from Mallrats may have joked that he loved the smell of commerce in the morning, but seeing people milling about, standing at the CD listening stations bobbing their heads and trying to escape from reality, it created a comfort inside me I can't explain. People are trying to get back to their sense of normal. This is a Good Thing.

The Stratosphere's Tower is still shut down, from what I can gather. It's the tallest building in this city. And now, my little pop culture saturated brain can only think of fucking Con Air for chrissakes, that crashing into all manner of buildings around Vegas.

Dammit. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I hate it. And it's my people who created this mess-- both as human and then as Americans.

To quote a phrase, I believe in peace, bitch.

.the girl who is not very 12:43 PM [+].

14 September 2001

Did I mention I'm so glad I met this guy? Read the last entry from today's post. He's a lot whittier about it than I am. 'Course, I didn't write something worthy of book burning.

Yet.

.the girl who is not very 8:41 PM [+].

Just when I think things are strong and feeling somewhat okay in this country, I read this article on Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell blaming basically anyone who's not like them (which makes me think about a larger Aryan scheme in the back of their minds) for Tuesday's attacks.

Yes, we were vulnerable. Yes, we were remiss in our security. Yes, this could've been prevented. These men-- I'd like to highlight that again, men, which I could start a whole new rant about-- did this in the name of the same God Falwell and Roberston claim set all this in motion, so to speak.

You can read and reread all the symbols from all the prophecies you'd like, but the fact still remains that people are dead and we're a hair's breadth away from war.

In a way watching the service on television this morning made me wonder how many people in this world actually take a minute to really thank their Maker for what they have. Personally, as a Pagan, I take an opportunity to thank my Goddess when I can that I have what I have, and that I am healthy, even if I don't feel happy. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, and I thank Her for every learning opportunity. She's in charge of my karma, good or bad, and her language becomes a little scrambled sometimes, but I trust Her. I always have. She's blessed me this far and even if I think my thanks aren't enough, I give it from places way inside.

I think it's really sad that these two have decided to get attention-- and much needed money to fund their television networks and universities-- by saying these horribly inappropriate things. There are people who fall into all the categories they condemn who are still waiting to hear about friends and family members, some of whom have probably never had someone close to them die. And if those people didn't have any conversations with God(ess) and this starts one, so be it. Hopefully they'll continue it for the rest of their lives. But I think it's a shame that the last people who should be throwing stones decided that a Day for Prayer would be the best time to be the first.

That being said, my first and gut reaction was to flip off the picture of Falwell on my laptop screen and say fuck you. But I actually thought about what I was going to write first before I said what I really wanted to say. If you want to be a man of God, stop talking and start doing.

Thou Art God.

.the girl who is not very 8:37 PM [+].

Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. I turned the lights off, but left the TV on. Woke up to watch the service in Washington this morning, finding myself actually respecting Billy Graham and the fact that he got up and is still eloquent at his age. I don't agree with his views on things, and I didn't really connect with what he had to say, but I had to give him props for his strength.

Just quiet.

.the girl who is not very 11:05 AM [+].

13 September 2001

More little synchronicities.

Got some work done. Went to go and try give blood, but they made me fill out a form because of the overwhelming response and told me they'd call me.

So I went to Amazon.com to make a donation for now.

And I turn on the mp3 player and this song is the first one.

You Are the World
Live

If you've ever known love
If you've ever known peace
If you've ever known joy
Make sure that you are on time

If you've ever known war
If you've ever known pain
If you've ever said no
Make sure that you are on time
you are on time
you are on time
we are on time

For you are the world

Fighting, mating, warring
You are all this now
Be aware, not scared
Look at me now
Silence
I say
You are the world

.the girl who is not very 7:29 PM [+].

Tuesday, the title that came into my head was "Love Among the Ruins." I remembered that it was a poem by a Romantic-era poet, but I couldn't remember who. I found it online, and it's by Robert Browning. I read it again, and find it just eerie.

Love Among the Ruins
Robert Browning

Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles,
Miles and miles
On the solitary pastures where our sheep
Half-asleep
Tinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stop
As they crop --
Was the site once of a city great and gay,
(So they say)
Of our country's very capital, its prince
Ages since
Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far
Peace or war.

Now, -- the country does not even boast a tree,
As you see,
To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills
From the hills
Intersect and give a name to, (else they run
Into one)
Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires
Up like fires
O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall
Bounding all,
Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed,
Twelve abreast.

And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass
Never was!
Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads
And embeds
Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,
Stock or stone --
Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe
Long ago;
Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame
Struck them tame;
And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
Bought and sold.

Now, -- the single little turret that remains
On the plains,
By the caper over-rooted, by the gourd
Overscored,
While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks
Through the chinks --
Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time
Sprang sublime,
And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced
As they raced,
And the monarch and his minions and his dames
Viewed the games.

And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve
Smiles to leave
To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece
In such peace,
And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey
Melt away --
That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair
Waits me there
In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul
For the goal,
When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb
Till I come.

But he looked upon the city, every side,
Far and wide,
All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades'
Colonnades,
All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts, -- and then,
All the men!
When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand,
Either hand
On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace
Of my face,
Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech
Each on each.

In one year they sent a million fighters forth
South and North,
And they built their gods a brazen pillar high
As the sky,
Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force --
Gold, of course.
Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns!
Earth's returns
For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!
Shut them in,
With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!
Love is best.

.the girl who is not very 11:37 AM [+].

Distractions.

There is such a thing as too much information. You don't need to know all the details about a certain situation, indeed you are better off with only an outline view. The same applies to an idea you are currently entertaining. It may be worth pondering but you don't have to act on every thought that passes through your mind. The sky now speaks of a need to find out more about a crucial matter and pay less attention to a distracting irrelevance. Concentrate on the good plan that you already have, not the latest pipedream.

After what I was feeling last night, I really have no room to bitch. But I couldn't just sit there and not be angry and not acknowledge it. You know.

Talking to someone yesterday, he brought up a numeralogical coincidence with the numbers of the airplanes: Flight 11 (that was Tuesday), Flight 175 (1+7+5=13, that's today), Flight 77 (7+7=14, that's tomorrow), and Flight 93 (9+3=12, that's yesterday's date). That's the order in which the planes had crashed. Now if the dates had lined up with those numbers of the planes, I'd be scared. But he says something major's supposed to happen all these days until tomorrow. Nothing happened yesterday. That doesn't mean that it makes me feel any better.

I live my life by symbols, but this didn't click for me. Plus the person who made it would do it just to get a little bit of attention and not necessarily because he knows a whole lot about numerology, especially the fact that 13 is a lucky number in the occult world.

Today, after sleeping with the lights and TV on again, is a little better. Seeing the satellite images of planes in the sky put a sense of calm in me somehow. We're standing up and getting on with things. Though I think the government's pointing finger over at Bin Laden already, 2 days after this disaster, is a little quick. To me. He was the first person I thought of to be behind this, but you can only know what's going on by being thorough. I get the feeling we will be, but only to a point.

Another firefighter pulled alive from the wreckage.

.the girl who is not very 11:28 AM [+].

I finally ventured out tonight, hoping to go to Roma and try to be out in the world again, only to find that the articles I did this week, plus the one I have for backup, didn't get in.

I'm already feeling weird and shaky, my stomach still having that pit lying at the bottom. I really don't want to be in dark, quiet places right now, which probably means I'm going to be sleeping with the lamp and TV on again. I can't get the images out of my head. I replay those two planes hitting those two towers over and over again. I can't get over the enormity.

So no articles this week, just adding to the terrible feeling all over. I have to admit this: I'm scared, and paranoid, and sad, and angry that some people act like nothing ever happened. I can understand if they don't feel connected to this tragedy at all, but in a way I envy their total trust in everything. I drove over to Brandon's for a little get together, and kept thinking, What if that van has a bomb? What about that broken down CAT bus? but then I think about the fact that we're just Las Vegas, the seat of nothing political whatsoever, and that these attacks were meant for staples of America-- our capitalism in the WTC and our defense in the Pentagon and possibly the White House or Air Force One.

Then I drive home and I'm reminded that we're all in this together.

I drove by McCarran Airport, which is actually near the offices of the alt-weekly, and it's dark. There isn't the trail of lights from the airplanes coming in from the east. The dark spot between the sidewalk and the Strip in the background is where the runway and tarmac is supposed to be lit up normally. Now it's as if airplanes were never a way of life two days ago.

.the girl who is not very 1:22 AM [+].

12 September 2001

Talk about a scare. For about ten minutes I tried to see if my blog was publishing, and I got a "FILE NOT FOUND" page. Had a heart attack. I found I could log in, but couldn't create files or folders. Almost started crying since I have pictures up that'll be gone forever.

I log in again, go to the Javascript File Manager, and see "350 files in 33 folders, 20 thousand some-odd KB being used."

Seriously. I need to get outside.

.the girl who is not very 5:51 PM [+].

Something to ponder, mostly for myself at this point:

"I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel any emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck." --Tori Amos

.the girl who is not very 5:19 PM [+].

Kim sent me a link to a memorial page. Go visit.

.the girl who is not very 4:57 PM [+].

Last night was spent switching from being online and talking to Roz in Japan to talking with Nat on the phone in SoCal.

I slept with the lights and TV on all night. This is the first time I literally couldn't sleep without the lights off since I was a kid. And yes, it's okay to laugh at that, I thought it was pretty funny too, considering I got up a little more confident about going outside today.

Friends, and relatives of friends, my heart and thoughts are with you, no matter where you are. Even if I don't know you, I'm with you.

And with that, and after recent conversations with politically-minded friends, the things that we're scared of is the retaliation factor in this whole thing. There's no face to this crime-- yet-- so blame is difficult. We all don't really think Bush'll go off the hook, but we're hoping this doesn't start a race divide in this country.

So much to say, so much that's been said, so much farther for us to go. We have a lot of cleaning to do.

.the girl who is not very 11:09 AM [+].

11 September 2001

Everybody's called and checked in. Pretty much.

I don't want to leave the house right now, I'm so glued to the TV. There's pop culture crack for you.

I'm randomly reading blogs, including my own, and thinking about how just last night how things seemed so assured. Now, it feels like someone ripped my guts in half. I'm finding my political beliefs and things that I'd said almost a year ago about Bush being elected as being on an eerily forecasted path.

I'm really ashamed to be a human being right now. And I'm really scared that the worst-case scenario that people have been talking about for years might not be that far from reality.

.the girl who is not very 8:47 PM [+].

I'm in shock.

Kim called me at 7:30 this morning, and I didn't even answer the phone. "Kari, I know you're sleeping right now, but you need to get up and turn on the TV."

The first thing I thought about was whether Cat and Tyler, two important people in my life, and Tyler works in the economy sector. I got an email from Cat saying they're okay, but it still doesn't take away the empty, sick feeling in my stomach.

I couldn't believe it. I still can't.

I want to give blood, but if I try and go right now I'll get sick. I don't even want to go outside, and storm clouds are gathering over the valley.

It's really hard to try and get things back to normal now. Especially after seeing people falling out the World Trade Center building, and the mass exodus out of New York. And I was invited to fly to San Fransisco, where one of the planes was heading, on Thursday. I don't want to go anywhere now. What's worse is that Dad is scheduled to head to Cleveland and Pittsburgh-- one of the planes crashed near there-- and right now I don't want him to even go.

Things might feel different tomorrow. But as I watch people celebrating in Palestine, this empty feeling might not go away for awhile. Sadness is an understatement.

.the girl who is not very 12:42 PM [+].

10 September 2001

This fortune cookie came with my mixed tempura this evening:

From a past misfortune, good luck will come to you.

.the girl who is not very 5:24 PM [+].

So. Go see Nashville Pussy. They fucking rock. And go see The Rev. He rocks too. It was nice to sing along to "Bales of Cocaine" but not nice to deal with a moshpit full of greasers. Literally.

Okay. I need to get this off my chest. I had a late dinner with Andy who hosts poetry over at Roma, and I'm reading around blogs right now, and I've come to the realization that I really have no room to bitch. About anything.

Let's try and trace this. I'm a straight person. Kissed women, didn't do anything for me. Had gay friends (male and female) in high school, through college, and have many now. I've even been mistaken as being gay because I play instruments, write, and listen to certain types of music. I've had friends come out to me first because they felt as if they could trust me enough, and felt that they were comfortable enough to come out to me-- which is something I don't take lightly, because I know how hard it is to feel like yourself when the environment keeps you where you don't want to be.

I have friends who are gay who are in the closet still and it's so hard to hear them talk about not being able to really express themselves because of the fear around them-- the fear of stereotypes and the fear of real discrimination-- and I hate feeling helpless about it.

I come to this place that's just me, and bitch about things, when I have friends with real issues.

Of course, me comparing my life to theirs in some way doesn't help either. I mean, I should have valid pain too, right? I don't know.

In some ways I look at how things are going in my life, and wonder why good things happen to people and bad things happen to other people. The good things happen to bad people and the bad things happen to good people. Does that mean I'm a bad person? Of course not.

Rock stars become egomainiacs because they constantly have people telling them they're talented. I get told I have a cool job all the time, but I don't feel cool. How does Cool feel, anyway? Do you get freezer burn during the winter?

Man, I really should just get to bed. I'm having an Out of Body Experience.

.the girl who is not very 1:35 AM [+].

09 September 2001

Ever just have one of those days where everything's okay, but you still feel like something's just not there? It might be because it's Sunday, I'm not sure. It's one of those slow days. I'm not sure how to explain it-- I feel okay inside my body, there's nothing really wrong with my head, I like how things are going right now. I just have this nagging something's wrong looming somewhere I can't define.

I think I'm starting to go crazy. Last night I laid in bed to fall asleep and I open my eyes just for a second to see a round glowing circle on my ceiling. I turned on my lamp, just to check to see if it was a play on the light in my room, maybe I'd left something on. I turn my lamp off again, and it's still there. I fall asleep. But I still wonder what that was, why it didn't make me as scared as maybe I should've been, and if it's connecting with this wrong-ness I feel.

I've been thinking about my exes lately. I'm not sure why, since there hasn't really been anything to suddenly make this happen-- you know, the usual one thing that sets off an entire set of memories to come back, all in a particular theme. But I've just been thinking about them, their names, how certain memories just wave their hands in front of your mind's eye.

These men (I think that's the appropriate term-- they were all over the legal age of drinking) each left something of themselves with me, even if it's not really the term of ex per se. Then that wouldn't really make them exes-- more like men who were really good friends and I see them in some way as more than that: Love in all its variations.

I need to stop rambling. It's going to go somewhere I really don't want it to.

.the girl who is not very 1:21 PM [+].

Had another bbq evening, though no pictures. Very quiet, a few stories. And even Erin was nice enough to come over early and give me a massage before everybody got here.

And I got a big Jude promo package in the mail today. I totally forgot I'd sent Maverick my address for the promo team: I got a poster, bio, and videotape with a little documentary on it. I'm going to watch that tomorrow, I think, if I have time. Brandon wants to help me go car hunting and Kim wants to do a mix thing for her talent show at work, and then we're going to see Reverend Horton Heat tomorrow night.

Jesus. I just re-read over that, and it sounds like I'm in high school again. I really need to stop that.

.the girl who is not very 1:57 AM [+].