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(Note: Linsey called. She's fine. I am so, so, so relieved.)
There were times when it didn't seem real, and times when I felt like crying, and times when I simply didn't know what I felt at all. But that Ani song has been playing itself in my mind throughout - "I just know that those who are going to be killed / aren't those that reside on Capitol Hill / don't fill the front lines of their war / those assholes aren't worth dying for" (Roll With It).
And, yes.
All I can think now is, god damn it, why couldn't they just kill Bush? Or Cheney? Or bomb Congress or the Senate when they were in session? Or anyone else whose war this is?It would still be tragic (though I'd shed no tears for Bush) but maybe I could wrap my head around it a little more.
I don't know. I fear, greatly, what's to come. More death, it would seem a near certainty. War, probably, in some form. It's been too long and too many people are craving the taste of blood in the form of legalized killing. Everyone feels cheated, robbed, of something, don't they? Everyone itching for vengeance, we'll take whatever we can get. And this couldn't be a better opportunity; might as well have wrapped those planes in shiny paper and topped them with a big bow.
This is awful, it is. Half of me feels utterly sickened and aches for all that's been lost for so many people. But there's the other half of me (no doubt the evil half) that wonders about all the lives that end in violence every day, or in neglect, or in something equally wrong. Those people don't go in a fiery burst of flame and smoke, and the nation doesn't mourn them. The "nation" doesn't give a damn (unless they're small and cute and have met appropriately horrifying ends). These people, who died today, they get a mourning, they get a memory. Everyone they left behind will have the world to share the burden of their grief; they won't be alone.
These deaths have been spun as "so meaningless". Like hell. These deaths will leave a legacy. These deaths will spur vengeance. These deaths mean more things than I can count.
(The black veil of cynicism has concluded its full descent. When it will lift, hell only knows.)
There were times when it didn't seem real, and times when I felt like crying, and times when I simply didn't know what I felt at all. But that Ani song has been playing itself in my mind throughout - "I just know that those who are going to be killed / aren't those that reside on Capitol Hill / don't fill the front lines of their war / those assholes aren't worth dying for" (Roll With It).
And, yes.
All I can think now is, god damn it, why couldn't they just kill Bush? Or Cheney? Or bomb Congress or the Senate when they were in session? Or anyone else whose war this is?It would still be tragic (though I'd shed no tears for Bush) but maybe I could wrap my head around it a little more.
I don't know. I fear, greatly, what's to come. More death, it would seem a near certainty. War, probably, in some form. It's been too long and too many people are craving the taste of blood in the form of legalized killing. Everyone feels cheated, robbed, of something, don't they? Everyone itching for vengeance, we'll take whatever we can get. And this couldn't be a better opportunity; might as well have wrapped those planes in shiny paper and topped them with a big bow.
This is awful, it is. Half of me feels utterly sickened and aches for all that's been lost for so many people. But there's the other half of me (no doubt the evil half) that wonders about all the lives that end in violence every day, or in neglect, or in something equally wrong. Those people don't go in a fiery burst of flame and smoke, and the nation doesn't mourn them. The "nation" doesn't give a damn (unless they're small and cute and have met appropriately horrifying ends). These people, who died today, they get a mourning, they get a memory. Everyone they left behind will have the world to share the burden of their grief; they won't be alone.
These deaths have been spun as "so meaningless". Like hell. These deaths will leave a legacy. These deaths will spur vengeance. These deaths mean more things than I can count.
(The black veil of cynicism has concluded its full descent. When it will lift, hell only knows.)