i sent a letter to the NY Post but I doubt it will be printed, the jist was that this recent flyover, arrogance and true intentions aside for the moment , was for me a stark reminder of just how far i have progressed in the past 8 years......sadly that's nowhere. There is an invisible army of us survivors from the World Trade Center that aren't really surviving at all....existing maybe, but growing wearier and wearier, ignored by the mainstream media and friends and family alike....albeit friends and family avoid the topic out respect more so than out of neglect, trying to avoid a spark next to the powder keg. I have become to object of ridicule for my idiosyncrasies the past 8 years....I don't travel well and am mocked for it. It's not that I don't want to ever go to the islands or that I love the train, I can not fly......that next plane i ride may not and probably won't crash , but i may very well have a heart attack at takeoff.....it's not that I don't want to go to opening Day of the Giants...haven't been to one in 9 years, but I am concerned that the upper deck will come crashing down in a dynamite explosion if I am there...I am a little surprised each year when nothing horrific occurs...i make simple plans to stay over in brooklyn a few times each year , only to call for a ride home at midnight....i have backed out of more get together at the last minute than i can recall , and it's not because i am not social , and it's not always clear to me why i am backing out , but i feel a stress relief the minute I voice that phrase " I am not going" ....as if I have excused myself from dying this day..But hidden behind my grand failures is some "everyday" success. i get up every fkin day and get on that train that takes me to a desk, just like my old desk, against a window, waiting to be killed....I put on a brave face, i play the clown, i talk sports and joke around and live a normal life because that is what i want and that is what everyone who has to deal with me wants.....but things are different now, I have a razor sharpe edge, I can cut like a knife with a streak of vengeance, I have a mean spirit that I am not proud of , I have ANGER.
Monday morning i found myself once again running for my life, running from a plane, Like Kerouac being pursued across the desert by the Shrouded stranger, I run. I found myself with thousands of others incredulously screaming "This can't be happening again" I am shell shocked , I am fkin tired , I am back to square one. The scariest thing is that i know i am not alone, there is an nameless , faceless invisible army in the tristate area just like me , and any baby steps forward we may have taken were wiped out with a massive leap back, thanks to a photo-op.
today it is news, by tomorrow it will be history
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