Location: in my thoughts
Mood: so very sad
Music: A long, long time ago. I can still remember
Got a call from Rain earlier to get together today. Made me think. What I wrote last year still rings true.
Y’know, there was a TKTS booth in the World Trade Center. Was 17 when I first went there to pick up tix for me and my girlie. Les Mis.
There was an escalator going up to the booths and the lines would sometimes snake around the floor as people waited for their tickets. Had a red Aiwa cassette tape player to keep me company while I waited. Two tapes and a cassette player – way before Ipods, kiddies.
The people in those buildings were ordinary people like you and me. It’s why when Chrissie Hynde said, We (expletive) deserve to get bombed. Bring it on, I hope the Muslims win, I got sick.
Cause, it could easily have been me. Or even her. Or some 17 year-old kid buying a ticket for his girlie. Someone could have called me, or my brother, or my kid sister, and said, Hey, let’s get together downtown. That’s exactly what happened to my buddy Bryson. Luckily, he always runs late. My high school classmate wasn’t so lucky. Those sons of motherless bitches murdered him a few weeks before his wedding. Disintegrated rather. Nuthin’s left of him. Nuthin. Poof.
I hope they lose. Cause otherwise, fools like Chrissie can’t speak her mind. Even fools like her deserve the right to speak our minds, no matter how stupid. No matter how obscene.
Cause obscenities are fought with words not 747s filled with people – even if they’re just simple words from a clown. Or a heartbroken 30-something C+ class womanizer.
Goddamn. They punched a hole in my pretty city.
They punched a hole in my home that’s still there.