November 20, 2003

  • Right after the WTC 9-11 disaster, I envisioned a future day when sensitivities would grow inured enough that a mixologist could create a new mixed drink and call it “The Twin Towers” (perhaps made in a tall bi-chambered glass that mixes separate liqueurs together when tipped at the top?) or the “9-11”, kind of in the tradition of other ‘violent’ drinks like the “Kamikaze”.  To my knowledge, it hasn’t happened yet.  Still, clearly we are not as sensitive as we used to be.


     


    From personal experience, for instance, when I walk into a commercial building now, I don’t envision it potentially blowing up due to terroristic intrigue. I did back then ( ß )—for shortly thereafter.    I imagine if I were amongst the active forces in Iraq now and I came home for a visit, that I would still be envisioning bombs blowing up my taxi home from the airport and car bombs being driven into any coffee shop I might happen to visit.


     


    I’m sitting in a Caribou coffeeshop now,  It’s rather too christmasy already for my current outlook.  Yet why should I lament the premature commercialism?  For what it is, it isn’t ostentatious but rather tastefully done.  Would I prefer a cabin in the wilderness brewing a pot of coffee on an old wood stove in a little efficient kitchen where I could look out and see cows in a pasture, a barn, and beyond, a forest of pristine wilderness?  Okay, this speculation is going nowhere…


     


    I’m sitting in a coffeshop now.  It’s going to be in the 50s and sunny today, so I’m dressed in my black athletic garb—a loose long-sleeve cotton tee, silky basketball shorts, and a red baseball cap.  I must still appear to others as a residue somewhat too summery, as they’re dressed already half for winter (heavy coats, some wool hats, and gloves even).  Too fucking anachronistically bad.  Yes, I know, if I persist to dress like this throughout late fall and into winter, I’ll be considered some kind of freak, an outcast.  (Might as well just christen myself with my own mark of Cain upon my forehead.)  Yet what’s reasonable for me may not be reasonable for you.  Who makes the fashion rules, anyway?  What’s that ‘rule’ in California??  ‘… beyond Labor Day no one is supposed to dress all in white anymore’?  Uniforms and fuzzy approximations thereto.  I was in the military and lived defined by such.  Now I think I’ll just live.


     


    Okay, time now to instantenously transmute these words and an image (up on the photo bar, left) into satellite-relayed radio waves.  One, two, three…blog.

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