there was a documentary, of sorts, on tv tonight about nine-eleven. it was being made by two french brothers about a firefighter and they just happened to be there that day. there was nothing patriotic or militant; there was not even much anger. instead it was focus amidst chaos, sadness, and eventually some amount of relief.

i've hated the day since it happened. not even for the events, as bad as they were, and not for the xenophobic, jigoistic bloodlust, or at least not just that.

it is the oblivious self-pity that gets me. we've sacrificed villages, generations, and entire nations so that we could have access to cheap resources. we've bought allegiances with guns and then watched as they were turned on others. even the backlash against the current wars is only in terms of 'the harm it is doing to us.' it would be easier for me to understand and have self-sympathy, in terms of this country, if we were doing what we could instead of what we wanted.



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number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

their children go hungry and ours are born with no souls