Budgeting a kickstarter.
Writing a song about fractions.
Sending out Spotify invites.
Coming up with check-in badges.
Making lists of what I’m doing to avoid finishing a single one of them.
Waiting in rapt anticipation for a phone call/email, for which I’m already emotionally prepared to be bad news, but can still hold out hope that it might be good news.
Outlining a new season of a new series.
Dithering on whether i can afford to buy this or if i have to wait.
While I didn’t have a blog in 2001, I was doing regular group emails to a group of friends as I moved from Portland to Montgomery Alabama. I remember writing this the night after the attacks and hitting send. Whenever you go back and read things you wrote when you were younger, less experienced, and more cocksure it can be a little embarassing. I thank God every day that there wasn’t facebook when I was going through college (lots of nude pictures of me floating around out there somewheres).
When I found this and was struck by how worried I was about Bush instead of getting bombed. And while these days, on the end of the American empire, we’re worried about money and jobs, it’s at least nice to know that I’m not worried the president is going to trip over the Moscow phone because he was distracted by a dog with a puffy tail.
//Chapter Five: Confessions of a Terrified Smart-Ass Or, Live From Montana
Dear terrorists…good work; we’re terrified.
I’m in Montana with Joe. We drove all night, got in at seven
and woke up soon after to some terrifying news. Planes have hit the
world trade center, the pentagon, and one crashed in Pennsylvania, supposedly
on its way to camp David. The WTC is now officially gone. Collapsed.
As in no more. News footage is being pumped to our brains of people
running, terrified, of smoke pouring from the streets, or of smoking
ruins of various types of buildings.
Several terrorist groups are denying responsibility. This is
the equivalent of the cowardly gangster in “The Godfather” pleading “It
wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!” Our President is threatening to “find and
punish” the perpetrators. Me…I’m shaking. Nic fit shaking. No coffee
for 24 hours shaking. Detox shaking…terror shakes.
And I’m shaking because I’m being loaded up with “this great
nation” talk. We will get through this, so they say. We have the strength
and the capacity to deal with this horrible situation. The news is unwilling
to estimate the death count, but we will survive. We can fix this…we
can get ‘em.
I don’t want to get ‘em. Funny how some stories are currently
rushing back to me. Stories of Bush pulling out of the Environmental
caucus. Stories of Bush pissing off Russia by bringing up a 20 year
old comic book defense policy. But these seemed like a far off , political
maneuvers. Policy wonking that would have little effect on our day to
day lives. “Tee hee, our man-child president is worried about nukes
again!” Funny how despite our technology, this level of tragedy can
be caused by an upscale equivalent of a car bomb.
And I’m a bit jealous of most of you. Allison, if you’re getting
these, and you’re alive, please let me know. I’m worried. The rest
of you mostly live west of the rockies and I wish I was there. What
are they going to get out there? The space needle? The big neon “Made
In Oregon” sign? While I’m relatively sure there’s not much in Alabama
that’re prime targets, I still wish I had a mountain range or two between
me and whatever’s out there.
And my prayers go out to everyone. I’ve got another chapter
five that I’ll send out later. It’s all about driving at night, as
Joe and I did yesterday, and what happened. It’s light-hearted, funny,
and may provide a nice little distraction. Currently though…I’m scared
shitless. Terrorists have struck, and struck “well” and the leader of
our fine country is Jughead from the Archies…eyes mostly closed, worried
about getting another hamburger, and more worried about the status of
his crown than the status of his surroundings.
Nick Offerman on the KPCS gives a great account of Chicago’s Defiant Theatre (R.I.P.), and then introduces you to the greatest band you’ll ever hear.
Corn Mo. Get some.
Between this and Mike Doughty i’ve bought more music in the past 24 hours than I have in a month. In a related note, I have more spotify invites if anyone wants.
Finally, it’s become incresingly more satisfying listening to the Nerdist Podcast just to hear Chris Hardwick tell Jonah Ray to shut his fucking face.